#i know i make it sound bleak and it is but also

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

hello hello I have a request if yoy wanna write rn ofc it might sound interesting but fairy reader x vox with some hade's and persephone vibes? you don't have to ofc but interesting concept!

Enchanted (Vox x faerie!reader)

Part two ->

Word count: 8739

Note! There’s more to this, I just thought it’d be overwhelming to have it all in one post. This is part one, let me know if yall wanna see more!

In the bustling streets of Hell, where chaos reigned supreme and every soul seemed destined for torment or redemption, Vox, the flamboyant and sharply dressed media overlord of the underworld, found himself unexpectedly intrigued by a newcomer. Amidst the swirling miasma of souls and demons, a faerie, radiant and ethereal, wandered with an air of curious wonder, my delicate wings shimmering softly against the stark backdrop of sin and suffering. At least, that’s how I liked to imagine it.

He had seen many strange creatures pass through Hell's gates, but none quite like me, apparently. Intrigued by my seeming innocence and purity in this bleak landscape, Vox approached with a grin that was both charming and predatory. "Well, well, what do we have here?" He asked, his voice cutting through the noise of the streets, drawing my attention.

“An annoyed individual who’s not afraid to bite y-” I paused for a moment, looking up at him. I furrowed my brow and frowned. “Why do you have a TV for a head?”

Vox chuckled at my bluntness, his grin widening with amusement. "Well, aren't you a peculiar little thing?" He leaned in slightly, his eyes flashing with a mix of curiosity and mockery. "It’s awfully rude to ask someone why they look a certain way, but… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to know considering having TV for a head is rather odd. It's my signature look, darling. I am the media mogul of this realm, so having a television for a face just seemed fitting, don't you think?"

He studied me with an appraising gaze, his eyes lingering on my soft wings. "And you are?" He asked, his tone laced with mild mocking curiosity.

“You first,” I said, raising a skeptical brow. “May I have your name?”

Vox let out a scoff, his mockery shifting to a hint of irritation, but his sly smile remained. "Alright, fair enough," he said, feigning nonchalance. "I am Vox, Overlord of Hell's media scene, and the mastermind behind VoxTek. Happy now, little faerie?"

“Very,” I said with a mischievous grin. A soft glowing string appeared, wrapped around my finger and tied to his. Magic. It faded after a moment, the pretty red hue nowhere to be seen.

Images flashed before my eyes of him, his life- both living and his time in Hell. Everything from snippets of his childhood to arguments to important meetings- all core memories and key events. There was nothing more than a general idea, just a little tip so I’d have something to work with. “Thanks for the name, Vincent,” I purred.

Vox felt a pang of annoyance as a glowing string appeared, tying them together. "Excuse me?" He tried to move away, but found himself physically unable, tethered to me by the ephemeral magic. "Hold up a sec! What the- what did you do to me?" He exclaimed in genuine surprise, realizing that I, the seemingly innocent and naive faerie, had somehow bound us together with a spell.

As his gaze fixated on me, his irritation turned into a mix of curiosity and intrigue. "You know my real name? And what was that string thing? Some kind of faerie magic?"

“I asked for your name, and you gave it. Names are special- they’re what allow a faerie to cast a spell on a person. I asked for yours, and you gave it. It’s mine now, and so, to some extent, you’re also mine.” I twirled my finger, making the string appear again, tauntingly. “Eyes are windows to the soul, but your name? It’s directly tethered to your very being. Congratulations, Vincent, you just got played.”

Vox's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief as he processed the revelation. I’d had played him, using something as simple as his own name against him. It was a clever trick, one that he had to admit he wasn't prepared for.

He clenched his fist, trying and failing to break the magic string. "Well, isn't that just brilliant," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I made a simple request for your name, and now I'm your...whatever you want to call it."

“Boy toy?” I asked, raising a brow with a smug grin.

He looked at me with a mix of irritation and reluctant respect. "Alright, what's your game here, princess?"

“Nothing much…” I said, tugging him closer. “To be honest, I haven’t decided. This realm is just as interesting as I thought it’d be- a nice little change from before…”

He gave me a look, as if to say ‘what the fuck’, but not being able to put it into words- too busy trying to process everything else I’d just implied so casually.

“So, I basically own your soul now, don’t I?” I asked, tilting my head at him. “Forgive me, but I’m not well practiced in how souls work for you demons- I do know they’re important down here, though. It’d be rather embarrassing if word got out that a powerful overlord such as yourself belongs to a pretty little faerie like me.”

The thought of his reputation being tarnished by belonging to a faerie infuriated him, but he couldn't deny the truth in my words. He had willingly given his name, thereby giving me power over him. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Yes, alright, you basically have some kind of ownership over me now," he grumbled, his pride wounded. "And if word gets out that I'm a faerie's plaything, it will be a massive blow to my reputation. So, what do you plan to do with this power you have over me then, princess?"

“Like I said before, I don’t really know yet,” I said with a shrug. I started walking down the street, making the string invisible again so as to not draw too much attention. I didn’t need other sinners noticing and putting his reputation at risk already. I still tugged him along with it, though. “I think I’d like for you to show me around. I’d like to know Hell a little better… oh, and try to be truthful, would you? Faeries don’t take kindly to liars.”

"Oh, fantastic," Vox muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He followed me, the invisible string tugging him along like a reluctant puppy on a leash. "Show you around, sure. Whatever. But don't expect a tour guide performance worthy of a five-star review."

He mentally cursed to himself, hating the fact that he was now basically at a faerie's mercy. And what did I mean by truthful? He always lied. Always. But...there was a hint of uneasiness in his expression.

“You’re a businessman, aren’t you?” I asked, looking over my shoulder and eyeing him up and down. “I’m sure you can afford to add some spice and energy to it- and if anyone asks why I get special treatment, say it’s an attempt to get more faeries to visit. We’d be a valuable asset to all the denizens here, and I’m sure it’d make sense with your… track record.”

"Hmm," Vox considered my words for a moment, the gears in his head turning. I had a point. Appealing to the faeries was a smart move, and it would look good for his reputation. He could use it to his advantage.

"Alright," he said after a moment, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I can spin that. And yes, I'm a businessman, so adding a little flare will be child's play. Shall we begin our tour then, princess?"

“Be my guest,” I said, gesturing for him to take the lead.

Vox chuckled and nodded. "Alright then, let's head down this way." He took the lead, striding confidently down the bustling streets of Hell. I took note of the glowing ports in the back of his head and smiled to myself.

"Welcome to Pentagram City, the city of sinners, the cesspool of the damned," he announced dramatically, looking around. "Home to all sorts of sinners, both famous and infamous- mostly the latter."

“I assume you fall into the latter group as well?” I asked teasingly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "See over there?" He pointed to a tall building in the distance. "That's my corporate headquarters, VoxTek."

“Oh, that explains why it’s so pretty,” I said, with a bright smile. I looked at the glowing shades of blue, humming softly as I followed behind him. “It’s like you.”

Vox raised an eyebrow at my compliment, a hint of surprise on his face. He was used to praise, but my casual nature intrigued him. "Like me?" he repeated, a hint of mockery in his voice. Apparently he didn’t know how to take a goddamned compliment. "Are you saying I'm 'pretty', now?"

“What? Am I not allowed to compliment a person?” I asked, confused. I tilted my head at him inquisitively, genuinely curious. “You’re a well respected and successful businessman, you’re CEO of your very own company, you literally own that building. You’re known for your charismatic and charming attitude, your confidence, and it’s part of why you’re so popular. Is it really unbelievable that I’d notice these things and point them out?”

Vox was taken aback by my straightforwardness. my compliments sounded genuine, and he wasn't used to such sincere praise. He paused for a moment, studying me, trying to figure me out.

"Well, I suppose you have a point," he admitted begrudgingly. "I am all those things you mentioned. But I'm not used to being complimented in such a...sincere way I suppose. Usually, people praise me because they want something."

“I’m not quite sure what I want,” I said, walking past him to continue the tour. “Oh, but for the record? Faeries can’t lie. I can be deceitful, sure, but I’ll never lie to you outright. Hopefully that eases some worries you may have…”

Vox watched me walk past him with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. The fact that I had to specify that I wouldn't lie to him was a bit unnerving, but my words still held a ring of truth.

He followed me, trying to keep up his confident demeanor but feeling a bit off-balance. "So, you can't lie, huh? That's...interesting."

He paused for a moment, a sly smile appearing on his face. "But you said you can be deceptive, right? Maybe we'll have to test those boundaries sometime."

“Mm,” I said, a little distracted. I paused- causing him to bump into me, though I didn’t notice nor mind much- and looked at a different building. Glass, plants everywhere, in various shades of pink purple and blue, a sign with three Vees perched at the top. It was luxurious and pretty. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to it. The middle V was bigger and in blue. “Do you own that one too?”

Vox halted behind me and followed my gaze to the building I had pointed out. "Ah, that would be the place where my associates stay," he replied. "Valentino and Velvette. That's their building, the Vee's headquarters I guess you could call it. A bit extravagant for my tastes, but oh well.”

I snorted at that last part, not believing it at all. “Don’t you live there too, then?” I asked, looking up at him. “Can you bring me there? I wanna see it up close. It looks so nice!”

Vox couldn't help but chuckle at my eagerness to see the building. "Eager, aren't we?" he said, amused. "But yeah, technically I do live there, though I have my own floor."

He turned to start heading towards the building, with me in tow. "Come on then, princess. I suppose a closer look won't hurt."

I followed along, right at his heels, a beaming smile on my face. “Thank you!” I said lightly- I paused for a moment, rethinking- almost surprised with myself. Then I nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Thank you,” I said, softer.

Vox looked back at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes. He wasn't used to people genuinely thanking him so sincerely. It was...kind of nice. He returned my smile faintly, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

"No problem," he replied, his tone a bit softer than usual. "Just try not to break anything while we're in there."

“I wouldn’t dare,” I said seriously. “That’d be awfully poor etiquette, wouldn’t it? Tell me, how much do you know about faeries?”

Vox chuckled at my comment, appreciating my awareness of etiquette. Not many demons cared- most just blew up walls as they pleased. He walked alongside me, considering my question.

"Well, let's see," he began. "I know that faeries are creatures from a different realm, often associated with nature, magic, and trickery. They're known for their enchanting beauty and unpredictable nature. What more is there to know?"

“We value being truthful and polite,” I said, matter of fact, purposefully ignoring the ‘enchanting beauty’ part he’d mentioned. I didn’t think it was relevant, nor was it up for discussion. “And in being fair, but that’s… I feel like that one’s rather obvious.”

"Ah, the importance of honesty and politeness, how quaint," Vox said with a hint of mockery. "But fair? You mean being fair in the sense of giving something of equal value in return, is that it?"

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “That’s why I won’t be abusing my power over you. You gave me your name, you put yourself in this situation, sure, but I was deceitful. Because of that, it’s a basic requirement that I not force you to do anything absurd or serious. Just small little favors is all I ask of you.”

Vox raised an eyebrow at my response. "Small little favors, huh?" he echoed. "That doesn't sound so bad. But forgive me if I have a hard time trusting the word of a fae."

He led me into the lobby of the building, his gaze flicking around at the luxurious surroundings. "And what kind of 'small little favors' do you have in mind?"

“Well, you make a fairly good tour guide,” I noted, looking around curiously. I paused for a moment, once we were in a quieter space, and turned to him. “I’m not sure what I’ll be doing- but I would like to know what you’ll be using your favor for.”

Vox smirked at my compliment, enjoying the boost to his ego. "A good tour guide, eh? Why thank you, princess," he replied with that usual air of arrogance.

He leaned back against the wall, considering my question. "Hm, what will I be using my favor for, you ask. That's a good question."

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'll tell you what. I'll save my favor for when I need it."

“Yes but- goodness, do you even know why I owe you a favor?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. I put my hands on my hips, expectant. “I hope you know that the reason I owe you determines what kind of favor you can ask for.”

Vox chuckled at my slightly annoyed expression. "Of course I know why you owe me a favor," he replied, a smirk on his face. "You used your power over me, and I gave you my name. According to your principles, that means you owe me a favor, right?"

“No, no, no!” I muttered, exasperated. “You gave me your name, I have a certain amount of power over you. You gave me your name, and in return I keep you safe so long as you do me some favors. I don’t owe you anything else for that.” I made the red string appear again. “This,” I said, pointing to it. “Means it’s even, we’re even, that little interaction is sorted out.”

He leaned a little closer, his gaze meeting mine. "But I'm curious, what kind of favor would depend on the reason? Do tell."

I paused for a moment and sighed. “I owe you a favor because you’re bringing me here,” I said, gesturing to the building. “It’s something I asked of you but didn’t have the power to force you to do with your name alone. You chose to oblige, and then I thanked you. A thank you means I owe you for it, that’s why saying ‘thank you’ is typically taboo when it comes to faeries.” I looked back up at him, somewhat annoyed. “Now I owe you a favor equal to that. I’d say bringing me here was a medium show of kindness, so I owe you a medium sized favor. Fair is fair.”

Vox raised an eyebrow as he listened to my explanation, a bit taken aback by the intricacy of my principles. "You have a very strict set of rules, don't you?" he muttered, his tone a mix of amusement and annoyance.

He considered my reasoning for a moment, his expression one of mild irritation. "So you're telling me," he began, his annoyance very clearly creeping into his tone, "that saying 'thank you' to you is like a binding contract?"

“It’s faerie etiquette,” I muttered, heat rising to my cheeks as I looked away. “I don’t make the rules, okay?” I crossed my arms, then uncrossed them and tried to adjusted my hair to hide my pointed ears- knowing they’d be bright red.

Vox couldn't help but find my reaction amusing. The way I stammered and flushed pink was almost endearing. He smirked, a glint in his eyes.

"Aw, is the little fae embarrassed?" he teased, a hint of mocking in his voice. "All flustered because you accidentally thanked me, and now you owe me a favor? How adorable."

“Stop that,” I mumbled, now trying to hide my face instead. My ears twitched and moved back against my head. I muttered something incoherently. “Have you decided what it’ll be, or not?”

Vox couldn't help but chuckle at my flustered state, enjoying how easy it was to rattle me. He hummed in thought for a moment, watching my attempt to hide my rosy cheeks under my hands, and the way my ears twitched. It was far too amusing.

"No, I haven't decided yet," he replied, enjoying the power he held over me in this situation. "And do you know why I haven't decided?"

“Because you hate me,” I said, under my breath.

Vox chuckled at my muttered reply. "Oh, I wouldn't say I hate you, princess," he said, his tone mocking yet playful. "But you are a pain in the ass, that's for sure. I'm just enjoying watching you squirm, all flustered and embarrassed."

“Oh fuck off,” I said, nudging him lightly. I walked ahead of him, trying to explore more of the tower and get my mind off things.

I was fuming, desperately trying to get ahold of myself. These weren’t just rules I could break, I didn’t get a say in them at all. I was being made fun of for abiding by them despite the fact I didn’t have a choice in the matter- I was physically incapable of going against them! And he was upset at me for it- at least, it felt like it.

Vox chuckled as I walked ahead of him, enjoying our little banter. That’s what he thought of it as, nothing more. Not that I knew at the time. He followed along beside me, a smirk on his face.

"Feisty, aren't we?" he commented, watching me explore the tower with curiosity. "Admit it, you're enjoying this little game we're playing."

“It’s not a game! I’m following the rules- and being rather nice, by explaining it all, mind you!” I huffed and walked quickly, trying to lose him. Unfortunately for me, he was tall and had long legs.

Vox followed after me, his strides effortlessly matching my quick pace. He chuckled again, finding my frustrated demeanor adorable.

"You're so serious, princess," he teased. "It's like you can't have fun unless everything is orderly and polite."

“It’s just basic etiquette!” I said, unintentionally raising my voice. I glared at him, then continued walking- almost stomping- through the labyrinth of hallways. “Why don’t you get that? I’m being normal, you’re the asshole who can’t be honest or graceful or- or anything else, really!”

Vox found my outburst amusing, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin. He followed along, not missing a single step as I stormed down the halls.

"Graceful? Honest?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock surprise. "Who gave you the right to judge me, princess? You're the one who can't even utter a simple thanks without owing someone a favor."

