#like grey is just such a good color for a cat to be

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 2 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: depiction of a depressive episode, recreational drinking and bar scenes, allusion to oral (f. receiving), kissing, rough sex/man-handling, explicit penetrative sex, dirty talk, aftercare, didn't venture fully into writing dom!vernon but i have been informed i wrote something that might be in the realm of a dom drop, language obviously, reader is called a gendered slur by a stranger, law-breaking :), actual fluff for a second, allusions to drug use, car sex

wc: 6900

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

1 yr, 5 months ago

The onset of spring brought a lack of color. Grey clouds hung full and heavy, low over the city skyline. Grey crept into the corners of your apartment, darkening rooms during daytime so that you needed to keep lamps on even in midafternoon. Grey crept over your body, into your limbs. Days stretched and nights inched; you only got out of bed because you had to feed the damn cat.

That's part of why you'd gotten the cat in the first place, after a particularly long episode a few years ago, when Chan had presented you with a list of things he thought you should do to combat the blues, as he'd put it.

He meant well. But he always came at your depression like a problem solver, like just doing the right things could make it go away.

And sure, his suggestions were things that would help - get outside, call someone, don't isolate, shower even if you aren't leaving the house, drink some damn water - they weren't a cure. They were better reminders for when you were okay - good at keeping you okay for longer stretches. But when it was already too late, when the grey came, they all sounded fucking pointless. 

Anyway. The cat had been a good idea. 

is it bad?? 

Chan did his best. He was a good best friend. He just didn't understand it.

The answer to his question, you thought, as you flipped your phone over so you wouldn't see the notification if he followed up, was yes. Yes, this time was particularly bad. But you didn't have the energy to type those three words. 

Terrible friend, your brain accused, and it was right. 

You managed to drag yourself to work, to at least show up so you could continue to pay for your apartment and your damn cat, but not much else. You existed on cans of diet coke and microwave meals. You doom-scrolled until sunrise, then slept an hour or two at most before getting dressed for work. You left texts unanswered, the mail piled up. So did the dishes. 

Chan came by, once, did your dishes for you. It made you feel worse - useless and pitiable. You'd rather he just go away, but you held it in; you knew that would only hurt his feelings.

You learned from your mistakes, one thing that could be said in your favor. 

“Have you called your doctor?” he wanted to know.

What was the point? There wasn't a stop hating your life pill. 

“What if you tried painting?” he asked.

“What if you just let me be?” you countered, finally tripping over the line from embarrassed apathy to defensiveness. 

That pout again. “It might help,” he said. “Don't most famous artists do their best shit when they're down?”

“Get out,” you deadpanned. He dropped it, knowing this was a bigger issue, a bigger argument, than this current episode, a complex situation that went beyond the boundaries of your brain chemistry.

He put the last of your now-clean plates away. “Let's go somewhere,” he suggested.

“Chan,” you groaned. “I’m tired. I can't go gallivanting -”

“You're not tired, you're depressed,” he argued. “And going outside will help you.”

“I might have to kill you,” you said seriously, and he rolled his eyes. 

In the end, he let you win. He'd been around long enough to know that eventually you'd venture outside again, hit the bars with him again, text first again, laugh at his stupid memes again. It was just a waiting game. 

Still, when he left, you sat on the edge of your couch with your chin in your hands. On the living room rug, the cat rolled and showed you its belly. 

“Not you, too,” you groused. 

The cat did a few alligator rolls and then scampered into your bedroom and under the bed, as if chased. 

You sighed. You made your way to the spare room, which had been shut - to keep the cat out. To keep your ghosts in. 

Your easel was still set up in the corner. You were kind of surprised it wasn't covered in cobwebs. You'd been sketching just on paper last time you'd worked, trying to make decisions that way so you wouldn't waste a canvas, and it still sat there. 

You inched closer, ran your hands over your brushes. Took a step back, eyed the paper and your sketches. 

It was bad. Thank god you hadn't put it to canvas. 

You pulled the paper down, crumpled it in your hands. You chased the cat out with a gentle nudge of your foot, and closed the door again, keeping both cats and ghosts on their respective sides of the door.

There was no rhyme or reason to your brain, no map or calendar to follow for the starts or stops. But eventually, the clouds broke. The grey gave way to baby buds of green, yellows pushed through soil, determined to meet the sun.

You texted Chan - drinks??

He responded - about time!!!

You texted Vernon - hello, its me

When he didn't answer, you tried again - sorry for the radio silence. 

Still nothing. 

You checked his socials, saw that he'd been doing his thing - a smattering of selfies, some group shots with the guys he played music with sometimes, a few nature shots: the moon, once, and what looked like the river at night. 

The silence stretched. You gave up, considered it over. Grieved a little, because it had been good. 

You went out on a night that teased summer even though it was months away, sank into the familiar blur of too many shots - not enough to be a problem, but maybe enough to make problems. 

Under the club's ever-moving lights, you took a selfie, your drink and cleavage both showcased in the shot. 

Send it to Vernon, the urge to make trouble suggested, and you listened without hesitation.

And - finally - an answer.

come here after?? 

You smiled a tiny, victorious smile and knocked back the rest of your drink. 

omw.

Later, he gave you a rare and devastating pout as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smoothed fingers down the still-shaking inside of your thigh.

“What'd you make me wait so long for?” he complained, those sharp eyes sparkling with mirth. When you shrugged, still a little mindless from your high, he gave the same spot on your thigh a playful slap. “Don't do it again.”

1 yr, 4 months ago

busy tonight?

not busy but.

???

not in the best mood.

bet i could fix that.

yeah. idk.

why don't you let me try? 

“What's wrong?” you cooed, teasing, when Vernon let you into the apartment. 

He didn't smile, didn't play along, and it sobered you quickly. 

“Don't want to talk about it,” he muttered, crowding into your space. “Wasn't that big of a deal anyway.”

Just want the fix you promised, he thought. 

You moaned like liquid gold when his first kiss was a bite. Encouraged, Vernon gripped you by the shoulders, pushing you back against the wall hard enough that he heard your breath escape in a single huff. He hesitated, eyes searching your face; a question.

You lifted your chin, eyes shining with something hard. When he kissed you again, you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, hard enough to make him hiss; an answer.

His pace was frenzied from the start, your legs around his waist and the wall holding you up. His hand curled around your throat, not squeezing, but sliding up to grip at your jaw instead, keeping you from tilting your head back, closing your eyes, losing yourself in how he felt slamming his hips flush against yours with dizzying smacks.

When you whined that you were close, he pulled you away from the wall and lowered you both to the ground, the wooden floor of his entryway cold and hard beneath your spine. It didn’t matter, didn’t do anything to stop the vortex tightening below your stomach. You slapped a hand over your face as it distorted in pleasure, Vernon kneeling between the legs you still had gripping his waist, one of his hands braced on the floor next to your head, holding his body over you.

“That’s right,” he breathed, gritted teeth flashing over you, forehead wrinkling as his own release closed in on the chase. “Just fucking take it when I fuck you into the floor.”

Then he was pulling out, breaths hissing through his teeth as he straightened up, one hand pumping himself furiously until strings of white decorated your stomach, cooling immediately in the apartment’s chilly air.

His breathing was ragged as he sagged back onto his heels, and you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him warily.

Then he stood and slipped into the hallway bathroom, the light clicking on and illuminating the unlit entryway where you’d just fucked. You heard the sink run, then shut back off, and Vernon returned. He knelt gingerly - you could see his knees were red from kneeling on the wooden floor - and cleaned your stomach first, then gently between your legs.

You sat the rest of the way up then, watching him carefully as he sat back on his heels again, avoiding your gaze. Something about the moment felt like a thing alive, unfurling between you like a casablanca lily under the refracted light of the moon.

You spoke at the same time.

“Vernon?”

“You okay?”

You swallowed, rubbed absently at your elbow where you’d smacked it on the floor during the position change.

“I’m fine,” you said tentatively. “Are you?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and then peering through his fingers at you for a second before dropping them again. “Thought I hurt you.”

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I would have said something.”

He nodded, relief starting to bring feeling back to his hands again. He stood and reached a hand down for you. When you took it, he closed his fingers around yours and pulled you to your feet.

“I know we don’t usually do this,” you said, rubbing at the parts of you that had been on the floor - the backs of your legs, your ass, “but could I take a super fast shower before I go?”

“Yeah,” he said, so quickly that the word almost trips on itself. “Of course.”

He led you into the bathroom, rummaged in the disorganized linen closet for a clean towel, pressed it into your hands.

“If you need one, too,” you said easily, as he reached around you to turn the water on so it could heat up, “I don’t mind if you join me.”

He paused. “You sure?”

You shrugged, then leaned over to put your hand under the spray, testing to see if it was still cold. “It’s your shower.”

Under the stream of warm water, you turned to face him, front to front, looking up at him with clear eyes. Something in your expression was so open, Vernon couldn’t help but feel both the desire to step into the space you seemed to be offering him as well as the desire to get far, far away from it.

He’d been so angry before you’d texted, furious enough that he’d bruised his knuckles punching the doorframe; now, as the chemicals in his body settled down, he felt those knuckles throbbing. He was disgusted that he’d lost his temper, guilty that he’d taken any of that anger out on you, who had nothing to do with it.

He was scared of the desire he felt to be closer to you, just for tonight. Scared that fucking you hadn’t been enough to soothe whatever it was that roiled inside him, like it usually was. Scared that he felt like he needed more than sex to heal this particular burn.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and part of him thought he was apologizing in advance, like he knew already he’d run scared at some point. “For being so...”

He didn’t know what word fit best. 

“I told you,” you said, pressing a little closer, “I would have said if I had a problem.”

“Okay,” he said, frowning a little. “If you’re sure.”

Then he reached over and brushed a thumb along your cheekbone, chasing away a rivulet of shower-water. You closed your eyes for a second, and he swore he could feel you lean into the touch, just slightly.

He didn’t know how to explain how he felt. Kind of like he’d done a hot-coal-walk; the exhaustion that came with an adrenaline crash, the vulnerability that came after facing down something big, that need - the burn inside him needing cool water before it could quiet down.

With the shower off, the silence in the bathroom was loud.

“Do you…” Vernon started, then stopped. His heart hammered, the adrenaline returning. He covered the moment by toweling his hair roughly and pulling his hands through the strands so they’d lay right. “Do you want to stay for a little bit? I was gonna order delivery, maybe watch something before I finish my assignment.”

He’d expected you to think about it, to turn it over in your mind the way you turn his things over in your careful hands, the way you turn him ass over head with just a smirk. Instead, you nodded right away.

“Yeah,” you said, like it was no big deal. Like you did this all the time. Maybe you did, just not with him. “I was starving, actually. I could stay for an hour or two.”

On his couch, the leftovers of the food scattered on his coffee table, you reached for his hand, ran a thumb imperceptibly along his purpled knuckles. You didn’t ask what happened, just brought them to your lips and pressed the lightest kiss before putting them down again and reaching for your noodles, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

That was when Vernon saw the potential of it, an entire picture, framed and labeled: you could hurt him so badly if he let you, if he let it get that far. For whatever it was that burned inside him, you were the cool water… but you could absolutely be gasoline, instead.

1 yr, 3 months ago

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the light that passed over your closed lids in a repetitive pattern was the sweep of a lighthouse beam. You could pretend that the rumbling bass of the music was the roar of the ocean. You could pretend that you weren’t here, in a shitty bar, but at the seaside. You could pretend that you weren’t alone. You could pretend that you weren’t you.

You drained your drink and caught the bartender’s eye, gesturing for another, sliding the sweating glass away from you once you knew a new one was coming.

“What are you drinking?”

The voice came from your right, and you lifted tired, disinterested eyes to find the source of it.

“G and T,” you answered, because it was one fewer syllable than saying gin and tonic and maybe that one syllable would do the dirty work for you and tell this guy that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Nice,” he said, like you’d said something interesting, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You didn’t return the question, just slid your phone screen on and opened your messages.

wyd

drinks at my hyungs place. wbu

damn. guess i have to settle for one of these very mid prospects at the willow

damn thats a sad story. if only you had a better option

if only my better option werent busy at his hyung’s

no one said i had to stay here. ur at the willow?

yep

The guy to your right tried again. “The DJ tonight kind of sucks, huh?”

You looked back at your phone.

don’t leave

You smiled into your drink, a thrill dancing through your bloodstream. The lights and music didn’t seem as garish as they had ten minutes ago.

“My boyfriend’s on his way to pick me up,” you said flatly to the guy who kept trying to talk to you, “so you might want to find someone else to complain about the DJ to.”

The word tasted like lemonade on your tongue - acidic and sour, sweet and refreshing, taste buds blooming and shriveling in tandem. Even the knowledge that it was a flat-out lie didn’t stop your heart from beating faster.

You expected the guy to get up and leave, maybe throw you a dirty look on his way. Instead, he seemed to call your bluff, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to read you.

“I don’t think I’d let my girlfriend go out alone looking like this,” he said evenly, and you let out a derisive laugh.

“The fact that you just said the words let my girlfriend probably has a lot to do with why you’re here alone,” you countered, a flash of victory slicing up your spine when you saw his face flush.

Before he could retort, you hopped down from your barstool, pushing your way into the crowded dance floor. You didn’t even want to dance, you just wanted to get away. If Vernon wanted to find you, he could come find you. He’d told you not to leave, he hadn’t said make it easy for me.

He found you anyway; he made it look easy. He stepped around a group of guys talking in a circle and into your space, like he was following a path, like he knew there’d be room for him.

You were happy to see him. You were happy he came. You were happy to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne and hear your name tumble from his mouth like a statement. You were too drunk to tuck these truths away into pockets and folds where they would be harder to find.

You stepped to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. If he was surprised, his body hid it well. His hands came to rest on your lower back, pressing you closer to him as you leaned up to find his mouth.

You kissed him slowly, at odds with the frantic bassline vibrating under your feet. You let him tip your head back, changing the angle, sweeping your mouth with his tongue until you both tasted lemonade.

“Happy to see me?” he asked, a hint of a smirk on his face, one eyebrow arched in question and one half of his mouth twitching into a smile.

You didn’t have it in you to lie, so instead you said, “Your place?”

He led you outside.

As luck would have it, the idiot from the bar stood beside the front door, a cigarette between two fingers. His expression darkened when he recognized you, then further when he saw your fingers linked with Vernon’s as you stepped into the quiet night.

“Your girlfriend’s a fucking bitch,” the guy bit out, dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it.

Vernon’s eyebrows shot up.

Evenly, he said, “She’s not -”

She’s not my girlfriend. You felt your stomach swoop, and you felt yourself flinch.

“- a bitch. She’s just smarter than you.”

Vernon tugged on your hand, leading you across the street to his parked, waiting car.

You tried to bite back a smile, and he looked sideways at you, his own lips twitching.

“What?” he demanded.

“What?” you parroted.

He scowled at you, but his lips were just smiling. “What?” he asked again.

You laughed. “Let’s go,” you said. “The bitch wants to kiss you more.”

You expected his smile to sharpen. Instead, something in it seems to soften, changing from teasing to actual affection.

“Alright,” he said, turning to start the engine. “Can’t really say no to that, can I?”

“You could,” you mused, as he pulled away from the curb and the bar slid into nothingness behind you, “but I just don’t think you should.”

1 yr, 2 months ago

wyd

melting

srsly

no, seriously. i am laying on my living room floor like a starfish trying not to turn into liquid

come to hyungs

its too hot to move

i have an idea, come meet me at hyungs

You frowned at your phone. Of course your aircon died during the only heatwave you could remember in your entire adult life. Your whole body felt sticky; you were pretty sure you were stuck to your floor.

It was too hot to move.

what’s the idea??

you’ll see. i’ll order u a car. can you bring a couple towels?

“Vernon, no,” you laughed, your voice echoing.

He shushed you through laughter, both of you leaning on each other as you stood at the edge of the yard, the grass tickling the bottoms of your bare feet. Upstairs, at his friend’s place, you’d thrown back a few shots for courage before following Vernon out here, and you were feeling them, your head swimming like your body might soon be.

“It’s a circuit, see?” he tried to explain, pointing through the night, as if you could see through all the fences and over all the hedges. “Five yards, five pools, and then we end up right back here and we get in the car and go. Just follow me, don’t stop for anything.”

“Someone’s gonna call the cops,” you complained. “And these neighborhoods all have cameras.”

“That’s why we keep moving,” he said, his grin so excited and so un-Vernon that you almost couldn’t bear to say no to him. “No one’s gonna call the cops if we’re already gone - it’s not worth it. You ready?”

You hesitated. “You’re good to drive us out of here?” you checked.

He held up his hands as if to show innocence. “Only had a beer,” he promised. “But I’ve got something fun in the car for after, if you want.”

You felt your grin turn wolfish. “Okay. I’m right behind you.”

“Try and be quiet,” he warned, then took off running across the yard, cannonballing into the pool with a splash.

You tore off after him, leaping into the water and suppressing a shriek when the cold water hit you. You felt instantly sober, jittery with adrenaline, alive with laughter. You spluttered your way to the surface and pushed water away from your eyes, trying to find him through the shadows.

He was already climbing out the other side, water running down his back, the muscle shifting in the half-light as he hoisted himself back onto the pool’s deck. You hurried across the pool, climbing up beside him, giggling wildly.

“Shhh,” he warned, but he was giggling too as he led you carefully over the fence to the next yard.

