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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Note

If this request makes you uncomfortable or isn’t something you want to write, I apologize and please ignore my request!

Heyy! I was wondering if I could request a satoru x reader x Suguru smut? With like, some bdsm mixed in yk. Tying reader up, satoru is a tease, and likes to make her squirm and ask questions he know she can’t answer because Suguru is fucking her throat. But Suguru is mean. Mean and tougher than satoru. He tells satoru to stop being so gentle with you, that not only do you deserve rough treatment but you like it. And satoru listens to him, of course. I just want them to run through me like a train😞

Also same mean geto anon (again lol) I’m gonna just sign off w an emoji now :3 -🍭

Hi Anon!

This isn't my cup of tea, it's my FUCKING jam!!

Summary: Gojo and Geto had been on a two-week-long mission, which hadn't gone as smoothly as Suguru wanted. He was pent-up and frustrated. So, of course, Gojo called you to warn you it might not be a good idea to come over. You, of course, did not heed his warning. The second you get home, you realize that you were screwed.

Word Count: 3,706

Warnings: BDSM, rough sex, oral sex, so much sex, degradation, teasing, the smuttiest of smut

A/N: Good God, Satoru x Reader x Suguru is my weakness!! I put my whole heart into this. Geto Suguru, teacher AU, is my kryptonite!

Part Two

She Likes it Like That

“Y/N babe,” Gojo said in a hushed whisper, “you probably shouldn't come home tonight.”

You cocked an eyebrow, looking away from the first year's training. “I'm sorry, did you just tell me not to come home. . .to our apartment?” The world ‘our’ came out like acid.

Gojo sighed overdramatically. “Don't say it like that. I'm trying to save you! Suguru is in such a bad mood.” You listened to him walking around. “I sighed out loud when I noticed the last of my mochi was gone. Fuck you for that, by the way, and do you know what he said to me?” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, waiting for the rant to continue. “He told me to shut the fuck up! For sighing!”

“What did you do to piss him off? Oh, and just an FYI, I bought you more mochi, asshole.”

“Oh—” silence, “thank you-I’m sorry, please don't return it.”

“Satoru! Forget about the mochi. What happened to Sugu?”

The mission your partners were sent on did not go as planned. Their hotel had flooded; it was not like they had time to consider sleeping. The higher-ups sent them to an abandoned mountainside village full of cursed spirits. Poor Suguru had to swallow dozens for nearly two weeks. Gojo had enough; he couldn't stand the pained expression on his face as he gagged the last spirit down. So he decided to Hollow-Purpled the entire village.

The second they got back, the higher-ups scolded the hell out of them. Chastising them, complaining that they didn't do a good enough job. After all their hard work, the time they spent away from home, from you. Those bastards dared to complain about their hard work. It sent Suguru into a terrible mood, one that was bound to end with either a fight or someone getting fucked into the mattress.

One thing about Suguru was that when he was pissy, things felt out of his control. He needed to take control back. Which meant he wanted to have sex. He would be rough, really rough, tying either you or Satoru up, not letting you go until he had calmed down. Or if one of you was fucked too stupid to continue, his eyes focused on the other that wasn't tied up.

“So please, just stay with Ieiri tonight. I'm going to lock myself in my room. Last time he was this pissed off, the both of us were so sore we couldn't move.”

“Ugh, fuckin’ whatever.” This whole situation wasn't fair. You hated how your boyfriends were mistreated.

“Yeah, just stay the—oh, hi Suguru.” There was a shuffling in the background. “No, I wasn't talking shit.” Satoru nervously laughed. “Look, Sugu—no, put down the rope—”

“Toru?” Panic for your boyfriend sank into your stomach.

“Hey! Wait a second—Sugu—”

Before any other indication of what was happening came through the receiver, the other line cut off. So you quickly yelled to the students you had to leave and took off. By the time you made it, you were breathless from running and realized that in your panic, you left your keys at work.

You picked up the spare key hidden under the doormat. Just as you were about to unlock the door, it flew open. You slowly blinked, looking up at a very irritated Suguru. The man radiated gloom and tension. He was in his sweatpants, and his hair was tied in a messy bun, and, dear God, he looked pent up.

“Why the fuck are you using the spare key?”

“I-I uh—”

“Ooooh~ there she is~!” a hand gently rested against Suguru’s shoulder as Satoru peered down at you from behind your dark-haired boyfriend. “There's our girl!”

It only took a moment to see that Satoru mirrored Suguru’s frustration and anger. Oh fuck. The key fell from your hand as you took a step back. Suguru was demanding and rough when he was pent up. Satoru, on the other hand, was a tease. He liked pushing you, making you cry. Both of them being in a pissy mood simultaneously, this was a nightmare for you.

“Y-You, I thought you were in trouble!”

“Oh yeah, no.” Suguru’s soured face slowly twisted into a smirk as Satoru licked his lip. “But you~?” Suguru’s hand darted out, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, preventing you from moving further back. “You're royally fucked.” Before you even had a chance to respond, Suguru and Satoru grabbed you, yanking you inside.

“Awe~” Satoru hummed as he trailed his kiss up the bare thighs he lay between. “Look at you~ trying to clamp your thighs shut.” Gojo’s fingers were buried deep inside of you. Finger fucking you to the edge of yet another orgasm he would deny. “But you can't, can you~? Suguru’s got you all tied to the bed, spread out for us to use you.” A muffled moan escaped you. “Huh? What was that princess? You gotta use your big girl words.” Satoru tilted his head, cupping his free hand around the back of his ear. “Oooh! That's right, you can't talk when getting your throat fucked.”

You gagged as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat. He was quiet, his eyes shut in concentration. He looked so fucking hot, so focused on the feeling of your mouth. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pulled in and out of your mouth, grunting softly as you hollowed your cheeks. But the more Satoru spoke, the more Suguru knitted his eyebrows.

“I bet you want me to stuff your pussy, too, don't you~? You want to be spit-roasted between your two boyfriends?” Your pussy twitched at his words. “Oooh~!! Your cunt just twitched. Is that what our sweet girl wants—”

“Satoru,” Suguru snarled, “shut the fuck up.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. Y/N likes it when I tease her.”

Suguru tsked, pulling his thick cock out of your mouth. You gasped and coughed, spit and precum coating your chin. Between your pants and the gasps for air, Suguru went to what you thought would be a head pat. Instead, his fingers tangled in your air with a hard yank, pulling you up to look down at Satoru. His face was flushed, cerulean eyes wide as he looked between his two partners.

“Look at the fucking slutty face she's making.” The grip on your hair tightened. “You think she looks like this because of your pitiful teasing?” A shaky moan escaped you as he tightened his grip harder. “No, she looks like this because this little slut likes it rough.”

Fuck, you wanted more, to run your hands over Suguru’s arms, to grip his cock, urging him to keep fucking your throat. You were desperate to trap Satoru's head firmly between your thighs, forcing him to kiss and lick your clit. Instead, you weakly tugged at the purple restraints tied to both your wrists and ankles. Suguru had set up the rigging underneath the mattress, making it impossible for you to move. Meaning if you wanted his cock back in your mouth or Satoru’s tongue inside of you, you had to wait for them.

What made it more frustrating was the fact that you were completely bare. Not allowing you to hide the way your body reacted to Suguru’s dirty words. He was telling the truth. And the truth was behind your body's reactions. Gojo could see it in the way your tight entrance clenched around his fingers. He could feel your pussy drip around him, your wetness running down his knuckles. Suguru was right; you did like it; no, like wasn't the right word.

You fucking loved it.

Suguru could see the wheels turning in Satoru’s head as his eyes glittered with lust and excitement. “Satoru~ do you finally see it?~” The way Suguru purred his name had Satoru’s cock throbbing. “You see why she came home, even though she knew she’d get fucked?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a fucking slut.”

“Yeah, she is.” A sharp tug on your head made you yelp. Suguru grinned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You want it rough? Want me to fuck your throat so hard you cry, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

Gripping his cock at the base, Suguru slapped his thick meat against your cheek. “That's a good girl. Now open up.” slowly, you opened your mouth to him. Watching your tongue slip out had his tip angry, throbbing red. “Now,” he smeared the beading precum over your bottom lip, “say ah~.”

“Ahh~” The second that sound left your pretty mouth Suguru shoved his cock in your mouth. Your eyes stung as tears filled your eyes.

Satoru’s fingers had stopped their slow movements inside of you. His mouth was dry as he gulped. Suguru had been rough before, but this was a whole new level. His thick fingers wrapped around your Y/H/C hair, holding your head in place. His hips pull back before slamming forward, his ass clenching with the force of each thrust. Blue eyes slowly trailed over to your face. Your eyes were red, big tears slowly down your cheeks, and your throat was fucked. Satoru swore he could see Suguru’s tip bulging in your slender neck.

This was fucking hot. Suguru’s bare back glittered in the low light of the bedroom, a sheen of sweat beaded over his toned muscles. It was like watching a god fuck a mortal Suguru radiated a dominating power as he watched their girlfriend choke and gag on his cock. Satoru’s cock was so hard it fucking hurt. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his throbbing shaft, jerking it slowly as he leaned down, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs.

The gentle kisses had you sighing contently around Suguru’s cock. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru sighed as he watched Satoru. His pink tongue was stuck out, gently teasing your damp folds. The sensation had you sighing around his dick, and that was not what he needed right this fucking second. Suguru wanted more; he needed it to relieve the tension in his shoulder. But that relief, the release he needed, wouldn’t happen, with Satoru teasing you like he loved to do.

“Satoru,” Suguru's voice was rough, “I just told you Y/N likes it rough.”

“Uh-huh~” Satoru’s voice was muffled as his face buried in your pussy, making you whine around the cock buried in your mouth.

“You’re not being rough enough.” Satoru pulled back, making you whine in protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to come down here and eat Y/N’s pussy while I get my dick sucked?”

“No.” The cocky smile that was beginning to form on Satoru’s face was suddenly gone as Suguru reached his free hand down, wrapping his fingers in soft white hair. “I want you to fucking eat her cunt out like you fucking hate her.” Your eyes rolled back as Satoru was slammed back down into your pussy. The moan that left his mouth vibrated just right against our clit, making you cry out. “Ah~ fuck yes.” Your cries vibrated around Suguru’s cock, just the way he wanted. “That’s it, Satoru, keep it up.”

“Mmmmph.” Finally, having a picture of how Suguru wanted him to act, Satoru found himself motivated. Again, it might be because his boyfriend was tugging and pulling at his sensitive hairline. Yeah, that was motivating him. Fuck you like he hated you, he could do that. He was just as pent-up as Suguru was.

Fingers slammed inside your pussy, fucking in and out of your tight hole with a force and speed that had you crying out in pleasure. Your moans felt so fucking good, and the more you opened your mouth to cry, the deeper Suguru fucked your throat. He hit the back over and over again, his hand pressing firmly against Satoru’s head, pushing him harder against your clit. The two of you moaned while your mouths were being used; the sounds of whimpers, squelches, and gagging were like a symphony to Suguru’s ears.

Out of all the ways for him to relieve his stress, this was by far his favorite.

“Hah—fuck keep that up, Satoru, bring her right to the edge, then stop. I want her cumming with both of us inside of her. Fucking her so rough she has to call out of work tomorrow and Friday.” The thought of that had you pulling on your restraints. “Oooh oh, you like that? You like knowing the two of us will make sure you can’t walk or talk tomorrow?” Your muffled moans were quickly molded into gags as Suguru roughly fucked your face. “Yeah, you fucking do, you nasty little slut.”

Your mind was spinning as you felt yourself climbing closer and closer to your orgasm. The room was so hot and reeked of sex. It was all you could do not to allow yourself to cum right then and there. Satoru could feel it, the way your little swollen clit throbbed against his tongue, how your walls clamped down on his fingers. He wanted to send you over the edge. He was close to following you as he fucked his hips helplessly into the mattress, wishing it was your wet pussy instead.

One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? You had been so good to them, allowing the duo to drag you into the house, strip you in the entryway, and tie you to the bed. Plus, on top of all that, they had left you alone for two weeks. You had to rely on that stupid vibrator Suguru insisted on allowing you to keep. That stupid toy was nothing compared to his tongue. Which was probably why he was bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm in under three minutes.

Yeah, he was going to let you cum.

Curling his fingers up into your g-spot, Satoru fucked you as fast as his wrist would allow. Suguru instantly knew what was happening. From the way your eyes shut to how loud you were moaning around him, you were seconds away from cumming. If he was in a better mood, he might have allowed it to happen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Stop.” Suguru scolded, pulling Satoru away from your dripping sex.

Both you and Satoru made disapproving groans as your orgasm slowly faded out of sight. “Doesn’t she deserve a treat? She’s been so good!” Satoru whined, licking your juices off his lips.

“I agree. Y/N does deserve a reward. But you need to give it to her in the roughest way that you can.” Suguru pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath. “Look at it this way. We get to blow off the steam while we make up for making her play with herself for two weeks.”

“Huh?” Those words struck a different chord in Satoru, and his cock twitched.

“Y/N, sweetheart, how often would you say you played with yourself when we were gone.”

You swallowed at the air greedily. “I don’t know, seven, maybe eight times.” Both your boyfriends shuddered, hearing the hoarseness of your voice.

“And out of all of those times, did you cum as hard as you do with us.”

“Not at all. They were all baby orgasms.”