“I’m not the one trapped in a fiery cesspool of failure for all of eternity like you,” I spat, not even looking at him anymore. “My biggest accomplishment will be something better than ‘renowned businessman among humanity’s worst’. Look at yourself! You pride yourself on being top of your stupid little hierarchy down here, but really you’re just boasting about being the worst of the worst- another embarrassment, just slightly less embarrassing than the people around you!”

Vox's smile faded at my harsh words. Though he tried to maintain his cool, my comment clearly hit a nerve. The words stung, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation.

"Excuse me?" he said, his tone sharp. "Watch what you say. You have no idea what it takes to survive and succeed in this place. I've done what I have to do to get to where I am. And it's not a 'little hierarchy'. It's a damn kingdom.”

“Ha!” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “As if anyone down here would know what a real kingdom looks like, or what it’d take to rule.”

“You know nothing about honesty or hard work, you got where you are based on a foundation of lies and shortcuts! Don’t you dare try to talk to me about survival when you’ve had it easy your whole life, Vincent,” I snapped. “Not everyone was born in a nice little mansion on the hill like you, Mr. Sterling. Some of us had to actually work and make sacrifices to even get by- you didn’t. You had it all right in front of you, the opportunity to live a good life, and you chose to throw it away! You chose to lie and deceive people, using religion as a front to get what you wanted, you chose to kill people when they questioned your authority, and you chose to run away when faced with the consequences of your actions! You landed yourself down here in hell with a stupid TV for a face, so don’t you even start.”

Vox's jaw clenched as I continued my verbal assault. He tried to keep his cool, but my words stung, hitting a little too close to home.

"How dare you," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't know anything about me or the choices I've made. You sit there on your high horse, acting like some saint, when you're just as manipulative as the rest of us. You use your words and your twisted rules to play mind games with people. And you have the nerve to talk about honesty and work ethic. You're no better than me."

“I literally can’t fucking lie, Vincent!” I yelled, turning on my heel, getting in his face. “You hear me? I can’t fucking lie! I can use word play to spin the truth, but I can’t fucking lie! I live among other faeries- a little wordplay doesn’t get you anywhere! There’s no deceit between faeries, because we’re all too fucking wary of one another to even give it a shot. I learned magic on my own, I became heir to the Autumn Court on my own fucking merit. I built myself from the ground up and all you’ve ever done is dig your own fucking grave. I don’t* want to hear it.”

Vox stared back at me, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief. He clenched his fists, struggling to find a response to my words.

"You think you're so much better than me?" he growled. "You think that just because you can't lie, that makes you some sort of saint? News flash, princess- not being able to lie doesn't mean you're incapable of deception."

“You- You’re not even listening are you?”

He took a step closer, towering over me. "Shut up. Don't think for a minute that I didn't have to struggle to get where I am."

“Fuck you,” I muttered, pushing him harshly. I turned away from him and disappeared- literally. I wasn’t in front of him, I wasn’t in the same hallway or floor as him anymore. I was gone.

Vox stumbled back slightly as I pushed him, his eyes widening in surprise. Before he could even register what happened, I was gone.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where I had been standing just a moment before. Anger and confusion swirled in his mind.

"Where the hell did she go...?" he muttered, looking around the hallway.

He grumbled under his breath, frustrated at my sudden disappearance. Just when he thought he had me figured out, I found a way to surprise him.

"Of course she has to have some kind of teleporting power," he muttered to himself. "Just my luck."

He looked around the hallway one more time, hoping to spot any sign of me, but I seemed to have vanished completely.

I looked around, and damn near yelled in frustration when I realized I’d teleported to his bedroom. I was still tied to him, I couldn’t go far, so my magic had kept me in the tower, just a few floors up higher than before. And in his room.

“Fucking fantastic!” I muttered, throwing my hands up.

I would’ve destroyed something if I could. However, it was poor etiquette and as a faerie, I was literally incapable of breaking the rules. So, instead, I flopped onto his bed and angrily hugged one of his pillows, with no other way to vent my frustration.

Some time later, Vox made his way to his bedroom, exhausted and still fuming from our earlier argument. He was looking forward to collapsing onto his bed and trying to forget the whole thing.

Imagine his surprise when he opened the door and saw me sprawled out on his bed, clutching one of his pillows and seething with anger.

Vox paused in the doorway, watching me for a moment. He hadn't expected me to be here.

I had my back to the door, I hadn’t seen him come in. I wasn’t exactly mad at him anymore, I was more so mad at myself.

Vox leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he observed me from the doorway. He could sense my frustration and anger, but also a hint of self-directed rage.

After a moment of watching me, he cleared his throat, announcing his presence. "Are you planning on hogging my bed, princess?" he said in a light, teasing tone. He was trying to- making an effort to keep it casual.

I made a small squeak of surprise, jumping up, startled. I looked at him, then looked away. I scooted over, making space for him. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Vox smirked as I scooted over, making space for him. He could see the guilt in my eyes, and my muttered apology only made him smirk more.

He sauntered over to the bed and sat down beside me, his weight making the mattress dip slightly. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze flicking towards me once more.

"You know, you could have just stayed down on the lower floor," he commented, his tone lighthearted but with a hint of amusement. "Didn't have to teleport all the way up here."

“I didn’t mean to,” I said quietly. My ears twitched, then went back to how they were when he walked in- drooping slightly. “I meant to leave but- magic. I’m tied to you so it brought me here. I don’t know enough about Hell or even this tower to navigate it by myself. I’d probably die within moments if I stepped out the door without you.”

Vox watched as my ears drooped, a hint of guilt creeping into his chest. It was odd to see me so... Defeated. He liked it better when I was feisty.

"Ah, so you're stuck with me, are you?" he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Guess that means you can't escape my charming presence, princess."

I sighed, hugging the pillow tighter. “I’m sorry,” I said, softer. My voice sounded strained, as if I was trying not to cry. “I’m sorry about earlier, I shouldn’t have yelled. You didn’t deserve that. Any of it. I’m sorry.”

Vox's smirk slowly faded as he heard my strained voice. He hadn't expected me to apologize, especially not so sincerely.

He looked at me, my face half-hidden in the pillow, and he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He'd expected me to continue arguing, not this... This vulnerable side of me.

"Hey," he said, his tone softer than before. "Look at me."

“Mmm,” I whined softly, burying my head against the pillow. I hated eye contact. Especially at times like this.

He chuckled lightly at my response, finding it oddly endearing.

"Oh, come on, princess," he said, reaching over and gently tugging on my shoulder. "Look at me. I can't see your face if you're hiding behind that pillow."

I made another noise, then looked up at him, my face being the pinnacle of worry, nervousness, guilt, and discomfort. “Vox,” I whined, the first time I’d used his Hell name rather than his old one.

Vox watched as I looked up at him, my face a mix of emotions. He couldn't help but be slightly taken aback when I used his Hell name, his real name. But he didn't show it.

He raised an eyebrow at me, his expression still soft. "Ah, finally using my real name, are you?" he teased. "I must be growing on you."

“No! Vincent is your old name, but- and-I just- mmph…” I groaned and tried to bury my head in the pillow again. “I was trying to be polite. Or nice or whatever.”

Vox chuckled softly as I tried to bury my head in the pillow once more, finding my struggle adorable.

"Ah-ah-ah," he chided, gently tugging on my shoulder again. "No hiding. Look at me. And I prefer Vox. It fits me better. Vincent is so..." he trailed off, waving his hand dismissively. "Boring."

“I don’t think it’s boring,” I said with a pout. “I think it’s cute. Vincent Sterling. Do you have a last name anymore? Or is just Vox?”

Vox blinked, a bit caught off guard by my comment. Cute. No one had ever called him cute before. Especially not when he was called Vincent.

He chuckled softly, his smirk returning. "I don't have a last name anymore. Just Vox. It's less cumbersome than 'Vox Sterling' anyway."

He paused, studying my pouting face. "You called me cute," he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“It’s just the truth,” I said quietly. “How many times do I have to tell you? Faeries can’t lie. I’m physically incapable of saying anything untrue.”

Vox chuckled, his smirk widening into a small smile. He couldn't help but find my honesty endearing, even if it had been a pain in his ass earlier.

"So I'm cute, eh?" he repeated, his tone playful. "That's a first, princess. Most people down here call me a lot of things, but cute is not one of them."

“What, do they have cooler words describe an attractive person?” I asked, raising a brow. “Would you prefer hot, sexy, or handsome? I thought the words cute and pretty summed it up fairly well. I think it’s more endearing.”

Vox's smirk turned into a devious grin as I listed off the different words I could use to describe him. He couldn't deny that he liked the sound of them, especially coming from me.

"Ah, so you think I'm attractive, do you?" he said, his tone playful yet laced with a hint of arrogance. "I'll take charming, attractive, and sexy. Cute and pretty are more... Endearing, like you said. They suit you more, princess."

“N-” I was about to protest but stopped short. I bit my lip and muttered something under my breath. I couldn’t say ‘no’ because that’d be a lie.

Vox watched me bite my lip and mutter under my breath, his smirk growing wider as he realized what I was trying to do. He leaned in a bit closer to me.

"What was that, princess?" he asked, his tone still playful. "You were going to protest, weren't you? Maybe deny that you find me attractive?"

“No! I was going to say that the words cute and pretty aren’t good descriptions for me,” I said honestly, looking back at him quickly. “But apparently that’s a lie. So I can’t.”

Vox let out a laugh, amused by my frustration. I couldn't lie, and damn, it was entertaining to watch me struggle.

"Ah, so you don't think you're cute or pretty, huh?" he said, still grinning. "Seems like your own magic is disagreeing with you there, princess."

“Unfortunately,” I mumbled, fidgeting a little bit. “I think… interesting is the word I would use to describe myself. Nothing too definite, you know? Plenty of room for change.”

Vox studied me for a moment, his gaze flickering over my fidgeting form. I seemed uncomfortable with the idea of being either cute or pretty. He couldn’t help but find it adorable.

"Interesting, huh?" he repeated, his tone still playful. "Nothing definite. Just... Changeable. I suppose that works. You're definitely a unique one, princess.”

“Why do you even call me that?” I asked, searching his expression for the answer. “Do you have a set pet name for everyone you talk to? You seemed to decide on mine pretty quickly.”

Vox chuckled, his expression a mix of amusement and arrogance. He leaned back against the headboard, one knee bent, his arm resting casually on it.

"It just suits you," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "You're so uptight, so serious. But there's something... Innocent. Almost naive, about you. That makes me want to call you princess. It fits you."

“I’m not naive,” I said with a huff. Then I paused and grinned. “See? Not a lie! The magic agrees with me.”

Vox smirked at my declaration, his eyes glinting in amusement. He couldn't help but find my stubbornness and the way I seemed to constantly prove a point endearing.

"Oh, really?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "You sure you're not naïve, princess? Because you certainly seem to have a lot of faith in that magic of yours."

“I am physically incapable of telling a lie,” I said flatly.

"So you've said," Vox replied, chuckling. "Over and over again."

He shifted closer to me on the bed, leaning in slightly. A teasing smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"But just because you can't lie, princess, doesn't automatically make you right."

“Yes it does,” I said, looking back up at him again. I squinted. “You just don’t like to be wrong.”

Vox chuckled again, his smirk growing into a cheeky grin. He loved my stubborn determination, even when it was directed at him.

"Oh, I'm not the one who doesn't like to be wrong, princess," he retorted. "That would be you. I'm perfectly fine being wrong every now and again, especially when I get to see you get all flustered and angry."

“I’m not flustered!” I said quickly- too quickly. To my annoyance, heat flooded my face again. Now I was flustered. “And I’m not angry! I’m just mildly annoyed with your inability to grasp the concept of honesty simply because you can’t go five seconds without lying.”

Vox chuckled, his smirk widening as he noticed the heat rising to my face. He loved how easily I got flustered, especially when I tried to deny it.

"Mildly annoyed, huh?" He repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Is that why you're looking so flustered right now, princess? That red blush on your cheeks says otherwise."

“Oh shush,” I said, looking away. I snapped my fingers and the lights in the room went out. Unfortunately for me, he had a TV for a face, which meant it glowed and vaguely lit up the room. At least, whatever was closest to him.

Vox chuckled at my attempt to hide my flustered state by dimming the lights. Unfortunately for me, it hadn't worked in the slightest.

"Nice try, princess," he taunted in the darkness. "But your little trick didn't work. You're still blushing." He shifted a bit closer to me, the soft glow from his screen illuminating his face.

My breath hitched and I sort of froze for a moment. “You’re close,” I mumbled, my eyes going wide. My pupils dilated and I leaned in closer to him, like a moth to flame. I had a small smile on my face- absolutely ensnared by the light of his screen.

Vox smirked as he noticed it all, even the way my eyes widened slightly. He couldn't deny that my reaction amused him, and fueled his playful nature.

As I leaned in closer, captivated by the light of his screen, he chuckled softly and leaned in even closer until we were almost face to face.

"That's right, princess," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "I'm right here, glowing just for you."

“Glowing,” I repeated softly, the tension leaving my body. I moved closer to him, almost in his lap, just staring. I felt a small itch in my back and unfurled my wings without thinking- not really caring, either, despite how fragile they could be. He had me mesmerized.

Vox chuckled softly as I moved closer. The sight of me unfurling my wings, delicate and fragile, didn't escape his notice. But my entranced expression, as if enchanted by his screen, made him feel a strange sense of power. He hadn’t had any power since he’d first given me his name and now… well, he wanted to use this to his advantage.

He raised a sharp-clawed hand, gently stroking along the edge of my wing. "Careful, princess," he murmured, his tone still playful but softer than before. "Those wings are delicate, aren't they?"

“Mhmm,” I mumbled, with a slight nod. A shiver went down my spine but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I hummed lightly as I stared at him. “You’re pretty.”

Vox chuckled again, my honest words and entranced expression only boosting his confidence. He continued to gently stroke my wing, feeling another shiver run through me.

"And you're adorable, princess," he teased, his smirk widening. "All flustered and mesmerized by my screen. It's quite endearing, really."

“I wanna touch it,” I said, my gaze flicking to actually meet his eyes this time. “Please let me touch it.”

Vox raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by my request. But he had to admit, the thought of me touching his face was intriguing.

"My screen? You want to touch it, princess?" he asked, amusement and curiosity in his tone. "Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're just looking for excuses to touch me."

“Mph,” I said, my expression falling for a moment. I rolled my eyes and just leaned closer instead, still not touching him. We were hardly an inch apart at this point.

Vox chuckled softly as I leaned even closer, our faces almost touching. He could feeling my soft breath against his screen as I rolled my eyes at him. He found my irritation and stubbornness to be oddly… cute.

"What's the matter, princess?" he taunted. "No witty retort this time? Just going to try and press yourself against me instead?"

“Please,” I said again, softly, breathlessly.

Vox's smirk widened as he heard my quiet plea. There was something about me being this close to him, practically begging to touch his screen, that made his ego soar.

"Please, what, princess?" he asked, his voice low and smooth. He continued to stroke my wing, enjoying my reactions. "Use your words."

“Mmn..” I made a low humming sound as he touched me, relaxing all over again in an instant. “Please let me touch your screen.”

"Touch my screen, huh?" Vox repeated, his smirk holding strong. He chuckled softly, his gaze still locked on my face, enjoying the effect his touch had on me. He knew he had me completely entranced.

"And what makes you think I'll let you touch it, princess? What's in it for me?"

“Vox,” I whined softly, as he moved away slightly. I couldn’t stay upset at him while he was touching my wings like that, though. I thought for a moment, then smiled. “A kiss?”

Vox chuckled again at my soft whine, his smirk softening at my innocent offer. A kiss, huh? Not what he was expecting, but he couldn't deny that the idea intrigued him.

"A kiss, princess?" he repeated, still stroking my wing. "You think offering to kiss me will convince me to let you touch my screen?"

“Mhm,” I said, finally moving to sit in his lap. I was still looking up at him with wide eyes. “You called me cute and pretty.”

Vox chuckled again as I moved closer, touching him, without a care in the world. Just me, him, and my utterly mesmerized gaze fixed on him. He placed his hands on my hips, steadying me. My sudden boldness caught him a bit off guard, but he was entertained by my eagerness.