As soon as you crept close enough to the pool to jump, a motion-activated light came on, flooding the yard white and causing you to cover your eyes.

“Quick!” Vernon told you, grabbing your arm and pulling you in with him as he jumped.

You let out a stream of bubbles and water rushed into your mouth. You felt your feet hit the bottom and you pushed off hard, surfacing quickly.

Again, you followed him across the pool, both of you laughing and whispering, “Hurry! Quick!” as you climbed out and headed around the house to the front yard.

“Okay, this is the hard part,” he told you, both of you shivering as the night air caught up to you. “We have to cross the street, hop the fence, and then the pool is around back.”

“I’m ready,” you promised, with a particularly hard shiver.

You sprinted across the street, both leaving wet footprints on the pavement. His hand felt warm in yours when he helped you over the fence, warm on your body when he held your waist as you climbed down.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, but giggles still spilled out of you.

“More fun than melting, right?” he asked, and you thought that you’d seen him smile more tonight than in whole months of coming together at night.

You thought you might move mountains to see him smile like this again, gums showing, open and honest, happy.

Then you were underwater again, swimming hard to keep up, following Vernon through the night as he pushed his way through some hedges and held them apart for you.

You made it to the last house before someone caught you, slamming the back door open and shouting, “Hey!”

“Go, go, go!” Vernon cried, laughing with such abandon that it sounded like goose honks, pulling on your hand as you both stumbled, dripping, towards the car.

You’d set towels on the seats before starting, so you tumbled into the car and he peeled away, both of you laughing wildly as you left the neighborhood behind.

It was miles before you calmed down, gasping in breaths and trying to hold them before exploding into laughter again.

“I’d better not end up on the news,” you scolded. “I’m in my underwear.

He gave you a searing sideways look. “I noticed.”

You felt yourself warm again, despite being in soaking wet clothes.

“Where next?” you asked. “Home?”

He let out a breath that was almost a sigh. “I don’t really want to go home,” he admitted. Then, “I was having fun with you.”

You considered this. “Not to be a cliche, but… I know a place.”

The quarry was quiet, surrounded by only trees; without posted lights, everything seemed to be just varying shades of black - the black of the water just darker than the black of the stone ledges just darker than the walls of trees just darker than the sky sprinkled with stars above you.

“We have to be careful,” you warned him seriously. “If you slip and get hurt, it could be bad.”

He turned the flashlight on his phone on and set it next to the metal rungs that jutted out of the stone, a makeshift ladder for the swimmers who came here during the day, when swimming was allowed.

“It’s going to be way colder than the pools,” you added.

“You’re not selling this very well,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be a chicken,” you teased.

He eyed the water. “I’m having second thoughts.”

You nudged him in the ribs, which caused him to squirm away, hands batting at yours, a noise emitting from him that made you laugh out loud.

“Are you ticklish?” you demanded. “How did I not know?”

“Come on, are we jumping or what?” he asked, laughing, still trying to keep your sneaky hands away from his ribs.

“Yeah, that’s probably the only way to actually get in,” you admitted, still laughing a little. Your abs felt a little sore from how much you’d laughed tonight.

You stood on the edge of the stone, toes curling over the ledge, Vernon’s hand tight in yours. You stood on the edge, the ink-like water beneath you rippling slightly, marring the reflection of the constellations high above you. You stood on the edge of something, knowing full well you were afraid to swim.

He counted you down, and together, you jumped.

The water was freezing - it hurt, it stung, and you shrieked and laughed as you surfaced. A foot from you, Vernon was shouting.

“The towels!” you told him, already swimming towards the little dot of light that marked the ladder.

Shaking and shivering, you reached your towel, wrapping it around yourself. Behind you, Vernon jogged up, making noises like a disgruntled horse as he found his own towel.

“Oh my god,” he groused, grabbing for you. “I’m freezing, come here.”

He opened his arms, the towel behind him like a wingspan, and you stepped into the space, letting him wrap his arms and his towel around you. You stood shivering together, trying to let your body heat chase the cold away.

You wrapped your own arms around his middle, pressing yourself closer as your legs shook, shivers rolling up your spine in waves as your body fought the chill. 

“C’mere,” he murmured above you, holding you a little more tightly, his own teeth chattering. 

It was the first time, you realized as you turned your head to rest your cheek on his chest, that you’d held each other. It was the first time you’d been between his arms when you weren’t fucking, the first time he’d tightened his grip around you for a reason other than gratification. 

You didn’t want it - didn’t want to know that it felt nice in his embrace, didn’t want to know that it fit right and felt safe. You didn’t want to know that you liked it, didn’t want to have to fight against the humiliation of wanting more.

As soon as the full-body tremors died away in the warm, sticky night, you stepped away, eager to put distance between you again. 

Later, he looked over at you from the driver’s seat of the car, red-eyed, his smile stretching slow and thick like putty. When you straddled his lap, his hands searching out the bare skin of your back, you rocked against him and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the column of his pretty throat until you were pulling groans from him with each pass of your hips. 

Forget, you thought, as you pulled your underwear to the side for him. Forget every single thing but this.

When you slipped an arm behind his neck and pressed your foreheads together as you lifted and dropped, you weren’t sure whose memory you were hoping to erase with this most recent pleasure-chase: yours, or his.

1 yr, 1 month ago

There was no map or calendar to this thing your brain did. It was summer, the sun shone, and yet the days bled together again, sunsets swirling down the shower drain.

The last time you’d gone radio silent, the last time your world had gone grey without warning, Vernon had answered in kind. His own silence had shouted for him until you’d tempted him back.

This time, he didn’t resort to silence in retaliation to yours. Instead, he kept trying, relentless. If you’d had more presence of mind, you might have wondered why.

wyd

[ ]

yo. whats the deal

[ ]

i will have you know that this is very insulting

[ ]

don’t get mad but im coming over

“What the fuck, Vernon.”

“I said don’t get mad.”

“It doesn’t work like that. What are you doing here?”

He leveled you with a look. “You gonna let me in?”

“Literally, no.”

You hadn’t showered in days; your apartment was probably grosser than you were. The cat milled around your ankles, trying to weasel its way outside, and you hopped from foot to foot trying to nudge it back inside.

“Why not?” he asked.

You huffed, annoyed. But the annoyance was the first thing you’d felt all day, and something inside you clung to it, desperate for more of anything but the crawling nothing that’s kept you company for days.

“Because,” you grumbled. Because there’s nothing for you here. Because I have nothing I can give you. “I’m… just not in the mood.”

He stepped back from the door so you could see more of him. “I’m not asking you to be.”

“Then why are you here?” The words fell between you, heavy. If you hadn’t been so low, if you hadn’t gone all day without eating, if you hadn’t been on your thirtieth hour without sleeping, you would have known better. You would have realized that you were asking, if you aren’t here for sex, then what are you here for? 

You wouldn’t have asked a question that you didn’t want the answer to.

He met your eyes. He seemed to teeter on the edge of telling you the truth, giving you the real answer. Then, he muttered, “Got bored.”

You knew it wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew you knew it, and yet neither of you were willing to look at it directly.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He watched you for what felt like a long time, face serious, eyes glittering and attentive. Then, instead of answering, he repeated, “Are you gonna let me in?”

You frowned at him, but there was a little more pout to it than anger. “I’m all gross,” you said, instead of answering.

Something in him softened - it was visible on his face, in his shoulders, like he knew this was your way of saying yes. “So let’s shower,” he suggested quietly.

You felt trepidation, like part of you expected him to stay soft, to try to take care of you. To your relief, Vernon acted like everything was normal, scrunching his face at you when the water was too cold as he stepped in, washing his own body in silence and letting you do your thing.

He didn’t try to hold you, didn’t ask you when you’d eaten last, didn’t try to talk about it - didn’t try to fix it. He was just… there, and this - along with your first shower in days - was somehow revitalizing in itself.

You pulled on clean sweats, which was better than the day-four sweats he’d found you in. “The apartment’s kind of… sorry,” you mumbled, looking around the living room, feeling a bit of that familiar shame crawl up your neck as you noticed the evidence that you hadn’t been picking up, or running a vacuum.

Vernon flopped backwards on your sofa, unphased, one arm bent behind his head. “We’ve been doing this for almost a year,” he pointed out. “I know how it usually is.”

It isn’t usually like this. And neither are you.

You wondered when it happened - your ability to finish his half-thoughts, your ability to know what he meant when he only said a fraction of it.

You stood awkwardly beside the couch where he was lounging, and he looked up at you with a tiny, amused smile.

“What do you wanna do?”

What you really wanted to do was cocoon yourself in blankets again and put on repeats of a show you’d already seen. But now you had to look functional. You might be mad at him for showing up like this, now that you thought about it.

“I dunno,” you said, which was close to the truth.

“You wanna eat?”

“Honestly?” you asked, pursing your lips a little. “No.”

“Okay,” he said easily, and it struck you again how different this was than how Chan treated you when you were low. Chan would have already had the food delivered, and would be chasing you around the table with loaded chopsticks, demanding you take a bite.

“Can we just… watch something?” you asked, unsure.

Vernon wordlessly reached for your remote and held it up to you, nonplussed.

You wondered if it was an act, how easy this was, how unbothered he was, how he seemed to just understand what wouldn’t help.

You knew it wasn’t; you’d been around long enough to know that Vernon’s demons weren’t all that different from yours.

You settled somewhere between his body and the back of the couch, one leg bent over his legs, one of your arms over his stomach and his arm curled around your shoulders.

“This is weird,” you muttered into his chest, and his laugh rumbled under you.

“Why?” he asked, his smile big, like he thought you were particularly funny. “Not used to being big spoon?”

Not used to cuddling - with you.

“Yeah,” you said, because that was easier.

On your TV, a show ran through several episodes, the changing scenes splashing you and Vernon with changing colors, casting his face blue and then white and then black and then red and then blue again. Sometimes he’d watch, sometimes he’d scroll on his phone. You mostly felt his heart beating under your hand and let your mind whir.

At some point he started mindlessly (or not mindlessly, who could know) stroking your back, gentle touches brushing up and down, slow, slow, the way he always was. At some point you shivered, goosebumps rising along your arms, and snuggled closer to him. At some point he shifted you from slightly beside him to on top of him, a second hand slipping under your loose tshirt and joining the first in tracing stripes up and down your upper back.

You shifted against him, something coming to life with a shudder like the furnace in your parent’s basement on cold autumn nights. Heat worked its way slowly from your core to your stomach, down your legs.

He kept his eyes on the tv, innocent, but you could hear his heartbeat. It couldn’t lie and pretend.

You shifted again, squirming until you’d worked his t-shirt up just enough that you could touch skin, too. You trailed your own fingers over the inch of exposed stomach you’d found, and delighted in the way you could feel him start to harden beneath you.

Then, you delighted in your delight. It was the first good thing you’d been able to feel in almost a week.

You said his name, and he finally looked down at you, eyes nearly black in the unlit room.

“What is it?” he asked, and his voice was suddenly so low it sent shivers tumbling down each vertebrae and tripping over to your limbs. “Want me to make you feel good?”

No, you wanted to say as you answered his question by pulling the hem of his t-shirt higher, encouraging him to lift up so you could pull it off. No, just want you to make me feel.

1 year ago

Everywhere Vernon looked, all he saw was circles. Circle of red in his bowl when he inhaled. Circle of condensation on the table when he lifted his beer. Circle of light reflecting from his phone case, laying in the setting sunlight, to the ceiling. Above him, the ceiling fan circled lazily, nowhere to be.

And you - you and him. That was a circle, too. A cycle, at least, which was close enough in his opinion. Text, hook up, skitter back to your respective places, wait out the next weekend. It was as rhythmic and routine as waves breaking and then getting pulled back out only to come shatter on sand again. It was out of his control, up to forces far greater than he was.

Vernon’s friends had texted to hang out and he’d declined. He told them he was seeing his parents, but really, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to watch the ceiling fan circle, he wanted to let his brain go staticky quiet, he wanted to burrow deep into things that made him feel less.

But he still, somehow, wanted to see you. He wanted to be alone, and being with you didn’t feel like not getting that.

It was a little scary, he thought, that you were the exception. That he could be with you without feeling the uncomfortable pressure of being with others, of having to be on, of having to fake cheerfulness and keep up with chatter that only exhausted him.

Vernon wasn’t a kid. He knew what it meant.

whats up

honestly not a lot. want me to come over?

Yeah, he did. He did, even if you weren’t going to hook up. He did, even if you were just going to lay on opposite sides of the couch and scroll on your phones. He did, and he hoped he’d end up with his arms around you, and he hoped he’d make you laugh at least once, and he hoped you’d stay and just be there with him after.

When you came over, he asked you how you felt about it - about him, about you and him. He asked by laying you on your back in his bed, by brushing fingertips along your face. He asked you by sliding your leggings away gently, pressing his mouth to each inch of your inseam as it became exposed to his dimly lit room. He asked you by kissing you through the lace you wore for him, then kissing the same spot once that lace was on his floor.

He asked you when he crawled up your body until his tip teased at your entrance and you whined, shifting to try to take him. And - when he took it slow this time, teeth scraping at your neck and then tongue hurrying to soothe the sting, his arms bracketing your body like he was sheltering you from an incoming storm.

(Maybe, he considered, he was.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was worthless in the face of this storm’s wrath.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was the fucking storm in the first place.)

And you heard his question loud and clear. You pulled on your leggings as soon as you were cleaned up, popping your hood up over your head as you searched for your phone. You kept your eyes on your screen as you waited for a car to come, murmured, “Later,” on your way out the door.

Vernon’s apartment rang with quiet. He was alone, he’d gotten what he’d wanted.

He’d also, it seemed, gotten his answer.

<- Prev | Next ->

thank you so much for reading!!! i'm always happy to hear what you think!

[grendelsmilf]

little grey kitten voted number one most precious resource on planet earth ten thousand years running

[kirisclangen]

Shortfern

She/her, 128 moons, cis molly, currently pregnant!

[churipu]

PAINTING THEIR NAILS 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. none :)

note. i don't know, something about painting your partner's nails feels intimate to me. like, yes. make art on my nails pls.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

"what are you doing, baby?" gojo asks, his cerulean blue eyes gazing into the on-going television series playing in front of him.

you didn't answer him, brows furrowed in concentration — slipping your tongue out, a bit past your lips. index finger and thumb clutching onto the polish brush as you try to stroke his nails neatly with a light pink color.

"are you painting my nails?" he asks again.

much to his dismay, the room was void of answers yet for the second time. but gojo wasn't angry, his eyes finally gazes at your figure, eyeing you in content. his chin prepped on top of his free hand, limping the hand you were holding onto, "just a little more," you whisper to yourself.

three minutes passed and you pulled yourself back, "all done and dolled up, give me your other hand," you commanded, ushering gojo to give his other hand.

"good job, baby. they look pretty," he chuckles, indulging to your command — letting you have your fun, "can i do yours after?"

you nod, "mhm, i want to use (favorite color). and you gotta do it neatly too . . ."

gojo shrugs, "easy job to me."

it was in fact not an easy job to him.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

"paint my nails?" geto parrots softly.

you stood in front of him, holding a grey colored pouch — that geto knew was filled with different colored polishes, he's seen you done your nails for fun and then erasing them just a few hours later because you were bored.

"yes, i want to paint them. can i?" you ask him, taking a seat right beside him on the couch, immediately letting yourself sink a bit into the fabric.

"mhm, sure baby. what color were you thinking?" geto raised his hand up to your thigh, letting you take over.

you hummed, "i was thinking . . . just a simple silver colored cat eye nails, you have pretty nails, you know?" geto, frankly, couldn't understand what you meant by that — cat eye on his nails? but you were his partner, and he trusts you.

it didn't take you long to finish a hand. his eyes never leaving your hand as they moved in slow strokes, "how do you think they look? i was watching a video on the internet, and i thought this might look pretty on you. 't looks a little different than what i saw though."

geto's gaze fell onto his nails, a smile popping up onto his lips, "'t looks pretty, thank you."

"really? you're not just saying that, right?" you ask, narrowing your eyes jokingly.

"nope, 'm being serious. do my other hand," he offers, leaning his lips to the top of your head, "ever considered opening a nail boutique? you have the skills for it."

"now that you mention it, maybe i should."

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

"can you do my nails, please?" yuuji asks, wiggling his fingers in front of your face, "i want them to be painted prettily."

you raise a brow, "they're already pretty though."

yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "but i wanted you to paint them for me," he draped himself over you, chin laying on your abdomen. brows furrowed like a baby, "make them look prettier."

"grab my nail polish pouch in the room, yeah?"

your words lit him up like a lightbulb, and yuuji was almost immediately up and about — disappearing into the room to grab the pouch you told him to. his giddy smile not leaving his face even when he came running back to you, laying the pouch on your tummy.

"i think maroon would suit you," you rummaged through the pouch, "or black? whichever you'd like . . ."

"can you do both? zig-zag?" yuuji questions.

you nodded, "mhm, anything for you, yuuji."

it was obvious that the boy was excited, his body trembling as you painted his nails, "woah . . . they look pretty," he whispers, squeezing your hand a bit.

"you're pretty," you replied back.

yuuji looks at you, a bit taken aback, but said nothing to deny you — only letting out a soft laugh, "too busy for a kiss?"

shaking your head, you leaned in towards him, stealing a kiss from his lips, "nope, never too busy for a kiss," yuuji huffs out with a large grin.

"i love you, you know?" he asked you.

"mhm, always. i love you too."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[busycloudy]

"Happy Birthday Prefect!"