Suguru shut his eyes, nodding his head. “See, Satoru, not only does our little slut like us rough and demanding, but we have to make up for those eight little orgasms.” When the dark-haired man looked back at Satoru, he saw a flash of white before your scream of shock and please bounced off the walls.

Suguru’s eyes were slightly wide as his brain tried to catch up with what his eyes had just witnessed. What he saw was Satoru balls deep inside of you. His thrusts were sloppy and needy, and fuck you looked as stunned as Suguru. One second you had been empty, pussy craving a cock deep inside of it from the denied orgasm. In the blink of an eye, Satoru was fucking into you more brutal than he’d ever fucked you before.

“I fucking told you, that toy was nothing compared to us.” Satoru snarled against the crook of your neck, digging his teeth into the sensitive skin. “Fucking stupid toy, not pleasing my girl.”

“Oh my—fuck, holy fuck!” You cried out, mouth wide open. Giving Suguru the perfect opportunity to get back to fucking your throat. The bittersweet taste of pre-cum had your mouth watering. He returned to the brutal pace he was in several minutes again.

“She needs that Satoru. What if we get sent on another long mission? She’s just supposed to suffer?” The thought of that had Suguru tilting his head, bangs falling in front of his eye. “You know what, I think you might be on to something. If we take her toy away, then we’d have to fuck her even harder the next time we get home.”

Satoru’s teeth sank harder into your neck as the tip of his cock slammed almost too hard into your cervix, making you scream around Suguru. “Exactly. Let me use reversal red on it, Y/N, please, baby.” You started to shake your head in a desperate plea to let you keep it. But Suguru’s cock in your throat made it impossible to do so. “What was that? Oh, right, you have your mouth full.” His lips moved against your pulse as his fingers dug into your hips. “Guess we’ll just have to say the way your clamping down on my cock is a yes in our book.” Your eyes darted up to Suguru, who had bought you the toy, for help.

“Mhmm fuck, yeah, I’m pretty sure she just hummed an ‘uh-huh’ around my cock.”

You wanted to argue, to fight against this rash decision, but you felt so good it was almost impossible to care. You were screaming around Suguru’s cock. Tears streaming down your face, leaving behind trails of mascara. They were both being so mean and rough. God, it was so fucking good. Who cared about a clit sucker when your throat and pussy were being fucked into next week.

“She’s close.” Satoru cried out, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh fuck she’s hugging my cock so tight I’m going to explode Suguru.”

With blurry eyes, you glanced up at Suguru. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shut tight. “I know, oh fuck I know, I’m so close, Satoru, don’t fuckin’ stop, make her cum, make her cum so hard.” Both his hands grabbed your face fucking your throat roughly as Satoru cried out, his hand pressing roughly on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

That was all that you needed. You cried out, squirting all over Satoru’s crotch, abdomen, and the mattress. Your orgasm set a domino effect between your boyfriends. Suguru followed behind you, his body hunched over you, his hands gently squeezing your head as he filled your mouth full of his thick cum. You weakly tried swallowing all of it, but that was somewhat difficult as Satoru extended your orgasm.

His thumb continues to rub your clit until his face scrunch up, mouth open in a feral growl. Satoru's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. He fucked all three of you harder, closer to oblivion. The headboard slamming against the wall as the restraint dug into your wrists was the only thing grounding you to remain on Earth. Satoru didn’t let up on the rough thrusts until he felt his cum dripping around his cock onto the bed.

The throbbing pain in the back of your throat, deep inside of your pussy was all the confirmation you needed that your boyfriends had fulfilled their promise. Never in your life had you been fucked so roughly. But it was a pain that you warmly welcomed.

After coming down, Suguru was the first to move gently. The rough hands that had been holding you in a vice gently held you as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. “Lay down.” His gruff, gentle voice whispered as he helped rest you against a pillow.

“Oh fuck—“ Satoru lifted his head off your shoulder, “I haven’t cum that hard in a while.” He was so slow, pulling out of you, grimacing as you cried out. “Sorry, fuck I’m sorry, baby.”

You shut your eyes, listening to Satoru getting out of bed. You could hear water running in the bathroom as gentle fingers began undoing your restraints. “You did such a good job, Y/N,” Suguru whispered. “Such a good girl for us.” His praise had you humming happily as he made quick work of the rest of the ropes.

“Suguru, let’s order in, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

The next half hour was a blur of warm happiness. Satoru helped wash your body in a bubble bath before Suguru joined you, kneeling next to the tub, lovingly stroking your face and hair. After you were cleaned up, your hair brushed, and pajamas on. You crawled into your bed with fresh sheets and relaxed. Satoru and Suguru fluffed your pillows and brought you a cup of tea for your raw throat. When your dinner arrived, the three of you sat in bed together to eat as a B-grade horror movie played on the television.

After eating, Satoru left to throw out the take-out containers. “Mmm, thank you for letting us do all that,” Suguru said as he crawled into bed after his shower. “That mission, it was rough.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Your voice cracked, making Suguru frown. “Stop frowning,” you flicked his forehead. “I like it rough.”

The bed dipped, and Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist. “Y/N can handle it. She is dating the two strongest, after all.” Both you and Suguru scoffed, relaxing in the growing silence. “Oh, by the way, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You yawned, snuggling into Suguru’s chest as he turned the bedside lamp off.

“Did you bring home my mochi?”

In the dark of the room, you heard a thump and Satoru’s whine before Suguru pulled the three of you closer to him. “Satoru shut the fuck up about the mochi.”

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agroteraa · 3 months

Text

Never Be Like You

Felix Catton x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: AU where Saltburn's ending never happened. Felix lived happily up to 2016 (and on), where he met you at your new job. Meaning he is around 29 here and you are younger.

Yes, a fic based on THAT Jacob Elordi edit

Using the song "Never Be Like You" by Flume feat. Kai

Shout-out to Kasey @kcsvids ❤️

Tags: fluff, implied slow burn, AU.

Word Count: 3,8K

Early August in London this year was quite rainy, but fortunately, the day you had to go around the city with the documents turned out to be surprisingly sunny and pleasant. It was the second month of your new job.

The bell on the door in the coffee shop tinkled as you went inside in search of your senior colleague, whose errands you had been running for half the day.

"Annabel, hi! I’ve signed the documents, made copies and notarized them. Here are the originals in the folder, and here are the copies," you said, sitting down on the opposite chair and rummaging in your bag, taking out all the necessary papers.

"Oh, thank you, Y/N! I expected that you would only have time to pick up the documents, and you have already done everything! Cool, you're doing great!" the girl smiled at you, and then added, "Our new capable young employee."

She said this to a young man in a colored seemingly expensive shirt who was sitting relaxed close to her on the couch and drinking coffee. He looked at you with a smile while Annabel was having a dialogue with you and complimenting you on the work done. God. This was the guy from your job, whom you saw rarely and from afar, but you really wanted to know more about him. You didn't even know his name because you were too shy to ask, and besides, you didn't talk close yet to people in your new place.

"Felix. Felix Catton," he introduced himself, extending his long arm across the table.

"Y/N," you answered a little timidly, shaking his hand. His fingers were no less long than the hand itself, and his palm was warm, "Um... Y/N L/N."

"Okay, I have to run, bye, Ann," the guy kissed her on the cheek, threw some money on the table and smiled at you again, "It was nice to meet you, a new capable young employee."

Young. Not that young, it was your second full-time job after graduating from the university, but of course you were younger than the two of them. Annabel, as far as you knew, was almost 29 years old. Felix was probably about the same age, it was hard for you to tell. It seemed that he could be aged from 23 to 33, given that he looked so youthful and lively.

"So... does he work for our company? It seems that I saw him in the office, but very rarely..." you tried to find out information about this man from Annabel as casually as possible.

"Yes, Felix has... a more of a free schedule. His father is a co–owner of the company. So, he is not particularly worried about being a worker of the year. However, it's not like I live at work either," Annabel began to tell you openly. It seems you had already realized that she was also a pretty laid-back person, "So… What are you ordering?"

Despite your protests, Annabel ordered and paid for you coffee and lunch anyway, and then continued, "We studied at Oxford together. You could say he helped me get a job here later."

Oh. You got it. It seems that the picture in your head had finally begun to take shape. It became clear to you why some people worked hard from early morning till night in the same office as someone came at lunchtime at best and generally behaved as if they had known each other half their lives. Because that how it was. Many of them were Oxonians, and had known each other since the university, and some even from boarding schools. Of course, you also received a decent education, but it was nothing compared to Oxford. But this was also often not only about education, but also about lifestyle in general. Your family was not any close to be called poor, but still it was not comparable to this level of life, and you were able to get a current job only because of your hard work and probably decent amount of luck.

You felt a little sad at the thought that for them you probably were a girl who came out of nowhere and did the paperwork, and it was very possible that you would remain that way in their eyes. In Felix's eyes, in particular. That was how you imagined his life as a golden boy, who was apparently at this stage of his life employed in his own parents' company, where he did not need to make any effort to stay there and at the same time receive a round sum of money. Usually it also led to a certain lifestyle.

While Annabel was stirring her coffee with a spoon, you noticed an engagement ring on her hand, which you didn't seem to notice before or just didn't pay attention to.

"Oh... can I... congratulate you?" you asked, barely hiding your awkwardness, "Is it... Felix?"

"Yes, thank you… What? Felix?" the girl laughed, "No. We used to date back at the university, and after that… Well, now we are not. I can't imagine Felix as a fiancé or husband. To be honest, I don't think he can either. He's a pretty free spirit, let's put it this way."

You exhaled and nodded, on the one hand satisfied with the answer, and on the other hand you were upset and got into thinking even more. Yes, it seemed that you two were different, too different, and it came to be clear in just a half an hour on a lunch.

But that didn't stop you from thinking about him anyway for the whole next month. He still rarely came to the office, but now he nodded and smiled broadly if he saw you. You even chatted briefly a couple of times in the hallway and over a cup of coffee in the office kitchen. You still didn't know what he really was like, but he seemed nice and friendly, even though he was always in a hurry for somewhere else. Or someone else. You couldn't help but still look forward to these short meetings.

And that how the autumn came.

"Well, lucky you, Y/N – it seems that a small anniversary of three months of your work here coincides with our seasonal party," sipping from her cup, Annabel informed you, "Once in a season we go out somewhere with the whole team. Well, to be more exact – with the least boring group of people here. Come with us? We're thinking of going to a club this time."

You willingly agreed, pleased that you were invited to this party. After all, it was not for nothing that you'd been Annabel's indispensable assistant, helping her out all the time. And, to be honest, you did a lot of her own work for her. And also you hoped that you and her began to get closer in personal level, even though you were quite different, it was still quite a fun.

Week later, you were hurrying along the streets while looking at the navigator where exactly the club that Annabel was talking about was located. You were late because you spent a lot of time on dressing up and doing makeup. You wanted to make an impression and you were a little nervous. Nervous because all this time you were wondering if Felix would come or not. You were worried about both scenarios, but you still wanted him to come first of all, even though you had no idea what and how should happen next.

The place greeted you with loud enough but pleasant music and colorful lighting. Your colleagues were sitting on the sofas nearby. Annabel waved cheerfully, "Y/N! We're here! Hi! Yes, you're not even the last one, so make yourself comfortable."

You greeted everyone who was sitting. You felt quite awkward, because you didn't communicate with everyone at least on the same level you did with Annabel, but you hoped that the evening would go well and that you didn't come in vain. And it turned out to be quite alright, but anyway, part of your thoughts was roaming whether Felix would come or not.

"Okay, guys, and now we'll drink to the Y/N! She's been helping me a lot lately. Y/N, I hope this is just the beginning of your work with us!" Annabel toasted.

"To a new young capable employee!" said a velvety deep voice behind you. You turned around. Felix stood behind, dressed in a white shirt and jeans. He had a shot glass in his hand and he had some kind of red cowboy hat on a rope behind his neck and back.

You all clinked drinks together and then started to sit back down on the sofas.

"Hello, Y/N," Felix smiled broadly at you, "Glad you were invited too."

"Oh, Felix, where have you been?" your colleagues began to ask him as he sat down with them and began to tell about being stuck in another club and then getting through traffic jams here to you all.

"Unexpectedly. I thought he wasn't coming, huh," you said softly to Annabel.

"Why wouldn't Felix come to the party? It's not like going to office meetings, you know," the girl chuckled.

You continued to chat with Annabel this evening. Felix, unfortunately, did not approach you, and seemingly had fun chitchatting with all the people on the couch in front of you, although he kept glancing at you, so it seemed to you. But maybe it just seemed, because you had been drinking for the first time in a long time, and your head was already starting to feel a little dizzy.

But over time, your interlocutor talked more and more about her own with her long-time colleagues and friends, until she almost completely forgot about your presence. You began to feel gradually lonely in this company. Maybe you were right. A girl from nowhere who couldn’t even afford too many drinks in this place in central London, who was helping Oxford graduates who were, are and will be fine, with paperwork they weren’t really willing to do. But it was better to splurge on another drink than to sit and think all these thoughts.

Walking through the crowd to the bar, you stood in line and chose what to take for yourself. Something strong, but not very expensive, if possible.

"You have a small anniversary in our company today. It should be celebrated," a pleasant voice spoke softly almost in your ear. Turning your head to the side, you found Felix, who was leaning almost his entire body against the counter. He had definitely had a drink and was even more relaxed and cheerful than usual, "It's all on me, of course."