"So you're trying to use my compliments against me, huh, princess?" he teased. "Using flattery to get what you want from me? How devious, for a faerie like you."

“Not really,” I mumbled lightly. “If you were talking to another, you’d be skinned alive and draped across their parlor floor like a new rug.” The words slipped out before I could stop myself, too caught up in the enchanting glow of his screen.

Vox's smirk widened at my unexpected comment, the image it painted in his mind making him chuckle once again. "Now, now, princess," he said, his tone only slightly admonishing. "That's a bit gruesome, even for me. But I appreciate the sentiment."

He continued to hold me, enjoying the way I looked at him with my wide-eyed gaze, my face flushed and my wings gently draped behind me. He couldn't help but taunt me a bit.

"You seem pretty entranced by my screen, princess. What is it about its glow that you find so captivating?"

“Moth,” I said softly, fluttering my wings for emphasis. I was a moth faerie, we liked bright lights and blue light especially. Also just shiny things in general.

Vox chuckled once again, understanding now why I seemed so fixated on the glow of his screen. It was my faerie nature calling out to him. Seemed like a rather odd weakness to have- easily exploitable. It seemed like a miracle to him, that I hadn’t been killed already.

"Ah, that explains it, huh? You're a little moth drawn to the glow of my screen. How fitting, for a princess like you." He continued to hold me, his grip on my hips tightening ever so slightly as he teased me. “So naive..”

“Please let me touch it,” I said again, quietly.

Vox raised an eyebrow at my continued begging, amused by my eagerness and insistence. He chuckled once more, his smirk growing wider.

"You're quite determined, aren't you, princess?" he teased. "You really want to touch my screen, huh?"He paused, pretending to consider my request for a moment, before speaking in a playful tone. "Alright, princess. Go ahead."

I smiled and let out an excited squeak, then kissed him. As apart of the deal. Though I won’t deny, it was nice.

Vox chuckled softly as I kissed him- thinking for a moment it was only out of pure excitement- enjoying the taste of my lips on his own. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him in his lap as the kiss lasted for a few moments.

Electric would be a good way to describe it. Tiny little shocks flitted through me as he wrapped his tongue around mine.

When I finally broke away, he let out a low, pleased hum. "You keep surprising me, princess," he murmured, still holding me close to him. "And making deals that seem to benefit me more than you."

“Mmm,” I mumbled, my gaze still fixated on the glow. I smiled and pushed him down against the mattress within seconds, laying down ontop of him, nuzzling my face against his screen with a content hum.

Vox chuckled, caught off guard by my boldness once again. I was lying directly on top of his chest, as if he were my very own mattress. Me nuzzling my face against his screen sent a shiver through him, both from my delicate touch and the unexpected position we were in.

"You're full of surprises today," he teased, his arms still holding me loosely around my waist. "First, the kiss. Now, pinning me down and nuzzling up on me."

“I’m never letting go,” I purred, not moving in the slightest. I made a small buzzing sound- a moths equivalent to a purr- and fluttered my wings happily as I continued to nuzzle against him.

Vox chuckled again, the sound rumbling through his screen. my buzzing, purring sound and happy wing flutters were adorably cute, even for him. He watched the way my ears twitched, a fond smile on his face. Maybe he was as enchanted by me as I was by him. He had to admit, my unabashed affection was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome.

"Is that so, princess?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're never letting go, huh? Gonna keep nuzzling up on me like this forever?"

“Yep!” I said with a grin. I shifted a little, getting comfortable, then paused. “Are you cold?” I asked softly, actually looking him in the eyes this time. “Do you need to charge?”

Vox raised an eyebrow at my question. Despite my apparent obsession with his screen, I still seemed to care about his well-being. He thought… well, he thought that he’d had me completely mesmerized, wrapped around his finger- but this proved otherwise. He didn’t know that I could just tear away my focus from the light at any moment, he thought he’d had me hopelessly entranced. It was awkward for him to realize, but he quickly gathered himself.

"Cold?" he repeated with a smirk. "No, princess, I don't feel cold. But I do need to charge from time to time. Why do you ask?"

“Mm,” I said, getting up for a moment. I rummaged around his room for a moment before finding the plugs that went into the back of his head. I returned to the bed with them and lifted his head, plugging him in without a word. “There. Now we can continue.”

Vox watched me with curiosity as I went about finding the plugs and then carefully lifting his head to plug them into the sockets with ease. He shivered at the sensation of me touching him so gently, with tender care. He wasn’t used to it- he wasn’t even used to others plugging him in. He usually did it himself.

"Thank you, princess," he said with a nervous smile, as I finished plugging him in. He shifted into a more comfortable position, his head still resting against the pillows. "Now, where were we?"

“Like this,” I said, getting back into position and nuzzling my face against his again. “You owe me a favor now,” I noted with a smile.

Vox chuckled and smiled at my comment, enjoying the feeling of me nuzzling against his screen again. My happy buzzing practically reverberated through him. He found my carefree nature and playful attitude strangely satisfying. It was a weakness he usually hated but here… somehow he couldn’t bring himself to.

"Oh, do I, princess?" he teased, pretending to be offended. "And what kind of favor do I owe you, exactly?"

“Undecided,” I said softly. “It’s a small one, though.”

Vox chuckled again at my vague statement. A small favor, huh? He wondered what kind of insignificant but amusing thing I might ask for.

"A small favor," he repeated, still holding me close to him. "You're really making me curious here, princess. What kind of insignificant little task are you gonna make me do for you?"

“Mmm,” I mumbled, avoiding the question.

As I began making the soft buzzing sound and nuzzling against him again, Vox found himself relaxing. The feeling of me against him, my warm body and gentle touches, was surprisingly soothing.

As I began to drift off to sleep, nodding off, he chuckled softly, feeling my body grow heavy against him. "Looks like the princess is tired," he teased, his voice low. He ran a clawed hand through my hair, gently stroking it as I slept.

Despite himself, Vox found comfort in my presence. my weight against him, my wings slowly rising and falling with my breathing, was strangely soothing. He continued to run his clawed hand through my hair, careful not to wake me. Why did doing that feel so good? It was like a stress reliever. Almost natural.

For the rest of the night, he let me sleep on top of him, my face resting against his screen, my wings spreading out to cover us both like a blanket. He found himself listening to my soft breathing, his smirk softening into a more relaxed expression.

As the hours passed and the night slowly turned into morning, Vox continued to hold me. He wasn’t used to this level of closeness with anyone, much less a faerie, but something about me made it feel natural. Familiar? As if it was an inevitable thing, something bound to happen that he couldn’t avoid. Like coming home after a long day of work.

He watched as the first rays of sunlight began to peek through his curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. It was time to wake up, but he found himself reluctant to disturb my peaceful sleep.

(Tag list: @vvzhyxx @your-silly-vox-stan @noodlemaaaan @alexartink )

[shig-a-shig-ah]

so um… ghul… I need advice (if you can give it)?

So you’re a college professor right? Well, for a while now I’ve really been thinking about going back to school (I’m 25, by the way) because I’d also like to become a college professor, ideally in creative writing/something in the writing field.

So I was wondering if there was any advice/warnings/general information you might be able to share that you think would be useful.

You don’t need to spend too much time answering. I don’t want to inconvenience you. But I could just really use any words of wisdom since this is something I really really want but am scared I’ll be blindsided by something (I did a little college back when I was 18 but ended up having to leave due to personal reasons, so I have some experience on what to expect, but not a ton).

Anyway, hope you’re having a good night.

Hi! Always happy to give advice and warnings about the dumpster fire that is academia, so I definitely don't mind the question or feel inconvenienced. I should clarify though that I'm a PhD candidate, not an actual professor--so basically, I'm a very advanced graduate student who teaches instead of taking classes. But, being a professor is the goal and I'm pretty well versed in the ups and downs of pursuing an academic job.

And I have warnings. So many warnings!

The first thing to consider is just the amount of time it takes to become a professor. While you can get some jobs with only a Master's degree, they're few and far between, and especially precarious. For anything secure, you basically have to have a PhD. That means 4-5 years of undergrad, assuming you're starting basically from scratch, and then at least another five years for the doctoral degree. Keep in my mind that most people take longer than that to finish a PhD, too--I'm in my eighth year of grad school (sixth year in my actual program because I did a master's beforehand), and the average time to degree for my department is seven years. I know people who took ten. I may take ten!

Second, the academic job market is terrible. In many, many ways. There are basically two options--tenure track and adjunct. Tenure track pays better, comes with stability, and is probably what most people think of when they think of being a professor. Adjunct positions are short-term teaching contracts that only last for a semester, and often pay worse. (Imagine cobbling together a full-time job by teaching multiple classes a couple universities to make $30k a year with few benefits, if you're lucky).

Tenure track jobs have more stability, benefits, etc., but are also really fucking competitive. It's not unusual to have hundreds of applicants for one position, and even then it likely still won't pay as much as most other jobs requiring that level of education. On top of that, you generally have to also hustle to public papers, present at conferences, etc., just to be competitive for these jobs. And, as a bonus, it's almost guaranteed that you'll have to relocate to find a position, so you could easily find yourself moving to Arkansas to make $45k a year after a decade of schooling. Things are especially competitive and underpaid in the humanities, like writing-related fields, too.

Now, it's not like it could hurt to pursue it as an option, but going back to undergrad just for that being the goal is maybe not the best idea; it's definitely better to go in with a few possible paths in mind. Because it's a big time commitment for very little guaranteed payoff, and that's without even considering that just getting through grad school is fucking hard, and pretty much guaranteed to leave you with a lot of debt unless you have a partner to financially support you. And there are things that are great about it--you get a lot of autonomy, and I really love teaching so I have a great time--but I also pretty much agree with the advice I was given before starting, which was: if you can picture yourself doing anything else, do that instead.

[earlgreybocchan]

Twitter getting obsessed with conspiracy theories about where redacted is makes me feel so fucking terrible when there is so much worse going on that people are literally begging you to pay attention to but instead you want to focus on scenarios you made up in your head and play true crime detective

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I suddenly thought of the chorus to "Just a Shadow" by Big Country and I made myself cry when I realized that, in this new interpretation that I thought of last night at least (not to be confused with the other interpretations of this song I've thought of before...), "It's just a shadow of the [man/woman/people] [you/we] should be/Like a garden in the forest that the world will never see" is actually a deeply hopeless, alienating simile, because the point of "It's just a shadow of [the people we] should be" is that there is an ideal way to be human - to be people, and to be a man or woman (or both or neither) - but, like the garden (a thing that grows, changes, lives, and thrives!) in the forest that the world will never see, we will never truly reach that ideal.

But, because we're all just a shadow of the ideal, we still have potential. And I think the next lines in the chorus respond to that: "You have no thought of answers, only questions to be filled/And it feels like hell"...it's quite a [hellish] idea to reckon with how much potential we have, because as much positive potential exists for us, there's an equal amount of potential to (as Stuart Adamson would often say when introducing this song live) squander it. That's probably why it's important to ask ourselves every single day, "What kind of person do I want to be? Why? How can I accomplish that?" Because why else is life worth living, if we don't make choices that answer those questions every day (even if we don't literally ask ourselves those questions every day)?

[potter-inthe-tardis]

... @ recent anon

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

Simon wakes up before you.

At first, he forgets. He blanks on the fact that you’re in his bed, curled up against his side, lips slightly parted and pressed against his bicep, a leg haphazardly thrown over his thigh.

When he realizes, he freezes. Turns his head just so, enough that he can see you, stare at where your lashes lay against your cheek, the exposed part of your shoulder, peeking out from your too big t shirt with a stretched out neck. The sun has just barely come up, peeking through the curtains, shining across the bed and the slope of your body, curves and lines all mapped out across his own sheets and blankets, his own pillow the one supporting your head.

He should feel bad. He knows. And he does, a bit. Feels awful that most of your stuff is ruined and the building manager is slow moving, taking his time getting a recovery team into your flat.

But he also feels grateful. Lucky. Stupefied. Here you are… in his bed.

You twitch, eyes moving in your sleep, and then your face burrows farther between him and the pillow, nose pressing against his skin, your hand curling up between his ribs and your chest, still blissfully drifting, soft puffs of air tickling across his arm.

On instinct, pulled along by some magnetic force, his fingers glance across your forehead, to your temple. You still don’t stir, and he strokes the pad of his thumb along the apple of your cheek, soft skin beneath him a marvel on its own. His girl. In his bed.

The baby monitor sparks alive. It’s crackly and cranky, fresh morning tears calling to you from the other room, and you wake instantly, blinking your eyes open, orienting yourself. You look exhausted, long night of trying to sort through your belongings catching up quick, and he can’t stand the idea of you dead on your feet.

“Morning.” You’re a little shy, hesitant, and it melts him, makes him want to pull you in tight, keep you in his arms forever.

“Morning.” You try to shake the stupor of sleep free, half moving to your elbows before he cups your shoulder. “I’ll get ‘er.” He murmurs.

“I can, it’s fine. She’ll need a clean nappy.” You tell him, half asleep again, and he leans down, brushing his lips onto your forehead.

“I know. Rest, sweetheart. I’ll bring her in.”

Emmaline is displeased for the first ten minutes she’s awake. Simon changes her, and manages to get her into a new onesie, remembering how you always get her fresh clothes first thing in the morning. He’s cautious, moving her legs and arms into sleeves and maneuvering her as carefully as he can, his touch gentle, supportive as he sits her up. She settles once he’s finished, babbling as he carries her back to bed.

“You’re talkative this mornin, huh sweet pea?” She reaches for him, little fingers stretching out across what he imagines must feel like a great distance, trying to pull at the mussed strands of his hair. “Alright, alright.” She wriggles, small smile on her face, revealing a barely there white ridge in her bottom gum, a tooth poking through. “Let’s say hi to mum. Want to see mama? And then we’ll get some breakfast. How’s that sound?”

“There she is.” You hum, reaching for her when he crosses the threshold of his bedroom. She goes without fuss, cuddling into your arms, and Simon’s breath hitches, heart stumbling in his chest at the two of you. “What is it?” You whisper, frowning, and as he shakes his head, you hold your hand out to him, beckoning him close, urging him back into the bed. “C’mere then?” He’s so weak for you, easily swayed by just the bat of your eyelashes, so sweet and pretty, his shining glimpse of sun in such a bleak life. He folds, sliding back in beside you, an arm above your head, his finger now in the grip of Emma’s hands, the digit being dragged to her teething mouth. You smile, at her, and then up to him, kissing her cheek with a loud smacking sound, the affection making her squeal with a delighted giggle. If he was standing, he thinks his knees would be weak. He thinks he might be on the floor at the sight, the reality, of what this is, what this is growing into, and he clears his throat, trying to chase away the emotion that knots in the back of his throat as he keeps his eyes locked on the two of you.

His girls. In his bed.

[frogchiro]

HII HII ur writing is perf 4 this idea but you don’t hav 2 do it !! i js thought of u <3 little red riding hood reader & big bad wolf (ko, ghost, price) any cod guy & i think it’s js soo cute !!!

[art by doujinpearl]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS SO CUTE??? YOU NEVER MISS LOVE!!! And thank you it really means a lot to me that you like my silly writing <33

tw// horror elements and this has like one mention of a 'off-screen' death but no one major

I think I'm gonna go with König for this one?? Bc something about him just screams big bad wolf to me y'know? Also for the sake of this story, König is described like on the pics above, so his lower half is life a literal werewolf.

okay also i'm putting this under the cut because this somehow grew into a whole fic?? My dear @9irly9irl if you see this know that I love you and this was so. freaking. enjoyable to write??? I love this so much??? Also I'm sorry for the horror themes but I'm getting ready for October and the gloomy weather outside made me do this. I hope you still enjoy and PLEASE send me more for this au!!

Big bad wolf König who is on the prowl for some time now, he's on a hunt for you, the sweet girl who lives alone with her mother on the edge of the dark forest your good old momma always tells you to stay away from and for good reason. The townsfolk from the villages around whisper in fear and dread about a monster lurking in the woods, half man-half wolf with an insatiable taste for blood; they call the beast König, the undisputed King.