 • So...Guess who's birthday it is. That's right, it's mine!😁

 • This is basically what I think they would give you when it's your birthday 

• Tooth rotting fluff fanfic? Headcanon? Idk🤷‍♀️Either way it's tooth rotting fluff(The last part might make you shred a tear tho)

 • Reader is gender neutral. The first years/our chaotic of a group is last! 

• Enjoy! (And happy birthday to anyone else that has a birthday today!)

------------------------------------------------------

Riddle Rosehearts- A Necklace

He gave you a necklace with a Rose, to resemble him, on it. The beads are a bright red and black. In the center of it a beautiful and small glass rose is shown proudly.

Trey Clover- Favorite Sweet

He made you your favorite sweet! He made it specially, and don't worry, no oyster sauce was added!

Cater Diamond- A Phone Case

He got you a phone case that has your favorite thing on it. For example if you like cats he got you a phone case with a cat pattern on it.

Leona Kingscholar- A Ring

This ring was something that simply just reminded you of him. It was golden with silver lettering that said "Herbivore". He didn't tell you this, but he has one himself that says "Sleepyhead"

Ruggie Bucchi- Favorite Food

Ruggie got you some of your favorite food, free of charge! Well, all you owe him is to always have a smile on your face.

Azul Ashengrotto- A free drink + free food

He let you have a free drink, and a free dish from the monstro lounge. How very kind of him to do for a poor unfortunate soul like you! He may also let you sit with him in the V.I.P room and chat.

Jade Leech- Book- Terrainum

He got you a book about different plants, and a terrarium! When you decorate the terrarium, do get Jade if you need help! He will gladly do so!

Floyd Leech- Plush

He got you a eel plushie. He came across it and thought it was adorable, so he thought to give it to you! (He also has a matching shrimp plush)

Kalim Al-Asim- Pictures

Kalim knew for a gift like this, it couldn't be anything, it had to be sentimental, so he gave you some pictures the two of you had together. Hang it on your wall/fridge and he will be so happy!

Jamil Viper- Snake Bracelet

A golden snake bracelet that wraps around your wrist. He hopes this reminds you of him. (He'd be so happy if you wore it every day, please do so, or at least wear it as much as you can🥺)

Vil Schoeinheit- Hair Clip

He gave you a hairclip shaped like a crown. He was still the fairest of all, but maybe you could second him.

Rook Hunt- Bow and Arrow

Rook gave you a bow and arrow of your own Iff you ever would like to practice archery, come to him!

Idia Shroud- Controller- Headphones

He gave you a black and blue game controller with headphones that match, which also have cat ears on them. You can game with him anytime!

Malleus Draconia- Earrings

Malleus gave you dragon earrings, something to represent him. "Would you like to go on a walk tonight?" he asked you. The two of you looked at stars and constellations that night.

Lillia Vanrouge- Fingerless Gloves

Black fingerless gloves with a green bat symbol on it. He also says "You've grown so much since I first saw you" then patting you on the head.(KJDHSJHSHSDJ I DIED WHILE MAKING THIS PART)

Silver- A Blanket

This blanket had multiple squares of different shades of your favorite color(Like patchwork)The blanket was also very soft! If you wasn't already getting good sleep, this will definitely help!

Your friends, the first years, gave you scrapbook to hold all your memories, and matching bracelets

The scrapbook has pictures of everytime all of you guys have hanged out together, and some pages are still left empty to fill out more and more memories. The bracelets have all your main colors on each and every one of them, and connect to each other when close by. They have a striped pattern of Red(Ace), Dark Blue(Deuce), Yellow(Jack), Purple(Epel), Light Blue(Ortho), Green(Sebek), Grey(Grim), and [insert your main color](You).

Ace says the bracelets were "Duece's 'stupid' idea" But in all seriousness, he also loves them.

These things are something you can have so if you ever end up finding a way home, you can take it with you to remember them.

[alastor-simp]

Bon Appétit! - Alastor x Fem Chef Reader

❥Summary- You were a very popular chef when you were alive, talented in making any dish in any cuisine. You sadly died from unknown causes and ended up in Hell instead of Heaven. You happen to find the Hazbin Hotel and applied for a job there as a cook. Everyone loved your cooking, including a certain red haired demon.

❥Tags: female reader, fluff, chef reader, friends to potential lovers, alastor is bad with feelings, slight romance, hazbin hotel gang, reader is an amazing cook, alastor is a foodie

❥Notes: I had this story idea brewing in my head for a whole week and I needed to type it out. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

"Hum hum hum hum~♫" Your head was bopping to the catchy jazz radiating from the radio. Your hands were placed against a metal bowl, one holding it and the other mixing it. Your name was Y/N, and you were the chef/cook at the Hazbin Hotel. During the time when you were alive, your dishes were very popular. You weren't extremely well known across the world, but everyone in your town knew about you and craved what you created. Your family owned a small restaurant, that was opened to all the locals. It was a bit difficult in the beginning since you were self taught, but as you got older, your skills improved. Over time, you expanded to other cuisines, ranging from American, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, and European.

How you ended up in Hell was still mind-boggling. You remember closing up the restaurant, and heading back to your apartment, only to see a large bright light and then pure darkness. You woke up after that in a very strange area, the sky was a pure blood red and the people around you seemed almost fictional. A large sign that said "Welcome to Hell" was a clear enough answer to where you were. Well there was no way for you to go back to the living world, so you had to just deal with it. Finding a job wasn't very easy especially since many of the places you saw, had very grotesque dishes, and you weren't skill with cooking eyeballs and beating hearts. You stopped at a wall covered with different flyers, some for killing services and job offers. The one that caught your eye was the very colorful one, decorated with stickers and glitter. "Hazbin Hotel huh?" That seemed like a good place to start, especially since hotels had guests and needed someone to provide meals. Smiling, you grabbed the flyer and began making your way to your destination.

Having arrived at the hotel, you were greeted by the owner, "Charlie Morningstar." She was ecstatic that you wanted to come and help at the hotel, giving you a crushing bear hug. She did ask about your skills and was very surprised when you said you were skilled in cooking. Dragging you inside, she allowed you to introduce yourself to the others. They were quite an odd bunch when you first saw them, but they seemed friendly. The demon holding Charlies hand was Vaggie. She seemed like a tough cookie, given how intense she was looking at you. Two other demons were sitting at the bar, chatting away. One appeared to be a spider like demon and the other was like a cat. The spider, who Charlie said was Angel Dust, gave you a flirtatious wink along with a hand shake, while the cat demon, Husk, just gave you a small wave. A small clattering of feet came from behind you, causing you to turn. You saw no one there, but then you felt something on top of your shoulder. Turning, you were face to face with a mini female demon with a large eye. She was gazing at you, wearing a huge smile, before she jumped off and ran back to where she came from. Charlie told you that was Niffty as she then introduced you to another patron of the hotel. He was a large black snack with pink eyes, wearing a grey suit and top hat. His face seemed nervous, but he had a kind expression. He gave a slight bow, while shaking your hand, telling you his name was "Sir Pentious"

Charlie kept looking around, wearing a confused expression. "Hey Vaggie, have you seen Alastor?" Vaggie responded with her head shaking no. A large black circle soon appeared next to Charlie, then began to form into a person. The darkness soon faded away from the person to reveal themselves. The demon was dressed in a striped red suit, that went well with his monocle and bow tie. His bob hair cut was a crimson red, and were those antlers on his head. His fangs seemed very sharp, given how well you could see them through his wide tooth smile. "Here I am, Charlie my dear!" His voice was etched with static, reminding you of the old radio you had at your restaurant. "AH! Alastor! Just in time! I wanted to introduce you to Y/N. She is looking to work as a cook here." She push you closer to him, making you stand a few feet from each other. "Hello, nice to meet you." Giving a kind smile, you extended your hand out for a shake. The smile on his face widen, as he bent down, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on it. "Charmed!" His gesture gave you small tingles throughout your body. He then removed your hand and stood back to his full height. "So you are talented in the kitchen I presume?" Smiling more, you nodded your head. "Yes! I am self taught and I started working in my family restaurant at a young age."

Charlie then butted into the conversation, eyes sparkling. "Wow that's so amazing. What kind of food did you serve?" You twirled your hair with your finger. "Well it was the classic family restaurant, so club sandwiches, mac and cheese, homemade pies, the whole lot. But, I wanted to expand my skills, so I explored other cuisines to try and master." Angel Dust had gotten closer and wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder, looking excited. "You any good with making Italian dishes toots?" Hehe it was cute how excited he was. You went over the list of all the cuisines you knew how to make, causing everyone's eyes to widen and mouths to drop, except Alastors, as he was still wearing a smile, but his eyes did expand a bit after listening to you. In a flash, you were pushed into the kitchen by everyone, faces adorned with wide smiles, waiting to see what you would make.

That felt like so long ago, as after amazing everyone's taste buds with your cooking, you were hired immediately on the spot. Realizing you were getting distracted from your thoughts of the past, you went back to cooking. Today you were making blueberry muffin cookies for everyone to enjoy.

(Love making these⬆️)

The batter was all set, and what you needed next was the blueberries. Heading to the fridge, you opened the wide door, looking for the small container. "Ahh found you." Finding the small container, you grabbed it, moving back to allow the fridge door to close. "Salutations, my dear!" a static voice spoke next to you, causing you to scream, as the container from your hand dropped to the ground, causing all the blueberries to spill out. "Al! Don't do that!" your response earned a laugh from Alastor. "HAHA! Apologies, my dear! Didn't mean to give you such a fright." He batted his eyes at you, trying to appear innocent, but you knew he was joking. "Yeah sure you didn't. Great now I'm out of blueberries since someone made me dropped them." Your legs bent down to the ground, grabbing the blueberries. Standing back up, you marched over to the trash bin and threw them away. A loud *SNAP* came from behind you, causing you to turn around. On the counter was a mini basket, containing fresh blueberries. "Oh thank you." Looking back at Alastor, you gave a thankful smile. "Your welcome, my dear! May I ask what type of concoction you are preparing?" He bent down, leaning against the counter, with his hands under his chin. Grabbing a few handfuls of blueberries, you went to the sink to give them a quick rinse, before coming back after patting them dry with a napkin. "Oh I'm making muffin cookies. Was craving something sweet so I decided to make a bunch for everyone. I'll save you a couple." You smiled up at Alastor, as you tossed the blueberries in the batter, and began to fold them in. Alastor grimaced slightly at that, and just wave his hand at you. "No need, my dear! I don't particularly care for sweets!" You nearly dropped your spatula at that. He didn't like sweets things?! You had made other baked goods and desserts in the past since you been here and you had assumed everyone had gave them a try and loved them, so it was a bit of a surprise when Alastor told you that he didn't like sweets. "How come?" Tilting your head at him, you waited for his response. Alastor raised his head, giving it some thought, before he looked back at you "Just don't like overly sweet things. I have a very limited palate, so I prefer to stick with that." His smile widen at you, sharpening at bit as he seemed to be thinking of something gruesome.

You continued to prepare the cookies, scooping them and placing them on a baking tray. A sudden thought came in your head, and you turned back to Al. "What sort of foods did you used to enjoy when you were alive?" Alastor raised an eyebrow at that. "My, a curious one aren't you? Well I grew up in the roaring 1920s in New Orleans, Louisiana. Oh, how I miss the sights and the bayous. I preferred venison and other meats, but I did indulge on other culinary dishes from time to time. Gumbo, Jambalaya, Po boys, oh my!" Alastor seemed almost in a trance, as he kept talking about his past. It was nice to see him so happy and excited, when discussing the time he was alive. "It sounds like you really enjoyed it." Alastor looked back at you, eyes holding a certain tender look. "Yes indeedy!" Your eyes remained locked on each other, until Alastors eyes glanced to the clock on the wall.

"Oh! Seems its time for my broadcast! Ta-ta, my dear!" Alastor gave his microphone stand a twirl, before disappearing into the shadows.Once he left, you couldn't stop thinking about what he told you, about his past life. The joyful look on his face kept replaying in your mind, when he was discussing the delicacies he enjoyed. "I want to see more of that expression" you thought. You continued to brainstorm, as you waited patiently for the cookies to be finished.

**Evening- Alastors POV**

"Ah! What a pleasant stroll that was!" Alastor had arrived back to the hotel, after just finishing his evening walk. He arrived back quite late, since the other denizens were not parading through the hotel lobby and lounge. Placing his hands behind his back, he headed in the direction that would lead him to his quarters. A pleasant smell was wafting through the air, stopping Al in his tracks. "My what a enticing aroma!" Alastor leaned his head back, taking in the amazing smell. His feet began making his way, searching for where the aroma was coming from. He had arrived in front of the kitchen doors, which were slightly opened and the lights still turned on. Peeking his head through the crack, he was surprised to see you in the kitchen still. Your air was tied up in a bun, while you were adorning kitchen apron. One of your hands was busy, stirring inside a large pot, while the other was adding in some seasonings. Alastor gave a small knock at the door, letting his presence be known. "Still cooking, my dear? It is way past your bedtime!" Turning your head, you flashed a large smile at Al. "Oh! You're here! Come sit, its almost ready!" Your crooked your finger at Al, telling him to come closer and take a seat near the kitchen table. Alastor cocked his head at you, still confused on what was going on. He soon took a seat, placing his hands on his lap. "Wanted to surprise you." He heard you say, as he watched you grab a bowl, pouring the concoction from the pot to the bowl. You saw you walk closer to him, placing the bowl down in front of him. Alastor's eyes widen at the site, before turning to look at you. "My dear, what is this by chance?" Smiling, you took a seat on the other side of the table. "Its seafood gumbo!

(Bowl in front of Alastor)

Alastor continued to gaze at you in shock, then back to the bowl , then back to you. "Did you stay up just to make this for me?" He saw your face flushed as you rubbed your neck. "I did yes! You appeared very happy when you told me what you liked to eat when you were alive, so I thought I would surprise you by making a Creole dish." Alastor continued to stare at you, his eyes going soft from how sweet the gesture was. The smell of the prawns and cajun spice was making his mouth water. "This is my first time making this, so I hope you like it." Alastor nearly jumped when he heard that. "My dear, you never cooked Cajun food before?" You shook your head no at him. "I always knew about Cajun cuisine, just never got to it. Now come on, hurry before it gets cold!" You gestured for him to start eating as you placed your hands under your chin, copying him. The smile on his face grew, as he looked back at the bowl in front of him.

**Your POV**

You were sweating like crazy. This was the first time you ever made gumbo, and now you were scared that you messed up. Last thing you wanted was Al to try it, then recoil in disgust. Your eyes watched him lift the spoon of the broth and place it in his mouth. His expression was unreadable, making you all the more nervous. As he took the spoon out from his mouth, you saw the gentle smile on his face. "Superb." He took another spoonful of the broth, placing it back in his mouth, letting out a pleasant mmm. Phew! you were glad he loved it. You continued to watch him eat, before getting up from the table and walking towards the oven. Alastor didn't even notice you leave, as he was too immersed in the dish in front of him. The savory taste of the broth and spice that kept flooding in was so nostalgic to him. Soon there was nothing left, and Alastor leaned back against the chair, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Absolutely amazing, my dear! Thank you." Alastor motioned his head to look at you, as he saw you removing something from the oven. "Your welcome! Hope you have some room for dessert?" Alastor gave a small grimace. "My dear, I told you before, I am not one for sweets!" Giggling, you placed what you had made on a bowl, before sprinkling some powder on them. "Are you sure? Something tells me these might change your mind."

Carrying a plate in front of you, you placed it on the table. Alastor eyes once again widen at the sight. In front of him was a plate filled with freshly made beignets, piping hot and covered in powdered sugar.

"Go on, try one." You stepped back and made your way back over to the chair. Alastor seemed a bit hesitant to try them, the feelings of his past and his dislike for sweets were battling with each other. Moving his hand slowly, he grabbed one of them from the plate, hovering it next to his mouth. Finally he took a bite. Alastors eyes enlarged again, as he took another huge bite of the beignet, before grabbing another one. Soon there were no more left on the plate, only crumbs remaining. "Ahhhhhh~. Delicious!" Alastor wore a peaceful expression on his face, as he leaned back against the chair. He then heard you break into fits of laughter. "What is funny, my dear?" He eyed you curiously, as you kept laughing hysterically. "Ahahahahaha! You...you have powder all over your face!" Your finger was pointed up at him, as you were trying to calm down from laughing so hard. Alastor jumped a bit, before rubbing his mouth with his finger, seeing a trace of white on it. "Here, I'll give you a napkin." Getting up, you went to grab him a napkin for coming back to him. "Thank you!", Smiling, he grabbed it and began to clean his face.

Once he was finished, he looked back at you. His eyes held so much emotion, as he continued to gaze at you. He got up slowly from the chair, standing up to his full height, as he pointed his head down towards you. Raising a hand, he placed it on your cheek. "Thank you again, my dear. But, why did you go through all this trouble to make this for me?" Raising one of your hands up, you placed it against the hand that was on your cheek. "I wanted to see that expression of yours again. You seemed such in high spirits when you talked to me about your past, so I wanted to make you something." Alastor chuckled down at you, finding your reasoning simply adorable. "You reminded me of something my dear mother use to tell me "A way to a mans heart is through his stomach."" Your whole face flushed at that, painting your cheeks a deep red. Alastor slowly inched closer to you, bending his head down closer. His lips had landed on your cheek, giving it a soft peck, before he pulled back slowly to gaze at you. "Thank you again, y/n." His body began to morph into blackness as he became one with his shadow, and then disappeared from you, leaving you a blushing mess.