You protested a little, but Catton quickly dismissed all objections, taking two drinks for you at once and one glass for himself, "And this is about time you tell me how do you find the work here with us, where you came from and generally about yourself."

You headed back to the sofa with drinks. Since the path was laying through the dancing crowd, and you had two glasses in your hands, Felix held you protectively, placing his hand on your back and guiding you through all the people, making sure that no one would touch you. The feeling of his big warm hand on your back, on your skin, half-opened due to the design of the dress, definitely excited you and gave you goosebumps.

Some people from your company, including Annabel, was already gone to the dance floor, so you sat down on an empty sofa together and started talking. It was very uneasy and unusual for you to see Felix so close to you, also in such an informal setting. His big brown eyes looked at you attentively while you talked a little about yourself, about your education, how you got a job at this company, what you were doing here and who you started communicating with. What dark fluffy eyelashes he had. He was so handsome. You blushed a little and got embarrassed, but still, because of the abundance of information that you had to tell him, your brain was a little distracted and calmed down.

"That's great, Y/N. You're so... hardworking. And, apparently, you’ve achieved a lot on your own. That's very cool," Felix nodded with a serious face.

"Well, I haven't achieved anything special yet that I would really like, but thank you for the kind words. It's great that you're interested in your future subordinates."

"Oh, so you know? Well... we'll see about that. My dad is a co–owner of the company, but not the owner. So, it's not at all a fact that I'm going to manage over here," Felix was a little embarrassed and cleared his throat, "And I don't know what's going to happen next, I don't guess into the future for that long… Maybe I'll go abroad somewhere, like I've already done before, huh."

Then Felix began to tell about some parts of his own life - a little about his childhood, about studying at Oxford, what he did there and where he went later. He was quite modest and obviously tried not to emphasize his fabulously luxurious lifestyle, but this was the kind of thing that could not be completely kept to oneself. This manifested itself even in behavior and appearance, not to mention the stories.

But you liked, you really did like talking to him. With all that said, Felix Catton had a talent for making you feel like you were welcome, that you were no worse than him, that your lifestyle was no less boring or less important when he wanted to grant his attention. Even if you were completely different. You were listened to very attentively.

Due to this feeling, combined with his appearance and charisma in general, you were ready to never get up from this couch, if only your conversations would last forever.

But the forever ended quickly when Felix's friends yanked him onto the dance floor. Friends, and maybe not only friends. It seemed that many female colleagues and just a lot of the girls nearby were staring endlessly and smile charmingly at him in the hope of getting more of his attention. Of course, you could understand that oh so well. But all the same, you were upset that your chances were probably much less than those of all his acquaintances in his circle. Even if it was just about a sort of a close communication.

You finished your second drink and went to get another one. While you were standing in line, one of this year's hits started playing in the hall. A gentle female voice began to tell her story:

What I would do to take away

This fear of being loved, allegiance to the pain

Now I fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

I would give anything to change this like-minded heart

That loves fake shiny things

Now I fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

You couldn't take your eyes off Felix, who was having fun in the middle of the crowd – he was giving himself up to the music, dancing to the beat. Green, blue and sometimes purple spots of light slid across his face and his clothes. How graceful and natural he was now, as if he had been born on the dance floor.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

Felix completely broke up and went dancing at the pole jokingly. You didn't know if he was already so tipsy or just so relaxed naturally to that extent, but you couldn't look away with your mouth slightly opened. He was holding onto the pole with one hand, and with the other he was waving in the air, also swinging his hips.

How do I make you wanna stay

Hate sleeping on my own

Missing the way you taste

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

Stop looking at me with those eyes

Like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

Your heart sank. Even though this song was about trying to bring back an existing relationship, it still somehow resonated especially with you right now. Particularly the line "Never be like you", which seemed to repeat your thought, which you carefully tried to hide from yourself tonight. You would never be like Felix.

The crowd gathered at the bar gradually pushed the gawking and not moving you closer to the dance floor, where Catton noticed you.

"Hey, Y/N, why are you just standing there so lost? Join me," the guy said cheerfully, slightly pulling you by the hand closer to him.

You started dancing together, he put on his red hat on to make you laugh a little. He was smiling widely, swaying from side to side bewitchingly in front of you.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

His white shirt was unbuttoned now, apparently, he had been hot for a while. Beads of sweat gathered on his skin and disappeared with him in the rays of the strobe light from time to time, which shone behind his back. In such lighting, it seemed as if he was moving in slow motion, and that was all a beautiful movie in which you accidentally fell into the place of the main character. But it wasn't a fantasy, it was your night right now.

I'm falling on my knees

Forgive me, I'm a fucking fool

I'm begging darling please

Absolve me of my sins, won't you

You wanted this moment to last forever. And unlike the conversation on the couch, it really felt like it was happening, like in a dream that no one dared to break. You were drowning in his magnetic gaze and smile, which he was giving only to you now. He was like Prince Charming of the 2010’s.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

Baby, baby please believe me

Come on take it easy

Please don't ever leave me... oooh

Never be like you

You mentally repeated the last lines of this song until your face itself took on a slightly pleading look. Felix seemed to catch it and touched your shoulder. His lips parted in the desire to say something, but he just stood there for a few seconds in silence, as if considering what to say and do next.

"... by the way, you look great today. I mean, your office looks are cute too, but this… You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he said after a while.

You smiled sheepishly as you continued to dance, drifting back into a musical and slightly alcoholic trance until it was interrupted by several of Felix's friends and your colleagues.

"Buddy, we've going home," the guys shook hands, and then started talking about some of their business. You moved a little to the side, and as soon as you did that, Felix slowly began to be surrounded by familiar and not so very familiar people. You went for a cocktail, and then headed to the couch, where you started talking to a colleague of yours. You kept glancing in Felix's direction at the same time, but he still didn't come up, engrossed in talking and some dancing.

After saying goodbye to your colleague, who also left, you finished your cocktail and finally decided to check your phone. Oh. You didn't know it was so late. You started looking for a taxi, but it costed a lot right now. Confused, you sat alone, staring at the screen and sucking from a straw a mix of melted ice and a cocktail from the bottom of a glass.

"Please pardon me for leaving you for a while," the hot hand laid on your back and then its owner appeared behind it, who plopped down on the sofa next to you. He looked at you with slightly regretful doe eyes, "Are you... leaving already?"

"Yes, it's very late, and there's a lot to do tomorrow… But the taxi is still expensive, I guess I'll wait a little longer."

"What are you talking about? I'll get you a car right now," Felix took out his phone and began to quickly type something on it.

"Oh, come on, don't..."

"Hey. We're celebrating your anniversary at work, our new best employee. Have you already forgotten?" the guy interrupted you, grinning, "Tell me your address, please."

You gave your address, Catton smiled slightly.

Five minutes later, a business class taxi pulled up to the club. You just went outside, and the warm air of an early autumn night pleasantly enveloped you after the hot and stuffy nightclub.

"Is this really my car?" you were amazed. Felix turned his head to the left and right, and then, leaning over, said in a serious tone, "I don't see any exactly the same beautiful girl waiting for exactly the same taxi, and do you?"

You giggled and blushed noticeably. There was a pause hanged in the night air.

"Thanks for your company, Y/N. I'm glad you're with us now. I hope we'll see each other more often from now on."

You looked him straight in the eye, and then nodded slightly and slowly.

"Good night. Please text when you... Ah..." Felix rolled his eyes at himself, "I don't have your phone number."

He looked down, shaking his head and chewing lightly on his lip. A knot tied in your stomach. Felix. Catton. Asked. You. Your. Number. It might had been more of a common courtesy, of course, but your heart started beating a lot faster anyway. Of course, you dictated your phone number to him, which made him full of ill-concealed joy. Having recorded it in his smartphone, he said, as if nothing had happened, "Yeah, great, now I have a place to text to find out how you got home," and put you in a taxi.

He gently touched your shoulders once more when he put you in the car. He pressed his lips almost weightlessly to your ear, "Good night again, Y/N. Thank you for this evening," his mumble was very warm and pleasant, you felt your hair rising on your skin.

Watching the taxi leave, from which window you looked at him back, Felix lit a cigarette. He was smiling widely and contentedly, exhaling smoke and slightly twitching his whole body on the spot from another surge of energy. He was obviously going to attend the work more often from now on.

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christinesficrecs · 5 months

Text

Happy Saturday! Enjoy these brilliant fics. 🩷

I don’t know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 17.8K

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

His Only Defense by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 78.7K

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha.

Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Laying Groundwork by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where Scott and Stiles go clubbing and there’s this broody Bouncer out to get Stiles-

Or get into his pants. Thank God it’s the latter.

Give you that thing you can’t even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he’s about to find out he’s very, very wrong.

Shot Through The Heart by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 64.8K

The one when Stiles and Derek work for rival assassin companies and are sent to kill each other. It definitely doesn’t go as planned.

Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 23.1K

“I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

“Then we have reached an accord.”

Oh baby give me one more chance (to show you that I love you) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 54.7K

“You like Derek,” he says slowly. “Derek Hale.”

His father grimaces at the accusation there. “Look, Stiles it’s complicated-“

“So when I was married to him,” he continues, voice rising. “He wasn’t good enough. He was taking advantage of me. ‘He’ll never be able to love you like you want, Stiles’. That’s what you said-“

Or the Sweet Home Alabama AU that nobody asked for.

I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11.4K

“All in favour of Derek not dating for a full year so he can get his shit together and stop romancing people who want to kill us?”

Everyone raises their hands. Every single pack member.

Or the one where the pack insists Derek can't date anybody for a year but he ends up finding romance much closer to home anyway.

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 135.5K

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 87.5K | Abandoned

“Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek’s head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

I'll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

How long have I been on the hunt for you? by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 20.3K

“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

“HAHA,” Stiles practically shouted, loud and unsettling enough that everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, yep. For. Sure.”

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lunacanislupus22 #author appreciation

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pt2change · 4 months

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new beginnings ; jeon jungkook

[gif source]

pairing: biker!jungkook x bartender!yn

genre: typical ‘let’s kiss at midnight on new years’ au, except they’re complete strangers, fluff, i think that pretty much sums it up

word count: 1,381

↣ bts masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

the weekends were always a hard shift

everyone would go out and get extremely wasted

and yeah, your job didn’t make it easy to tolerate with drunk assholes, but you didn’t mind, in fact, you sometimes found it funny

you opened the door to the bar you worked at and walked straight in, going to the small space in the back where staff would go before opening

you quickly walked over to the small locker you were assigned to when you first started

you took your jacket off and began to put all your belongings inside, grabbing your name tag and clipping it onto your shirt

it always surprised you how many people would show up to a bar on new year’s eve, making it the busiest day of the year aside from christmas.

it’s typically couples that come in to have a drink and share a kiss at midnight or multiple groups of friends would come in to party

“you’re spending new years the same way i am?” your middle aged co-worker, sarah, asked you

“oh yeah, sitting around and watching movies.” you chuckled, putting on the apron that started at your hips and ends at mid thigh

you used to hate wearing it, but all the staff members do, so you don’t mind it that much anymore

sarah laughed, she walked out from the back, and began playing music from the jukebox that sat in the bar.

you sighed as the music began to play throughout the small building

it did help calm you down and prepare you for the long night ahead

you walked to the front doors of the bar and unlocked the doors, you also grabbed a blackboard sign with prices and details about drinks, and placed it outside

you looked up to see the christmas lights that hung around the building, and all other light from different buildings too

you smiled to yourself as you watch the snow fall from the sky, settling softly into the ground

this was your favorite time of year

you walked back into the bar, looking at sarah, who was wearing glittery glasses that read ‘happy new year’

“i’m not wearing that.” you shook your head and chuckled, making your way behind the bar

sarah smiled at you, “i know. so i got you this instead-“ and pulled out a simple black and gold headband that read ‘2024’ and places it on your head

you nodded your head, walked over to the jukebox and turned up the volume

you started getting to work as the bar slowly began filling up with people

it was almost completely full, and you and sarah rushed around, getting drinks to everyone that asked for one, it was just you two working the bar, but you wouldn’t have it any other way

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"god, it's freezing…" a man said as he rubbed his two hands together, blowing into them for heat, his feet trailing through the snow

every single bar he passed, the music was blasting out of them and they all seemed full and warm

he walked by and spotted one in the corner of the street, it looked inviting

i mean, he didn't even care if he was by himself, he just needed a drink

he walked into the bar, mazing through the groups of people

he sat down on a stool at the bar, looking at the two girls working behind it, this was definitely one of the busiest bars in the city

"what can i get for you?" sarah smiled, leaning over the bar and smiling to him.

"a shot of whiskey.." he smiled to her politely, handing her the money

"coming right up." sarah smiled, taking the money and putting it in her apron for the time being

"there you go…" she said placing the glass down, "have a nice night." she smiled, moving over to attend to another customer

jungkook was rarely in bars because he enjoyed the comfort of drinking inside his home

but he felt he needed some cheering up, and that’s why he ended up stopping at the small bar on his way back home

he was spending another new years alone. sure, he’s had his fair share of relationships, but he just couldn’t stay committed.

this time of year was filled with couples kissing left and right, which only made him realize how lonely he was.

“is something wrong with your drink?” you asked him, wanting to make sure all your customers were satisfied.

jungkook looked up, and paused when he looked at the person in front of him

your eyes innocently staring back at his, your cute smile was doing something to him

you were perfect.