And honestly? König likes that rep. It means less annoying pests wandering around his territory safe for a groups of young guys from time to time who think they have the balls to try and 'kill the beast' but they are dealt with...pretty quickly.

But no, König has his glowing eyes set on something more...Exquisite. On something soft and pliable, sweet smelling and so so pretty. Namely on you. The werewolf guesses he has to be thanking his lucky starts or whatever bullshit that while sniffing around your cottage he overheard your mother talking about going out into the forest to bring her sickly mother, your grandma, a basket full of food and some other supplies and being the sweet little thing that you are, you of course cried and volunteered to go yourself, that your mother is already older and that you will make quick work of it.

König swears that day that his blood never rushed downward to his dick so fast. You, soft little you, all alone in his forest? His territory?? It's like you're begging to get taken and mated! The trek from your cottage to your grandma's home would take you about 2-3 days as she lives deep in the woods, the perfect timing for him to reveal himself and take you away for himself into his den in the darkest parts of the forest where you will have the perfect life with him! No more worrying about food or warmth during the cold, dreary winter months, he is more than a capable provider for his future mate, not to mention your future litter of happy yipping pups you will birth for him! It's a perfect plan!

And so he waits. And waits. And waits until the day you finally leave with your cute basket in tow and a tearful goodbye with your mommy dear that you will return as soon as possible. Yea, sure sweetheart.

I think he'd reveal himself by the time it's getting nighttime, when the sun sets, the air is getting cold and a ominous darkness sets over the forest where your trembling body sits in a makeshift nest made of a blanket and a thick animal pelt under a old, big tree. Everything seems so loud, the cries of nocturnal animals sound much more bleak and unnerving, not to mention the weird, chilling feeling of...something following you. Like there were a pair of eyes trained on you since a few weeks ago but you never mentioned this to your poor mother as you didn't want to worry her, but the feeling only amplified ever since you left your home and went on a trip to your grandmother.

You couldn't help the loud yelp you let out when suddenly a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared in the small clearing around the tree; a pair of glowing, unblinking orbs that seemed to be suspended in the air in the surrounding darkness, the weak fireplace you managed to make doing basically nothing to light up the area and your poor little heart started to beat like crazy when you noticed the eyes moving forward, closer and closer to you until the light finally caught what was moving towards you...or more like who.

It was an enormous man, easily over 7ft tall, his broad, bulky shoulders moving as he stood from the position he was in to his full height and those ominous glowing eyes still were unblinking as they stared at you like you were just some lamb and...you probably were.

The one thing that somehow stood out the most, even amidst literally everything else unnatural about this man, were a pair of ear on top of his head, which only now you noticed was covered in some sort of tattered old hood with holes for the eyes and ears, and a huge fluffy tail which was wagging faster anytime you seemed to look the man over, but what really brought it all together was his lower half...it-it was all fur. His legs were that of some bipedal wolf and in that moment a silent scream tried to make its way out of your throat; it was König, the brutal and unforgiving beast that resided in the surrounding forests, the one that people tell horror stories about around campfire and...he was here. He was here before you to tear you apart and leave nothing behind, not even bones.

Tears were streaming down your face, a look of utter defeat on it because after all, what more could you do? You can't possibly fight him, you can't outrun him, hiding is out of the picture too...You were ready to feel the unimaginable pain of those jaws locking themselves on your throat and draining you of your life but the you felt...warmth? A slick, warm feeling on your cheek and when you opened your eyes a bit you saw what it was. It was König, or more like his long tongue licking away at your cheek in an almost comforting matter, his wide unblinking eyes still trained on you though his pupils seemed to grow in size, now taking over most of the glowing yellow and when he deemed you to be clean of your tears, a large crooked nose with a scar running across it nudged into your cheek and took a deep sniff to get your scent. A stray thought ran through your mind when you took a closer look at his uncovered face and noticed another huge scar across his face and a few smaller ones, who or what in their right mind got close enough to inflict such wounds on someone like König?

When you stayed still and just stared at him wide eyed and out of breath König let out a deep growl like purr of content; he could hear your small aborted breaths still coming out quick and your heart fluttering in your chest like a small erratic bird but he could see that you were a tiny bit calmer now and not on the brink of hysterics like a few seconds before. He couldn't help but grin in delight, a nasty, wide thing that revealed rows of sharp teeth. He finally had you. He had you exactly where he wanted and now you were his. Well not completely yet, you two would need to mate first but still, everyone had to start somewhere right? For now he had you calmed down even for a bit, showed you that he wasn't a threat to you and wasn't going to hurt you. It was still only the night of the first day of your travels and he will offer to guide you, he couldn't possibly allow such a cute young lady to just wander around the deep dark forest all alone, right?

Of course he won't mention it that he will be herding you away from the path and instead guide you deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods where his den in. He won't mention it that he will be making very obvious and insistent advances at you, insisting on staying close at all times and wrapping his huge body around you at night for warmth, nosing and nudging at you to cover you in his scent and maybe make you a little bit hot under that deliciously low neckline of the dress that you're wearing, the cape in a lovely shade of red acting like a blanket to shield you away when König is nosing at your neck and bosom, greedy for all the tiny, shy, flustered noises you make, greedy for making you all hot and ready for him.

And of course he certainly won't mention to you about your poor old granny's corpse, rotting for weeks already in her old, decaying house where she died of some illness or old age. No, no, your new life is here, with him. Forever.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

This dark vampire poly!141 x hostage!reader idea is based off a comment I got on one of my works on Ao3 I would love to tag them if they were on Tumblr but I don't think they are.

Comment : Oh I'd love a vampire au! An idea for it if you are open to consideration: the 141 have been around for centuries, John pretty much turned all of them starting with Simon, then with Johnny, and then with Gaz being the youngest (although Gaz is still over a century old). Reader, of course, is human, moving to a new town to start over completely and ends up running into one of them. And they just know that reader is the missing piece that they had been looking for--the one that is the last to be bound to them. Because for an immortal creature it only makes sense that they would, in even just the name of species preservation, have multiple mates dictated by fate, instinct, or what have you :)

This sounds like a great premise for a vampire au. Also what if Knight price was turned in the medieval ages by a vampire lord he was tasked to kill and ended up being turned as he killed the last of the vampire kin for the English king. He fled obviously when he realised what happened letting his knights think he was killed in battle.

-

Time passes and he doesn't age, he watched his loved ones from a distance growing old and having children before ultimately passing away. It pains him that he lives like an animal hunting for blood in the forest unable to live a normal life.

But he still wishes to do good, to be good . So as his powers build and the sun doesn't scorch his skin anymore. He joins the army century after century to regain some sense of humanity. (That's a horrible way to regain humanity if I'm honest, though in his defence he fell for the propaganda and thought he was doing a good thing.) But the bloodlust becomes so much worse the more he kills. The more blood stains his hands the more he longs for the chaos and violence.

He gathers companions along the way. Men like him that were on the brink of death but had so much to live for. He couldn't let them die he just couldn't! By the 21st century he had his little taskforce. His boys, his lovers, his family but someting was missing. What could it be? They lived comfortably with the wealth they had accumulated. They had their buffet layed out for them on the battlefield. What more could they want?

But something was out of place. Even with his lovers, life was becoming bleak when all they saw was violence and bloodshed. That was until they found a delicate little hostage in their capture or kill mission. Scared little thing you were tucked away in the corner of a bedroom, chained to the wall. You'd do nicely as their pet. They bet your blood tastes just as sweet as your tears.

Their reply: Oh I love it! Johnny being a warrior that at the Battle of Culloden, fighting for Scottish independence from the British, happens to die while fighting an infuriating man. Said infuriating man, dying by the Scottsmans hand, just so happens to be lieutenant Simon. Price having already planned to watch over Simon (he said he wouldn't get attached) yet he can't help but to turn Johnny too. Neither are happy at first, they have their differences, but they can't deny the bond and love that forms. Then the three of them meet Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick in world war ii. So bright and full of life, passionate about fighting for his country and ending Nazi regime. The man runs right into a fight, saving dozens upon dozens of men, and the three know they can't let him remain dead when the inevitable comes. And Gaz, well, he keeps that light within him because at least now he can make sure that the war to end all wars wasn't done in vain.

I just wanted to show off their ideas too since it's what inspired my little snippet. I not sure if I'll turn this into a actual thing though.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[tragedybunny]

Helloooooooooo! I saw that you were taking Astarion requests, and I’ve had something living rent free in my head for awhile nowwwww.

Basically, how would Astarion do with an s/o who is able to handle him well because of their own traumatic past? Maybe s/o came from a controlling/abusive household, so they already had to teach themself what a stable relationship looks like, and can now apply that here.

Essentially, I keep thinking about Astarion talking about how “patient” tab is with him when romantically involved, and I just keep thinking of s/o responding by saying “someone had to be patient with me too, Astarion. I learned the importance of it from that”

This has been awhile, I hope I put something together that works. Apologies for the wait. 💖

Until the World Falls Down - Astarion x F!Reader -

Love isn't always easy, but Astarion is worth having patience for.

You weren’t sure exactly where the argument came from or how it reached a boiling point at such speed. Astarion had been complaining that your house, the little house in the lower city that you loved so much because it belonged to the two of you, didn’t feel terribly secure. True, it was left empty while you traveled, looking for a way he could walk in the sunlight again, but Dammon was stone’s throw away, along with a number of the other tieflings from the Grove. When you’d been asked by the city’s rulers what you wanted in return for your heroics, a place you and him could call home was all you could think of. 

“I’m just saying we could look for something else,” he snips, pushing things further.  

There’s a rising pounding in your head, he’s giving into the paranoia. This was the inheritance passed down from Cazador, an endless fountain of ill that also included outbursts of anger, fits of melancholy, and more guilt than you could have ever imagined he was capable of. “Love,” you try your best to diffuse it, something you’ve grown well practiced with, “this is our home, I don’t want to change it.” 

He snorts, “I don’t know why I expected you to understand, you had all the safety and security in the world and ran from it.”

The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, it’s not the first time he’s lashed out at you, but he’s never weaponized your past before. “Astarion, that…that hurts.” 

“What? It’s the truth, a pampered little noble girl who fled her sheltered life, because it was what, boring? Do you know what I would’ve given to be in your place?” 

You stare at him wide-eyed, gasping at what feels like a ruptured wound in your chest. There’s only been bits and snatches of your past he’s been able to learn, the Warlock pact making it impossible to reveal all. But it’s shattering to have that little bit he knows turned on you. Fingernails curling into the palms of your hand, you try to steady your breathing, reminding yourself he really doesn’t know everything, he can’t tell how deeply those words cut. But you’re no saint, sometimes the pain is too much. “Gods, you really don’t care if you hurt me, do you?” All you’ve ever asked of him is love, and you die a little inside when he can’t seem to give it, even if you know why. “I need some air,” turning you stalk away from him and your little kitchen you adore, where tea sits now growing cold, towards your front door, tears blossoming that you fight, and memories you've locked away pushing to the front of your mind. 

Maybe it’s your words, maybe it’s the hard reality of your hand pulling the door open, but behind you, Astarion quietly exclaims,“no.” He sounds far away though, sounds and shapes from another time clouding your senses. 

Beyond your threshold, Baldur's Gate bustles in the early dawn light, but you only see bleak halls, filled with looming dread, and hear the whispers of the House of Air and Darkness. Push past it, you tell yourself, one foot crossing into the warm light. You're running, maybe that's what you're good at, maybe he's right, you run when you shouldn’t. Another breath, you're standing just outside the door. The noise of the city starts to pull you out of the past. 

A hand grabs at your’s. “Don’t leave m-” his words end in a hiss of pain.

Shaking your head, you finish pushing back at the past to find Astarion’s hand clutching yours, starting to smolder in the sun. “Astarion, stop.” 

“No, what if you don’t come back?” He’s frantic, tugging you back toward the shelter of the darkness inside the door. The scent of his flesh starting to singe fills your nostrils. The churning maelstrom of emotions hasn’t calmed enough, leaving you rooted where you stand. “Damn it,” grimacing, he takes a step forward, towards you, towards the light. 

As though you’d been under a slow spell that finally releases you, there’s understanding, and you lunge toward him, pushing him back into the safety of your home, door slamming in your wake. Arms wrap around him as he clings to you, he’s quivering. Sinking to the floor, the sounds of rough sobbing start to escape from him. “I’m sorry Love,” you whisper, trying your best to soothe him, while your own mind recovers.  

Words tumble out between fits of crying. “Not your…sorry…don’t know why…didn’t mean that…don’t leave me.” 

“Hush, Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” It aches inside, you didn’t mean to frighten him. 

With gentle words and touches, you try to calm him until he finally stills in your arms. “Why?” 

“What?”

“Why aren’t you leaving? Why do you stay? I’m a monster, no better than Cazador, turning your words back on you to torture you.” There’s no tears, but you realize it’s only because he’s too tired to keep crying. 

“You are not a monster Astarion, your emotions get the better of you sometimes.” Leaning down, you kiss the crown of his head, his forehead, his cheek, anywhere you can get. “I know you’re trying.” 

“How can you be so patient with me?” His hand searches out yours. 

Once, you lived in a world where only power mattered, where your parents would’ve given you to a monster to secure their place. But you were shown a better way. “Someone was patient with me too once. She showed me how to love, I think she saved my life.” You stop there, knowing the price for saying more. 

Astarion doesn’t ask either, understanding you can’t. “I can do better,” he promises earnestly.

“I know you will, but you’re still healing. And I’m sorry I let it get to me.” 

“No,” quickly, he sits, eyes locked onto yours, “you have feelings too, and it’s not fair for me to hurt you just because I hurt. I will do better, you deserve better from me, after everything you’ve done.”

You look at him, a teary wreck, and realizing you’re probably not much better yourself, lose yourself to an unexpected giggle. "Gods, we're a mess. I love you." 

"Speak for yourself, I'm perfection." he laughs, laying his head back on your shoulder. "I love you too, more than anything."

[dollfacefantasy]

Like a Friend

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: it's been months since you and toji split. when he shows up at your apartment, you struggle to not fall back into his arms.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, toxic relationship dynamics

word count: 4.7k

a/n: commission for @nexysworld <3

One eye cracks open when a loud pounding sound rouses you from your sleep. You sit up, rubbing your face and yawning. The red numbers on your alarm clock glare 2:37. After a few more moments of it, you register the sound as knocking on your front door. As you drag yourself from the comforts of your bed, you wonder who and why. Who would not only disturb you at this hour, but also be so brash about it? You kind of hoped it was no one you knew so you wouldn’t have to deal with anyone’s bullshit problems at nearly three in the morning.

When you arrive at the entryway and glance through the peephole on the door, your wishes dissipate immediately. Standing outside your place was the biggest bullshit problem you’d ever encountered. You unlock your door and crack it open, the bright light of the hallway making you squint as it casts over you.

“Toji?” you ask, your voice still a bit raspy from disuse.

“Hey baby,” he says quietly. Despite his subdued tone, he still flashes you that grin that lets you know he’s still himself.

“What… what are you doing here?” you mumble. You rub your face again to try and make yourself a little more presentable. Even though he was an asshole and you couldn’t say enough about how you had totally moved on, the sight of his shaggy hair hanging in front of his eyes and the faded scar on the corner of his mouth still made your heart flutter.

“The place I was staying kind of fell through. But you know, it’s kind of a good thing. Brought me back to you. I’ve been missing you a lot,” he says.

You roll your eyes. He must need more than just a night to get himself together with how thick he was laying it on.

He reaches out to stroke the curve of your cheek. His rough fingers drag against the soft skin while the two of you stare at each other. You know you should swat his hand away. Tell him to go to hell. Get lost and lose your number. But you can’t be that cruel. Not to him. Even with everything that’d happened, all the tears he’d caused and days he’d ruined, he was still your Toji. Your bad habit. Your never-ending vice. A piece of you that’d you’d never cut out no matter how rotten it became.

“Fine, c’mon,” you relent. You open the door wider and allow him entry.

“That’s my girl,” he says and steps through.

“Don’t call me that,” you say quietly. You were falling for it, but he didn’t have to throw it in your face.

After following you in, he doesn’t shut the door behind him. You raise an eyebrow.