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[wheresarizona]

Bluebonnet

summary: Is Joel Miller your friend? No. You’re not even sure if he actually likes you or just puts up with you because of his kid. Then he kicks some guy's ass in a bar for getting handsy with you, and you’re starting to think maybe he might like you a little…

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Grumpy Joel Miller, Protective Joel Miller, Soft Joel Miller, age gap (unspecified but reader was born before the outbreak), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral sex (f + m receiving), 69 position, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, spit mention, slight breeding kink, Joel has a big dick, Joel being kinda a dick, a random guy harassing you then getting beat up by Joel, canon typical violence, icing Joel’s knuckles, feelings confessions, Ellie being Ellie and the star of the show, AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and their relationship is still good)

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

word count: 5.5k+

a/n: Literally, a scene in this woke me up from dead sleep at five in the goddamn morning, and I spent thirty minutes plotting the whole one shot while barely awake. This fic was very spur of the moment that I wrote in less than two days, so it’s unbeta’d. All mistakes are my own. Please be horny about Joel protecting you with me.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

Is Joel Miller your friend? 

No. 

Are you on friendly terms?

You thought so. 

Joel isn’t the most social of fellas—he’s basically a feral cat that wants to be left alone.

If you aren’t friends with him, then how did you become the regular occupant of the seat across from his in the Jackson mess hall every breakfast and dinner? 

The answer is simple: Ellie. 

It all started months ago when you first got to Jackson and met the teen after being assigned to a job rotation with her. She was so excited about finding out you lived in Texas for many years before the world went to hell she invited you to eat dinner with her so you could meet someone, and that’s how you were introduced to Austin-native Joel Miller. 

He’s a bit older than you, never smiles, and isn’t much of a talker but still polite enough to answer a question if you ask it, even if it’s more of a grumble at the start of the day. With Ellie, though, it was different. He talked to her, and his voice was like coming home after a long day and settling in on the couch—that familiar Texan accent making you feel all warm and comfy, his words wrapping around you like a tight blanket and taking you back to a time when things were good and safe. 

The morning after the first dinner, Ellie had called you over to sit with them for breakfast, and again that evening, little bits of conversation happening between bites as you got a grasp on what the relationship was between this young girl and man—it was clearly father-daughter in nature even if she didn’t call him ‘dad,’ and you savored every word she wheedled out of him. 

It got to the point where the teenager didn’t have to beckon you over, and you just knew to set your food down in the seat in front of Joel to eat with them, always smiling at Ellie giving him so much shit, chatting with them or more the young girl, with Joel occasionally offering clipped anecdotes, and you trying not to acknowledge his handsomeness—you weren’t sure if he even liked you or if he was just putting up with you for the sake of his kid.  

He does have a lovely voice and is very attractive with those expressive chocolate-colored eyes that sometimes soften when he looks at his daughter; you could imagine his grey hair would be soft to the touch, and it’s obvious those full lips of his are kissable. Honestly, it’s surprising he’s not seeing anyone that you know of or Ellie is aware of, with how damn pretty he is.

His broad shoulders and how his flannels stretch over his chest. 

His neck. 

God, he’s sure nice to look at. 

And Ellie is a great kid who trusted you, coming to you anytime she needed advice or wanted to talk about something, and you were happy to be there for her. 

The breakfast and dinner routine had been going on for so long that even though Joel didn’t talk at length to you, you’d managed to learn quite a bit about him from questions he’d answer or conversations he had with his kid or brother in front of you. He definitely knew a lot about you, too. 

Now, back to why you’re not sure if he likes you. 

That morning when you went to breakfast, you were running on autopilot—piled your plate with food, grabbed your cup of shitty coffee that made you want to cry with how much you missed Starbucks, and set it all down in your usual spot, where you started to eat. 

When your brain finally began working, that’s when you realized it was abnormally quiet at your table, and you looked up to realize Ellie wasn’t there—it was just Joel. He must have seen some kind of look on your face since he grumbled out she was with a friend. Then when you asked if he wanted you to sit somewhere else, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he told you no before going back to eating in silence.

That put a point in the maybe he wasn’t just putting up with you for the sake of his daughter column and made you smile a little the rest of the meal.  

She wasn’t at dinner either.

This had you standing near your seat, chewing on your lip, debating on sitting elsewhere until Joel sighed loudly, setting down his fork to tell you in a tone that brokered no room for argument to sit, so you did. 

After a few bites, you almost choked to death when he asked how your day was. 

There was actual back and forth between just the two of you, and you were in heaven at how much he was speaking, another point going toward he might like you. 

Those interactions had you feeling really hopeful, and you were excited for breakfast the next day, wondering if he’d try to talk to you more. 

It’s been over half a year since you arrived in town, and you have managed to make some friends, who you knew for sure were your friends, and also closer to your age. When a couple of them asked if you wanted to get a drink that night and play some pool, you happily agreed. 

The place is practically empty when you arrive. 

Standing at the bar, chatting with your friend Mathias as you wait for the bartender to make your drinks, you can feel someone staring at you. Doing a quick glance of the room has your stomach dropping and is the reason you’re pretty fucking sure Joel doesn’t care for you; he’s sitting across the room at a table in the corner, glaring at you—not just glaring, if looks could kill you’d be deader than dead he looks so pissed off, and you’re about to go find out what his problem is when two things happen:

Mathias excuses himself to the restroom, and some man you’ve never seen, let alone spoken to, gets your attention on your other side. 

“Hey.” The interloper squeezes your arm, which makes your head turn toward him, shaking him off.

“Don’t touch me,” you reply. 

There’s nothing special about the guy—he’s probably younger than you, has floppy blonde hair, and a clean-shaven face, but something in his eyes made you feel uneasy. 

“My apologies,” he says, putting up his hands placatingly. “This is my first night here, and I’m just trying to make a new friend. Have a drink with me.” 

“Welcome to Jackson, and no, thank you, I’m here with friends.” 

“I’m sure they won’t mind if you have one drink with me.” His voice goes lower, “We could have some real fun together.” He has the audacity to grab your ass, and you step out of his reach. 

“I said don’t fucking touch me.” 

The bartender has gone into the back, Mathias is nowhere in sight, and your other friend is in another room where the pool table is with the jukebox playing. 

Something flashes in his eyes, and it has your heart pounding. 

“Don’t be like that. Just one drink,” he says, coming closer. 

You are readying to fight the bastard when all of a sudden, someone is grabbing his collar, and you see a fist connect with his face in a sickening crunch that makes you gasp. 

Joel yanks the guy in front of him. 

“She said not to fuckin’ touch her,” he grits through his teeth. “And that she didn’t wanna have a drink with you.” 

“I’m sorry,” the other man wheezes, blood oozing from his clearly broken nose. “I’ll leave.” 

“Yes, you fuckin’ will—after I teach you some fuckin’ manners.” 

With that, he punches him again and again and again.

You’re no damsel in distress—you’ve survived the fucking apocalypse for the last twenty years practically alone and could easily fight your way out of dangerous situations. But having someone stand up for you and protect you? It’s really doing it for you, except you’re genuinely worried Joel will murder this man, so you move toward him. 

“Stop, Joel!” you shout, pushing on his shoulder, and he does immediately, his eyes meeting yours. “He’ll leave; toss him out. Please, Joel. Don’t kill him.” 

His chest rises and falls as he pants, nodding his head once before hauling the groaning man to the door and throwing him out. The bartender chose that moment to come back, as well as your friend. 

There was a worried expression on Mathias’ face. “Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer. The drinks are sitting on the bartop, and you gesture toward them. “I’ve got something to do, so take those for me, okay?” 

Confusion is etched on his brow. “Okay…?” He strategically picks up the three glasses and heads for the other room with the pool table. 

Your attention moves to the man behind the bar. “Hey, can I get some ice in a rag?” 

“Sure thing,” he replies, going to the block and using the ice pick. 

Joel didn’t return to you. Instead, he went back to his table like the last however many minutes didn’t happen, and it makes you sigh. 

His mixed signals have you so confused you’re ready to just get it all out in the open. 

The bartender hands you some ice wrapped in a towel, and you walk over to Joel, having to drag the seat across from his around so you’re next to him, seeing his right hand shaking around his glass with bloodied knuckles. 

He won’t even look at you. 

“Give me your hand,” you order him. 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not. Give me your fucking hand.” 

“No.” 

“Stop being a stubborn asshole, and let me ice your fucking knuckles.”

“I said I’m fine.” 

He won’t give you his hand, so you do the next best thing and press the ice against them while they hold his drink, Joel hissing at the coldness. 

His head turns to glare at you. 

“Don’t give me that look.” You glare right back. “I’m helping you.” 

“I don’t need your help,” he practically spits out. 

Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for what you’re going to say. 

“We had a nice dinner,” you tell him. 

His eyebrows furrow. 

“What?” 

“We had a nice dinner with just the two of us where we talked—you didn’t smile, but it was the most you’ve ever said to me, and this morning, you let me eat with you. You’re not a people person, and I wasn’t sure if you liked me all that much, but our meals today made me think you might. Then tonight you were glaring at me—”

“When was I glarin’ at you?” he interrupts. 

“Before that creep started getting handsy.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t lookin’ at you…” His eyes dart away. 

You’re confused. 

“There’s like no one here. Who were you looking at?” 

He sighs loudly. “Your boyfriend,” he mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“Your boyfriend—the guy you’re here with.” 

“Oh, Mathias? I’m not his type, and he’s already in a relationship. I don’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or a partner—I’m not seeing anyone. You should know this.” 

“Oh.” 

“Okay, so you weren’t glaring at me, you were glaring at my non-existent boyfriend, and then you came in hot like some knight in shining armor and beat the shit out of that asshole for doing me wrong. Sooo, you maybe like me?” 

He looked at you with a squinted gaze, like the answer was obvious. 

“I more than maybe like you,” he replies. 

That has your eyes widening. 

“Wait, in the romantic or platonic sense?” 

“There’s no point in talkin’ about this,” he sighs, looking down at the amber liquid in his cup. 

“Um, yes, there is because if I have a shot at breaking off a piece of this Kit Kat bar, I’d like to take it.” 

His gaze met yours, and you could see the hope swirling in the dark pools. 

“In the, uh, romantic or platonic sense?” 

Smiling, you answer, “Romantic—I’ve basically been crushing on you since I met you. We’ve known each other for months, almost a year. You’re such a good father to Ellie, a hard worker around town, and you let some random person sit with you during your meals—”

It takes your breath away when he smiles softly and talks when you pause, “You’re not some random person, and I would’ve been stupid to turn away such a beautiful woman.” 

“Oh, god, you’re hot and charming.” He chuckles, and your heart picks up in pace. “How are you making me like you more?” 

“I don’t know, Blue.” 

“Blue?” 

“As in Bluebonnet.” 

Which was Texas’ state flower and makes you feel so soft at how sweet the nickname is. 

“I love it.” 

The smile falls from his face. 

“You, uh, don’t mind my age?” He scratches at his mustache. 

Ellie had made you very aware of how old Joel was. 

“No? I think you’re extremely attractive. Does the age difference bother you?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. 

“What now?” you ask. 

“Jesus, it’s been so fuckin’ long,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I guess I’ll court you—take you on a proper date.” 

“Second option, that’s more immediate, and we can go with your plan tomorrow.” 

He looks at you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Is Ellie home tonight?” 

His eyebrows dip together. 

“Yeah?” 

Smirking, you say, “Okay, so why don’t we go back to my place, and I properly thank you for what you did tonight.” 

You see his throat bob as he swallows, his voice going deeper when he asks, “How do you wanna thank me?” 

A smile pulls up on your lips, moving forward to whisper in his good ear, “I was thinking I’d suck your dick.” His breath stutters. “Then have you fuck me however you want.” That makes him groan, and you grin. 

His hand moves out from under the ice and up to cradle your face, along with the other, when his body turns, making you look him in the eyes.

“I was stupid for leavin’ you alone ‘cause I assumed you wouldn’t want anythin’ to do with someone as old as me.” 

You snort. “Uh, yeah. You went a little hard with the leaving me alone, but I’ll forgive you if you kiss me right now.” 

No other words are said. His mouth crushes against yours, swallowing your surprised sound as he kisses you hard. Your fingers end up tangling in his grey waves of hair, your heart hammering in your chest and pulsing at the apex of your thighs. It’s obvious he hasn’t kissed in a while, and you’re in the same boat, both of you figuring things out until there’s a rhythm, and things are heating up with a slip of your tongue into his mouth to slide along his. The need inside you builds and builds until your lungs start to ache for oxygen, and you break apart, his nose nuzzling yours as you both pant with a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s go,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice.  

He washed his hands before you left the bar, so it wasn’t obvious he’d just been in a fight. 

Having Joel lead you through town is like having a big, scary dog on a leash with how people get out of his way. It’s a little surprising he even knows where you live when you find yourself walking through your front gate. 

“How—”

“Ellie,” he answers before you even ask the question, his feet stomping up the two porch steps and you following. “She’s free to hang out with whoever and go wherever. I just ask she tells me where she’ll be.” 

“That’s very ‘cool dad’ of you.” 

You’re standing at the front door, him out of your way. 

“She’s not allowed to leave Jackson without me. If I tell her to stay away from someone, she stays away from them. I expect her to be a model citizen and do the jobs she’s required to do. Unless we talked beforehand, she must be home in time for breakfast and dinner.” 

“So, today, you knew it’d just be the two of us?” 

“She asked last night to stay at Cat’s house.” That’s Ellie’s best friend. “They’re staying over at our place tonight.” 

“Probably won’t even notice you’re missing then,” you say with a smile. The door’s unlocked, and you push it open before turning to grab Joel by the collar, pulling him in for a kiss as he walks you backward into the house with his arms wrapping around your back. 

It’s a tangle of tongues, a clash of teeth, one of Joel’s hands moving to massage your breast while your fingers worked open the buttons on his shirt, him shrugging it off by the time you make it to your bedroom door you led him to. Once inside, he strips you first, spending quite a bit of time licking and sucking on your tits when they’re bared and stopping you when you try to work open his pants, learning he’s really fucking strong when he easily tosses you onto the middle of the bed. 

Quickly, you’re sitting up on your knees, and you get a good look at the sizable bulge at the front of his jeans; Joel standing there with his hands on his hips, staring at your body with a hungry gaze, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. Scars are littering the golden expanse of skin on his front and arms of varying sizes, a newer one you spot on his lower torso, all of them telling you he’s fought like hell to make it to this point. 

Shuffling forward, you’re tired of waiting, your hands going to the button on the front of his pants. Joel’s palm engulfs yours to stop you, his head tilting down to meet your confused eyes. 

“You don’t need to suck my dick for what I did,” he says. 

“Okay. What if I just want to suck your dick for the hell of it?”

His lips tip up in a crooked smile, and you’re enjoying seeing his different smiles. 

“Then have at it, but I wanna lick your pussy until you come on my tongue.” 

You suck in a breath, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. 

“If you can get me off with your mouth, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.” 

His eyebrow arches. “Is that so?” 

“Yeah. You’ll be stuck with me.” 

There’d been enough talking, so you deftly popped open the button and pulled down the zipper, grabbing the waistband to tug his jeans down his thighs. You’re pleasantly surprised he goes commando, and then you get a good look at his hard cock, and it’s glorious. 

He’s thick, long, with a nice curve upwards, and you’re wondering if you’ll be able to fit him in your mouth—you’re definitely up for the challenge, licking your lips at the thought. Your fingers don’t even wrap all the way around him when you take him in hand, giving him a few quick strokes. 

“Wait,” he says, stopping your movements. 

“What?” you ask, looking up at him. 

“Hold on,” is all he replies, getting his pants the rest of the way down, kicking them off, and removing his socks. Walking around the side of your queen size bed, you’re turning in place to follow his movements as he gets on the mattress with a groan and the springs squeaking as he moves to the middle, his legs on either side of you, grabbing one of your pillows to put under his head that he lifts to look at you. “Sit on my face.” It’s an order, and he pats his chest to show you he means it. 

“I thought I was giving you a blow job…?” You point at his dick resting against his stomach. 

“You are,” he replies. “We’re doin’ both. Now, get up here,” he orders again, his face grumpy, patting his chest once more. 

“Sheesh,” you say, moving over his leg and up the bed, thankful you showered before you went out. “You’re really bossy when you’re horny.” 

When you’re within reach, he replies, “I’ll show you fuckin’ bossy,” and he puts his strength to work again, grunting while hauling you onto him with your back to his head and legs along his sides. His hand lands on the side of your ass in a sharp slap that makes you gasp, feeling the wetness between your legs, coating your inner thighs. “I’m eatin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he says, positioning you over his face, his hand giving your asscheek another hard spank causing you to clench. “And you’re gonna wrap that gorgeous fuckin’ mouth around my cock.”

You can’t respond because all train of thought leaves your brain when his mouth latches onto your cunt, feeling him groan into your sensitive skin, the sensations making your toes curl, and fire erupt in your center. 

“Oh my god, Joel,” you moan. “It’s so good. It’s so fucking good.” 

It takes a deep breath for you to focus on your task, spitting on your hand before grasping his hard dick in your palm, the tip red and shiny with his arousal, lowering your face to take him into your mouth. He’s salty on your tongue, your jaw open as wide as it will go as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head, stroking the considerable amount that won’t fit. 