“n-no it’s fine” jungkook smiled at you.

“are you sure? i can get you something else if you’d like.” you looked at him, gesturing to the variety of drinks behind you.

“if you insist,” he chuckles, “can i just get a glass of beer?” he smiled at you.

“yes sir” you smiled at him, grabbing a new glass to pour the beer in. after pouring it, you walked over to him and placed it neatly in front of him

you leave the glass of whiskey too, in case he decides to drink it after all

“thank you.”

“so are you here alone?” you leaned over the bar just a little bit

“yeah..” jungkook nodded, grabbing the glass in his hands.

“okay so let me guess,” you started, “you’re children are driving you insane, so you told your wife you needed to buy something last minute, but in reality you just came here? or new years makes you feel a bit lonely and you came here to see if it would cheer you up?”

jungkook chuckled, “the second one sounds about right.”

“i thought so.. i guess that makes two of us” you said, letting a small laugh escape from you. “enjoy your beer.” you smiled at him before walking away, and began taking orders from other customers

he watched as you walked away, he’d never seen someone more beautiful

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a few hours had passed, and there was 5 minutes left until it was officially new year’s day

you had been exchanging smiles with the same man at the bar, switching from his beer (and whiskey that he did in fact drink) to something non alcoholic, getting smirks from him

you weren’t usually this comfortable with men that came to the bar, or ones that looked at you and tried to make conversation

maybe it was because he was almost completely sober and wasn’t trying to get into your pants

or maybe he was…

either way, you didn’t mind him staring at you.

you and sarah finally took a break from serving drinks and got yourselves one, as everyone started to countdown from the last minute until new year’s day

you walked over towards jungkook and leaned over the bar.

"you know, in a few seconds, most of the people in this room are going to be kissing and hugging…" you smiled to him

“oh? are they?” he raised his eyebrows

”yeah,” you nodded, “and just so we don’t look so lonely…” you smiled as you watched the clock strike midnight.

jungkook watched as you placed your lips against his, and he kissed back softly just enough so you both could enjoy it

jungkook was surprised you had just come up and kissed him, but he wasn’t complaining

you pulled away from him, “happy new years.” you smiled

and you slowly walked away, going back to serving other customers

jungkook’s eyes didn't leave you for the rest of the night

until, at 2am, he finally decided he should go home

you had turned around to face him again and realized that he had already left the bar, leaving his empty glass with a piece of paper stuck to the bottom of it

you walked over and picked it up, taking the paper which had a phone number and name, jungkook, on it

you smiled to yourself and put the paper in your jean pocket, walking over to the dish washer and placing the empty glass in it.

"oh, someone looks happy" sarah nudged you, pulling the lever down and pouring a glass of beer

"well… it is new years" you smiled

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lilacgyuvin · 2 months

Text

star — p. gunwook

pairing: gunwook x gn!reader

synopsis: gunwook unfortunately loses his wallet. luckily for him, a good samaritan is kind enough to trace the address on his i.d. and brings it straight to his doorstep! too bad it’s his newly ex-best friend (post-dramatic confession of love).

word count: 3.6k

warnings: highschool!au, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, BARELY proofread, jealous gunwookie, talks of falling out, misunderstandings, miscommunication, feat. seniors hanbin and seunghan (and eunseok), not to be taken serious this is just fiction!!

a/n: needed a break from writing that tattoo artist jiwoong au so i wrote this 🥸

Gunwook’ s lost his wallet.

It’s no big deal! It’s not like his whole life is in there or anything: his money, I.D., credit and debit card, along with his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard— yeah, he’d be fine without them.

He only realizes when he get’s on the train home from school, reaching for the photocard for emotional support after the shit week he’s had until he realizes it’s in his wallet which definitely isn’t in any of his pockets right now.

He finally lets out what he thinks is a quiet ‘fuck!’ after patting his pockets down and emptying out his backpack for the third time, which ends up not being as quiet as he originally thought, if the looks from the elderly couple sat across from him are anything to go by.

A few hours go by, and he’s still mourning the loss of devil Nayeon— oh, and all that other stuff too, he guesses. To get his mind off of things, Gunwook thinks a game of Fortnite with his loving friends would do the trick. It’s twenty minutes after when their entire squad gets wiped out (and proceed to get emoted on) is when he retracts that whole idea.

“I’m positive those guys were like, ten year olds. Do you know how embarrassing that is?!” Hanbin’s voice comes from Gunwook’s headset, meshing with the groans of Eunseok and the laughter of Seunghan on the other ends of the call.

“Obviously, it just happened to us! And the audacity. of Gyuvin to leave when he’s the reason we lost. His aim is so fucking ass,” Eunseok speaks loud and fast into his mic, making Gunwook wince at the volume. He seriously needs to start putting his volume down as soon as Eunseok joins. “Why do we still play with him? No, seriously someone answer me, why do we still play with him? Can we replace him with Y/n? Matter fact, I’m calling them right now I can’t do this.”

Seunghan’s laughter comes to a halt the minute their name is mentioned, just like Gunwook’s breathing for a split second.

“Eunseok.” Seunghan says his name and it sounds like Eunseok’s movements come to a stop, the only sound being that of the classic lobby music and the occasional Ps4 notification.

“... Does Gyuvin not have shit aim? I mean, we all saw that.” he says, and Hanbin then decides it’s his turn to speak up. “Maybe don’t talk about Y/n right now.”

It’s only now that Gunwook realizes he hadn’t told Eunseok about the whole ordeal this entire time, and it’s evident in the way he gasps from the other end of the call. “Y/n?! The fuck happened with Y/n? Oh my God please don’t tell me I have to cut them off they’re so fun. Speaking of, we have plans next week on Thursday to this new—”

“Eunseok seriously shut the fuck up.”

“ ‘Kay I’m gonna go heat up my hot pockets.”

Gunwook feels bad since he’s kind of the reason why Eunseok got cursed out by Seunghan. He’ll make it up to him after the upcoming, full on expected pep talk from Hanbin.

“You two still aren’t talking?” he asks the same time Eunseok logs off, and Gunwook thinks that maybe he too can escape this if he leaves without a second thought. He then realizes that Hanbin can literally just call him after he leaves, so he decides to dish it out and get it over with, mumbling his next words. “Well they’re not talking to me.”

It sounds childish, but he wasn’t lying! “The phone works both ways, Gunwook.” he sighs, the sounds of him readjusting in his seat being heard before he’s continuing, “Was it that embarrassing?”

Gunwook forgets that he didn’t explain the extent of the situation to his senior, so it isn’t entirely Hanbin’s fault that he thinks that Gunwook is simply embarrassed, but he can’t help the groan that follows anyway. “It’s not just that. It’s- I can’t even say.”

It’s nothing personal, really— everyone knows that Sunghoon and Y/n used to go out (for a mere 5 months, so Gunwook doesn’t even care for real!). What people didn’t know was how they swore to Gunwook that they’d never get back with him, not even for a second, so when Gunwook finally realizes the feelings he has for his best friend and decides to do something about them (queue chocolates and flowers at the end of the school day), the last thing he expects to see is Y/n and fucking Sunghoon, holding each other in a warm hug, like they’d shrivel up and die if they were to part.

Gunwook wished that had happened to him when he walks into the empty classroom, the wrapping from the flower arrangement in his hands startling the two out of their tight embrace. They looked like a pair of deer caught in headlights, frozen in place as they watch Gunwook’s word die on his tongue, mouth agape as he tries to restore them.

“Sorry. Bad time.” it’s the only coherent thing he can manage to say before he’s making a beeline for the door, too embarrassed and upset to verbalize the rest of his thoughts. Never getting back together, huh? Gunwook’s feeling a lot of things in this current moment, but the one that sticks out the most is how utterly stupid he feels. It’s so intense it almost drives him to anger, but he’s on the train home before it can get to that point, free from the fear of them running after him.

He isn’t particularly proud of what he does when they text him almost immediately after the whole ordeal, only responding after he gets home.

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: omg i’m so sorry i totally forgot you asked to meet up

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: we were just talking

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: did you still wanna talk? where’d you go??

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: gunwook??

You:

sorry i had to rush home

You:

its fine tho lol

You:

i was just gonna ask your opinion on

the flowers i got

You:

they’re for eunchae

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: oh

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: i didn’t know you liked eunchae?

You:

yup

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: okay well then yeah they’re really pretty

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: she’ll really like them

You:

thanks 🙌

Okay don’t look at him like that. He had to save face! He feels bad as soon as he spews the lie out, but then he remembers the way his heart dropped to his ass at the sight of Y/n and Sunghoon hugging, and convinces himself that maybe this was for the best.

What Gunwook doesn’t expect are the two weeks that follow. To describe them in two words: extremely awkward. The following morning, instead of the two taking the train together like they normally do, Gunwook makes up some lame excuse about being late and ends up taking the longer way. They talk during the classes they have together, but it’s all stiff and feels uncomfortable, despite anyone saying anything about it. Going home is the same as the morning was, yet this time it was Y/n who couldn’t make it, saying they had to visit a relative after school.

It was always easy for the two to tell whenever the other was lying, but Gunwook wants to give them the benefit of the doubt, seeing as he wasn’t so truthful himself just recently. When the two do arrive home, there are no texts exchanged or calls that go on for hours on end like usual, and it makes Gunwook uneasy, but the feeling of being rejected without actually being rejected was more prominent in that moment, so he left it alone.

He didn’t know that the lack of communication on both ends would lead to them not talking at all, though! It didn’t help that he’d see them talking with Sunghoon again in the hallway only two days later, rubbing a reassuring hand along their arm, which then prompts him to talk with Eunchae during the period he knows he shares with Y/n. That day is what really set the tone for the rest of the week, he thinks; no calls or texts, passing each other through the hallways, and going home together came to a dead end. All the little things that made Gunwook not absolutely hate school were taken away from him, and he feels it’s partially his fault which made it suck even more.

It took his friends, including his seniors, only two days to realize that something was wrong, which is what’s prompted Hanbin to lecture him every chance he gets for the past two weeks.

“Well maybe you should text them anyway. I bet they miss you just as much as you miss them, right Seunghan?”

There’s absolutely no way Seunghan was listening in, seeing as he doesn’t answer til five seconds later when Hanbin clears his throat. “Oh! Yes, definitely.”

“What are you even here for.”

“Emotional support? I don’t know man, I just wanted to play Fortnite.”

“Seunghan.”

Seunghan whines at the disapproving tone of Hanbin’s voice, not sure how he got roped into being scolded alongside Gunwook. Hanbin’s just that good, he guesses.

“Ugh okay fine. Not gonna lie Gunwook, seeing you two not talking is really depressing, for all of us, and honestly super unsettling. Just tell them how you feel and maybe don’t lie to your crush about having a crush who isn’t actually your crush. How’d I do Hanbin?”

“Absolutely terrible. Please log off.”

Before Seunghan can defend himself against what Hanbin identifies as Useless Senior Syndrome™, there’s a steady knock coming from the front door, successfully getting Gunwook out of the lecturing. “Thanks guys, but I have to go.”

The two can barely bid their goodbyes before Gunwook is logging off, scurrying down the steps as the knocking increases in speed.

“I’m coming!” he half-screams. He knows it isn’t his mom because she always has her keys, so it’s okay that he raised his voice a bit. He honestly thinks it’s Yujin from next door, most likely wanting to borrow Gunwook’s switch again after he miraculously submerged his own into water. He swears to God if he doesn’t return it back on time again—

Oh. This isn’t Yujin.

What stood in front of him held waves of familiarity: one being the navy blue leather-skinned wallet he’d gotten gifted by a relative a while back, the one that’s been home to his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard for years now— and the other being the person he’s gotten to know over the past seven years, who’s favorite foods he’s mastered and whose voice he can point out in a room full of thousands. The one who sits through the same old episodes of ‘Haikyuu!!’ with him, despite already seeing them multiple times. His best friend, who he hasn’t talked to in over two weeks, over his own fears and insecurities, is now at his front doorstep with his wallet in their hand, face unreadable to Gunwook for the first time since they’ve met.

“You forgot your wallet in Ms. Chwe’s class.”

Ms.Chwe’s class; the last period that they share with each other, where he was too busy trying to avoid Y/n’s gaze so in turn chatted up anyone who’d listen, not paying enough attention to the wallet that was falling out of his front pocket. Gunwook can’t even feel relieved that his most prized possession is safe, nor can he think of a way to make it anyone else’s fault at the moment given that his (ex?) best friend, who he hasn’t even glanced at in 14 days, is standing at his door with it in hand.

‘What am I supposed to even say?’ The silence that follows after still isn’t as embarrassing as that cursed Wednesday two weeks ago, so he tried to avoid saying anything that may exceed that level. “Thanks… okay bye.”

Okay what the fuck was that. He almost slams his head against the door, but he thankfully doesn’t have to dwell on it for too long, as they’re speaking before he knows it.

“You seriously don’t wanna talk about this?” They say, and Gunwook doesn’t know why it shocks him— they’d always been the confrontational type when needed.

“What do you wanna talk about?” He thinks it’s a pretty valid question, given that they could be referring to multiple things, but Y/n apparently doesn’t think so, if the roll of their eyes were anything to go by.

“You can’t be serious. About how you’ve been ignoring me for the longest!”

“Wha- only because you’ve been ignoring me!”

“That’s what most people do when someone’s been ignoring them first, dumbass.”