“Before we catch up…” he starts with a chuckle, “I kind of need you to pay for my ride. I don’t have any cash on me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask, walking to the window and looking down. As he said, the cab was waiting outside.

All the dreamy thoughts you’d just had about him being yours no matter what start to have a bleak tint. Your gaze hardens as a harsh sigh leaves your lips.

“Fine, but you’re gonna pay me back,” you say. You stop at the counter to grab your wallet and fish out some cash. Then you slap it into his palm and gesture for him to go. Sure you’d give him the money, but no way were you gonna scamper down there out into the cold in your pajamas.

He leans down and gives you a small peck on the cheek before heading out. You stand in your living room alone. He was still affectionate even though you’d been apart for months. You knew he was that way with his words. The occasional texts he sent you during this break always held copious amounts of “baby’s” and “my pretty girl’s.” You just didn’t expect him to touch you like nothing was different.

You rub your eyes in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Deciding to be proactive, you occupy the small wait for his return by setting up some things on the couch. You rifle through the closet in the hallway to find some spare bedding. Pillows are easy, you toss two spare ones over to your couch. Blankets are more difficult. You initially grab the fluffy lavender one he gave you for your last birthday. It looked brand new. You hadn’t had much time to use it before you kicked him out. Then when it felt like he was actually gone for good, you’d clutched it to your chest while crying your eyes out for days. But since that week, it remained hidden away in the depths of this closet.

He probably wouldn’t even notice if you did put it out, but he didn’t need confirmation that you hadn’t thrown the stuff he gave you away. So instead, you pull out an old blue one with little fish all over it. You spread it out on the couch as he slips back into the apartment, this time closing the door and locking it. Your back is turned while smoothing out the wrinkles in the plush fabric, so you don’t see him sliding a leftover bill into his pocket.

As you finish up the makeshift bed on the couch, he approaches you. He places a cautious hand on your waist, his fingertips rubbing tiny strokes on your t-shirt.

“You’re really gonna put me out on the couch? I thought you’d want me in bed, all to yourself. Like old times,” he teases.

“I don’t want it to be like old times,” you say.

“C’mon, they weren’t all bad,” he says and pulls you a little closer, “You used to love to cuddle. You’d curl right up to me, give me those little kisses. We had a lot of fun together in that bed.”

You look up at him. His familiar eyes meet yours. It would be so easy to give in. To connect your lips and pull him back to your bed that had been missing his presence for months.

“We did. But not anymore. They’re good memories, and that’s it,” you say, turning your head and stepping away. You needed the distance between the two of you.

You further separate yourself from him by sitting in the chair near the couch. It was a single seat, no room for anyone else to slide in next to you and drape their arm around your shoulders. He knows what you’re doing of course. You can see the look of amusement in his eyes. This was how you got during fights. You just closed off, tried to remove yourself from him and not engage. It was kind of cute you hadn’t changed.

He plays along and sits down on the couch, leaning back into the cushions and propping his legs on your table. The silence between the two of you feels heavy. It fills up the room, suffocating any space words could have gone.

“Do you want a drink?” you manage to get out.

“I’m fine,” he says. And in contrast to you, he did seem fine. He seemed unbothered by the lack of conversation. He looked content to stare at you, drag his eyes over every detail of your figure.

“Are you ok?” you ask. You just couldn’t take the silence.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks in return.

“Cause you said you didn’t have anywhere to go and the place you were staying, something went wrong,” you answer.

“That was nothing, I’m fine,” he deflects.

“Well I just want to know if I should be concerned if there’s a hit out on you or something. If someone’s gonna burst through my door in a few minutes cause you ripped them off,” you say and cross your arms.

“Nothing that serious. Just some lady problems,” he says with a smirk.

A dark cloud forms over your head at this. It wasn’t like he was cheating. You weren’t together anymore. But the thought of him with another woman drove you crazier than just about anything else. And of course he knew that.

“What happened? She get smart enough to kick your ass out?” you say, unsuccessfully masking the bitterness in your tone.

“Something like that,” he says. He pauses, still looking smug as ever. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“You wish,” you respond. He doesn’t seem to believe you.

Another bout of uncomfortable silence crowds the distance between you two. This time it’s broken by him.

“You got anyone I should be jealous of?” he asks.

“That’s none of your business,” you answer without a second thought.

“Guess not. I mean if you did, you probably wouldn’t be letting me crash on your couch. And anybody who was a real threat would be here. Would’ve answered the door instead of you,” he mocks.

You roll your eyes yet again. “You’re so smart,” you say.

He shrugs. “Only when it comes to you.”

Rage boils within you. You know you shouldn’t feed into him, give him what he wants by getting all riled up. Your rational mind knows this. But the irrational part of you loves the game. Walking as close as you can to the line without stepping across. Pulling and pulling until you feel something about to snap.

“Well I’m not like you. I take a while to move on since you actually mattered to me. I just can’t jump into someone else’s arms and pretend that nothing is different,” you say.

“Don’t start that shit. Don’t act like I’m some cold-blooded asshole who broke your innocent little heart,” he says. His eyes don’t leave you once.

“You did break my heart and you are a cold-blooded asshole, so tell me where the lie is,” you challenge.

“You aren’t innocent,” he states, “You could get just as nasty when we were fighting. And you’re the one who broke up with me.”

“Because you are a dick. Cause and effect. If you weren’t so insufferable, we wouldn’t have so many fights, and I wouldn’t have broken up with you,” you point out.

“So it’s all my fault? You never do anything wrong? Whatever you say, baby,” he says, now taunting you with the pet name.

“I didn’t say I never do anything wrong. But everything we fought about is because you did something stupid,” you say.

“I make a little mistake once in a while and you blow up on me. I think you just like fighting,” he says.

You dig your nails into the flesh of your arm to keep your temper from flaring. You begin to wonder if it’s too late to throw him out again. Part of you had the urge to go back in time and slap the version of yourself that let him in cause he was “your Toji.” But really, this was your Toji. Your Toji with his sleazy smile, dumb shaggy hair, smug eyes, and chilling voice. This was the man who had you hopelessly trapped.

“Whatever,” you huff, determined to prove him wrong. You rise from your chair and walk towards the hall that leads to your room. “I’m going back to bed. Do what you want, just stay out of my room. If you want to change, I can bring you some clothes.”

“You have clothes here that will fit me? Maybe I should be jealous,” he says, leaning forward and resting an elbow on his knee.

And instead of taking advantage of his assumption, like he would have done to you, your mouth opens and words fly out before you can even think of that.

“They’re your-” you start, your mental brakes screeching to a halt. Suddenly, you felt so stupid for putting so much thought into avoiding the purple blanket.

The smile that breaks out on his face is so wide it’s almost unsettling. It would be if it was anyone else.

“Aw baby,” he coos mockingly, “You didn’t get rid of my clothes? You still been using ‘em? Cause that’s fine you know. I like it when they smell like you.”

You didn’t even know what to say. You had used them a few times since he’d been gone, but it wasn’t like a regular thing. You did like that they smelled like him, and you liked hearing that he felt the same way about you. But he couldn’t win.

“Just shut up. Do you want them or not?” you say and look away.

“No, baby. I’ll be fine. Thank you,” he says, every word dripping with condescension.

You slink away without returning the courtesy. It takes you no time to collapse back into your bed, but resuming the sleep he had torn you from proves more difficult. Your thoughts just keep drifting back to him. You toss and turn, legs kicking away the blankets and then arms pulling them back.

He really was out there on your couch. You thought you may never see him again. You’d broken up a few times before over different small things, but this time felt different. It was supposed to be for real. But just like that, he came back. 

Now that he had returned, you felt the dull ache for him returning as well. You had hoped it shrunk over time until eventually it didn’t exist, but here it was, showing itself again. You know you shouldn’t, but you were starting to regret not asking him to join you. He was fucking infuriating, but you had missed him so much. He could help push away the memories of loneliness that had occupied your bed in his wake.

After nearly an hour of this, you manage to slip into some form of sleep. It felt like you were still awake, but far away. You were floating, drifting around aimlessly. You were resting, but you probably wouldn’t feel that way if you woke up right now.

You’re deep enough that you don’t hear your door creaking open. You don’t feel the mattress dip slightly with additional weight. You don’t sense your blanket being lifted as another body slides in next to yours. You only begin to wake once you feel his skin on yours, his thick arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

You babble tiredly as he presses kisses to the back of your neck. Humming in confusion, you turn and crack your eyes open to see what’s happening.

“Toji?” you croak when you register his face so close to yours. 

He’s still kissing up and down your neck. His fingers trace little patterns on the skin of your waist. Once you realize it’s him and what he’s doing, you squirm. You whine and try to pry his arms off you.

“Stop. What'd I tell you? Quit it,” you grumble as you struggle more with him.

He squeezes you tighter and nuzzles you. “But it’s cold out there, sweetheart. Lonely too,” he murmurs.

“Don’t care. It’s the couch or the curb, so take your pick,” you yawn.

“Baby, it’s me. I’ve been missing you so bad. And I wasn’t being a very good guest before. Let me make it up to you a little,” he whispers.

“No,” you whine, “Make it up by letting me sleep.”

“You can sleep whenever. I’m here right now,” he purrs. His fingers ghost along your waist making you squirm and whine at the slight tickle.

“Why do you always have to be so annoying?” you huff and try to readjust to be comfortable within his hold since he shows no signs of letting up.

“You know you like it.”

He pulls you tighter against him and drags his nose against the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent. It felt good, natural more than anything else. Like this is how things should be.

“Has anyone been in this bed since I left?” he taunts.

“You already asked me about that, and it’s still none of your business,” you respond.

“Can’t be too careful. Especially with a cute thing like you,” he says.

“Just shut up and go to sleep. Count yourself lucky I’m not forcing you back to the couch,” you say as if you could actually force him to do anything.

“It’s been months. You really want sleep more than you want me?” he teases and nips at your earlobe.

The drag of his teeth on your flesh pulls you back into the waking world a bit more. Your sleepy eyes open more and take in the sight of his face. He looked almost innocent in a way, like he was truly just asking for another chance to connect.

He leans in for another kiss, this time catching your lips with his own. His toned chest and abdomen pressed against the softness of your side, and despite his claims of being cold, he felt like a space heater the way warmth radiated off him.

You indulge him a bit, gently reciprocating the affection for a moment. But after a few soft movements of your lips, you pull away.

“We can’t… I shouldn’t do this,” you whisper through the darkness of your bedroom.

“Why not?” he says back. His fingers rise to your face, stroking over your temple, from your hairline to your cheekbone.

“I can’t do this again. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of believing you’ll be different and then you’re not. And then we break up again and then make up a little bit later. It’s exhausting,” you sigh.

“It will be different this time, babe. You recognizing this stuff shows that it will be,” he says and brushes his thumb over your lips. He moves even closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs.

The soft hum of his voice alone made you want to give in. Combine it with his gentle touches and firm body, you were fighting with your urges to let him ruin you. Your head tilts back to contemplate, and he takes advantage of the position to start peppering kisses on your throat, sucking love bites into the sensitive flesh.

“Toji,” you whimper, “Stop, you’re gonna leave a mark.”

“I wanna leave a mark, baby. Gotta remind everyone that you belong to me. Can’t have you forgetting either,” he mutters.

A breathy whine floats through your room, and one of your hands laces itself in his hair. You close it into a fist, giving the dark locks a little pull. Your mind was an echo chamber of don’t don’t don’t stop stop stop. But familiar heat bloomed between your legs as his large palm coasted up your side to find one of your breasts. The sound of his lips on your skin and his shallow breaths gave you heart palpitations.

“I didn’t forget,” you gasp softly as his fingers dig into your tit.

“Yeah? So you’re all mine still?” he teases.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking the last step to giving in.

“That’s right,” he says. You can feel his smirk against his neck. “My baby. Back where she belongs.”

“I missed you too,” you whimper as he continues the assault on your neck.

“I know you did,” he breathes as his tongue slides over your skin.

His hand continues to grope your breast. You arch into his touch, a wordless plea for more. He snakes the limb beneath the thin fabric of your shirt and finds your soft skin. With no barrier separating the two, his fingers toy with your nipple. They pinch and pull, twist and tease. They’re merciless until he feels the small bud start to peak. That acts as his signal to direct his attention downwards. 

He moves to be more on top of you. His thumbs hook beneath the hem of your shirt and pull it up over the swell of your chest. Immediately, his mouth latches onto the nipple his fingers had neglected. His saliva coats the area as his tongue laves on the skin, getting it to rise to attention just as the other day.

“Been missin’ these perfect tits,” he mumbles before using his mouth again, “No one else could take care of ‘em like me.”

You whine and squirm a bit, your hands staying firm in their grip on his head. You nod along with his words. A completely thoughtless gesture. You didn’t even fully register them. Your mind simply believed he couldn’t be wrong while making you feel so good.

As he works on warming you up, he begins peeling off your clothing. Your shirt comes over your head and falls off the side of the bed. Your bottoms are next, slid down and flung away from the two of you. He kisses down your belly before leaning back on his knees. His shirt meets yours on the ground when he pulls it off.

You’d seen it so many times before, but you couldn’t help gawking at his figure. Your fingers glide up his abdomen, feeling every ridge in his abs. He smiles down at your wondrous expression.

“Remembering exactly what you missed, hm?” he asks.

You reach up to pull him down to you at the same time he starts lowering himself. Lips collide and hands slide all over now bare skin. Your fingers find the familiar grooves on his back that they always dug into when he was buried deep inside you. His digits snake beneath your panties and slip between your folds.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet,” he laughs against your mouth, “That’s probably just her natural reaction when I’m around though.”

You grumble in response and try to mute his words by making out. He cuts you a break and does shut up for once while rubbing your pussy some more and getting your panties off. It’s not long before he follows suit by freeing his cock and brushing it through your slick.

“Time to see if she’s as tight as I remember,” he grunts as he lines up and then sinks in.

Your heat engulfs him like it’s a natural fit. Your walls squeeze around him, the massaging sensation making his breaths more labor.

“Fuck… might be tighter. Think she’s begging me not to leave again,” he teases.

He begins thrusting, working his hips back and forth. He’s so big that he’s instantly hitting pleasure spots. You sigh and wrap your limbs around him more.

“Just be quiet,” you whimper as your cheeks burn.

“Not a fan of me making fun of you?” he mocks, “Doesn’t shock me since you didn’t before. You’re just usually more agreeable while stuffed full of cock.”

You go to argue, but the words in your throat die and shrivel up into a whine. Your body rocks with each of his motions. He’s not even going that hard yet, but you still feel his raw strength as his muscles flex against you.

“Aw, it’s ok, dollface. You just go a little dumb. It’s only natural for bratty girls like you,” he coos.

The whole time he continues, in and out. You stay tight around him, and you start thinking his theory about you not wanting him to leave may have some truth to it. This felt so good. So much better than the couple guys you’d had in between. And even though you are going to be fucked dumb soon enough, you’re not totally there yet.

“The only time you don’t act dumb is when you have your dick out,” you say between soft sounds of pleasure.

He grips your hips harder upon hearing your words. “That so?” he grunts. He picks up the pace, his pelvis making a loud noise every time it slams against your ass. “Like I said, the only time your silly little head isn’t clouded by your attitude is when I calm you down on my cock. So shut it and let all those thoughts melt away.”

And you listen because despite your little comments, you liked how it felt to lose everything except him. You couldn’t live without the feeling that nothing else in the world mattered but you and him. All your worries that plagued you during every other moment of the day transformed into distant ideas as the feeling of him battering into your cunt moved to the forefront.

And as much as you love feeling it, he loves watching it. He loves watching your eyes blank and become thoughtless, totally dependent on him to guide you to release. He was obsessed with the way you’d start to drool. Your inhibitions all but disappeared, and he couldn’t get enough. He’d never admit it to you, but he could never find anyone else with reactions that captivated him as much.

After an extra sharp thrust, your body seizes up and you shriek. “Toji!” you cry out.

“Mhm, never too dumb to remember that, are you? My little slut always knows who owns her,” he says.

You nod mindlessly, your head bobbing in wide movements. “Fuck me so good,” you babble, “No one else. Don’t want anyone else. Always gonna be you.”