His hands have a firm grip on your hips, pulling you farther down on his face, and you’re really worried he’s going to suffocate while he eats you out like a man starving. Pleasure in winding in your belly, tighter and tighter, with how he’s licking at your folds, your eyes rolling back in your head when he sucks your sensitive little clit between his lips.

He’s really going to make you come, and it feels so fucking good you’re having a hard time sucking his cock, so lost in what he’s doing to you—saliva is dripping out of your mouth and down his shaft, making your hand slide easily along him while you have half a mind to suckle on the head of him. 

You hit your breaking point suddenly, the coil inside you snapping, your body tensing up as you come with a loud moan, euphoria spreading out from your core. Joel groans into your cunt, his tongue pushing inside your sopping entrance to taste your release straight from the source, his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing hard.  

He must get his fill because he moves you off his face, hearing him take a deep breath. 

“My good fuckin’ girl,” he says through panted breaths, rubbing your hips, his words causing a shiver to move down your spine. “Am I stuck with you?” 

You’d given up on blowing him, your forehead resting against his thigh. 

“Yeah,” you slur, sounding drunk. “How are you single?” It’s been a while since you’ve had that good of an orgasm. 

He sighs and taps your hip. “Turn around, baby.” 

Doing your best to turn, Joel helps you, getting you to straddle over his lower torso, your hands finding their place on his warm, flushed chest, seeing the grey hairs of his beard shining with your arousal and his lips frowning. 

“Like you said earlier,” he says. “I’m not a people person.” 

Your eyebrows knit together. 

“I’m people…” 

“No, you’re not. You’re my Texas Bluebonnet—my Blue.” His large palm comes up to stroke your cheek. 

You’re wondering something. “Why did you talk to me at dinner?” 

A sheepish look comes over his face. “‘Cause we were alone, and I didn’t have to worry about Ellie teasin’ me in front of you about my crush.” 

“She knows?”

He grimaces. “Suspects. Since there’s only three people on this godforsaken planet I like, and you’re one of them.” 

“And I’m the only one who’s not family—oh, that’s obvious.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well, how do you want me?” 

He looks confused. “Huh?” 

“I said you can fuck me however you want,” you answer, sliding your hands up his pecs. “How do you want me, babe?” 

When he smiles this time, you get a glimpse of his teeth. “Ride me.”

His answer has you grinning. “Cowgirl, like a true Texan.” 

“I just love your tits,” he says, his big hands palming them. 

“Good to know,” you reply with a wink. 

Sitting up on your knees, you scoot back to get over his hips. His dick is still wet with your spit when you grab it and slide it through your folds before positioning him at your entrance. 

There are nerves swirling in your belly, your eyes landing on his dark ones as you slowly start to drop down, seeing his mouth fall open with a gasp, his hands grabbing onto your thighs. You knew there’d be a stretch, but he’s bordering on uncomfortable in how your walls have to expand for his size, feeling the slight burn. When you finally bottom out, you’re beyond full—you’ve never felt fuller, and it takes your breath away. 

“Jesus Christ,” his words are said through his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t move.”

His hard cock is throbbing inside you. 

“Been a while?” 

“Yeah.”

“Same. You’re so fucking big I’m gonna be sore after this.”

His dick jerks as he groans, “Don’t say that.”  

“Damn, you’re that close?” you ask, soothingly stroking your hands over his chest. 

You watch as his eyes blink open, the grumpy expression you’re used to appearing on his face. 

“Don’t make fun of me.” He slaps your ass. “I haven’t fucked in a long time, and now I’m inside the perfect pussy—you’d be strugglin’ too if you were me.”

“I’m not making fun of you, Joel.” You lean forward to cup his cheek, feeling prickling stubble under your palm. “I think it’s hot. Like, you have no idea how flattered I’d be if I made you come right away—talk about an ego boost.”

He doesn’t look convinced, his eyes narrowing.  

“Are you just sayin’ that to make me feel better?”

“Nope.” To prove your point, you sit up, bracing yourself with your hands on his chest as you start circling your hips. 

His mouth goes slack, his eyes widening, a choked noise pulling from his throat that makes you smirk. “Fuck,” he pants. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, his cheeks a rosy pink. “You fit me like a fuckin’ glove.” 

You’re slowly building into an up-and-down motion, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock rubbing against spots you didn’t know existed, sparks of pleasure igniting in your center as you throw your head back. 

He must get a hold of himself because both of his hands come down on each of your asscheeks in loud, resounding smacks before he’s gripping them to help you move. 

Looking down at him, there’s concentration on his brow. 

“Your tight little pussy is takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” he says, hearing the wet sounds where you’re joined. “You love how I stretch you open?” 

“Yes,” you moan. 

You’re moving a little faster, moving up, and falling down a little harder, making the fire in your belly get hotter and hotter. 

“Lean down.” 

Doing as he says, your hands are on either side of his head while he continues helping you ride him. He lifts his face to pull a pebbled nipple between his lips, and the pleasure shoots straight to your pussy, making you gasp and more arousal spill around his length. 

He laves at one bud, then the other as you work yourself up, the new angle allowing the coarse hairs at the base of his cock to rub deliciously against your clit, and you know you’re close.

Joel is groaning loudly, clearly in heaven, with his dick inside you and his mouth on your tits. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he says around your hard nipple. “You gonna let me feel you squeeze my dick? Let me fuckin’ have it. Be a good fuckin’ girl and give it to me.” 

It’s all too much, everything coming to a head as you fall over the edge with a cry of his name, clenching so hard around him, you’ve stopped moving with his cock buried to the root, pleasure radiating through your body. 

Joel’s breathing hard under you, and you don’t sound any better while you come down from your high. 

His arms suddenly hug you close to him, and you squeak in surprise when he flips you onto your back with his dick still inside you and his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs. Lips find yours in a searing kiss, moaning as you taste yourself, welcoming his tongue when it slips into your mouth to tangle with your own. 

He starts moving to chase his high, his thrusts hard and fast. 

The bedsprings are squeaking loudly, the headboard banging into the wall, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking his cock and your muffled moans paired with his muffled groans. There’s no mistaking what’s happening in this bedroom, and you just hope your neighbors don’t complain in the morning. 

Your fingers have threaded into his hair, your bodies sweaty, his lips leave yours, opening your eyes to see his face screwed up like he’s in pain. 

“Where do you want it?” he grits out. 

If he’s asking, then he knows the risk. 

“Inside.” 

He opens his eyes wide. “Are you sure?” 

It is a rare thing to want these days. 

“Yes.” 

His pace speeds up, grunting as he pistons into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, feeling his hot breaths. 

“You can fuckin’ have it,” he grunts. “Fuck you full of me—milk me fuckin’ dry. Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

You know he’s close when his thrusts get jerky, then he’s pushing in hard one last time with a guttural groan, feeling the hot spurts of his come filling you, his hips continuing to roll until they finally come to a complete stop. It’s obvious he’s wrung out with how he practically collapses on top of you, but you welcome the weight, pushing your fingers into his hair and scratching at his scalp, which receives appreciative hums. 

Minutes pass that neither of you speaks. 

“‘M sorry,” the words are murmured into your neck. 

“For what?” you softly ask.

“Makin’ you think I didn’t like you.” 

“It’s kinda my fault, too. I mean, I am aware you don’t like people but you’ve eaten two meals a day with me for almost a year, so obviously you must like me somewhat.” 

His head comes up with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips frowning. 

“I like you more than somewhat.” 

You smile. His hair is a mess, and you go about combing your fingers through it as you say, “Yes, I know that now. You like me.” 

“I do.” 

“And I like you.” 

“Good.” 

“I said you’re stuck with me, so can this be more than a one-time thing?” 

His eyes squint in that same way where he thinks something is obvious. 

“What?" he says. "I’m not lettin’ you go anywhere. You’re mine—my Blue.” 

“Good. ‘Cause you’re mine, too.” 

He kisses you passionately, and you lose yourself in it for a second until a thought has your eyes flying open and you pushing his face away. 

“What?” he asks, bewildered. 

“How are you going to tell Ellie?” 

“Shit. Uh, we can sit her down tomorrow night—”

“No, this is a conversation you need to have with her alone.” 

He winces. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow night after dinner...” 

Is Joel Miller your boyfriend? 

He absolutely hates you giving him that label, grumbling he prefers partner, but yes, he is your boyfriend. 

Did Joel sneak out of your house in the early morning hours to his own so Ellie wouldn’t know he was gone all night?

Also, yes. 

It’s the morning after, and you’re trying to act normal, ignoring how nervous you feel and the soreness between your legs as you sit down in your usual spot in front of Joel with your plate of breakfast. He’s changed into clean clothes and looks like he hasn’t slept, sipping on one of the two cups of shitty coffee in front of him, Ellie next to him already digging into some oatmeal with her spoon, which makes you realize—

“Ah, fuck,” you say, both of them looking at you. “I forgot to grab a fork.” 

“I’ll get you one, baby,” Joel says as he sets his coffee down and starts to get up.

The three of you go completely still. Your eyes are wide, Joel’s close in regret, his cheeks turning pink, and Ellie looks like she’s going to explode with excitement until—

“You guys FUCKED!” she shouts. 

People around the mess hall turn to stare. 

“Ellie,” Joel hisses, his head whipping toward her. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she says in a quieter voice, the rest of the room returning to eating. “I knew it! It’s about fucking time! So when are you getting married?” She’s looking between the two of you. “You know, I’ve always wanted a mom! And a brother! I’ll settle for a sister, though. Is she moving in with us, Joel?” She’s staring at him expectantly with a grin. 

Joel’s face is bright red. “I’m gettin’ the fuckin’ fork,” he grumbles as he gets up from his seat. 

Masterlist

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[faithshouseofchaos]

My nightmare of a cat — Max Verstappen x reader

Tagged— @moss-on-tmblr @toasttt11 @vivwritesfics @vellicora @venusisnothere @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @a-casual-romantic @badassturtle13 @bblouifford @crashingwavesofeuphoria @charlesf1leclerc @faithm120701 @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hollie911 @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @purplephantomwolf (I know I’m forgetting someone I just don’t know who)

Loosely like very loosely based on @archiverstappen the cat sitter series which I love y’all should check it out if you haven’t already read it.

(I just don’t want a certain person to see this and accuse me of stealing I’m kinda paranoid lol 😭😭)

Your cat loved to cause trouble. He was always getting into something. And today was no different. You had accidentally left the balcony door open and your cat ran for it. You tried to get him before he jumped to your next-door neighbor's balcony. Cursing to yourself you climbed over your railing and jumped. It was a big jump but it wasn’t small either. Making it onto your neighbor's balcony you chased after your cat and unfortunately, your neighbor's balcony door was also open.

“Who are you?” A voice said from the corner of the living room.

You spun around to find the source of the voice. Standing in the corner of the living room was a tall man. He was surprised that you had burst into his home.

“I uh um I was just getting my cat he came in here” you explained

“Your cat?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. "You came into my apartment because of your cat?”

“Yes??”

He laughed. "Let me get this straight. You broke into my home because your cat got away from you?"

“That’s what I said isn’t it,” you said

He shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t just break into someone’s home because of a cat”

“Well in my defense I didn’t know you were home. You're normally not here you're always gone and besides I wasn’t going to do anything other than get my cat”

"You didn't think to knock? Ring the doorbell? Ask permission?"

“Honestly no I didn’t think about that,” you said scratching your head

"You didn't?" He raised an eyebrow. "And what did you plan on doing once you had collected your cat?"

“I was planning on leaving”

"I see. So you think you can just break into someone's home, run around, chase your cat, then just walk out?"

“Yes” you smiled

"That's not how things work." He said sternly. "People don't just come into other people's homes unannounced, cause chaos, and then just walk out like nothing happened."

“Ok then hold on,” you said setting your cat down and walking back out onto the balcony repeating the same process as before. Max watched standing there confused as you disappeared. A couple minutes later he heard a knock on the door and went to open it.

“Hello, you wouldn’t happen to see a cat run in here by any chance?” You asked Max like you just didn’t break into his apartment.

Max's first reaction was to just shut the door in your face. But he hesitated. There was something amusingly familiar about this whole situation. "Yes," he replied hesitantly. "There's a cat in my apartment."

“Good may I come inside to grab him”

"I suppose you may" he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. He opened the door wider to let you in.

“Thank you”

You smiled at him. "No problem. I'll lead you to where the cat is." He said it sounded almost polite. His tone was warm and his eyes seemed to be assessing you more keenly than before. "Just follow me."

As Max led you towards the living room you took in your surroundings. His apartment was different from yours. The furniture was more modern, he had paintings on the walls and there was a faint scent of cologne filling the air.

The living room itself was tastefully decorated, the curtains were a creamy white color and were lightly blowing in the breeze from the open balcony door. The couch was a large charcoal grey leather couch and had pillows of the same color scattered all over it. On one wall there was a large plasma TV and a sound system.

You were slightly stunned by how different his apartment looked from your own. Compared to his, yours was cramped and cluttered. Your couch was frayed and was missing all its pillows in the middle. The walls and ceilings were plain and there was no artwork decorating them.

As Max walked towards the living room you couldn’t help but notice how tall he was. His shoulders were broad and his back was straight. He moved in a confident manner that was almost mesmerizing. You felt yourself watching him as he walked.

When you reached the living room Max pointed to the cat who was sitting underneath the coffee table on the carpet. “There he is,” Max said.

The cat was sitting staring at the floor, his tail twitched slightly at the sight of you. “Thank you,” you said as you walked over to the cat and picked him up.

“And I’m sorry for breaking in”

Max laughed quietly. "I accept your apology." He said in an amused tone. "But please don't do it again."

You laughed too, feeling slightly embarrassed but relieved that he wasn't too upset at you. "I won't," you promised. "I'm just glad I got my cat back. He can be quite a handful.

Max smiled at you. "I understand. Cats can often be little troublemakers." He said sympathetically.

"Mhm." You agreed. "That's very true, especially my cat. He's always getting into trouble."

"Do you mind if I ask what your cat's name is?" He asked curiously.

“Convict his name is Convict”

"Convict?" He said in amusement at the name. "What inspired that unusual name?"

"Well he never follows my rules, he only does what he wants. So I started calling him a convict because I felt like he was always doing something he was not supposed to. And it kind of just stuck."

Max laughed. He could imagine that the cat never followed any rules, he seemed quite mischievous. "I suppose the name does suit him." He said with a smile.

"So do you have a cat too?" You asked noticing the absence of any traces of feline mischief in his apartment.

"Yes. I have two cats as well." He replied in a slightly soft tone. "their names are Jimmy and Sassy” he replied

"They must be very good cats if you don't have to chase them around like me." You said jokingly.

Max smiled. "Yes they're very well behaved they always know what is right and wrong. They're very obedient.

You laughed quietly. "I bet you never have to spend hours trying to get them to stop causing trouble."

Max shook his head. "Not at all," he said in an amused tone. "The only trouble they cause is when they're waking me up early in the morning demanding food."

"Sounds like they've got you well-trained." You joked.

“Haha yeah, I guess they do.” He replied with a laugh. “I guess cats have a way of controlling your life.”

"Tell me about it," you said rolling your eyes slightly and chuckling in amusement. "Convict has me wrapped around his little paw."

“I bet he does,” Max said with a chuckle. “I’m sure he gets away with everything.”

“He does. It doesn’t seem like he has any rules at all. The other day he chewed a whole hole in my sofa because I didn’t give him a treat. I’m pretty sure he was just trying to punish me.” You said in disbelief.

"I can believe it," Max said as he laughed "Convict seems like a naughty cat." He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Do you mind if ask you something?"

"Go ahead." You said eagerly. You were interested in what he was about to say.

"Are you always this brave?" Max asked curiously, his gaze slightly searching.

You were taken aback by his question. "Brave?" You repeated with a slightly puzzled look. "In what way?"

"You jumped into a stranger's home as if it was nothing." He pointed out. "I don’t know many people who could enter another’s home so casually."

"To be honest with you I wasn’t thinking." You shrugged. "The only thing on my mind was getting my cat back."

"Even so it was still quite a bold move," Max remarked. "You didn’t even consider the repercussions."

"I suppose I didn’t." You said slightly embarrassed, you hadn’t thought about the possibilities of what could’ve happened. "Maybe I was a bit stupid."

"Maybe," Max said with a playful tone. "You could’ve broken something or hurt yourself falling from that balcony."

"But you’re not hurt or anything are you?' He asked in a suddenly more serious tone.

You looked at him with a small smile. "No, I’m fine." You answered. "But you’re right, it was kind of stupid of me. I should think before acting next time.”

Max seemed relieved. "Good, I’m glad you’re okay." He said sincerely. "I would’ve hated to have you hurt."

You smiled at him. "Well thanks, I appreciate that." You said with a small nod. You couldn’t help but notice his friendly demeanor now that he'd gotten over the shock of you barging into his home.

Max smiled back at you. The two of you stood there in silence for a few seconds. The air was strangely heavy and your eyes locked with his. You couldn't help but admire how handsome he was. He had such a friendly, pleasant, and calming presence.

You found yourself lost in his deep blue eyes which had a slight spark of amusement in them. There was this intense connection between the two of you. You felt a strange and unexpected feeling in your stomach. It was as if your breath was momentarily frozen in your chest.

You felt your cheeks burning. This moment was so full of intensity and chemistry that it was hard to look away. You wanted to stare at him forever. You wanted time to stand still, to be able to just stay here and look into his eyes for eternity.