Gunwook huffs, he almost forgot how stubborn the both of them could be. “This is going nowhere. Just- come inside.” He gives up, decides to be the bigger person and let them in, not wanting their first interaction in so long to be an argument outside his door. Also because Yujin can be quite the creep and likes to instigate arguments from his bedroom window (he knows this because they’ve done it together).

They make themselves comfortable on the couch best associated with movie nights and hot cocoa during winter break, sitting on opposite ends. The air feels stale, and Gunwook feels like he has to say something before he can let the silence linger any longer. “D’you want some wate-”

“What did I do to you?” he’s cut off, the voice quieter prior to it outside. They turn to face Gunwook with hands gripping both knees reassuringly and— are they crying? “I mean, I’ve been trying to figure it out for so long, but I can't think of anything. Was it the flowers? Did she not like them?”

Gunwook wants to wipe off the face of the Earth. Not only were they crying, but they were kind enough to consider the feelings of others while nursing their own, successfully breaking his heart, while also making him feel unfathomably shitty.

He’s by their side in less than a second, not quite sure what to do with his hands as he lets out a stream of ‘no no no’ and ‘please don’t cry’. They won’t even look at him this time either, opting out to facing the wall in front of them instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

Gunwook sighs, finally deciding to rest his hands on his thighs. “I’m going to tell you, but you have to tell me why you were too, okay?” He asks and they nod almost immediately. “And you can’t laugh either. Seriously, I will kick you out.”

“I’ll walk out myself if you don’t spit it out already.” They attempt to say it threateningly, but they’re pouting and Gunwook hates how cute he finds it, considering their current circumstances.

“Okay I was getting there,” He can’t help the snark remark, and he half blames it on the fact that he’s about to do the thing that he never got to two weeks ago: confess his undying love for his best friend of over seven years to said best friend. Folding his hands atop his legs, Gunwook takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them as he exhales.

“Those flowers weren’t for anyone but you.” He’s not facing them, he absolutely cannot right now, instead focusing his gaze on his now sweaty hands, but he still hears the hitch in their breathing— it’s as clear as day. “I was going to give them to you, tell you about my feelings, but then I saw you with fucking Sunghoon, and I- I don’t know. I just felt so embarrassed and stupid and angry, so I came up with that stupid lie,” He finally finds the courage to face them, looking up to find their eyes already on him. “I’m sorry.”

Silence follows, and Gunwook fully expects it, but fuck was it agonizing. His face is practically on fire and he doesn’t want to break eye contact because he wants to ‘assert male dominance’ or whatever the hell Eunseok was going on about that one time he gave advice absolutely no one asked for, but it’s getting harder as the seconds go by and he just might explode right where he sits.

“Gunwook. You’re not gonna believe this but I was talking to Sunghoon about you,” Oh thank God they broke the silence— but what did they say? “I wanted to know if it’d make things weird between you and him if I asked you out or something, since you two are on the same dance team. I was also asking for advice on how to do it, since I’ve never asked anyone out before. I was going to the day after, but then you said you wanted to confess to Eunchae and I got really upset, I didn’t want to see your face at all.”

It’s now Gunwook’s turn to stare in silence, his previous anxious feeling replaced with one that screamed ‘what the fuck is happening I can’t believe this is happening right now’.

“What.” It’s all he can manage to say at the moment— if he felt stupid before, it’s definitely hitting harder this time around. He was avoiding his crush (who also has a crush on him, apparently?!), his best friend, all over nothing. His cheeks are becoming hot again and he feels like crying.

In classic Gunwook fashion, he does the most rational thing he can think of at the moment and bows his head beside their lap, clasping his hands in front of it as he lets out streams of ‘I’m sorry’, catching them completely off guard.

“Get up! It’s fine Gunwook, seriously." They reassure him, but he doesn’t dare get up from his position, only raising his head ever so slightly. “You still like me? Even though I lied to you and made you cry?”

They seem to find humor in his current predicament, giggling as they move a hand to pat his head. “I shed one tear. And dude, I lied too. I’m sorry as well, I was just scared.” It’s said with earnest, and Gunwook can feel it through their gaze once he finally gains the courage to lift himself up, his confidence fully restored. “Okay if we’re gonna date, you cannot call me dude anymore.”

“Is this you asking me out for real this time?” A hint of amusement makes its way onto their face, lolling their head to the side as they ask.”

“Yes. Wait no.” The switch up visibly confuses them, even more so when Gunwook gets up from his seat, instructing them to ‘wait here’ as he runs to the kitchen, coming back with a single flower. “My mom wouldn’t let them go to waste. They’re in a vase and she’ll kill me if I take all of them.”

They laugh, both because Gunwook was so so sweet and because his mom really would kill him. “Will you go out with me?” He knows it’s short, but he could tell them all the things he likes about them over takeout, and he really wants to kiss them right now.

“That was lackluster,” They say as they snatch the flower from their hands, but their actions are words are laced with playfulness, and they contradict themselves when they move to embrace him in a warm hug. “But yes, since you asked so nicely.”

Gunwook almost shoves them away if it weren’t for how intimate the current moment was. He’s glad they can still play around after spending so much time apart from each other. “Shut up! I just wanted to kiss you already. Wait, would that be weird?”

They look up, contemplating it for a second before they look back at him with a shrug. “I don’t know, but you can give me a kiss on the cheek. The one that isn’t wet.”

He takes takes that as a win, holding their damp cheek in favor of landing a peck on the opposite. Then another on their forehead. And another on the same cheek, but in a different place. It soon turns to him showering them with kisses all over, causing them to fall back on the cushions as they begin to laugh, taking Gunwook down with them as he refuses to stop. “Gunwook! I said one!”

He doesn’t even have the mind to grace them with an answer as he joins them in laughter, too overjoyed and buoyant with that fact that he’s now free from many things; free from hiding his feelings, from his insecurities now that their feelings were laid bare and are mutual, and free from pretending that he was okay letting his best friend falls into the hands of another. He no longer has to worry about any of that though, as they’re right where he wants them, where he deems perfect.

The cafeteria is booming as always, Gunwook and his friends (seniors and same-age mates alike) already seated at their table as they await the arrival of a few others. None of them say anything about the way Gunwook and Y/n are holding hands under the table, but there are definitely shared glances exchanged between Hanbin and Seunghan.

It’s only been two days since Gunwook’s actual successful confession, and they still have yet to say it outright, so they’ve just decided to let everyone come to their own conclusions. He thinks they’re on the right track though, with the way they shot him a thumbs up from across the table.

“Y/n!” It’s yelled from behind them, making the entire table, if not the whole cafeteria turn their heads to the source of the noise. Gunwook wishes he could say he was surprised as to who it was.

Eunseok practically tackles Y/n with the force in which he runs to their side, engulfing them in a hug from behind. “I thought I was gonna lose you! Don’t tell Gunwook, but you’ve always been my favorite junior.”

“I’m right here.”

“Shut up dont ruin this for me.”

a/n: we all know gunwook would be a communication king but i wanted to write this anyway. and guys i promise i can write things other than love confessions gimme like two weeks!!! also recs are open likes + reblogs are always appreciated ty baii

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wh0relibrarian · 4 months

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pretty thing

full fic based on this

just a few headcanons while I start working on a longer piece (I’m back home for the holidays and the idea of Sukuna being from the deep south has me frothing at the mouth)

content ahead: southern sukuna au, black coded!reader, just slight innuendos, reader is in her early 20s and sukuna is in his 30s, not reallyyy canon at all!! so don’t expect accurate information on his past, also, not his true form. don’t hate me!

word count: 913

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Southern!Sukuna who was born and raised in the deep south by a loving, yet distant mother. His father was never in the picture, but it’s okay, because Sukuna quickly learned that it would be his job to take care of his mother and little brother. This was no problem for him.

Southern!Sukuna who has always been a hard worker. Eventually, he’d come to run his own construction company. He’d been working his way up the ladder since he was eighteen. Now in his thirties he believes he should start doing something other than work. Maybe linger around a bar or two, see what “Tinder” is all about.

Southern!Sukuna who goes away on a business trip, never being the one to fly, but it was necessary for an upcoming project he had up north. One thing about Sukuna, he’ll always rep his home state. He’ll always have a shirt with the (insert a southern state) flag on it, if not a matching hat, it’ll be one from Bass Pro Shops. His entire body is tattooed from neck to ankle. He’s been getting them for years and they make his complexion look like silk. He takes incredibly good care of his skin, he has to in his line of work.

Southern!Sukuna who sees you eyeing him from his peripheral vision. You tried to be subtle, looking away as soon as his eyes would meet yours, but he caught you each time. You just couldn’t help yourself, the man was beautiful. You couldn’t help think what on earth a fucking cowboy was doing on this side of the country. Sure, you were going back to your hometown for the winter but there’s no way his reasoning was the same. He was visibly older, and no man with family up north looks that redneck. You had to know more about him, but oh god, you’d never actually approach him.

Southern!Sukuna who walks up behind you while you wait for your bag to drop from baggage claim, as was he. It startled you, mainly because you swore he was just waving at someone waiting for him outside, you thought he was gone already; so when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, you expect it to be your mother who was supposed to be waiting for you in the parking lot. When you turn around and see a 5 '8 man (short king, but taller than me) looking down at you with wide eyes you can’t help but jump back. He didn’t mean to startle you, he just wanted to know what a pretty thing like you was doing in his neck of the woods.

“I ain’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he reaches out his right hand from his pocket to give you a handshake, you reciprocate of course, still in awe that he’s speaking to you. “Was just wonderin’ what a pretty thing like you was doin’ in my neck of the woods.” His southern drawl was thick, and smooth. The way his words reverberated off his tongue sent heat waves straight to your cunt.

Southern!Sukuna asks for your number, just so he can check on his favorite city girl throughout the holiday. After a short conversation, he learned that you were really only here for family. No relationship, no notable friendships, simply spending the next four weeks in what seemed like an all expense paid nature getaway. He didn’t want you to be lonely, claiming that he’d check on you every now and then to see how you were doing, maybe take you out at some point if you were up to it. You still couldn’t believe the exchange, he invaded your personal space with the most intoxicating scent— some type of deep musk he clearly used to cover the underlying smell of cigarettes.

Southern!Sukuna who thought about you for days. You were unlike anything he’d laid eyes on. The first thing that stuck out was your hair. Thick and curly, not falling below your ears, but in the most gorgeous afro he’d ever seen. The ends were pink and he couldn’t help but think you both were meant to be, since his entire head was a light pink shade. Your skin looked so smooth, you smelled like clean laundry and strawberries. Maybe some type of sugary substance too. He pondered on all of these things for days, just aching for you to text him how bored you were, how you wanted to spend some time with him.

Southern!Sukuna who damn near fell out when he got a notification on his phone.

(111) 222-3333

Hey :) it’s the girl you met at the airport. I just realized I never got your name? I never told you mine either, lol, I’m ____.

You anticipated his response, thinking for a second that maybe you said too much. Surely an older guy like him doesn’t want to text like this. But then—

(444) 555-6666

Hey, sweetheart. Such a pretty name. Sorry for not properly introducing myself before, I’m Sukuna.

#📕 my books #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk men #sukuna smut #black reader #x black fem reader #jjk sukuna #i love southern sukuna #like omg #him in a cowboy hat #sukuna x black reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months

Text

the paint

lilac, chapter nine

a/n: hi! I'm back after taking a short break to obsessively work on this year's kinktober, but now i'm finally back to writing this beloved story. it feels so good to get back into it. it's only been a few weeks, one month max, but i've missed my lumberjack so much.

summary: “oh please, there’s only one guest staying here right now, and even so, people know this room is under construction, who in their right mind would just willy-nilly waltz in here?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, renovating an inn, painting, kissing, semi-public sex, oral, fingering, dirty talk

word count: 1922

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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A faint ache began to bloom in the muscles of your face from how hard you were smiling. You simply couldn’t help it. Every time you thought you’d gotten it under control, your eyes would just flutter back up to the man beside you as he stretched, reaching the paint roller in his hand far enough up to kiss the taped-off crown moulding that framed the ceiling, and each time he’d do so, his flannel would ride up just enough for you to catch a sliver of his skin before it dropped back down, giving you just enough of an unintentional tease to remind you of what he looked like beneath it.

“You’re laughing again,” Frank pointed out the soft giggle that bubbled out of you as your glance washed over him.

“I’m not laughing,” you gushed, straightening back up to your full height as you finally stopped rolling over the one low spot you had absentmindedly been painting over and over again for a few minutes or so.

Eyes briefly flickering your way, his feet carried him closer to you, “well, what’s so funny then that you can’t stop laughing?”

“Nothing’s funny,” you tried to keep your eyes on the wall as you felt his broadness brush against your shoulder.

“Oh, no?”

“Nope,” you playfully bumped your hip lightly against his, childishly angling your roller dangerously close to where his was glazing the wall a soft blue tone, an action that quickly developed into a juvenile game of chasing him across the wall.

To your amazement, Frank played along, keeping it going till he suddenly changed tactics and caught you by surprise, rerouting his roller down to collide with your own, however, it never got the chance to strike as you, in the midst of a giggle fit, retracted your brush from the wall, fearing that he would roll right over you and make your arm all sticky with paint. Though in the end, not noticing exactly where you were hastily withdrawing your paint roller to, it ended up being him that got smeared and not you.