“Good girl,” he grunts, “Pussy’s all for me. Takes me like it was made for me.”

“It’s all yours. Nobody else gets it,” you whine.

“Gonna be mine forever. Just look at you. No one else could do this to you. You ever fuck anyone else, and all they’re gonna get out of it is that they’re not as good as me,” he moans while ricocheting his hips off yours.

You gasp, getting to the point where words are an unrealistic concept.

“All your neighbors already know who this pussy belongs too. I’ve got you trained so well, I know my dumb little girl calls for me whenever she cums, even when I’m not there,” he whispers. His voice was starting to strain under the proximity of release. “Even when you’re just soooo mad at me. You press your toys to that pretty little clit to blow off steam, and you can’t help but cry out-”

“Toji!” you mewl as if he had been asking you. It was good to know your mind was still good for at least one word.

He grins like a madman and drills into you harder. Your limbs flail and your noises become short and rhythmic.

“You take any cock from any guy, and what are they hearing the whole time?” he asks.

“Toji!” you repeat.

“What was that? Don’t think they could hear you.”

“Toji, Toji, Toji,” you sob out.

“Good baby. Perfect little whore all for me. Never letting you go again,” he grunts.

“Never gonna be apart again. Gonna be yours forever,” you mumble.

Both of your breathing is picking up. Your chests puff against each other as your sweaty skin rubs against one another. It’s all a blur at the end, like always. You think you cum first, but as soon as you hit that high, you pretty much black out. The room spins and your vision fills with stars. All you really register are his groans that make your tummy flutter, and the feeling of his warmth flooding your pussy as he shoots his load inside.

This time though, the after part is fuzzy too. You vaguely feel him pull out and guide you to lay against his chest. You feel his lips against your head and his large hands cradling you close, but then you’re gone. You pass out and sleep till late in the morning.

By the time your eyes reopen, the room is full of sunlight. You take a second to remember the previous night and all that happened. Surprisingly, a sense of regret didn’t crash into you like a swat van. You actually feel some sort of satisfaction. You feel sated. The ache is gone at least for now. You have him back. As he opens his eyes and sits up to give you a kiss, you return the gesture in full.

“You gonna stay a while?” you whisper.

“Yeah. No reason for me to leave,” he says.

You give him another kiss before he lies down again and pulls you onto his chest again to rest some more. You sink into his toned body. He was yours again. You could admit now that you never stopped being his. As you lay there and absorb the dreamy atmosphere in your room right now, your poor heart truly believes that this time will be different.

[yantako]

Hello! Can i request yandere Malleus , Floyd and Kalim with an s/o who cant feel fear? (Its not that they are brave or anything its a real problem in their brain that they of course cannot fix)

Hi there! Thank you so much for the request!

I have definitely heard of this brain disorder before and honestly, it is really scary to think about it. Not sure if I'm doing it justice though, please forgive me if it doesn't sound like the condition! ><

Anyway, without further ado, let's begin!

Warning: Yandere and dubious elements.

Yandere with a S/O who can't feel fear

ft. Malleus, Floyd & Kalim

Malleus Draconia

• When you two first met, he was surprised that you smiled at him instead of being shocked or scared of him.

• However, because of such a reaction, he grows an interest in you for being so 'brave'.

• Everything would go well with his talks with you, getting to know you better and all, and slowly he started developing feelings for you.

• He'd always known you for being fearless about everything, even in the dangerous situations that you sometimes put yourself through from what he has heard from your stories.

• However, he started to feel curious about what your fearful face might look like and decided to play a small trick on you. Would maybe a giant dragon suffice in scaring you?

• When he saw your first reaction was lacking in fear, he'd try again with bigger and bigger moves. Malleus could feel his tiny smirk slowly distorting into a frown filled with worry and pain. It only became full-fledged anger at the point where it seems as if you didn't even care when the dragon was about to kill you [ of course, with you trapped with no room for escape ]. You didn't even seem remotely afraid as you tried to think of a way to combat this. However, when the situation is so bleak, you used your rational mind to think of the most painless way to go, and that is to tank the hardest hit in hopes of a one-shot KO.

• When you were about to be hit, Malleus immediately stopped the illusion and merely hugged you tightly. He had just wanted to see another side of you but ended up making himself feel like a disaster for putting you through that. He even had some thoughts if you would just give up your life so easily, why didn't you call him to help you?

• You felt pleasantly surprised that he was suddenly in front of you. Happy to see him, you gave him a smile, but also a knowing look when you realised what was going on just from his expression. It's about time you tell him about it.

• When he hears about your condition, his heart sunk.

• From then on, he has you kept by him the entire time. He had a mindset that if you can't feel fear, you won't know your dangers. It only made him more fearful for you.

• He becomes a lot more possessive over you and warier of the people around you, going so far as to cast spells on you without your knowledge.

• He becomes way more protective each time you get injured, on the basis that you cant feel fear even if you explained to him multiple times that you do know your dangers.

• He would do anything to keep you protected at all costs.

Floyd Leech

• Shrimpy! Aren't you scared of me?

• You just witness him punching a bloody student in a secluded area in school. Of course, you did stare for a while and wanted to leave as you presumed this to be troublesome and dangerous for you if you remained.

• However, this tall eel immediately noticed you and dropped the student he was holding. His eyes glinted as if he saw a brand-new toy being served up to him.

• He peered down at you threateningly after cornering you at a wall. However, even as he did that, you didn't show as big of a reaction as he wanted to see. Weren't you supposed to be squirming under him like a worm? Hey, why are you looking away when he's glaring at you!

• At first he thought it was very boring that you gave him such a lukewarm reaction, but when he figured that you were trying to find a way to escape calmly, his curiosity peaked again. He understood that normal people would be in a state of panic and give him their fullest attention in case he would hit them, however, he didn't feel any sense of fear from you but rather, a very cold way of ignoring him.

• With his interests piqued, he decided to let you go after attempting to scare you with his threats. He found it amazing that you showed no signs of fear in such a situation and decided to make his next days fun in school by harassing you.

• He continuously placed you in dangerous situations, even to the point of near-death situations, to simply observe and find entertainment. Well, that is until you actually got a near-death experience which scared the fuck outta him.

• Looking at your pale and weak figure lying in the infirmary, he thought about how much danger he had put you through. Regrets came washing over him. Initially, he thought it was fun and entertaining to watch your fearless gait. But now, he could hear alarms ringing in his head whenever he thinks you are in danger. In some magical and mysterious manner, somehow, he became smitten for you.

• Ever since then after you recovered, Floyd seemed to have a flipped his treatment of you. He would protect you fiercely from even the smallest threats, growling and even resorting to violence even at small teasings people do to you.

• He finally felt as if he had something he needed to do, something motivating him. He had to protect you even if he had to resort to violence and intimidation. He finally got a spark in his heart and he would do his all to protect this spark. Finally, something he could not get bored of. If you aren't scared by his actions, that means you allowed him to do so, right?

• Shrimpy ignited something in him, so you better accept it, okay?

Kalim Al Asim

• Hm? He doesn't understand it. What do you mean you can't feel fear?

• Even after explaining it to him, he still does not understand it.

• That is, until you were kidnapped because of him. When he found you all battered up but yet lighting up when you see him. He had questioned you all the essentials. Why didn't you scream? Why didn't you call for help? Why do you still look so... okay about this situation?

• You chuckled as you joke. "At least I wasn't killed or hit so badly."

• Kalim stared at you for awhile before getting reminded of what you had told him before.

• Ever since then, he decided to take your safety into his own hands, having bodyguards around you and even giving you your own aide so that you could be protected. He just wanted to keep you safe, so please allow this of him, alright?

• Privacy? Is that more important than your safety, darling?

[eoieopda]

all my dreamin' | hjs

all my dreamin' is only put to shame / and darlin', all my dreamin' has only been given a name / but it came easy, darlin' / as natural as another leg around you in the bed frame.

pairing: joshua hong x reader summary: your LA boyfriend wasn't built for midwest winters. ⇢ insp. by hozier's "to someone from a warm climate (uiscefhuarithe)" type: one-shot | fluff 'n smut wc: only 2.5k! au: established relationship rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) cw: afab! and american!reader; cuddling (👀) for warmth; gropin’ and grindin’; k*ss*ng; slow, unprotected morning sex; p in v penetration. a/n: i love two (2) men — andrew hozier byrne and hong jisoo. idk what else you want me to say, lol. barely proofread (sorry!) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Slatted shades don’t stand much of a chance against the blinding white outside your window. It seeps through the cracks, sunshine refracting harshly off of knee-deep snow and stinging eyes that haven’t yet consented to opening fully. 

Even though that laser-focused beam of light hits you between your eyebrows, it’s not the reason you’re awake in the first place. The real reason is next to you with his head ducked under the covers, rubbing his flannel-coated legs together like he’s trying to start a fire.

“Cricket?” You mumble. 

Still heavy with sleep you didn’t get enough of, your head lolls to the side. If your boyfriend was still topside, you’d be nose to nose; but he’s not, and he doesn’t seem to hear you from inside the cocoon he’s made for himself. 

A little louder, your gravelly voice makes a second attempt. “Are you alive under there?”

“No,” comes the world’s most pitiful whimper from somewhere near your rib cage.

You don’t know what you expected.

With a muffled grunt of effort, you pull the edge of the covers away from your chin and wiggle your way down. In the half-light, you can’t make out Joshua’s face in its entirety. His sweatshirt strings are pulled tight and knotted, hiding most of his features from the air his breath has already started to make hot. All that’s left is the tip of his nose, one eye, and a single, loose wave between the two.

There’s also a hint of a frown in there somewhere when he peeps, “I’m cold.”

You shift even further until he’s within swaddling distance. Wrapping one leg over his topmost thigh, you pull him closer and allow him to nestle his face into the spot below your chin. From where he’s hiding, he can’t see you smirking. It’s for the best, really.

“Hi, Cold.”

“Don’t.”

You don’t listen. Instead, you snicker, more to yourself than him, “I’m Dad.”

Joshua lets out a long groan in reply, but that’s no surprise; you’re huddled so closely together that you felt it building in his chest. 

When it grows quiet again, and you’re no longer laughing at your own joke, the two of you each deflate against each other. Yesterday’s journey from LAX was exhausting in and of itself, and the several-hour leap in time hasn’t made things any easier since you landed. Neither has the weather surrounding your family’s cabin, although you’re faring much better than Joshua is.

His groggy voice comes out of nowhere, startling you. “I don’t know why people live here on purpose.”

From the sound of it, he’s already halfway back to sleep. His arm slips over your waist and pulls you closer, and you get the sneaking suspicion that he’d slip into the front of your sweatshirt if he thought for sure that he could fit. Frankly, you’re shocked he hasn’t tried. His clinginess increases exponentially when he’s exhausted.

“The midwest isn’t a choice; it’s a consequence,” you sigh. “I think being born here was a penance for crimes I committed in a past life.”

Without opening his eyes, Joshua mumbles, “Bleak.”

“Bleak indeed, cricket.”

The third time really must be the charm. Joshua snorts, much too tired to laugh any harder than that, and asks, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Biting back a smile, you tilt your head backwards enough to kiss his forehead — what little you can see of it, anyway.

“That your self-warming violin legs kept me up all night?” Your amusement only grows when you peek down at him and find him glaring up at you. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Lower lip poking out, he scrunches his eyebrows. As offended as he pretends to be, he can’t hide that ever-present twinkle in his eyes. “You could have saved me, you know,” he sniffs.

You mimic his tone with a smirk. “I turned the thermostat up as high as it goes, you know.”

The most you get out of him is a grunt acknowledging that he heard you. Normally, you’d accept this lack of retort as a demurrer, but then you feel his cold fingertips slink below the waistband of your sleep shorts, chilling the bare skin at your hip bone; and it finally hits you.

The thermostat wasn’t the remedy Joshua had been praying for.

As you untie the strings of his sweatshirt hood, you tell yourself that it’s retaliation that motivates your movements — paying him back for his freezing hands by exposing his face to equally cold air. That’s bullshit, though, and you know it. The truth is that you can’t card your fingers through hair that’s covered in thick, grey fabric.

You can’t steal kisses from hidden lips, either.

When Joshua’s mouth is finally on yours, you giggle without meaning to because he still tastes like last night’s spearmint toothpaste. You’d love to tease him for it, but your mind goes blank before you can try. He licks into your mouth, and your snark turns into a breathy little moan instead; he swallows it eagerly, smiling against your lips.

Pinch me. I’m dreaming.

The sudden snap of your elastic waistband against the small of your back makes you jolt. You pull back, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, and balk. He doesn’t give you the opportunity to scold him, however.

“You’re insane for wearing shorts when it’s this cold,” Joshua insists. When you don’t bother to justify your decision — you’re not as much of a freeze baby as he is — he nips at your bottom lip. “I’m grateful, though. They’re easier to work around.”

You’re grateful that his hands have gotten warmer, the longer they cling to you, but you don’t say as much out loud — your body responds for you. His fingers knead into the flesh of your ass, and you roll your hips forward, chasing friction. You find it easily; it’s growing thicker by the second.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He’s still so tired that his words come out slurred — adorable — yet rough around the edges, which drives you the slightest bit wild. “Please do that again.”

“You just want me to do all the work.” You nudge the tip of his nose with yours. The sharp contrast in temperature isn’t lost on you; in fact, you adore it. His sensitivity to cold is one of a million endearing things about him. “Isn’t that right, cricket?” 

The half-expectant, half-sheepish look Joshua sends you confirms that yes, he does. But he asked nicely, and this isn’t on the shortlist of things you wouldn’t do for him, so you grant his wish without complaint.

It’s more than a little bit pathetic that such a lazy motion — a fully-clothed one, at that — makes you both moan in tandem. It’s haphazard, the way your fumbling fingers reach for the knot of his waistband. Your motor skills are still asleep, it seems, making an easy task infinitely more difficult. It only gets worse, the more frustrated you get.

You snag a fingernail on the stubborn flannel and hiss, “Jesus.”

“It’s pronounced Jisoo,” he supplies unhelpfully. 

To avoid the consequences of that quip, Joshua ducks his head down to leave a smattering of lazy kisses along the length of your neck. Whatever you might’ve clapped back with is replaced with a relieved sigh when the drawstrings’ vice grip on one another finally gives. 

Tugging unsuccessfully at the waistband in your hands, you pout. “Help.”

With the way he whines, you’d think you asked him to move a mountain. 

Melodramatically, Joshua’s head drops sideways. It lands with a muffled thump against the scrunched-up comforter that still surrounds you. He doesn’t move another muscle until you open your mouth to nag him; still frowning, still uncoordinated, his hands take the place of yours. His hips lift just enough for him to shimmy his pajama pants down — just enough to provide access.

You roll your eyes at his refusal to undress any further, but before he can remind you of how cold he is, you catch him by the mouth. Successfully placated, Joshua accepts your lips on his with an appreciative hum. That sound transforms into something bordering a groan when your hand claims his length and starts stroking him slowly.

Just like that, Joshua melts under your touch, like putty molding to your frame. His leaking cock is the exception; the only part of him that seems awake enough to beg for you. He’s throbbing in your hand and — once again — you can’t help but laugh. 

Joshua’s incredulous eyes widen, silently demanding an explanation. 

“Some of you is warm,” you offer with a cheeky grin. To ease that wrinkle between his brows, you envelope the crown of his cock with your palm and roll your wrist. The gentle squeeze prompts him to grind forward into your fist, making your stomach flip. “Must be thawing out a little bit.”

“Not fair,” he says, even though he’s moaning with screwed-shut eyes. “Can’t tease me until I’m adequately caffeinated. The Keurig is a million miles away.”

It’s one room over. 

The cabin you’ve borrowed from your parents is a mere six-hundred square feet.

You digress.

The prospect of coffee makes it even harder to fight off the urge to yawn, but you manage to do so. You manage to shimmy even closer to him, too, until the only barrier left is a thin layer of damp cotton. It’s his hand that drops down now to push it aside, making you shiver; and it’s him looking at you through half-lidded eyes that stokes the fire simmering in your belly.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Joshua whispers. 

If his words weren’t invitation enough, the come hither motion of his fingers is. The brush of his fingertips against your clit is so enticing that you decide right then and there to follow wherever he leads. 