“I’m gonna get going it was nice meeting officially and thank you for not having me arrested”

You didn’t want this moment to end. You wanted him to ask you to stay, to ask you for your number.

He had made you feel like you were floating on air, you felt this strong desire and attraction for him. The way he looked at you made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You felt this magnetism pulling you towards him.

His comment threw you off. You didn't even realize how lost in thought you had become. But suddenly reality came crashing back as he broke the spell of the moment.

"Oh, er right. Yeah no problem, you're welcome."

"Uh-huh." You said slightly disappointed and embarrassed. You didn't want to leave. "Well, I should-." You tried to find an excuse to stay for a bit longer.

"Yes, you should," Max replied for you. Perhaps he could sense that you didn't want to leave.

He was still smiling at you and your eyes locked with his. It felt like you were caught in an endless stare.

"You should get going right?" Max filled in the blank. He also wanted you to stay longer, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to ask you himself. It would have been strange to ask you to stay when you had just broken into his apartment.

"Er yeah." You hesitated for a moment before finally turning to go. "I should- uh go back to my apartment and- um give my cat some treats or something." You blurted out in a quick rush. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too," Max said with a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Hope you have a good time with the cat.”

"Yeah, I hope so too." You replied with a small smile. "Well er take care, I'll see ya."

"Yeah, you too," Max said. He hesitated for a moment as if wanting to ask something. But he didn't. He simply smiled at you and nodded. "Later"

[coquettetoji]

{⭐️} TOJI FUSHIGURO MOODBOARD

★ general toji hcs ★

— QUEUE WEST COAST BY LANA DEL REY

— let’s just pretend in this world he doesn’t have a son to actually care for yk.

— biggest beefiest juiciest (ok i’m exaggerating) but holy shit this guy is huge. i’m talking mma boxer huge, he takes great pride in his physic. and is guilty of being a gym rat.

— cockiest mf ever but in a hot way, he does that cheek tongue thing unintentionally and omlllllll

— toji definitely wasn’t the smartest in school, neither math smart, science smart or reading smart. he fucked most of his teachers but i mean he passed?

— although he wasn’t very academically smart, his skill in business and negotiating led to him earning a high position for a large financial group. drugs like hand over that amex????

— drives a motorcycle, i’m thinking ducati, as a hobby. 😏😏

— smokes cigarettes and drinks, his fav is hennessy, but other than that he’s a clean man

— was an emo in highschool, we don’t talk about that though. and neither does he.

— multitudes of tattoos across his body, mainly on his chest and arms though.

— his dream job as a highschooler was to open a tattoo parlor. he was surprisingly a good artist when it came to sketches.

— silver chains and silver jewelry, he’s pale so his complexion matches the colors better.

— sarcastic humor that would make kids cry. this guy treats everyone the same as if they’ll understand his humor and that makes him not so great around kids

— has a soft spot for cats, really wants to have a kitten but won’t ever commit to it/taking care of it

— has every single dating app downloaded not to date but just to get validation from everyone who swiped right on him. (gets at minimum 83 swipes per day)

— speaking of, his most used apps on his phone are phone (calls), messages, and instagram to watch his instagram reels 😋

— respectful towards women. although he seems like a d bag he does know how to treat a lady right

— drives a blacked out mercedes benz s class, ofc with tinted windows in case of.. yeah

— the scar running from the middle of his cheek down the side of his lip is from a fight during high school that got violent, he won though don’t worry

— grey/silver/green eyes, with jet black hair. he was genuinely gifted with godly genetics

— when he does smile, his lip corners turn up sharply giving him that joker smile type of look, my legs are wide open

— the most laid back chill guy ever, he doesn’t take life seriously enough for him to actually give a fuck

—6’4. argue with the wall.

— his hands are huge and the veins 😩😩😫😩😫 HEHEHE

— wears black compression shirts or black t shirts with sweat pants all day everyday, it’s his signature look

— he smells a bit like cigarettes and Maison Margiela Replica Jazz Club, just an overall eye rolling back into head type of scent

— makes dad jokes all the time minus the part of him being an actual dad

— played basketball growing up just in his neighborhood, was good enough to go pro but his grades were ass lol

— he listens to these actual underground rock bands that literally no one has heard of or the sports podcast on the radio like a true dad

— kinda behind on everything going on in the world right now, but it’s okay bc we love toji for it regardless

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

my favorite incoming dilf with a midlife crisis 😫

honestly one of my fav boards yet, i tried so hard to find the perfect resemblance of toji and omg the scar too kinda works perfectly

[natsuyuki-w]

Not one of the boys

Twisted wonderland cast realizes that (Yuu) is a girl.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Featuring: Grim - Trey - Adeuce - Tsunotaro, Cater and Riddle

Dumb human

- Hyiiii! It's really coming down! - Appeared the monster out of nowhere. - ARGH! Grim! - I jumped almost stumbling on the dusty sofa. - Gyahahahaha! You've got this stupid look on your face like... Whaaaaaa but you're a girl! - He panicked watching my shirt.

To dust the abandoned building, I had thrown off the ceremonial cape leaving me with a tight black shirt.. - Yes,... I identify as one at least. What about it? - His face gradually relaxed and he put a paw under his chin. - I dunno. I only saw boys, just thought you were one as well. - he shrugged. Thinking back to the faces I met in the mirror chamber, it could've been true. Tho there were many people, hooded furthermore, and there was no way of knowing if somebody was another gender instead.

- Yes I've decided.- piped the grey cat. - Nothing has changed, you're still a weak dumb human, either a boy or a girl. -

- How many colorful titles am I going to get in the near future? -

Chestnuts

- Talking about husband material. - with the basket of chestnuts in hand, I gushed eying all the goodies in the kitchen prepared by the third year. Trey chuckled lightly - If you say so.- strangely enough, the comment hit differently from when his friends teased him about it.

Cater's words came to his mind: "Much like the new Pomefiore kid, (Yuu)Chan is a very cute boy."

- Lah - I clipped back Deuce's hair just like I did with mine. - Now we are ready! - and I struck a power pose. Trey looked at me for a good moment, mind wandering, cheeks reddening. His Heartslabyul companion was getting into his head.

---

With that tart involved, I knew it was going to end like this. - (Yuu)!!! Stop it. - slapped my hand Ace - I need them for the cake, do you want me to stay like this forever???- he pointed to the collar on his neck. - You are such a drama-king, there are probably 10 kilos of them. - I pouted - This is just the rightful prize for...Ouch! - he flicked my nose this time. Chestnuts were a weakness of mine and even tho it was a very boring and laborious task, Ace was considering switching and shelling them himself.

He snatched the one I just finished cleaning and dropped it in the pile - Junkie! - he threw a judging gaze. - Yes okay? I admit it. Hi, my name is (Yuu), I'm 18 years old, and it's since last November that I haven't tasted, this delicious fruit of the devil. - I chanted.

- Fruit of the devil? - asked Grim. - Yeah..., where I live, chestnuts have been said to be a gift from God to the people of the mountains, but that has been cursed by the devil, making them difficult to bring and eat.- - Ah-ha! - looked at me weirdly the cat.

- As I, mere mortal, can't look upon this gift... OUCH - a slap, this time on my nape. - Are you going to just punish me or do you intend to make yourself useful for YOUR apology cake? - I bit.

- Kids, calm down. - teased the man with glasses posing his large hands on our heads - but He...(Yuu) has a point, Ace. - inquired. And scolded by the older student, the angry first year started working alongside me but scrutinizing my every move.

---

I quickly finished shedding all the remaining fruits and stood to go asking what we needed next, but before, I spun fast, aiming for my drug.

Unfortunately, Trey was quicker, and from behind me, he managed to grab the bowl and hold me back with his long arms. When his hand got hold of my waist, I felt him tense briefly, but he recomposed, looking down at me with a tinge of red on his ears. - No more falling into temptation, okay (Yuu)? - he commented, lingered for just a moment, and then proceeded to give us instructions.

- What was that? - whispered Ace to me. - What? - I asked dumbfounded. - WHA??? You haven'...sigh...WHATever.- and he left

- What? -

---

- Do that thing you do, Trey-kun. - said Cater. The boy arrived just to snatch a couple of photos and enjoy our labor. -..., oh that! What are your favorite things to eat guys? - asked the other third-year. And after he listened and chanted " doodle suit", we all bitted into the slices again. Everyone was surprised and cheery about the unexpected flavor. My mind on the other hand got in a tantrum of emotions, and soon big juicy tears were streaming down my face.

- This is Trey-kun's unique magic. Don't you think it'd work super well on a date with a girl? - commented the boy winking and wrinkling the diamond seed on the cheek.

The rivers streaming down my eyes wouldn't stop. I quietly turned around hoping to cover it from the others. But Trey, who was right next to me, caught sight of my face - (Yuu) what happened? Have I messed up yours? - he posed a comforting hand on my back. I shook my head and tried denying my poor state with sobs choking each word. -N-no no! I-*hick* it's perfect. A-and don't *sniff worry-y I'm just a baby. - I felt pathetic.

- Uff I'm glad I didn't mess it up, but you definitely are not good.- - I-it's just...I think I-I'm feeling homesick fro-om the taste of the dish- I murmured - Pushing me a little he looked where he could find some tissues, but after seeing that it wasn't getting better tried the bold move of hugging me.

Welcoming the offered comfort, I moved my arms from my face to the back of his shirt mumbling - I'm so sorry.- for the tears that stained his clothes and the awkwardness of the moment, and too caught by my storm of emotions, I didn't realize the implications of my chest pressed against him.

His body went stiff like a wooden plank but managed to gulp heavily and relax. "Perhaps (Yuu) isn't a cute boy after all." He was going to take the information for himself.

Hook up???

- Excuse my intrusion. - said Deuce who came along to keep an eye on Ace. - Make yourself at home. - I smiled warmly. - the bathroom is here, I'll go up and take out the mattress, cover, and pillow. Ace, do you want to sleep on the couch again? - - My back hurts just thinking about it. - he groaned.

- Let us give you a hand prefect! - followed Deuce grabbing his companion by the wrist. - Hey, hey I'm coming... geez - he almost fell from the cramped stairs. - Hahaha, sure, thank you. - I waved them up. - I'll seriously start to tie up this weekend. So, I'm sorry but for now, my guest room is the lounge. - and I invited them to my shared bedroom. - Don't worr...- the raven boy froze in place.

- What's up? - and I followed his eyes. - Ups... - my laundry was still folded on the sheets and, obviously, my bra was on top of the pile. - I can exp...- -I KNOW RIGHT? I never noticed until yesterday! - exclaimed Ace. - Gyahahaha, you should've seen him: "HOW DARE YOU LYING TO ME LIKE THAT, WOMAN?". So lame. - Grim cackled nudging the boy's leg, but no reactions came out of him.

- ACE, GRIM DAMN IT! I was ready with a bunch of excuses! - - Oh yeah, like? - they asked incredulously. - This Gremlin pranked me? I snatched a hook-up? I like wearing women's clothes or I'm a Drag queen?...-

- THOSE EXCUSES ARE EVEN MORE EMBARRASSING THAN THE TRUTH! - Screamed back at me the ginger. I glared very disappointed but before I could insult his bigotry he inquired- And a hookup? How in hell would you find a girl to hook up with? - - Mhpf... - I pouted offended - I AM a pretty boy, Cater's words. I could find a girl easily if only I would.-

- (Yuu)...- Finally Deuce snapped out of his daze and spoke in a quiet voice. - ...you are a girl... - and a little hurt asked - Why you didn't tell us? - I had the impression this was starting to be a talk of routine. - Crowley asked me to keep it a secret, but honestly...Well, is not like I needed to tell anything. Do you present yourself as "Deuce, a boy"? Till the headmaster gave me the warning I don't recall occasions where my gender got questioned...other than Grim on the first day here. -

He was trying to Think how to take the situation, and that operation was successful just as mixing water with oil. - Look - I posed a hand on his shoulder before his brain started fuming - I wanna be friends with you all, it's not like I act any different either way, it's always me. Just covering more than I would usually. I mean, if it's awkward for you guys, I would be very sad, but I'll...accept it and I'll take my distan...- And he exchanged with a stern hold of my shoulder. - No! You're right! I wanna be friends with you, it hasn't changed anything. And don't worry - he puffed his chest holding his fist on it - I'll be sure your secret will not be spilled further! -

- Awww thank you Deuce, you're such a sweetheart.-  - Mmmm... - he nodded but quickly turned to face the other way - SORRY...can't help it,.... that name hits differently now. - his face was red as a tomato.

---

They sat on their mattress while I was on the couch with Grim lying in my lap. - So in order, Grim was the first one, then the headmaster...when? - - After I gave him the crystal of the Dwarf's mine. - and I mimicked dramatically - One moment he was: "I'll grant you the honor of attending our majestic academy. Go and make me proud son." then he saw and he was: "WHAT'S A CHICK DOING IN MY OFFICE?". - The events may be inaccurate...- muttered the gray cat and I shushed him.

- How many others know? - asked Deuce. - You two,... I think?- - I bet, Trey-senpai. - inquired Ace. - Why? - - He was SO all over you. - he smirked. - All over...didn't notice. - delicious chestnuts were the only thing I could recall - And how do you know he doesn't like boys? - - Yeah exactly - supported me Deuce. - Cater said something about his unique magic being great with the girls so I am assuming.- shrugged the ginger. - He has a point! - quickly changed sides his companion.

And an evening of gossip and snacks started.

Intruders

Me and Grim prepared ourselves for another day of investigations and on the path to the school I sum up my late-night talking with the mysterious stranger.

-...and I saw those green sparks and this big shadow out of our widow. So I opened it and there was this Huge stunning boy with dark horns on his head. So I was like: " Intruder!" and he was like: "A child of man? Though, aren't you the intruder little lady? " - I imitated his tone - Obviously, I was wearing the crop top and not one of the XXL shirts - and Grim cackled.

- So I went out, 'cause I didn't want to wake you and I told him the all I'm here cause blah blah, don't tell anybody etcetera. So I asked him why strolling around our dorm? And he said he was there cause he likes exploring ruins, and now we ruined his ruin, cause the abandoned building is no longer abandoned.-

- Rude! - - A little...- - So who was he?- - Wait I'm getting there! - We stopped waiting for our favorite duo. - I asked him and he was all weird about it. At first, astonished, and then he laughed and said " I'd rather you remain unaware". - - Suspicious! - whispered Grim. - "It's for your own benefit. Instead, I will permit you to call me by the name of your choosing." - and I got closer to the cat to add drama -" Although you may one day regret it..."-

We looked at each other and grinned mischievously. - Oooh, oooh let me pick it! - exclaimed Grim - Howsabaout...Tsunotaro! - I couldn't help but giggle. - I was thinking "Hornton", but yours works well. Can't wait to see his face when I tell him.-

He then pondered - If Tsunotaro's a student here who knows when we might run into him? If we do, introduce me! I've never seen a human with horns before.- - G'morning, Prefect. - jumped Cater from behind us and threw an arm around my shoulders.

- Cater don't be so touchy - frowned slightly Riddle, and the older student complied disappointed. - But (Yuu)Chan is soft, I like giving hugs to my kohai.- I chuckled embarrassed - Good morning to you Cater, and hello Riddle. How is Trey doing? - - Better, he's slowly but surely recovering thanks to Crewel's potions and nurses' caring. - responded the redhead.

He then looked intensely - Mmh your tie is a little off from the assault. - frowned Riddle - Following the rules starts with your attire. Or else your residents will never listen to you...Although, I guess it's not as bad for you being the only one. - inquired the head of Heartslabyul.

I looked down and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the third year smirking. Before I knew it Riddle had his hands on my clothes, the back of his hand brushing on my chest. I stood still, too stunned to do anything.

"Wow (Yuu) is very broad." was his first thought, but Cater provided to correct it. - Riddle-San... You are unfair, first telling me not to be touchy with her, and now look at you. -

It took some time for the both of us to register his phrase and still holding onto my tie he twisted his head and stuttered - W-what have you just said? -

" Damn it" - Ha-ha. Why? What did he say? - I tried to play dumb hoping Cater would doubt his words. Unfortunately, my body was not as much of a good actor, and the boy's green eyes immediately spotted my shade of red. - I said that it's unfair you're being touchy with Her. -

The dorm leader looked back at me and a million thoughts passed through his big eyes, realizing everything at once. Quickly became red from head to toe, then threw himself back in a mess of sorries, "I didn't know", "Since when?"...

Incredulous, Grim asked - HOW DID YOU KNOW S...*MPHF - I quickly covered his mouth to avoid the entirety of the front yard eavesdropping. - Trey-kun told me! - winked Cater. - And since when Trey knya about it???- exclaimed again the cat. - Since the Mont Blanc tart! He was all over you so I asked and he confessed his suspicions. -

- Ace said the same thing... Dang, I'm in debt with that dummy...- I mumbled recalling his bet. - Was I the only one ignoring this fundamental fact??? - snapped Riddle still full red. - I don't know,...(Yuu)? - the third year quickly threw the fireball at me. - Well, there is Grim, the headmaster, who by the way, was the one telling me it would've been troublesome for him to let this information known. - I explained - Then Ace discovered, Deuce, Trey as it seems, and Cater too, Tsunotaro, and now you! - I listed. - I think...- - Tsuno-Who? - asked the two members of Heartslabyul. - Ah, a new encounter I made yesterday. -

- So you're telling me, someone, you just met, knew it before me???- and the tinge of red on the king of hearts, changed from fluster to anger.