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew wide at the sight of the blue that coated over the dark brown of his plaid sleeve, “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Oh yeah?” he glared back at you, grin crinkling up his eyes, “you didn’t?”

“I swear, it was an accident.”

“Ah, sure it was, just like this,” you felt his roller glide down the length of your top, making it look like you’d hugged a smurf.

Letting out a shrieking gasp, it only took approximately two seconds before you pouched in an attempt to get him back. Though the former soldier’s swift hands caught your roller before you could manage to seize your revenge, settling both yours and his own down on the covered floors before playfully wrapping his arms around you, halting your attempts at retrieving it.

Laughter mingling and mixing into one, your feet then left the ground as Frank lifted you up. As your gaze now rose to be at the same level, the silly game swiftly vanished from your memory as you stared back into his brown eyes, both of your glee fading away as if it was never there to begin with.

You didn’t know who initiated the kiss, but that part couldn’t be less important as your arms curled around his neck and one of your legs blissfully bent, softly flicking your foot upwards as you felt his tongue sweep across your own.

Lowering you back down to the floor, his touch dragged up your form till his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging at the very roots in such a way that made you purr against his lips. Feet shuffling, the far wall you hadn’t begun on yet soon collided with your spine, though you weren’t pressed against it long before Frank surrendered to your enthusiastic efforts in spinning him around and switching places.

As your lips then detached, you slowly began to drop down to your knees, a wide grin warmed Frank’s features as your fingers hooked into his belt, “what do you think you’re doing, huh?” his head gently fell back to collide with the wall as he stared down at you in adoration.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you blinked up at him as you bit down on your giggling lips, palm nuzzling against his blossoming hard-on as you undid his belt, his excitement created an impressive imprint against the fabric of his dark jeans.

“I think we’re in an inn full of people and someone could walk in here at any moment,” he narrowed his eyes almost in a daring fashion as you tugged his zipper down.

“Oh please, there’s only one guest staying here right now, and even so, people know this room is under construction, who in their right mind would just willy-nilly waltz in here?”

Not tearing his eyes off of you for even a second as you freed his heavy length, he muttered softly, “you’re trouble…” utterly hypnotised as you wrapped your fingers around his girth.

“Nuh-uh,” you smiled up at him, “I’m adorable,” before you swiped your tongue softly over his tip, visibly sending a shiver down his spine.

“Yes, you fucking are…” he uttered enchantingly, mouth falling agape as you began to plant sweet kisses all the way down towards his base, your dazzling eyes never leaving his, “holy shit…”

As your slobber began to gloss him up, your palm exploited it as you slowly twisted your enclosed fist up and down his length, keeping your movements up as your lips soon wrapped around his bulbous head, flat tongue fluttering like a gentle sea against his throbbing underside.

Looking like he had died and gone to heaven, you felt as Frank’s fingers reach down to ghost over your features, his broad thumb caressing the outline of your face as your head began to bob, drool slowly dribbling down from your efforts and adding to the mess already painting the front of your shirt.

“Atta girl,” his fingers tenderly combed through your hair, “fuck,” lips stretched, his tip hit a place in the back of your throat that caused your eyes to squint, tears nearly appearing before you settled back to slobbering around his head, “you're so pretty like this.”

One hand steadily pumping the latter half of him, your other wandered over your own thigh. Like a magnet, your fingers pressed down on your clit through your pants, the astonishing relief causing a muffled moan to vibrate against Frank’s cock, a sensation he clearly enjoyed by the sounds of his own eager groans.

“Oh, just like that,” he grunted, eyes lightly fluttering as you gurgled around his cock, “don’t stop,” fingers flexing and balling up into a fist in your hair as he twitched in your mouth, soon stifling a mesmerising moan as he came down your throat, “fuck…”

Letting go of him with a soft pop, you swallowed as you gazed up at his hazy visage, feeling yourself drip and drench your panties from the borderline meditative motion of giving him head.

Hands still fast in your hair, Frank kneeled down to your level and pressed his lips to yours, the teasing touch you had going on over your pants quickly grew into something more desperate.

“Could you–…” you breathed heavily, “god, I feel like it’s been forever since you touched me…”

A warm chuckle rumbled out of him as he looked back into your blown pupils, “we fucked this morning,” he noted, rising back up and scooping you with him.

“Exactly,” you bit down on your smile, “it’s been like three hours.”

Slipping beneath your waistband, your grip fastened in the front of his open flannel as his fingers grazed through your wetness. Eyelids fluttering at the foggy sensation, Frank manoeuvred your frames, spinning you around and pressing your back against the wall.

“Well, I’m sorry that you had to wait that long,” he entertained your quip, rubbing your puffy clit just right, “whatever can I do to make it up to you?” his free hand securely snaked around your middle.

Sharing his breath, your nose nudged against his, “seems to me like you already have a pretty good idea of what could suffice.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled like a crackling fire, “could this maybe make you feel a bit better?” your hold on his shirt tightened as he gently slid one finger inside your dripping heat.

“Mhm,” you nodded hazily, one of your knees briefly lifting to graze against his leg.

As you readjusted your arms, draping them around his neck, “or how about this?” his lavish pace then intensified as he eased his ring finger in beside his middle one, curving them a bit as the root of his palm nuzzled firmly against your throbbing clit.

“O-oh, fuck!” your head fell back and collided with the wall, your fluttering gaze glued to his.

Leaning in to muffle your breathy whimpers with his kiss, the sensual soppy sound his efforts produced echoed throughout the half-painted room, those only growing in their volume as he rocked his digits within you rougher.

Moans melting against his tongue as it danced against your own, it didn’t take long before your pussy clenched down around him, clambering and inadvertently pulling his fingers in that much deeper as he slowed back down, rendering it a demanding task for him to get his hand back with the way you blissfully clung to it.

Head resting a moment against his broad shoulder as you caught your breath, your puffs gradually morphed into the same blissful giggle you hadn’t been able to shake just moments before.

“You know what?” you lifted your head.

“What?” he chuckled through his smile.

Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you rose up to your tip toes and uttered, “I don’t know if I can wait another three hours,” before you captured your lips in another heated kiss, your hands swiftly travelling south on a mission for more.

But just as Frank hoisted you up, your legs tangling around his hips, a booming voice from somewhere else in the inn cut through your haze.

“I did it!” you heard your father shout, his jovial stride caused the staircase he hastily ascended to creak just as loud as his boisterous words boomed, “I finally did it!”

“Shit,” you hissed, nearly pushing Frank away as you scrambled to hide any evidence of what the two of you had just done.

“I’m a genius! I think I’ve finally cracked the code to croissants!” the moustachioed man burst through the doors just as you rushed to pick your paint roller back up as if it had been glued to your grip for hours.

“Dad!” you skurried to roll some more blue on the wall, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how flustered you were, “hey!”

“I think I was handling the dough too much while laminating,” he rambled, flour tinting his apron a lighter shade of green, “also why I’ve never been great at pies, I fiddle with it too much, but I think I finally got the hang of it! Just pulled some out of the oven and they look amazing,” darting his dazzled gaze from you to Frank, he offered, “you kids want one?”

“Uh,” you glanced back at the man, still standing close to where you’d blown him just moments before, “sure,” you stiffly heard yourself agree, “that sounds lovely, dad.”

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yuujispinkhair · 7 months

Text

Separation Anxiety (Chapter 09)

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

When a ritual separates Sukuna from Yuuji, Sukuna is delighted to find that besides having his own body, there is also another gift handed to him: The brat has lost all his memories and is now the perfect little plaything to take home and manipulate. At least, that's the plan. But the King of Curses isn't prepared for the feelings that come along with being human again. And another complication is how cute the brat is when he has no idea who Sukuna is and, instead of hating him, treats him with genuine love and affection. So, without realizing it, Sukuna suddenly finds himself on a journey of learning how to be loved and how to love.

++ Masterpost ++

Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji Genre: Memory Loss AU, fluff, smut, light angst Word Count: 3k Playlist: Separation Anxiety Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, dub-con (Yuuji has lost his memories, and Sukuna lies to him about being boyfriends). All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Chapter 09

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love (Don't You Know by Jaymes Young)

The smell of herbs and candle wax fills Sukuna's nose as he strolls through the narrow aisles of the small deli shop across the street. In his hand is a shopping list written in Itadori's scrawly handwriting.

The irony isn't lost on Sukuna. A thousand years ago, it would have been unthinkable for him to shop for anything himself. He was the King of Curses. He was a God. People brought offerings to his temple, begging him to accept them. And everything he needed for his everyday life got taken care of by Uraume.

But times have changed. His life has changed. Now, Itadori Yuuji has a say in things, too, in their shared household. And as ironic as it is, Sukuna has to abide so he can keep up this little charade.

The brat had been indignant, huffed, and hit Sukuna's arm playfully when Sukuna said grocery shopping was Uraume's job.

"Oh, don't be so lazy, Kuna! The deli shop is just across the street! And Uraume is already busy doing the laundry today. I think everyone should contribute to the household! I will prepare the kitchen, and you go shopping, baby!"

Sukuna catches himself laughing softly at the memory of those golden eyes looking at him so sternly.

The whole situation was rather amusing. So what if the King of Curses is currently looking for ingredients for their dinner? It's fine. He is still the one in control. He just has to make some accommodations. It's part of the plan.

And after all, he is also benefitting from his little shopping trip. The brat wants to cook tonight. He has been watching the Food Channel a lot those last few days and wants to try a recipe he saw there. And Sukuna knows that the boy is a good cook. So if it means getting an exquisite homemade meal, Sukuna is ok with going shopping, or as the brat calls it, contributing to the household.

When he gets back, he is greeted by a smiling Yuuji.

"See, it wasn't that bad, was it?"

The brat looks far too smug, but Sukuna just laughs and lets himself get pushed against the fridge, smirking when Yuuji presses a kiss onto his lips.

Yuuji's tongue delves deep into Sukuna's mouth while eager fingers work to unbuckle Sukuna's belt and undo his pants.

He receives a mindblowing blow job right there, leaning against the fridge, his hands tangled in Yuuji's hair while the boy slurps devotedly on Sukuna's cock, with spit running so lovely down his chin, rewarding Sukuna for being a responsible member of this household.

Sukuna always assumed he would never understand love. And if someone could show it to him, it would be someone who held the same powerful position as he did. Another person who was at the top, sitting on a lonely throne.

He had been wrong.

Because he can see love now. He can see it in a pair of sparkling golden eyes full of warmth and affection when they look at him. He can see it in a broad smile that grows even bigger than the owner of that smile catches Sukuna looking.

He can feel it in tight hugs and sweet kisses. He can hear it in the tender words whispered to him before falling asleep. He can see it in the hundreds of little things Yuuji does for him: A cup of hot chocolate here, a backrub there, letting Sukuna decide which movie to watch or what snacks to get.

Yuuji loves him.

He doesn't love the powerful King of Curses. He loves the man Sukuna. He knows nothing about Sukuna's power or position. The version of Sukuna that he knows is stripped of all those things. He doesn't know that Sukuna could make the world his and give Yuuji anything he could ever wish for.

He only knows his boyfriend Kuna. The man who lives in that penthouse with him. The man who watches movies with him and goes on morning runs with him. And Yuuji loves that man. The man that Sukuna is behind his titles and riches.

It's all based on a lie, of course.

Sukuna isn't that man.

But Yuuji doesn't know any better. He doesn't know what Sukuna did and how he hurt Yuuji and the people close to him in the past. He doesn't know about the death and destruction Sukuna brings with him anywhere he goes.

Itadori Yuuji is just a naive boy who loves with his whole heart. The very heart that Sukuna once ripped out of his chest and threw away like it was trash.

But Yuuji doesn't know that.

Is this fate's irony? That Sukuna finally found the one who can teach him about love, but it will shatter the moment the truth comes out?

"Kuna? Baby? Are you ok? You have that look in your eyes again."

Warm hands cup Sukuna's cheeks tenderly as the boy slips onto his lap and straddles him. There is genuine worry in his golden eyes as he looks at Sukuna.

Sukuna smiles at him. He can't tell if it is a genuine or fake smile. The lines are getting blurred lately. His arms wrap around the boy automatically, holding him safely in his embrace.

"I'm ok, don't worry, darling. Just thinking about the past."

Yuuji nods as if understanding what Sukuna means. His golden eyes wander over Sukuna's face, and gentle fingers trace the black tattoed lines until they reach the scars under Sukuna's eyes. The ones where his second pair of eyes used to be when he was still in his true form. The same scars the brat used to have when they still shared a body. Yuuji's fingertips brush gently over those scars, caressing them carefully.

"Where did you get those scars? Was it some ritual stuff of your family? Like some initiation? Did it hurt? My poor baby."

He leans closer, and his warm breath brushes lightly over Sukuna's cheeks.

"You probably had a rough past, Kuna. And I wish I could go back in time and make it alright for you. I wish I could take away all the pain you experienced. I wish I could have been by your side back then and protected you."

And then his lips land on Sukuna's skin, soft and tender. But it feels as if they burn Sukuna's skin. Yuuji is kissing his scars. And Sukuna can't breathe.

Yuuji's touch is so gentle, and yet it breaks Sukuna more than any violence all his enemies combined have thrown his way.

Has anyone ever wanted to protect him? To save him? It's an insane thought. He came into this world as the strongest, too powerful, too dangerous. Even his mother had feared him. And that's how it had stayed his whole life. People feared him or saw him as a source of power they could use to their advantage. Sukuna was always meant for great things. A new era. A new King. A new God. A monster so powerful it could rule the whole world.