You’re the one melting when the tip of his cock replaces his fingers, flicking over that same spot, then gliding through your slicked folds. Each pass pulls another needy sigh right out of you. He takes every little sound he can tease out of you, as if he’s collecting them. 

When the target switches to your entrance, however, you go silent. Your fingers grip the sleeve of his sweatshirt, your forehead drops to lean against his, and your gasp dies on your tongue. It comes out of Joshua’s mouth instead, spearmint breath cooling as it fans across your face.

He might never say so out loud, but this is his favorite way to fuck you — holding you close against him, holding eye contact, holding his eagerness back to slide into you slowly. When he watches your breath catch, his pupils dilate; and he licks his lips, as if he tastes the moans you can’t quite vocalize.

For what it’s worth, you love him like this, too. Him and the drag of his cock; the way it makes pleasure course through you like molasses. The way he capitalizes on the angle of your leg draped over his hip, tilting up to graze your g-spot with a dizzying precision.

As hard as you try, you can’t think of anything better than this. There’s nothing as perfect as his hand’s light hold on your ass cheek, guiding you up and down his length; so fucking deep, but in no rush at all.

Mornings were made to be spent tangled up with him.

“Do you hear that?” Joshua murmurs against your lips. You thread your fingers through his hair and nod, whimpering as you cling to him even tighter. 

How could you not? 

Your arousal floods with every languid thrust, and you know without looking that he’s completely coated in you. And if his satisfied smirk tells you anything, it’s that he can feel you dripping from his shaft down to his balls. You have no reason to doubt it; your inner thighs are a mess.

Joshua takes his hand off your ass just to hitch your leg even higher up on his side. Immediately, you see stars. You can’t even articulate how fucking incredible it feels, having him this deep, so you kiss him with more desperation than you ever have; and you hope he can guess how close you are to unraveling.

It’s impossible to say whether he can read your mind or just your body, but Joshua picks up the pace ever so slightly. As he does, there’s a subtle swirl to his hips when he thrusts into you that has every one of your synapses lighting up like a switchboard. 

“Fuck,” is your eloquent, shuddered response. 

It’s the best you can offer when you're falling apart like this, clenching tightly around him to push you both closer to the edge. No better off, Joshua seems like he’s barely surviving the way your cunt grips him. His voice sounds as shaky as you feel: 

“I l-love it when you do that.” 

To prove it, he flicks his tongue along your bottom lip and begs you to open up for him. You comply automatically, earning a pleased hum from him that tingles down your spine.

You’d kiss him like this all day if you could, but the wildfire burning through the pit of your abdomen is becoming impossible to fight. Ironic, you think, given how completely you’ve soaked through your sleep shorts and how much you’re shivering.

Involuntarily, your head tilts backwards as the pleasure blooms. Joshua traps your bottom lip between his teeth — not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to keep you from disappearing. You know him; you know how much he loves to watch your pupils blow when you cum all over him, and that dead-set determination is crystal clear in the way he fights to keep his heavy-lidded eyes open.

He loses that battle mere seconds after your choked gasp, when your walls flutter around him and you start trembling. He’s twitching inside of you, release spilling, and now he’s the one who starts to laugh.

“What?” You’re still floating somewhere in the stratosphere, but you manage to snort, landing a playful swat on his bare hip. He doesn’t react at all, but you massage your palm into his flesh to soothe him anyway. “What’s so funny?”

In a sudden burst of energy, Joshua’s hands fly up to grab the comforter resting over your heads. With a grunt, he flings it off of you both, thrusting your unsuspecting body into cold air. He doesn’t even notice your startled yelp.

“So hot in there,” he pants. For emphasis, he runs the back of his hand over his forehead. He wasn’t lying; there’s a faint sheen of sweat on his knuckles when he pulls them away again. “Jesus. It’s like a fucking sauna.”

You reach out to unstick a strand of hair from his slicked skin, then you let your arm flop limply back against the pillows. Grinning, you tease, “I thought it was pronounced Jisoo.”

[tw1l1te]

𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖔- 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

“Oh, I like her already.” Wars speaks. The Vet just seems to roll his eyes, muttering something about the Captain’s ego.

You rise back into a standing position, eyeing the group again. You look back up at Time, stating, “I presume you’re the Hero of Time, based off of your moniker.”

“You would be correct, although hardly anyone calls me by that title.”

You hum at his comment, finding his humble nature pleasing. Turning to the one named Sky, you motion your hand at him, “And you must be the Hero of the Skies, or the Chosen One. The first of us, if we go by technicalities.”

He nods hesitantly, curious as to where you got all of this information about them. He would’ve been more uneasy if you weren’t a descendant, but you were one of them, after all.

“Why… do you call yourself the Forgotten Hero?” he asks.

You smile solemnly at him, “Because this era has been doomed. Utterly and completely in decay. By the time my quest is done, Hyrule, or what remains of it will collapse and rebuild itself over thousands of years. I will be too hidden in the past to be remembered.”

You take a small breath before continuing, admitting the truth out loud.

“I will also be forgotten because I’m not you, or your descendants. I’m not the traditional male hero. Quite the anomaly, aren’t I?”

He seems conflicted by your statement, eyebrows furrowing together.

“But if you’re the only female so far, wouldn’t that make you more memorable? The heroine of Hyrule?”

“Maybe in another life, but not this one. I’m considered a disgrace of a hero by most people outside of my village and a few others spanned across the land.”

“Why would you say that? Didn’t you save everyone from destruction?”

You smile sadly, “The destruction happened years before I was born. If anything, I caused more of it.”

He takes a moment to think before asking the inevitable question.

“Link… who exactly did you defeat?”

Your eyes snap back up at him, making sure he was looking right at you. The information you were about to reveal was going to create the rift of the ages. It was now or never.

“Hylia.”

~

The room was silent for a few minutes, the only sound being heard was the loud blizzard beyond the splintered walls of the shack. The loud silence made you wish the shack would finally collapse in on itself.

Sky finally speaks, eyes glued to you. 

“W-what do you mean by that? You’re saying she caused all of this?”

You sighed, knowing he was one of the more… innocent followers of her. 

“Well, a few thousand years after the Era of the Wilds, there started to be a lot of… religious issues surrounding Hylia. A lot of questionable and downright disgusting practices. It caused people to start grouping up and separating, causing the nations of Hyrule to close off from each other.”

Looking around the group, you take a moment to let them process the new information before continuing.

“The Rito, Zora, Gorons, Gerudo, Sheikah, and Hylians all started to conflict more and more, eventually ascending into a 50-year war, or the Reawakening. The followers of Hylia formulated a plan to resurrect her in the flesh, killing Zelda in the process.”

“A life for a life.” Time muttered, deep in thought.

“Exactly. The plan was successful, the goddess being reawoken after millennias of being dead. She came back… unrecognizable, both physically and in an ideological sense. Her morality and character had been altered so much to the point of her followers becoming a cult. The cult killed my parents, thousands of people that questioned Hylia, essentially wiping out most of the kingdom.”

“And the land? How did it come to be so… bleak?”

“Hylia is the Sun, both literally and metaphorically. The sun is technically up beyond the clouds, but the amount of destruction and chaos she brought forth made the landscape unrestorable. The entirety of Hyrule looks just like this,” you motioned out with your hand.

“Hyrule is also significantly bigger than any of yours. Probably still larger than if you were to combine the size of each of your era’s Hyrule’s. It has been a cold, snowy abyss for over 30 years now.”

The brunette piqued up, head tilting slightly, “So where is Hylia now? Hyrule Castle?”

You shake your head.

“Hyrule Castle is in utter ruins now, most use it to scavenge for rock or old weapons. I’m… not sure where she is right now, I'm trying to track her down.”

“Didn’t you say you killed her?” the Veteran asked.

“I did but… her psyche is still present. She may not have a physical body anymore, as I returned it back to its dormant state, permanently, but her essence is somewhere. Everywhere.”

Time walks up to you, arms crossed over his chest. Curse your short stature, compared to his at least.

“From what you're telling us, it seems that we were brought here to help you. We came here through a portal, and from what we’ve learned, we can’t leave an era unless we’ve completed the task at hand, regardless of our own opinions or standing on the matter.”

“What were your original plans before being brought here?” you ask.

“The Shadow and his army. It took us months to finally pin him down and defeat him.”

You remember something being mentioned in the archives about a dark version of Link, but only being a mere shadow. Now a physical form? That was something you didn’t experience in your own journey. Lucky you, you suppose.

“Right now Hyrule is… in limbo, I suppose. Hylia’s first form was defeated about a year ago and we’ve tried to track her essence down since. We don’t know if she’s using someone as a vessel or if she’s resting in some sacred grounds to gather strength. Granted, the blizzards have made it significantly harder to even make it past the woods.”

Four, one of the shortest and most colorful of the Link’s speaks.

“So where exactly are we, based off of older maps?”

You ponder for a moment, trying to recollect exactly what town you could use to reference the location you were in. Something that was familiar to them.

“If I were to use my ancestor’s typography maps,” pointing to Wild, “I’d say we’re in the location of the Great Plateau. The plateau collapsed in on itself thousands of years ago and grew thick forest and brush, impenetrable if you were inexperienced with the outside world.”

You take a pause before continuing.

“Though if I were to be more accurate and precise… this would be almost the exact location of Ordon Village from the Era of Twilight.”

Twilight perks up at that, intrigued by your expertise and knowledge of their past eras. 

“How do you know that name?”

“Ordon?”

He nods.

You were revealing way too much about yourself within hours of meeting your ancestors. This is definitely not what you had planned.

Sighing, you reveal another ability you had kept concealed.

“I have the memories of every hero before me. I can see and dream of their travels, their fears, desires, secrets, everything. Even their own thoughts, at times.”

Twilight’s brow furrows, confusion emulating off his features.

“Isn’t that only what the goddess reincarnated can do? How can a holder of the Triforce of Courage accomplish that?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that it started when I was seven and I have them almost every day, multiple times a day.”

Time bristles at the age it started for you: seven.

…

He was the youngest hero to start his journey.

Of course, it made sense.

The memories of the hero began as soon as his purpose was ignited.

He was going to speak again, but you beat him to it, mentioning something about supper and needing to attend to some matters.

“Once you’re fed, I’ll come find you and find you a shack to board in. It will most likely be mine, as the village is full enough as it is. Dusk and Colin will show you around a bit, let them know if you need anything.”

With that, you bundle the scarf over your face again and leave through the front door, not looking back behind you.

“...You think they saw that time I rode on a bear in just my undergarments?”

“Definitely.”

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

[saekkas]

𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

summary: you’re not a believer in airport crushes. you think the theory that people look better when you’re bound to never see them again is delusional. that is, until fushiguro megumi comes and proves you wrong.

tags: 1.1k wc | f!reader | narration heavy | open ending | nobara and yuuji are the best wing men | strangers to potential lovers | very romanticized | megumi has green eyes here, as stated in the manga | for plot's sake, pretend it isn't weird to call him 'gumi' right off the bat

notes: megumi finally debuts on saekkas (clap clap). also, this may or may not be inspired by real life events hehe

early mornings have never been your forte. the wind bites your cheeks, prickling your skin with goosebumps that range all the way from your arms down to your legs. even the hoodie you’re wearing– the thickest, comfiest one you own, doesn’t help shield you from the elements.

it doesn't help that the air conditioner is on full blast.

“i swear to god,” you mumble, expression souring as strong winds crash against the airport’s ceiling high windows. in the distance, trees sway around erratically, crashing against each other as the sky turns a bleak gray. “if a hurricane comes, at least let it hit after my flight takes off.”

the line to check in is unnaturally long and it takes almost half an hour until you’re seated at the gate, an hour early before your flight departs. better safe than sorry, your mother always said.

the seating area is nothing but crowded, and as pregnant mother tries to calm her baby’s wails by swaddling him in blankets, you curse yourself for booking economy. a private longue with wifi and food sounds good right now.

tucking yourself into the furthest seat from the wailing baby, you breath out a sigh. your legs have been killing you for the past hour and you have no one to blame but yourself for not choosing more comfortable shoes.

there’s minimal noise in the area, being that it is far more secluded from the others. the only sounds you can hear are of footsteps and bickering from the trio sitting right across from you. one of the boys, the one with pink hair and a red hood over his head, is in what looks to be the deadliest game of rock-paper-scissors you’ve ever seen with a girl that has short brown hair.

your eyes flicker towards the last of the bunch– a boy who looks like he’s around your age with an unruly mess of hair on top of his head. he’s calm, minding his own business with a book in his lap, and legs crossed elegantly. the sweater he wears is black, oversized, and the fabric looks to be so soft.

you’re not a believer in airport crushes. you think the theory that people look better when you’re bound to never see them again is delusional.

you might just eat your own words because he’s actually cute.

you don’t know how many times your eyes have gravitated towards him in the past hour, but you know it’s probably enough to tip his friends off. from the corner of your eye, you see the girl nudge him repeatedly before very obviously pointing your way.

at first, he ignores her– goes back to reading his book like she’s a fly buzzing around his head. he’s probably used to it, you muse to yourself, chuckling in your head.

and then you feel it. the pinpricks of his stare. so pointed and sharp now that it’s directed at you.

the notes app is your only friend as you type against the screen of your phone. you feel stupid– like a schoolgirl who’s just been noticed by her crush, trying to seem busy as if you haven’t been staring at him for god knows how long.

when he looks away from your general direction, you lift your head– trying to get a glimpse of his side profile for, what you promise yourself to be, the last time.

only to meet his gaze straight on.

you hear his friends snicker, nudge their elbows against him as you look to the side, too embarrassed to even think of looking in his direction again. you hear his voice, low and smooth as he snaps, trying to make them stop. they only tease him more.

you hear the name megumi, picture the shy smile that spread on his lips before stiffening, quickly getting up from your seat when the intercom calls your flight number.

the staff are quick to usher the crowds of people into a neat line, herding passengers to their respective gates. your feet move on autopilot, making your way towards the double doors that lead to your plane.

you only stop when someone calls your name, waving frantically as they push through the people to get to you.

megumi stands in front of you, hair even more tousled than before. there’s a bead of sweat on his forehead that slides down the side of his neck and into his sweater. his eyes are green, reminding you of the forest, a piece of jade, and the color of your passport holder in his hand.

“you forgot this.” he holds the official document against his chest before handing it over to you. his fingers brush against yours, delicate and neatly trimmed, before they clench into a fist by his side. “you left it on your seat.”

“right,” you mumble, the sound wispy as if your own breath had been sucked out from your lungs. you bow your head in gratitude while simultaneously trying to shake away the daze clouding your thoughts. “thank you. i owe you one.”

the silence that stretches after is nothing if not awkward. you’re looking anywhere but him, and he’s doing the same. the staff guarding the gate watch– clearly gossiping about your little interaction with the male in front of you.

after a while, megumi nods once before turning back towards his seat, a muffled safe flight leaving his lips.

that's it?

you watch as he strides away, some parts confused and disappointed. his friends wear the same expression as you do, the girl practically screeching into his ear while the boy tries to push him back towards your direction.

megumi doesn’t budge, stone faced as he sits in between them. returning to his book as if nothing significant has happened.

maybe some things just aren’t meant to be.

you send the duo a wave, smiling when they do the same, before showing the staff your ticket and passport, heading straight down the gate, and boarding the plane.

you won't see him again anyway.

it’s only when you’re seated on a train, a thousand miles away from where you were, gazing out of the window as it speeds across Tokyo that you finally see a note slipped into your passport, one containing his full name and number.

i think you’re pretty. my friends think you’re cool. would you like to get dinner some time? – megumi fushiguro.

your pointer finger traces his handwriting, neat and cursive, and you let out a giggle because for whatever reason, it feels exactly like him.

to: cute sea urchin

[13:57] hey. it's the girl from the airport. [13:58] is sushi okay? it's my treat! i owe you one after all.

from: cute sea urchin

[14:23] yeah, anything's fine with me. see you.

to: cute sea urchin

[14:37] cool! can't wait to see you again, gumi!