Till reading the manga I thought Cater's name was "Carter" instead.

Not just because it sounded better in my head, but because "Carte" in Italian means "Cards".

[bucca2]

Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

[nekrosdolly]

everything is blue

you're vergil's "something blue."

cw; lingerie mention, established relationship, canon compliant, vergil is a cat, somewhat needy vergil, this is not a full fic just something i thought of earlier, powder blue is such a good color, sex mentioned but not described, i love 40 year olds (vergil is 43)

a/n; dear god the dmc brain rot has started... fear not! i will still be a resident evil account, just with some... extras here and there. btw i finished 3 & 1 in two days... tryhard who? i might make a dante version of this too! this will officially be my vergil divider i think!

blue. that's what reminds you of vergil- blue. deep, navy blue. sometimes a shade of indigo. if you asked him, he'd tell you that associating someone with a color is odd and something he would never do. it's silly, he'd insist, and not something he really cares for.

or so he says.

unbeknownst to you, he's decided that you are light blue. specifically powder blue, not quite baby blue, and not exactly periwinkle- powder blue.

whenever he buys you something, it's always that exact shade. you don't notice until lady points it out to you one day, after you've told her about something vergil has, once again, bought for you (an irresponsible spender, it seems, but he'd give the world for you.)

"that sounds cute," she says, leaning into the old couch cushions behind her back. the entire damned piece of furniture is old, so it's no surprise that she inadvertently sinks into your side.

"yeah, it is." you nod, leaning into her, too.

"what color?"

"blue. like a baby blue, sort of." you say and she hums.

"weird," she comments.

"why is that weird?"

"he always buys you blue stuff. like he's claiming you with a color or something." she shrugs, which moves your shoulder, too.

"huh…" everything vergil has ever gotten you- lingerie, skirts, shirts, little charms for your lanyard, the lanyard itself, bracelets with aquamarine, even some earrings with the same stone. when you ask him what color to get on your nails, he always says the same color- powder blue. you wonder if it's his way of staking a claim. he's never been outright possessive, never told you to your face that you belong to him or that you're his in every single way, inside and out.

truthfully, you'd never thought he was wired that way. maybe it's a demon thing, and part of you wants to assume it is, but it's not like you're dumb. you've dated other men before vergil, much to his dismay, and you know how they can be. maybe, when indulging in sins of the flesh, he's not so different. his touches are never less than gentle, especially when it came to the early stages of your relationship. they were very chaste, then, never below the belt until you told him you were ready. he was gentle, then, too.

he's extra affectionate when you're actually wearing the blue things he gave you- maybe one of the skirts he bought you, or the thigh-highs he nervously gave you to wear, too. even the jewelry has him touchy. like a cat, he'd press himself against your side, one hand on your thigh, thumbing the hem of your skirt somewhat obsessively as you pay attention to your phone instead of him, still holding his arm. his stormy grey eyes would be a little more blue, his pupils dilated some. pouty lips would find your cheek, your temple, your hair, anything to get you to pay attention to him without him needing to ask. maybe your theory was right.

not to mention the one day you wore red to work, he looked like somebody stomped on his heart. to anyone else, the crease between his brows was the same, the pout his lips were always in didn't change, but to you, he was sulking majorly. realistically, he knew he didn't control you, but some darker, inner parts

it's not his fault. ever since you two began dating, he'd had this obsession with seeing you decked out in his color, even though he knew it was silly.

[delcakoo]

nice to meet you, boyfriend!◞♡ ⃗ y.jw

۵ SUMMARY ! when a strange man approaches you at the grocery store, you call for your "boyfriend", who has just cluelessly entered the store, unaware of his new relationship status with you, a complete stranger. hopefully he plays along…

۵ PAIRING ! jungwon × gn!reader

۵ GENRE ! fake dating on the spot, fluff with shy wonnie

۵ WC ! 1.2k

۵ WARNINGS ! weirdo trying to get your number — he touches your hand

a/n: woops i wrote this thing super quickly last night while listening to old love by yuji <3 i should be working on requests but it was jungwon hours okay!! (when is it not tbh)

farmers must be smiling brilliantly by a glance at the view outside. heavy droplets of rain shower onto the concrete, washing away the tiny pieces of rubble deserted one by one.

but those little rocks weren’t the only soon-to-be deserted things if your damn umbrella didn’t open up; you knew you shouldn’t have made such an impulsive purchase at the dollar store — but the colorful design of the flexible plastic was much too charming to resist!

nonetheless, after a couple more pathetic attempts of you looking like a lunatic and smacking your umbrella against the ground, you eventually huff in surrender as you continue down the sidewalk, allowing the raindrops to attack you mercilessly.

all you wanted was to pick up some easy, reheatable dinner from the convenience store, you didn’t think you’d be getting a free shower along the way.

luckily, it wasn’t much longer before you made it to the small market, sighing in relief as the warmth enclosed you from the miserable weather outside. you nod politely in greeting to the employee behind the counter, shuffling your way further into the store to find yourself some ramen.

now, the hardest decision of all, what flavor to get? perhaps today is a roast beef day, yeah that sounds pretty good! or wait, soy sauce never fails either, but you couldn’t go wrong with just salt right—

“excuse me?”

you’re snapped out of your inner debate by the sound of a male’s voice from right next to you. flinching in surprise, you turn around to find a much older looking, tall man staring down at you. “oh, yes?” you reply awkwardly, looking around to see if you’ve missed something. “my bad, am i in the way?”

the stranger smirks, gazing down at you strangely as if you were a piece of meat. “no, actually i was just wondering if i could get your number?” he asks (well, it didn’t exactly seem like asking in the way he already began pulling out his phone in the middle of his sentence, as if there was no possibility of you denying him).

“uh,” you gulp, looking around the store nervously. “i’m sorry, do i know you?

for some reason, his simper grows at that, suddenly grabbing your hand in his free one. “no, but you can always get to know me, babe.”

yeah, absolutely not. you resist the urge to gag, now feeling more enticed to simply find an escape rather than get your ramen.

fortunately, the doorbell rings abruptly, alerting a new customer's entry and giving you the distraction needed to rip your hand away from the man’s unwanted grip.

a cat-like boy with fluffy, tangled hair walks in, his hands cutely stuffed into the pockets of his grey hoodie. each ear held a shiny white airpod, and his sweats and sneakers told you that just like you, he was probably just here to quickly grab something and be on his merry way, which only made you feel more guilty for what you were about to do.

“oh! actually, there’s my boyfriend,” you shout slightly, praying to every god that the boy’s headphones weren’t soundproof, and that he’d play along.

even at the mention of your ‘boyfriend’, the older man doesn’t back up at all, clearly untrustworthy of your statement as he stays grossly glued to your front.

your new boyfriend definitely didn’t hear you; it was easy to tell in the way he continued to nod his head slightly to his music, walking down the aisle, until for a split second, he met your desperate eyes. at your intense staring, his eyebrows furrow, looking between you and the man before cautiously taking out his airpods. “uh, hello?”

even his voice was cute, damn it. focus. “babe!” you watch worriedly as his eyes widen in surprise at the petname. shit, please play along.

“i’ve been waiting for you, i was just deciding on what ramen flavor we should get.” you hold your breath, both you and the man staring at him intensely.

it was silent for a moment. pleasepleasepleaseplease—

the boy unravels his hands from his pockets, confidently walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. “oh, is that so? and who’s this?” he says, unimpressed as he studies the man up and down.

the man quickly backs up, raising his hands in surrender. “oh, my bad man, i was just—”

your new companion coughs as an interruption, suddenly pushing you back to stand in between you and the man. “trying to flirt with my partner? that’s nice, but i think we’ll be on our way now,” he announces nonchalantly, leading you along next to him as you make your grand escape.

the millisecond you’ve made it to a new aisle of the store, the boy releases you from his protective grip, shyly backing up and bowing instantly. “i’m so sorry, i hope it was okay i touched you i just wasn’t really sure what to do but i—i knew you needed help and—“

you walk up to him as he continues his rant, taking his larger hand in yours in hopes of getting him to calm down a bit. though it seems to have the opposite effect by the way he instantly freezes up, and you barely hold in a laugh at his dumbstruck expression and apple red cheeks.

just moments ago, this boy was standing up to a man much older and bigger than him with a confident hold on your waist; now here he was, refusing to even meet your eyes as he fidgets with his hoodie strings.

“it’s okay, i really appreciate it. what was your name?” you inquire with a tilt of your head.

“jungwon! it’s jungwon.”

“y/n,” you introduce, offering a hand out to him. “say, jungwon,“ he smiles shyly at the way his name flows out of your lips, a harsh dimple poking through his cheek. “wanna come have some ramen with me? y’know, to show my appreciation.” you aren’t quite sure where your sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was due to how timid the boy in front of you was.

jungwon’s head snaps up at your offer, and you coo at his small expression that truly resembles a surprised cat. “oh, sure! i actually came here to buy some anyway.”

that’s how you found yourself hand in hand with a boy you’d only met a few minutes ago, grocery bag slung over your arm while you share his airpods, humming along to music while walking back to your apartment.

“under the moonlight we made our first kiss, ‘cause this is the moment you made me feel like it’s the old love…

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @flyingpotatoes

[hello-from-the-night-archives]

hello from the hallowoods dashboard simulator

😈 valerie-meme-stone

I'm not ready for my spotify wrapped to just be stonemaiden. like i get it spotify i know i'm gay

53 notes

📝 the-poetry-panopticon Follow

Unfriendly reminder not to sign up for a Dreaming Box subscription! The Botulus Corporation is not to be trusted! Here's an article explaining the language in their contract and why it's concerning! In addtion, they use AI generated images in the Prime Dream, which we should all know by now is unethical.

14,034 notes

🥗 bisexualranchdressing Follow

dang this is crazy. i thought wildfire smoke was bad but what the fuck is this????

🌅 nerdy-tragedy-theorist Follow

well according to color theory

🌅 nerdy-tragedy-theorist Follow

never mind i've got nothing

739 notes

⚡ evil-electrician Follow

friendly reminder to stop spreading misinformation about the black water! people are saying that it brings people and animals back to life but that's not exactly true! although their body may be back, they're not the same person and they will likely become violent and dangerous. please stay inside and be really careful what you and your pets eat or drink.

🐈‍⬛ cats-not-capitalism Follow

fuck you op i'm keeping my undead cat

⚡ evil-electrician Follow

good luck keeping your fingers

48,230 notes

🐧 morally-grey-penguin Follow

1,383,248 notes

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

i must not go to sleep in the lake today. afternoon nap is the mind killer

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

mmmmmm cozy

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

where is my skin

eccentricelina-deactivated04232030

going back to sleep honk shoooooo

635 notes

🌮 mysteriously-crafty-nacho Follow

reblog this post to go north with the person you reblogged this from

54,092 notes

🧊 botulus-corporation Follow

The Botulus Corporation is with you during this difficult time. Join our happy dreaming family where you and your loved ones will be safe from the rain. Tumblr users get 30% off on a Dreaming Box subscription!

🐨 chief-koala-typhoon Follow

73,932 notes

🌿 shiny-wolf-tragedy Follow

it fucken rainny

🐼 dreamland-panda Follow

love that they'll be a literal apocalyse and tumblr users will just make memes. never change tumblr

72,138 notes

👁️‍🗨️ the-magnus-brotocol

choosing between the irl amazing digital circus or probably fucking dying was not on my 2030 bingo card but okay

👁️‍🗨️ the-magnus-brotocol

at this point i just gotta expect that if the year is divisible by 10 then something terrible will happen

94 notes

🐺 werewolves-are-hot

hey do you think i can get a real werewolf boyfriend now that monsters are real

🐺 werewolves-are-hot

any cute werewolf boyfriends in this part of the woods

429 notes

🌷 pleasant-arcade-land

oh man it's been a couple months since I last updated this fanfic huh! so I just drank some black water by accident and now I have a few extra fingers, and honestly that took some getting used to, but it's actually pretty convenient now and is really helpign me get more words in lol im still here writing homestuck fanfic in 2030 hehehehehe anyway new chapter here

38 notes

🌑 the-void-whispers Follow

so, it looks like tumblr might be dying soon due to, well, *gestures wildly.* You'll have to kill me before I join Twitter now that the Botulus Corporation bought it (and no, I am not calling it B, that is just stupid) so if you want to hear from me you will simply need to look out for passenger pigeons. in the meantime, ill be here until tumblr straight up dies and i have a crying session about it

🦌 gamer-guy-bath-water Follow

we do not grieve ice when it melts, or celebrate the sapling when it rises from the soil. they just are. life and death and rebirth are one constant state. and without change, there would be nothing to watch

⚔️ sword-lesbian-enthusiast

add that to the list of banger quotes from tumblr memes

82,362 notes

[cowpokeomens]

Blood Pact

It's me, your favorite monster fucker! Here's another part of my Nocturnal Creatures series, in which you strike a deal with a demon- who goes by Nicholas. Sexy things ensue.

Warnings: Disgusting nasty filthy p-in-v, cunnilingus, lots of mentions of virginity (it's a social construct, but if you got it, flaunt it), Nicholas Ruffilo's monster cock (canon), if you feel I need to add anything PLEASE send me a message! Otherwise, enjoy!

________________________________________________________

You still couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Yet, here you stood, at a crossroads in your hometown. Not just the metaphorical kind, either- an actual, physical crossroads. Mason Avenue and Fisher Street, to be exact. 

Right next to the city cemetery, from which you stole a jar’s worth of dirt.

It sat in your bag, next to some kind of flowering plant you hoped would work, a cat bone (thank goodness for veterinarian friends?), and a picture of yourself, one of the headshots your manager had insisted would help you blow up on TikTok. 

It hadn’t.

You threw everything into a cardboard box, using your shiny, new shovel from the local feed supply store to dig a hole in the center of the dusty dirty roads. The ground was harder than you expected, so your two-foot deep hole had you sweating by the time it was formed. You all but threw the box into the hole, quickly covering it up with loose dirt, and taking a few steps back. Pulling out your phone, you consulted the symbol you saved from a website earlier that week, spray paint in hand. All the stupid Wal-Mart had left was “Cerise Fluorescent,” so you hoped whatever you summoned liked pink. 

Carefully, you sprayed the lines onto the dirt, over where you buried your box. You tried to move quickly, but precisely; Getting caught was almost as terrifying as doing it wrong.

Finally, it was done. You scrolled over on your phone, to the Latin text you hadn’t even dared to read in your head. Stepping away from the circle, you read it aloud now. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest, and you wondered one last time if this was worth it. 

“Your Latin sucks.” A voice said suddenly.

You jumped, yelping, and fell directly on your ass.

You were scrambling back when the voice spoke again. 

“Is this a Goetia sigil? In pink? The guys are going to get a kick out of this-”

You stood up shakily, dusting off your pants in the process. You finally saw the source of the voice: Standing in the center of your sigil was the most devastatingly handsome man you had ever seen. 

Long, dark hair; his skin was lightly tanned and healthy-looking. Eyes the color of clouds, that seemed to shift from green to blue to grey before you. He was taller than you, tattoos visible on both hands, and dressed simply: A hoodie, dark jeans, and…

Were those Converse?

You were immediately overcome with confusion. “Um, who are you?”

He fixed those eyes directly on you. “I think that’s my line, doll.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “You’re Amdusias?”

He winced. “Yikes, with the Scary-Latin-Demon-Name. You can call me Nicholas.”

You frowned. “You don’t seem like…”

“Like a great duke of Hell?” He finished your thought. “Yeah, only angels really like to make a dramatic entrance, that’s why they’ve been banned to stay behind the pearly bars. Too many eyes, too much fire-”

“You’re wearing sneakers?” You said without thought.

He looked offended. “Did you expect me to crawl out of Hell in loafers?”

You scrambled for an answer. “Well, no, but I-”

“TV is rotting your mind. What do you want?” He cut you off.

You felt the color leaving your face. “Well, um, I read that you were responsible for the music in Hell-”

“‘Music’ is a big word, but sure.” He interrupted.

Giving him a look, you continued. “Well, I’m a musician, too! Only…” You trailed off with a frown.

He mocked you with a faux-wince. “Ooh, not triple platinum yet, huh?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hide your disappointment. Shaking your head, your gaze met his again. “That’s where you come in.”

An eyebrow cocked at you. “Think that because you snagged a demon, you get to be famous?”

You shook your head hastily. “No, not at all! I did a lot of research-” You Googled for 30 minutes- “So I don’t get to demand things without a trade, right?” 

He smiled at you lazily. “Yep. So what will it be, your soul? First born? I love a first born, with a little bit of butter, some rosemary and-”

“I’m a virgin.” You blurted. 

He froze, then his entire demeanor changed. For the first time that night, you felt genuine fear as the air around you went still. “Oh yeah?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, so you settled on a nod.

He took a tiny step towards you. You were rooted on the spot, frozen like a deer in headlights. This was a bad idea. 

Finally, you found your words. “My virginity. For- whatever it is you do. Fame, fortune, I don’t really care, I just want people to hear my music, connect with it-”

“Yeah, yeah, real noble of you.” He snorted, then composed himself. For a second, he almost looked concerned. “You sure about this, doll?”

You nodded, trying to look confident. “Yeah. But- make it organic, y’know, the fame part. I don’t want to look like an industry plant-”

He rolled his eyes, walking closer so that he was directly in front of you. You gaped at his proximity. “You can leave the circle?”