He had never needed saving. It's a thought so ridiculous! As if someone as powerful as Sukuna needed saving! As if someone like him needed a stupid hero!

And yet, a small voice in Sukuna whispers that it may have been different if Yuuji had been there in his past. Maybe things would have gone a very different way. Maybe there could have been another life for him. A life where strength and absolute power weren't the only things he knew. If anyone in this world could have saved Sukuna, it would probably really have been the brat with his stupid, naive heart so full of love.

The brat is getting more restless lately. The morning runs in the park aren't enough anymore. So Sukuna starts taking him on short trips to coffee shops and bakeries. And soon, he finds himself loosening his restraints on the boy. At this point, he knows that Yuuji will always come back to him.

It's even sweeter than having him locked up in the penthouse like a prisoner. It gives Sukuna a deep satisfaction to see the boy willingly come back home to him with a broad smile and his arms full of snacks he bought for their movie nights.

And he always pulls Sukuna into a tight hug after his return, snuggling into his arms, clinging to him as if he feels that dull ache in his chest, too, when they are too far apart. He probably experiences that phantom pain, too. But even without it, he is so smitten with Sukuna that he would never leave.

Such a sweet victory. The brat could run, but he doesn't want to.

Sukuna sighs and gets up from the couch, slowly strolling over to the floor-to-ceiling window. His eyes narrow as he gazes down at the park and then lets his gaze wander over the seemingly endless streets and buildings under him.

Tokyo. Such a big city filled with so many souls, with so much warm flesh and life. A kingdom fitting for a King like him. A huge pot for him to stir. All those lost souls, caught in the loneliness and stress of modern life. He could give them something to pray for. He could be their God. He could make this city bow to him, collectively bringing all its citizens to their knees, worshipping and fearing him.

He could have all that. But he isn't even interested in it anymore, strangely. All his eyes search for in that sea of nameless bodies is that familiar shade of pink.

Two hours pass. The sun is beginning to set, casting a pink and orange glow over the city.

No sign of the brat.

The hollow feeling in Sukuna's chest is growing in intensity.

Where are you?

Did Sukuna misjudge the situation? Did the boy decide to run after all?

The shrill ringing of the phone pulls him out of his thoughts. He hears Uraume answer it, hears them sounding surprised, and then soft footsteps approach Sukuna.

Uraume bows deeply before him,

"Excuse me, Master Sukuna, this was a call from the hospital. Apparently, Master Yuuji was injured, and they called to let you know that he is up and wants to go home. But they won't let him leave on his own."

And just like that, Sukuna's vision goes blurry. Black spots dance before his eyes. The world is out of focus. His blood is rushing loudly in his ears, and his heart is hammering too fast in his chest.

"Master Sukuna?"

Sukuna manages to focus his gaze on Uraume. He nods curtly, shoving his shaking hands deeply into the pockets of his black suit pants. An indifferent smirk lifts his lips, but he thinks he can hear a strained note in his low voice when he replies,

"Alright, thank you, Uraume. Get the car, please. Let's pick that annoying brat up, then. That boy is nothing but trouble."

His jaw clenches painfully once his loyal servant has left the penthouse to get the car.

Fucking brat! What did you do?

Sukuna hastily grabs his suit jacket and shrugs into it while striding toward the elevator with large, hurried steps. The ride to the ground floor takes too long. Sukuna groans, one hand tugging at his tie. Why is it so hard to breathe in here?

When Sukuna strides down the brightly lit hospital corridor, he can already hear the brat's indignant voice carry to his ears, arguing with the nurse.

Sukuna stops in the open doorway, glancing at the hospital bed where Itadori is sitting, shirtless, with a large bandage wrapped around one shoulder and his ribcage. His tan skin is littered with bruises and scratches.

Sukuna feels as if someone landed a punch in his guts.

"Yuuji."

The boy turns his head, and Sukuna's heart constricts when their eyes meet across the room.

"Kuna! They won't let me go home! I told them several times I was ok, but they refuse to let me go!"

Sukuna is the one who closes the distance between them and pulls Yuuji into his arms. His embrace is too tight, but he cannot make himself loosen his hold on his brat. He needs that throbbing ache in his chest to go away. He needs his brat pressed to his body as close as possible to make sure he is ok. To make sure that what belongs to Sukuna is still intact.

He is already using his reverse cursed technique, intentionally, this time, mending Yuuji's wounds, taking all the pain away from him.

His lips move against the boy's temple, his voice sounding strange to his own ears,

"What happened? Are you alright?"

Yuuji nods while his arms wrap around Sukuna, and he nuzzles his face against Sukuna's neck,

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm glad you came here so fast. I just want to go home. It's just a scratch anyway."

At this point, the nurse clears her throat loudly.

"I wouldn't call that just a scratch! He got into a fight and got a stab wound in his shoulder that needed stitches. We advised him to stay here overnight, but he is adamant about going home. I can only let him go if you attest that you will stay with him at all times for the next 24 hours."

Sukuna doesn't even hear the second part. His mind starts spinning when he hears the words stab wound. Hot anger fills him, making him hug Yuuji even tighter. What a mockery that someone attacked Yuuji with a knife, of all things! Sukuna is the Master of a slashing technique! He is the one who slashed the brat open in the past, who severed his limbs from him several times just for the fun of it. But now, someone else cut Yuuji's skin open and drew blood from him! Sukuna is breathing heavily. How dare anyone touch what's his! How dare anyone lay a finger on his brat!

His voice is cold, barely able to hide the fury that's raging through him,

"How did this happen?"

Yuuji looks sheepishly up at him,

"Um, well, this kid got jumped by those three guys. I saw it happen, so what was I supposed to do? I went over to help him, of course!"

The nurse's face softens, and she nods,

"That was very kind of you but also dangerous."

Sukuna's fingers twist in the back of Yuuji's hair.

"Where are those guys?"

He will make sure they suffer before he ends their useless little lives.

"Already at the police station."

Sukuna wants to go after them, splatter their brains all over the floor, and make them choke on their own blood.

Yuuji groans slightly, his hands grabbing Sukuna's jacket tightly, probably feeling dizzy from the blood loss. And Sukuna realizes, to his astonishment, that instead of getting revenge, another matter is more important to him at the moment. The urge to hold Yuuji, to cup his cheek and make him tilt his head up so Sukuna can inspect his face. So Sukuna can see those beautiful golden eyes look back at him with that bright sparkle of life in them. So he can caress that soft skin and see the loving smile on the brat's lips.

His gaze doesn't leave Yuuji's as he tells the nurse,

"He's coming home with me. Hand me the papers I need to sign."

They leave the hospital shortly after, walking towards the parking lot with Sukuna's arm wrapped tightly around Yuuji's waist, keeping him close to his side.

He sits in the back with Yuuji on the drive home, holding his hand, unable to take his gaze away from the pastel pink hair and the pretty face of his former vessel. The dull ache of the missing soulbond is gone now that they are so close again, but to Sukuna's dismay, something still doesn't feel right. His chest feels too tight, and his heart feels too heavy.

"Don't ever do something so reckless again. Promise me you won't get yourself into danger like that again!"

He doesn't know where the words come from. Is this part of the role he is playing? The worried boyfriend? He cannot remember making the conscious decision to say those words.

Yuuji bites his lips,

"I'm sorry for worrying you, baby. But I had to help. I couldn't just walk away."

Of course, you couldn't. Even without your memories, you are still the stupid, selfless hero through and through.

Sukuna doesn't sleep that night.

He lies awake in the king-sized bed with Yuuji snuggled into his arms. Thoughts keep racing through his mind while his chest and throat still feel tight, making it feel like he can't breathe.

He cannot remember feeling this way before, but now, in the quiet of the night, he has time to analyze it and realizes that he recognizes those signs. He has seen them before. Short, fast breath, fingers stiff and clenched into claws, eyes wide open and unblinking. He has seen this a thousand times before, just never on himself, only on his victims.

He knows what this is.

Fear.

Sukuna's body is in a state of panic. Something he has never experienced firsthand before.

And the most troubling thing about this is that he knows exactly what triggered this.

The brat got hurt.

Sukuna could have lost Yuuji. And the thought of that sent him spiraling.

He grits his teeth angrily. It's ironic how he spent years wishing the boy death and ruin so Sukuna could finally break free, only to now cling to Yuuji desperately, afraid to let go of him in fear of feeling him slip through his fingers and dissolve into thin air.

When did it come to this? How did this happen?

Sukuna can't find an answer to those questions that race through his mind. But he lies awake the whole night listening to the soft inhale and exhale of the boy in his arms. His hand comes to rest on Yuuji's chest right above his heart. Sukuna's fingers sprawl possessively over the defined muscles of the boy's chest, feeling the reassuring constant thrum of Yuuji's strong heart, silently counting every beat.

Thank you so much for reading Chapter 9!! Big bad Sukuna panicking when Yuuji gets injured makes my heart happy ;) Did you notice when Kuna suddenly thought of Yuuji as "his brat" instead of "the brat"? I cried so much while writing that. It's the little things sometimes that make me emotional. My fave scene to write was where Yuuji kisses Sukuna's scars, though. That has always been something I NEEDED to write for Sukuita, and it makes me so weak. The thought of someone treating Sukuna with such tenderness makes me sob!! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that it could make you emotional, too. Thank you so much to everyone who keeps reading every update! It means so much to me to share this story with you! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

#sukuita #sukuna x itadori #sukuna x yuuji #sukuna #jjk fanfic

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see-arcane · 7 days

Text

Blood of My Blood: The Law's Delay

Shout out to @ibrithir-was-here for putting up with my never-ending goal of overfilling the glorious Blood of My Blood AU with my ramblings and extra shout out to @everchangingfungusthoughts and @animate-mush for tripping me down the slope of Writing Another Text Brick. Specifically via this whole thing.

Summary: Jonathan Harker, now fifteen years deep into his life at Castle Dracula, finds himself the unwilling guest of yet another frightful host and his company. Talk and violence and time tick by.

The sun sinks low.

The dead travel fast.

And a vital Lesson is taught regarding the Law of the land.

Warnings for graphic violence, suicide, and murder.

Jonathan’s head ached.

Partly from the agonized spot at the back of his skull where the cudgel had struck. Mostly from the state of his current company.

They were nomads, he knew, but not Dracula’s men. This lot were too fresh for that. In fact, some wore tailoring that the locals weren’t accustomed to apart from tourists and the occasional city dweller passing through. He wouldn’t bet money on how many were ‘donated’ from past victims and how many were afforded through helping themselves to said victims’ purses and personal cheques. They were a dapper group, whichever the case.

From what he picked up while feigning unconsciousness, there was someone missing from their assembly. Someone’s…paramour? Wife? A young woman close to the presumed leader. Some grousing about superstitious idiots. Counter-grousing about precaution and history and how somebody’s cousin’s friend was slaughtered by the ‘superstitions.’ A third sect was grumbling about how thin Jonathan’s pockets were for a supposed noble, monster or not.

“A half-full purse and a few strips of dried pork don’t particularly line up with your theory, Jacob.”

“Props, idiot. Would some common huntsman be wearing what he wears? Would he have these?”

Jonathan heard the heavy jingle of his set of the castle’s keys. They had taken the ring of them from its chain among a handful of other lightweight treasures. All that and his wedding ring. That would cost them.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Because all the revenants who run a swatch of the Carpathians’ government are surely wandering around with frightful things like jerky and house keys.”

“Are you blind? Do these look like house keys? Half of them look older than the mountains!”

“Well, perhaps that is the ‘prop’ of his property, eh? A fancy set of keys made to look old. They certainly haven’t any rust. It wouldn’t be a terrible gimmick these days. Everyone is a fiend for the local bogeyman or a good haunting. I would do tours with my own castle, dribble a little red sauce on my lip, charge a fee for the thrill and the courtesy of not killing anyone on the way out.”

“You talk like it’s a joke. This, when I was raised in these godforsaken crags, and my own neighbor lost their newborn and its mother in the same night! The father blew his brains out when he found what was left of them in the forest. His forest.” The words were hissed in Jonathan’s direction. “God! If we had known how easy it was to take him by daylight!”

There was a snort. The leader’s voice. Sour.

“You say ‘we’ like you weren’t still in nappies, Jake. Like the castle in question isn’t a fortress on a cliff in the dead center of the mountains, all covered with wolves and your frightful bloodsuckers. What would Mama and Papa do if they knew better back then? March all the way up with the neighborhood and hope they made it in time before sunset? That’s assuming the advised tools of the trade actually mean anything against the bastard in question. If he’s as old as legends claim, throwing himself through a hundred wars’ meat grinders with his head and heart and all his other giblets getting minced, with him still standing after it, who’s to say an axe and stake are enough?”

A kick was delivered to the chair Jonathan sat bound to.

“Assuming this piece of work is said bastard.” Spoken with equal parts resignation and frustration. “I’ll grant he looked a bit off in broad daylight. Sure as hell would pass for a cadaver. But if this is the man who had your slovenly little villages soiling themselves after dark, I’m not impressed.”

Snickers from most of the room. A few grimmer sounds from the believers.