[jeonjcngkook]

What about a drabble where the oc hasn't seen jk in a while and when they are hanging out, she like finally sees him and smothers him with affection, kissing his moles and you know just giving him kisses and he's all giggly and blus.... Omg what have i done.

right where you left me | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre(s)&au(s): sfw, fluff, romance, established relationship, domestic happiness, slice of life word count: 2.7k warnings: mention of alcohol + 1 sip bcs oc rather be drunk on luvin koo 🤤🥴 oh bet believe we r bringing back blue haired koo just 4 u sarah 🙃, making out, kisses kisses kisses 😚😚 — srsly i say it 24 times n its still !! not !! enough !! grr, ((maybe a surprise daddy koo who fuckin loves his baby ??)), how many times can i call koo 'pretty' ; the answer is also not enough 🥹 !! um, suggestive hints at sex 🫣 & sav being her typical self and never letting the est rel romance agenda go — srsly i cant do anything else 🫠. rating: mature nc17+ for suggestiveness note: unedited asf 🤷🏻‍♀️… ive had this lil request in my inbox for a while n wanted so save it for something special. so for @caelesjjk — i hope this makes you smile as much as it did me writing this. happy bday angel ♡ and for the anon who requested this, tysvm i love lil fluff requests like these n hope to do more 💘 hopefully you also like it too

Sighing a sigh of relief, you have never felt so happy to kick your shoes off at your front door after being away from work for so long. The all too familiar feeling of your feet sinking into the plush grey carpet beneath you fills you with a sense of comfort completely overriding the homesickness that once hovered over you like a bleak grey cloud.

The house is quieter than usual, the only sounds are from the floor creaking as you swap your shoes for your fluffy slippers filling the empty spaces. You pick your keys that you had just thrown on top of the shelf at the front door and hang them up next to your husband's set of car keys; the sight of them hanging gives you the answer that you’ve been asking yourself.. Jungkook should be home.

Making your way further into the living space, you notice that the house is kept in the exact same condition it was when you left last week for a girls getaway trip to London. There are the odd toy lying on the floor but other than that, it’s spik and span. The lack of sound from the TV, which is usually showing a rerun of Jungkook or your own favourite show is almost deafening, used to always hearing something playing in the background. Come to think of it, there are also no signs of melodic sounds from Jungkook’s usual soft r&b playlist either. 

The smell of cooking fills your nose and your mouth starts to water immediately. If Jungkook is unaware of the fact you’re home then you decide that you would keep this up and slowly tip toe into the kitchen in hopes to surprise your husband.

Slowly, you creep through the warmth of your living room and into the kitchen area where Jungkook doesn’t seem to be. You frown at the lack of husband in the room, a little worried about his whereabouts. He knows you’re returning today, even offering to pick you up at the airport when you land himself but you refused as your friend’s boyfriend was providing you transport home already.

However, as quickly as your frown came, it left when you find a bottle of red wine sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and sitting next to it are two glasses and you can’t help but gnaw on your bottom lip to try and suppress your smile. You decide to rummage through the drawers, pulling out a corkscrew and removing the cork from the neck of the bottle. With a pop, the wine bottle opens and the scent of the fruity alcohol mixes with the smell of dinner, which is in the slow cooker behind you and you can’t help but let out a low hum of satisfaction. You pick up the bottle and pour the liquid into both glasses until half way.. If you're going to surprise your husband then you may as well do it with a glass of wine to greet him with.

Picking up the glasses in each hand, you decide to head up the stairs to the top level of your home to find Jungkook. As you pass the stairs, you stop and look at the wall which is filled with pictures of you both together as well as pictures of your family. You smile as you look at the images of family holidays, special occasions and fun times you’ve spent together. Your wedding picture of you both is centred in the middle and you can’t help but smile wider at the image.

Dressed head to toe in white lace and tulle with a diamond centrepiece on the dress, which glitters in the picture as the camera caught a moment between you and Jungkook staring at each other with love and admiration for each other. Jungkook stands next to you in his custom made all white wedding tuxedo and a matching diamond brooch clipped onto his suit jacket. One of his hands was wrapped around your waist as the other was playing with the ends of your hair. You remember in the moment that Jungkook was laughing a boisterous and beautiful giggle right before he kissed you so tenderly for the picture.

It wasn’t an image that was meant to be taken but it ended up being your favourite from the wedding shoot.

You move on and climb the rest of the stairs slowly and quietly. As you reach the top, your head turns in the direction of your shared bedroom and immediately you see the door is wide open and the room empty meaning there is only one other place Jungkook could be. You head in the opposite direction when you see the last door at the bottom of the hallway cracked open slightly, only to let a sliver of red light into your view from the hallway.

The faint sounds of keyboard clicks can be heard as you approach the room. Gently, you push the door open to be greeted with Jungkook’s dual monitor screens lighting up the room along with the dark LED’s. The top of Jungkook’s head can be seen over the headrest of his gaming chair as you see his giant headset resting over his ears, blocking out the sound of the outside world as he continues to click away at the buttons on his keyboard, successfully managing to kill an opponent on the opposite team of the game he is playing.

On one of the monitors, you manage to see the little pop up figure of his body in the corner and notice that he’s shirtless, which isn’t something he usually does when he streams. You scrunch your eyes slightly to find that Jungkook has your eight month daughter wrapped up in her favourite white blanket resting herself on his chest as one of his hands sits underneath her to keep her placed comfortably. It’s now that you register the little snores coming from your baby girl as you lean against the doorway and take in the sight in front of you. Your little girl has her tiny palm opened and resting against her daddy’s skin and her chubby cheek pressing into the bare skin of his chest.

You hear Jungkook hum as he watches over the comment section of his stream as he continues to play, making sure to answer people as quickly as the comments come.

“...Yeah, it’s proven that skin to skin contact between newborn babies and their parents improves bonds long after birth,” you hear Jungkook say and you grin at his answer. You bought those books on pregnancy for you but you swear you caught Jungkook amongst the novels more than yourself. Every night through your pregnancy,  Jungkook would tell you a new fact that he had learned for the day and couldn’t wait to share it with you.

“It also lowers stress levels for babies and parents too, as well as promotes a healthy breastfeeding cycle for the little one. I’d do anything I can to help out _____ in any way I can. She’s brilliant. She gave me everything I could ever want right here,” Jungkook says as your little girl rustles slightly against him. “Speaking of ______, she should be home soon,” he thinks out loud.

Placing both of the wine filled glasses on top of the table on the side wall, you’re able to rummage your hands in your pocket to pull it out. You snap the image in front of you of him on the monitor with your baby in his arms before opening your thread of texts between each other and captioning the moment before sending him the picture.

Jungkook’s own phone lies on the desk with the screen up; lights up with your notification. You watch as he’s quick to grab it and clicks into the notification to enter in your direct messages together.

You [8:32pm] : {image attached} shes already home ;)

Jungkook turns around and sees you standing there waiting for him with the glasses in your hands, smiling fondly at both him and the infant in his arms. He immediately replicates your smile before turning back to the camera he has set up and announcing his departure from tonight's live stream.

Slowly, he moves out of his gaming chair and makes his way over to you. In the week you have been gone his hair has already grown out a few extra inches, the blue ends now long enough to touch his jawline. The front of his hair falls over his face in pretty black wispy curls while some fall from the sides and have been clipped back by a few of your hair clips. He’s just so beautiful. His bare chest rises up and down gently and slowly while the eight month old girl continues to snuggle herself against her father. You take in the image of intricate swirls and patterns of ink that extend over his shoulder, flexed bicep as he keeps your daughter secure in his arms, all the way down his forearm and hands. He’s just the prettiest.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he whispers as he bends down ever so little to meet you halfway into a sweet kiss. You reach a hand around his neck and pull yourself towards him as he kisses you, chasing his pretty cherry flavoured pouty lips.

“It’s so good to be back home,” you admit. “How long has she been asleep?” You ask as you run your fingers delicately through her hair.

Jungkook thinks for a moment before telling you it’s only been a couple hours. Jungkook had already fed her and bathed her before he started his stream, so all there is to do now is to put her to bed in her crib.

You exit the gaming room with Jungkook following right behind you. In your bedroom, you place down the wine glasses and you’re quick to sift through your wardrobe to pull out a comfortable outfit to lounge around the house in, one that you hadn’t spent falling asleep in on an aeroplane for hours. Jungkook bends over the wooden structure of the crib and places the baby inside. The latch of the crib is secured once more and the sound of her hanging mobile sounds out a soft melody.

Once dressed, you make your way over to Jungkook who is admiring you from the other side of the room having missed his beautiful wife for a week. With his hair now removed from the hair clips and almost fully covering his glittering eyes, he flashes you that all too familiar, signature pretty smile he has before reaching out for you and enveloping you in his arms.

You jump into his embrace and lock your legs around his waist from behind, cupping his cheeks as you smother each other in kisses, whispering soft greetings and compliments.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” you whisper faintly as you continue to press kiss after kiss after kiss onto his lips. “I’m so lucky to have you as mine,” you finish.

Jungkook smiles as he starts to walk out of the room, reaching for the baby monitor as he keeps you secured in his arms and you reach for the wine from behind him, taking a generous, long overdue sip. Jungkook carries you down the stairs and into the kitchen where he places you down on the kitchen island and closes the gap between the both of you, placing his lips back on yours quickly and much more demanding than the last few times.

He grins at you, a glimmer in his eye and he hums suggestively. “I’m right where you left me darling,” he winks, his accent lacing his words as you listen to him attentively.

After years of being with each other, it never stops getting exciting being with Jungkook. The warmth that was once in your tummy has spread all over, goosebumps now covering your skin. Being in his arms definitely feels like home; a sense of safety and security that you yearn for that only Jungkook can provide you.

Deepening the kiss, you push your tongue past the seam of his lips eagerly and let it tangle with his own. You both smile into the kiss as his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you closer to the edge of the marble island and further into his embrace.

You can’t help but whimper when you break the kiss in favour of leaning into his neck and kissing the skin there. You lick your lips and make sure to leave wet trails as you travel further down towards your desired target. You give the little mole on the side of his neck a sweet peck, over and over, the wet sounds of your mouth leaving his skin fills the space.

A small growl vibrates through Jungkook’s chest, his hold on you becoming slightly tighter as you continue to dote on him. It isn’t long before your kisses turn into soft bites and vigorous sucks, planting cherry shaded blossoms over the mole on his neck. 

“_____,— mm, baby, am I not the one that is meant to be taking care of you tonight.. afterall you have just come back?” Jungkook moans.

Jungkook pulls away from you and stands taller to await your answer. Gazing into your eyes, you watch as his own eyes do that pretty thing where it smiles before Jungkook physically smiles. It’s your favourite trait he has.

“And who said that was the case, huh?” You jest with a light and teasing tone before continuing, “you’re taking care of me by letting me kiss my pretty husband. You’re taking care of me by letting me make you feel good.”

The only thing Jungkook can do in response is giggle, a light sanguine blush finding home on the apple of his full cheeks and you can’t help but wrap one of your hands around his neck and the other flat against the taut, hard muscle of his pectoral, caressing the skin back and forth before pulling him back in to chase his lips once more.

The kiss is unhurried, soft and gentle, yet with a hint of hunger for each other as the both of you take your time to enjoy being together once more. You bite Jungkook’s lower lip, drawing a shaky moan out of him as your teeth grazes his bottom lip and then letting it snap back into his smile pleasantly.

You can’t help but peck at the tiny mole under his lip and smile back at him, your silent way of telling him you love him. And then a thought pops into your head, one you know that Jungkook loves that you do.

Drawing Jungkook back in towards you, you press another little kiss to his bottom lip mole before travelling a little further down and kissing on the beauty spot just on top of his chin. You make a scene of it, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ sound as you continue to kiss away.

Moving on, you find the next two moles that are top and bottom of each other close to his ear and bathe them in love and affection just like you had done to the other two previous.

Jungkook loves when you’re soft and delicate with him. It isn’t something he would admit too to his group of friends but being dotted on, being cared for and loved admirably the way you do melts at his heart.

“Baby,” he whines as you tilt your head back slightly to plant a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose, your favourite place to kiss kiss kiss.

His hands slide under the fabric of your sweater, his hands warming your skin up more than the material did. “The last time we started off doing this,” he exaggerates his words by squeezing at your hips and then removing one of them to point towards the ceiling, “that happened,” he grins as fond memories of filthy kitchen antics replays in his mind.

His words ignite something inside of you akin to fireworks as he mentions your sleeping baby currently curled up in her cot. You react by wrapping your dangling legs back around his frame, pushing him further into you by your ankles as you heat up at his words and grin at him playfully.

“And what would be so wrong with that?”

Stunned, Jungkook doesn’t seem to know how to react to your words. It hasn’t been a topic of conversation about having another baby this soon, although you both have agreed that you both want a larger family.

“This soon?”

Now you ponder his words for a split second, already knowing your answer and already knowing that you want to start trying again for another baby as soon as you can. You lean in closer, your lips ghosting his as you close your eyes and breathe in your husband’s natural scent. “Take me to the dining table, koo.”

note2: don’t be a silent reader & leave some feedback in my asks, reblog with a nice comment or even a lil reply saying if you enjoyed — big or small, they go a long way! supporting writers is always important <33

[peachesofteal]

you satisfy the urge to see Ghost with little babies and simultaneously make me want more of him with little babies

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

He sleeps like the dead on and off for the almost three days.

Uninterrupted, undisturbed, face buried in a pillow, television cranked as loud as he can get away with, the noise one of the only things capable of lulling him to sleep and keeping him under when he’s not on an op or in an active engagement zone. He gets up to eat, use the bathroom or shower, climb the four floors to the roof to smoke, but otherwise, he sleeps. He eats, and sleeps, and repeats this very simple routine, as he always does when he’s here, until it’s interrupted one night, by the tap of a hesitant knock on his door.

The sound freezes his blood, every nerve ending in his body lighting up in alert, muscles priming for an offensive position. He finds the one of many guns stashed in the flat on his way to open the door, mask slipping over his face, holding the weapon tucked carefully behind his body as he looks through the peephole to find… you. The girl from the roof, the baby, Emmaline, in your arms, your eyes nervously darting down the hallway before looking back to his door expectantly. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out immediately when he opens it, peering up at him with exhausted eyes. Emma is against your chest, and one of your hands cradles her head, the other under her bum, while you bounce her up and down while also rocking back and forth. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse but, is there any way I can ask you to turn your TV volume down a bit?” You try to smile but it straightens into a grimace and then your eyes dart to the ground before looking back up at him. “We uh, share a wall.” You tilt your head to the left, to the unit next to his and his eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I’m not trying to be that neighbor but-“ Jesus Christ. You share a wall with him? His mind drifts to an image of you asleep in your bed, tucked up under your covers all sweet, lashes laying delicately on your cheeks.

“Of course. It’s not a bother.” The baby cries in response, a broken wail making her lower lip tremble and you pat her back soothingly until she quiets, little hiccups coming from her mouth while she rubs her face into your shirt.

“Thank you.” You’re still bouncing, still swaying, and he’s mystified, watching you stroke a gentle finger through her fine curls. She yawns sleepily against you, and the tension leaks from your body a bit, spine slumping slightly, shoulders relaxing a notch. You look down at her, checking for something he doesn’t understand, before raising your radiant, tired face back up to his. He really, really wishes he wasn’t holding a handgun behind his back right now. “They told me, when I rented… that you weren’t around much. I thought it’d be a good fit since…” you gesture with an eyebrow towards Emmaline, and he nods.

“I travel for work.” His voice sounds more raspy than normal, a byproduct of too much sleep, something you look like you’d probably kill to have. Fuck. He’s been blasting his television while you’ve been up with a screaming baby for two bleedin’ days.

“Right, well I hope we won’t be too noisy for you, when you are home.” A door slams on third floor above the two of you, the bang of it swinging shut too loud and you tense, something bleak flickering across your face before it’s chased away with a half-forced smile. “Anyway… thanks, again.”

“Of course.” He repeats it, like it’s obvious, and then just as you turn away, he remembers something: “I’m Simon.” You glance back at him, timid smile tugging at your lips, your own name falling from your mouth like you’re giving him a gift.

“Oh, and you know Emmaline already.” You lightly tease, and he nods, his own lips lifting in an almost smile behind the mask in response.