Laughing, he nodded. “I could have left at any point, but you’re pretty-” He leaned in so that he was whispering in your ear, “-For a pathetic little human.”

Your cheeks went hot. You knew it was just to rile you up, make this worse than it already was. At least, you figured, your virginity meant something to someone- it certainly held no value for you. A demon was less than desirable, but he was nice to look at- 

Woah. Not going there, you told yourself sternly. 

Shaking off the feeling, you held out your hand. “Okay, so deal-”

“Uh, no.” He cut you off, again. “I have my own terms and conditions.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

A smirk grew on his face. “My terms. For our arrangement.”

You tried not to let anger well up inside you. “And what would those terms be?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“You come to me.” He said plainly. Confusion must have been evident on your face, because he continued, “I’m not some monster in the night who’s going to show up for your virginity. When the time is right, you’ll come to me.”

“You’re not going to just… Take it?” The question slowly left your mouth.

He grimaced, an ugly look for such a pretty face. “Ew, no. I’m a demon, not a wild animal. Besides,” he cocked his head to the side, looking directly into you. “Virginity tastes better when it comes willingly.” 

Gulping despite yourself, you managed a nod. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come willingly.” As if. 

Holding out an inked hand, he grinned at you. “Then it’s a deal.”

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand in yours, shaking once. “Deal.”

_________________________________________________________

Six Months Later 

You awoke in a cold sweat, the third time that week. Flicking the bedside lamp on, you walked over to the mini-fridge of your hotel room, grabbing a bottle of water. You were uncomfortably wet- again, and not from sweating. It seemed like every time you tried to rest, you were met by stormy eyes where sleep should have greeted you. You chugged the water, making your way to the restroom for a much-needed shower. 

That night’s show had been sold out- the 13th sold out show of your highly anticipated debut tour. Nicholas had held up his end of the bargain; Your album was projected to sell close to a million units by the end of the year. And you had seen neither hide nor hair of him. 

Well. Not in the flesh, anyways.

As you started the shower, your mind wandered. You knew it was him, sending you these dreams through his weird demon dream channels or whatever. Even as your body betrayed you, you knew it was not your own thoughts causing such a commotion. 

Still, as you slipped in the shower to wash off the day’s grime, you felt your hand slip lower, between your folds to collect the wetness there. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you circled your bundle of nerves, moaning quietly. Despite your best efforts, your thoughts drifted back to long, dark hair and tattooed hands on your body. Your hand moved quicker, moans growing louder as you felt yourself getting closer to climax. You were on the precipice when a familiar voice made you freeze.

“I knew you’d be loud.” 

Yelping, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost falling in your panic. Yanking your towel off the rack, you wrapped yourself as quickly as possible as you threw open the shower curtain. 

Nicholas was sitting criss-cross on the expansive bathroom counter, picking at something under his nails. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped.

“You summoned me, duh.” He said, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Yeah, six months ago. I thought I was supposed to come to you.”

He looked at you then, eyes dragging over your poorly-concealed form. His eyes glinted, looking hungry. “Moaning the name of a demon you promised your virginity to while you rub one out in the shower is a summoning if I’ve ever seen one. Besides,” He looked into your eyes, smirking devilishly. “You were about to come to me, from the sound of it.”

Your face was on fire with embarrassment. “I was not moaning your name.”

He cocked a brow at you. “Uh, you were. Loudly.” 

Rage bubbled up inside you. “I was not!” The words spilled from you now. “I wouldn’t have even been doing that if you hadn’t been sending me all of your weird demonic sex dreams constantly!”

An unnamed emotion flashed across his face, then he grinned. “‘Weird demonic sex dreams,’ huh?”

You huffed at him “Oh, don’t even play coy. Like being dragged back to Hell and tied up by some hot shot demon was my big idea.”

The smile he was giving you was sinister. “Right, right. What else have I sent your way?”

You faltered, unsure of what he was playing at. “Like you don’t know.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t. I haven’t ‘sent you’ shit.” He mimed quotations with his hands. 

Your blood went cold. Suddenly, the bathroom was too small. “You’re lying.” Your voice sounded feeble, even to you.

He shook his head, standing up. Slowly he stepped towards you. “I’m not.”

“But then- that would mean-” Stammering, you stood there helplessly as he crept closer. 

Nodding, he leaned in even closer. “That was all you, doll.” He brushed a stray lock of hair off your shoulder. “What a dirty mind the little human virgin has. You mentioned being tied up- what else did I do to defile you, huh?” 

He was too close, it almost made you dizzy. He smelled like smoke and rain and earth all at once. “Shut up.” You mumbled weakly.

He stepped back, finally. “Well, you know how to find me.” 

There was a crack like lightning, then he was gone. 

You stood there for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. This was fine, you reasoned. He left. He kept his word. Everything was fine. 

______________________________________________________

Three Months Later

Once again, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed in your master bedroom, you gazed out the windows overlooking the city below. You remembered when you first bought the condo- loved how open and light it was. In the deepness of the night surrounding you, the lights looked like tiny fires dancing in the dark. 

Taking a deep breath, you laid down on your pillows, trying to relax your body. Running a hand over the t-shirt on your abdomen, up to your breasts, you felt your breathing start to slow. Your nipples were quick to perk up at the stimulation, so you pinched one experimentally, almost moaning out at the sensation.

Your nerves were on fire these days. The slightest brush against your skin made you feverish. You tried everything, from quitting cold turkey to bringing yourself to climax three or four times a day. Nothing was working. 

So maybe this would. 

You snaked your hand lower, falling into familiar routine. You had come to know your body well the last three months, knew exactly where to rub, where to pinch. As you toyed with your folds through your underwear, you imagined a different set of hands, larger and covered in ink. Unlike the other times, you allowed your fantasy to overtake you, gave yourself to it willingly. 

“Nicholas.” You breathed, back arching ever so slightly.

There was a slight breeze, then a quiet gasp. 

“Quite the show you’re putting on, doll. I suppose you didn’t say my name this time, either?” 

You pulled your hand away from your core, scrambling to stand up. “No, I- I did.”

Nicholas’ face looked shocked for a millisecond, then an eyebrow was raised at you. “Oh?”

“I’m… I’m ready.” It didn’t sound convincing. 

He scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks. Like I said, I’m not interested in forcing anyone-”

“Goddamnit, shut up.” You snapped. “I said I’m ready, okay? You said to come to you, so here I am. Unless you never planned on following through with it.” It was dangerous to goad him, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

His eyes were pitch black in an instant, staring you down. “Don’t joke about a demon’s word, doll. You’re not ready for that fight.”

Your hands shook, but you felt-

Mortification overcame you as you realized just what you felt. 

Those dark eyes narrowed in on the single bead of slick that was rolling steadily down your leg. Cloud-grey eyes returned as realization dawned on him.

“You want me to debase you.” He took a step towards you as his words filled the room. “You want me to tie you up and have my way with you. Isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth, but it was evident. 

He inhaled deeply, taking another step towards you. His eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled slowly. “You smell ripe. You want this so badly, poor thing- you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

You pressed your legs together, trying to maintain some kind of decency.

He was in front of you now, close enough to touch if you were braver. “Beg for it. Beg, and I’ll give you anything you want, doll.”

Chest heaving with labored breaths, you gave in. “Please.” You whispered.

His hand- the hands you had been dreaming about for nine months- came up to grip your jaw. “I said beg.”

You crumbled. “Please, Nicholas, please, I’ll be so good-”

His grin was minatory as he brought his lips down to yours. 

Your relief was immediate as you sagged into him, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. He walked you backwards toward the bed, still kissing you furiously. 

“How wet are you already, doll? I bet your little cunt is just soaked.” Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and set you on the bed, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “Tell me what you want.”

You panted, unable to form a sentence for a moment. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Right, you’re just a helpless little virgin who hasn’t spent the last 9 months having vivid dreams about me fucking her.” He looked up at you through his lashes. “Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“Your hands.” You heard yourself say immediately. 

He smirked again. “Oh yeah? What were my hands doing?”

You knew your face was crimson. “They… They were touching me.”

“Where?” The look he was giving you was too intense for you to maintain more than a few seconds.

“Um-” You hesitated. 

“You can say it.” He urged, leaning in.

“My… my pussy.” You finished, staring at the ground.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy now?” He was still staring at you.

“Please.” You breathed, anticipation making your entire body tense. 

“Good girl, so polite.” As you shivered at the praise, his eyes made their way down your body, to where your core was at eye-level for him. “If you want to stop, say so, is that clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Something dark flashed in his face, then he said, “Good girl.” 

His hand came up to run a single digit along your slit, through your underwear. You shook involuntarily at the contact. 

“Oh doll, you’re starved, aren’t you?” He murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s get these ruined panties off of you.” 

You went to shift your weight so that you could shimmy the garment off, only to freeze as Nicholas tore through it like a piece of paper. 

He didn’t even look apologetic. “Hope you didn’t like those too much.”

You didn’t have time to consider it as you realized your cunt was fully visible to him now, slick with your own juices. 

He sighed as he stared at your core. “Women are the best thing that bastard ever accomplished.” Then he looked up at you. “I’m gonna use my mouth, that okay, doll?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You felt like you were vibrating in your skin. 

He leaned in slowly, as if to not startle you, before running his tongue from your hole to your clit.

The moan you let out was guttural and animalistic. 

“There it is.” He said quietly, before diving back into you. 

Your head fell back onto the mattress as he lapped at your clit, tongue occasionally diving into your hole. Tears welled up in your eyes at the relief it brought, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Your hands tangled in his long tresses, and he moaned against your pussy. Your hips were bucking into him involuntarily, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it. “Nicholas, I’m gonna- I’m so close-” You practically sobbed. 

“Shh, I know, doll. Let it happen.” He said soothingly before going back to his ministrations. You came with a primal moan, back arching off of your sheets. 

 You were still panting when he stood up, surveying you. “All better?”

“Fuck me.” You demanded. 

His expression went stoney. He leaned over until you were caged in by his arms on either side of you. “I don’t fuck demanding brats.”

You lost all your bravado. “Please?”

He sighed softly, but not sincerely. “How bad do you want it?”

You could have cried. “Please, I’m sorry Nicholas, I’ll be good, please fuck me- you don’t know how bad I need it-”

“I just had your greedy little unused hole grinding against my tonsils.” He sneered. “I know exactly how bad you need it.”

Your face went hot at the profane nature of his words- but he was right. He saw firsthand how bad you needed this. “Please.” Was all you said. 

“Well, I guess since you’re asking so nicely.” He mocked as he stepped back, unbuckling his pants as he went. He slid off the trousers, his erection visible through his briefs. You suddenly felt nervous, looking at the size of him. 

He stopped, seeing your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- is it gonna fit?”

He pulled the briefs down at last, finally freeing his cock. It was big- even by supernatural proportions. The tip was an angry shade of red, veins pulsating on the shaft. He huffed a laugh at your face, pulling his shirt off, too. “I bet we can find room.”

Your eyes devoured the tattoos that covered him, tracing the planes of his body as you went. You almost didn’t notice him slinking over to you, crawling onto the mattress in one, fluid motion, landing on top of you. 

“I’m gonna touch you again, okay?” He looked at you expectantly. 

You nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours. You whimpered when his fingers were back on your pussy, running along the folds. As you adjusted to his touch, two fingers slipped inside your hole.

“Fuck you’re still so wet,” He muttered, rocking his fingers back and forth inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his fingers so much larger than your own. Moving his mouth down to your neck, he began scissoring his fingers, stretching you out- a preparation you were thankful for.

You felt your second orgasm approaching as he continued his movements, moans growing higher pitched. “Nicholas, I-”

“Think you can hold on?” He asked. It was a genuine question, you knew whatever answer you gave would be correct. 

You considered it for a second. “Yeah, I can- I can wait.” Your legs were still beginning to tremble, though. 

He placed a kiss on your temple, pulling his fingers out. “I’ll go slow, but we can stop if you want to.”

You nodded an affirmative. He stared at you blankly, and you remembered yourself. “Yes, sir.” He tapped your nose, a gesture that was oddly sweet, as he said “Good girl.”

You felt him line up with your entrance, the tip slowly sliding in. It was still a stretch- but you found that you liked it, liked the feeling of being filled up. He went slowly, thrusting shallowly, each time going a little deeper. You could hear the noises you were making, but couldn’t stop yourself from making them. He paused three-fourths of the way in. 

“Doing okay?”

“Yes Nicholas, please don’t stop.” Came your gargled reply.

He smirked, thrusting a few more times until he was fully sheathed in you.

Your back arched clear off the bed as he bottomed out, his tip nestled against something inside you that made you feel feral.

“Like that, doll?” You could hear how smug he was.

“Please, Nicholas, please-” You whined.

“I know, pretty, I’ll give you what you need.” His hands tightened their grip on your waist as he pulled out and slid back in quickly. You let out another carnal wail, your hands coming around to grab at his shoulders. He pulled out again, slamming into you, continuing on until you felt like a puddle on the bed.

“So wet and tight for me, such a good girl.” He grunted as he fucked into you. You nodded pitifully, not sure why, lost in the pleasure. Over and over again he slid against that sweet spot inside you, making you feel like you were on fire. Your orgasm soon approached you like a freight train.

“Nicholas please, I need- I need to come-” You stammered, close to sobbing. 

“I know, it’s so much, I know, you can come, doll.” His words opened a dam as your orgasm overcame you in a powerful wave, making you all but scream as he fucked you through it.

He pulled out shortly after, jerking himself to completion on your stomach. You were gasping for air, legs quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as hot ropes of come covered you. 

You felt disgusting, in the most delicious way possible. 

Nicholas disappeared around the corner, returning with a rag to clean you up. He had used hot water, you noted, so it was warm to the touch. 

“So that’s a deal?” You asked when he had finished cleaning you. 

He looked sad, but the expression was quickly gone. “I suppose it is.”

He set the rag on your bedside table, already going to collect his clothing.

“I have a question, before you disappear again.” You called over his shoulder.

“And what is your question?” He turned around to face you as he pulled on his briefs.

“If I wanted a Grammy,” You began, cocking your head to the side. “What would your rates be for that?”

He gave you a grin, understanding your implication immediately as he dropped his pants back onto the floor.

“I’d be open to negotiation of terms.” He murmured as he made his way back over to the bed, lips slotting against yours once more.

[sandinthemachine]

You know what be cute cuddling with horangi with a deep voice more rumbly just waking up and he give the best hugs.

Sure he might let you go of you give a few kisses and cute bumping of the nose. He needs you to giggle first and he lets you go.

And okay you being stubborn and don't want to sleep okay carry you bridal style. Or maybe carry like those mama cats carry they kitten cause you're being to wiggley

The thought of someone being carried by the neck like a kitten is so funny to me ngl, that's a König thing to do for sure. But this is so sweet aww

Alright, ya got me. Have a little good-morning fluff drabble. On the house

-

A sudden shiver pulls your body from sleep, bleary eyes taking in the deep blue-grey of the room, soft and fuzzy. Just dark enough that all of the sharp edges and corners blur, making the entire room feel wispy and ethereal. Comfy.

A cool breeze tickles over your exposed shoulders, sending another shudder reverberating through your ribcage.

Ah, that'll do it.

You had never bothered to shut your window last night. It had been...a bit too hot for that.

You smile at the thought, slowly sliding a leg out from under the sheets into the frigid air.

A warm arm tightens around your torso.

How does he always know?

You let yourself fall again, pulled back against a pillowy chest. You wiggle, shifting your hips, and another arm slides around your waist, holding you still. The delicate outline of a nose and lips press into your neck, soft breaths tickling over the sensitive skin.

"Horangi."

He only grunts, gravelly and deep, shoving his face even further into you.

"I need to close the window."

"I'll keep you warm."

You giggle at the slurred voice, heavy and resonant. It always is when he first wakes. With a sigh you shift again, curling your fingers around one of his arms. Tracing the lines of ink you know by heart.

He shivers.

And with you so tight against him, it sets you shivering too.

"Will you let me shut the window now?"

A sound, gritty and rough, rumbles his throat. Halfway between a groan and a sigh. His head tilts, nose and lips skating over your skin.

His tongue darts out just as fingers slide up your side, and you squeal, writhing against him.

A laugh shakes his body, rumbling thunder crackling and rolling, his chest heaving against you before he lets you go.

As you roll, a hand catches the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair, guiding you back, and his lips are on you, warm and wet and too soft. His fingers are tight in your hair, but the knuckles of the other hand stroke your cheek, gentle and smooth.

You sigh, head falling back into his hand, feeling his smile against yours.

And then he's pulling away, tucking the blanket over his whole body as he flops belly first into the mattress. "Better close the window, then. And get right back here."

You grin at that, skipping across the room to slide the pane closed, pausing to watch the rivulets of water run down the cool glass. They merge into each other, streaking across the canvas, stray paintbrushes full of blues and greens and greys, shining first this color and then that as the low light catches them.

Hands wrap around your hips, tugging you back, and you squeak.

'Wha-hey!"

His hands rise, flinging you up and catching you, arms tight under your legs and shoulders. "You took too long."

"It was five seconds!" You throw your head back, laughing as he lays you on the bed. "I'm sure you can wait that-"

Your retort is cut off with an oof as he drops his entire weight onto you. "Too long."

You giggle, wiggling an arm free to brush his hair off his forehead. "Whatever you say, tiger."

He rumbles happily, burying his face into your chest. And within seconds, he's asleep again.