“If you don’t believe us, then—,”

“I believe in precaution, Jake. There are strange things in the world. If we want to believe that talking pile of dust, Vordenberg, who I’ll admit was a museum exhibit in his own right, we had us a near miss back in Gratz. So, fine. We finish this in the fashion of the locals. We can even set the pieces on fire if it makes you happy. Not the point. The point is—,”

A hand caught in Jonathan’s hair and wrenched his bowed head up, making the back of his skull throb anew.

“—we know Katrina was seen with you last, you ghoul.”

Jonathan opened his eyes. It had a noticeably sobering effect on much of the room. His host even eased his hold enough to stop trying to rip Jonathan’s hair out. A glance was spared for the assembled party. Easier now that he wasn’t doing it through his lashes. They really were a well-dressed bunch. One of them even wore the silver watch taken from Jonathan’s pocket quite well, though it clashed somewhat with the dagger he was fiddling with. He’d sprung for a handle with a gold hilt.

“Well?” He received a last yank before the man flung his head against the back of the chair. “Where is she?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name. Could you describe her?”

“Oh, I doubt if she would give her real one out to anyone. But we know you know her, Count.”

Jonathan felt the headache blossoming into a migraine.

“Count?”

“Dracula,” the one called Jacob grated out. He stood close to the table with his hand near the aforementioned tools of the trade. A wood axe. A sharpened garden stake and a sledgehammer. Matches. But he, like the rest of his friends, was content to leave his other hand resting on the pistol at his hip. “Don’t think you can throw your word games around here, you leech. You are not boyar here. You are not even a monster by daylight. Just a man—,”

“A man I am talking to, Jake,” from the leader. He turned back to Jonathan. “You see we have some bias in the retinue. Now, Jake and his cadre believe you are, in fact, the same awful old man who likely played out his Báthory fantasies by killing off a few local rustics for kicks once upon a time. Same white hair, same carcass complexion, and some properly unhealthy-looking windows of the soul. As an aside, you have the same body heat as a slab from the butcher. If you had a chance of living beyond today, I might have recommended you see a doctor about your circulation.

“Because I, like the bulk of the room, am of the belief that you are Count Dracula in the sense that the original Count and some Countess loved each other very much and managed to squat your malformed self out into the world before croaking. And, before departing, father dearest passed on the family tradition of idly killing off whoever was convenient as a little hobby. Am I near enough?”

Jonathan said nothing. Chiefly because he was fighting a wave of nausea, but also because it allowed him to keep his gaze steady. The westward window was visible over his host’s shoulder.

“I asked you a question.”

“I will answer if you tell me how you possibly concluded that a middle-aged man walking in the woods was a nobleman.”

To his surprise, the man revealed his evidence: the tarnished gold clasp of a dragon sitting against a garnet setting. This would also cost them.

“Hard to imagine the average hiker idling around in that corner of the wilds with this particular emblem on his coat.”

“That’s true,” Jonathan nodded. “I am not a hiker or a hunter any more than I’m a count. I am only the castle’s retainer.”

“Ah, well. That’s different. We are men of the people, sir, and we take pride in doing our fellow servile class the courtesy of a quick death. It’s only the aristos and nouveau riche who get the extra effort. Them and bleached out old bastards who go around taking what’s ours. What’s mine.” Jonathan watched the man slide a handsome pearl-handled blade from his pocket. It had a very fine edge. “Case in point, a certain young lady, of the flaxen and doe-eyed variety, being spotted in town with an older man of very unique description, not two days ago. Who she left with in his goddamn caleche.”

The blade came down in a gleaming arc. It sank cleanly into Jonathan’s left shoulder. Jonathan screamed at this and at the blade being flicked out. The steel was wiped clean on his sleeve.

“It should go without saying,” the leader said over Jonathan’s noise, steadily dwindling into hard breaths behind his teeth, “that the locals have a few choice theories about just who and what the man driving those horses is. Human? Dead? Dracula or one of his cohorts? Anyone who’d know for certain is either underground or a living antique themselves. Oh. But they did point out you seemed polite enough, according to most. Not someone anyone is eager to shake hands with, but fair. If you are the old devil of before, the younger generation are relieved you’ve gone mellow with the new century. Well done on the new leaf.”

“They were lying,” Jacob intoned, the picture of exasperation. “We all used to lie about him! He had eyes and ears everywhere! You didn’t mention him aloud unless you wanted to wake up to your child missing or you yourself being drunk dry or taken apart! I’m telling you, Katrina is already gone or worse!” His hand clutched eagerly at the whittled garden stake. “Let us be done with this, Anthony.”

Anthony gave his blade another cleaning swipe. He opened his mouth—

“The stake is wrong.”

—and closed it. He and the others peered down at Jonathan as he righted himself against the chair. The migraine was marching in circles around his head now, lighting fireworks and banging pans. At least his shoulder was a small distraction.

“Say again?”

“The stake. You haven’t finished the end of it. If you don’t burn the point down, harden it, the wood will just splinter if you don’t get it in one blow. One of you took the flint lighter from my coat, yes? Use that and save yourself the matches.”

The room looked owlishly at him. Jacob and his small band especially. Awkwardly, one of the latter fished out the stolen lighter and began cooking the point with its steady flame.

“See that? He’s already feeling accommodating.” Anthony clapped his palm with heavy chumminess against the wounded shoulder. Jonathan winced appropriately, stealing another squinting glance at the window. “Care to keep in this giving mood, or would you like me to even things out?” The blade pointed airily at Jonathan’s right shoulder.

“No need. I said before, I do not know anyone named Katrina. But I did give a ride to a young woman two days ago. Not ‘flaxen,’ though. Her hair was red.”

Anthony abruptly straightened. The blade twisted and fidgeted in his fingers.

“Red,” under Anthony’s breath. His brow furrowed. “She took the wig too?” There was a low murmur from the less vampirically-invested portion of the group, of that specific tone that declares ‘I told you so’ by vowels alone. Anthony whirled on these members like a viper. Several mouths snapped shut. “Did you lot have something you wished to share? Hmm? I’m all ears.”

Interest increased in the state of each other’s shoes, the floor, the lovely view of the mountains, and the progress of the stake. It was now neatly blackened and free of loose slivers. Jacob stood by with it, toying with it as Anthony had his knife. He kept trying and failing to meet Jonathan’s gaze.

“Ah,” Anthony grinned mirthlessly, “that’s what I thought you said.” The blade flashed. “Now, Count, Retainer, Whoever or Whatever, while you are being forthcoming, is she alive or dead? I confess I might be just as happy with one or the other at this point, so no need to fret over a lie.”

“She was alive the last time I saw her. I dropped her off outside Bistritz,” Jonathan said, clearly recalling turning the horses toward Bukovina. He winced again as Anthony laid a hand on the bleeding shoulder, driving his thumb against the wound as he leaned.

“And? How did the bitch pay for her ride? Did you introduce her to necrophilia or did she just throw my money at you?”

“Neither. I am a married man and you can tell I had no bank vault in my pockets. In any case, I must assume whatever she took from you was fair recompense.” Jonathan felt a shift come through him. The old cold tilt that made him lean three-quarters of the way out of humanity and into something else. Whatever it was that lit his eyes and froze the air around him. That made the entire room shift an unconscious inch back. “Considering the state of her face.”

Anthony’s own countenance squirmed between aggravation, anger, and a surreal flash of embarrassment. As if leaving the girl’s face mottled with patches in shades of plum and charcoal was the equivalent of friends overhearing a marital spat in the next room. The man’s lip curled, making the well-trimmed whiskers twitch.

“Do forgive me if my decorum isn’t up to your standards, sir. I tend to get a touch irate when the thankless sow I’ve been bedding not only comes within inches of blowing our cover over some brat who went and poked his head out at the wrong time, but has the gall to try and resign after a few threadbare months. As if I didn’t scrape the little strumpet out of the gutter with my own hands.” A storm roiled in the man’s face. “Had a whole life of gold ahead of her, getting to play out her idiot actress dreams, and she thanks us by taking off with three hotels’ worth of work. Over a goddamn toddler. But that is the way with women, isn’t it? Always falling apart over a babe.”

“Men as well, in my experience,” Jonathan hummed. His line of sight drifted back to Jacob, whose attention was now firmly split between Jonathan and the view from the west window. Even halfway through spring, the sunsets did still tend to rush in the mountains. Shadows were already starting to stretch.

“Personal experience?” Anthony asked with an appraising glance that saw value in the negatives with Jonathan’s mien. “Is there a little Dracula pup crawling around nursing on the countryside?”

“Oh, no. He’s grown out of crawling. Apart from roaming along the castle walls, when he wants to surprise me. There’s no getting away with it with his mother.” Jonathan swallowed a bitter lump, knowing it had to be heard aloud, “Or his father.” Jacob was looking at him now. This time Jonathan held his eyes as they grew an increment wider. A slight dew of sweat had formed on the young man’s brow. “I only know where they are half the time. But they can always find me.”

Anthony barked an acidic note that tried to be a laugh.

“Is this the part where you tell us you’ll be missed? That there’s some cavalry who will come seeking vengeance? Please spare yourself the storytelling. If you were anything other than a relic living off a skeleton staff you wouldn’t be driving your own horses or puttering around by your lonesome. Really, what we’re doing here is a public good. What’s the loss of one more parasite riding into the twilight of peerage’s relevance?”

“Regrettably, he has thought ahead on that,” Jonathan admitted. “The gold he’s already sitting on is kept partly for emergency seed money, but mostly as a memento. He’s been on top of the capitalistic pulse since 1652 going by the oldest records. Given another decade, I believe he’ll be a magnate in a dozen industries from here to the United Kingdom.” A genuine moue puckered his face. “He calls it investing in the live-stock. No, I didn’t think it was funny either.”

This he addressed to Jacob.

Jacob, who had to set the stake down because his hand was shaking.

Jacob, who had been keeping watch of him and the window and seen how blandly Jonathan greeted the approaching dusk.

Jacob, who had finally taken a closer look at what Jonathan wore under his coat. His coat, worn because he was always cold—a chill that he truly felt. Covering an ensemble of boots, long sleeves, and a high collar. In mid-April.

“…You still have time,” Jonathan told him gently. “If you had your childhood here, you know there’s time. You still wear your crucifix, yes?” Jacob flicked his gaze up to Jonathan’s. His whole face seemed to shine with perspiration. He did not know what was wrong yet, what piece was missing, but he scented something. “Do you? Any of you?”

Jacob nodded jerkily. The men behind him did likewise. Some fidgeted at their shirts.

“That’s good. It sickens them, did you know? Stings them away from the throat.” Jonathan smiled for him. A sad curl. “Hold it out before you if you like.” He tipped up his chin. Just above the shirt collar was a glimpse of sickish color against the maggot-white skin. Something worse than a bruise. “You can check. Or ask one of your friends. But it does help to know for certain. To have it confirmed.” The smile grew worse in its apology. “There have been no vampire attacks in Transylvania for the past fifteen years. The youngest around here take it all as local legends. Parents’ and grandparents’ fairy tales. Because they grew up without knowing what you do. Without realizing why people stopped disappearing after dark when Count Dracula still rules here. When there are still sharp mouths to feed up in his mountains.”

Jacob gawped openly now. He looked strangely like the boy he might have been fifteen years ago, hearing his neighbors whisper and moan about the latest loss in the night. Fifteen years ago, when a foolish young Englishman had come to Castle Dracula, and everyone had known. No one had seen him again…supposing one belonged to a family who had moved away at last, daring their monstrous master’s ire to save their son.

“Oh, for God’s sake, what is this? Are we playing theatre now?” Anthony and his handful of fellow eye-rollers looked between Jonathan and Jacob as if expecting to spot some invisible party holding up script cards for them. “Jake, if you want to play at slaying the vampire, you are welcome to it. Get your stick and your hammer and have at it. Erik, take the axe.” He waved his blade like an impatient conductor with his baton. “Well?”

Jacob moved forward without the stake. His crucifix was held out as far as the cord would allow.

Then he hooked Jonathan’s shirt collar and pulled it open.

Jonathan hadn’t been able to get a good look at the full state of himself in some while. Occasionally he might steal a glance in a mirror for sale or a clean shop window in town. There was rarely anything good to see as far as his development went. Age was not weathering him the way it would an ordinary man. What should have become the easy creasing of crow’s feet and smile lines had given way to something sunken and grey. More than a few children had come to nickname him ‘Herr Geist’ when he passed through. On one occasion, he’d been approached by an American claiming to be a talent scout for a circus who thought Jonathan could easily bill as, The Walking Corpse.

But that was all just the effect of his face. He hadn’t seen his throat or a clear view of his shoulders in years; the real estate with the greatest number of visits for fifteen years. It had to be at least twice as unpleasant a sight as his forearms, pocked by only one hungry mouth’s nursing. To judge by the shudder of revulsion that jolted the entire room back on its heels, his neck was apparently quite the visual.

To judge by Jacob’s expression, the discolored map of ruined skin and old punctures was his own obituary in all capitals. Nor was it a very peaceful end it spelled out. His eyes rolled up to Jonathan’s like wet marbles. Jonathan could no longer maintain his smile, however somber. There was only condolence in the look.

“I told you. I am Castle Dracula’s retainer. At least, in the sense of a retaining wall. I have played the role of its inhabitants’ personal bloodletting pantry for a quarter of a century. Which would be cause enough to worry. But I am also a married man and that is worse.”

Jacob wobbled on his feet like a sapling in a high breeze. He almost fell over with a cry when the first thunderclap boomed over the cabin’s roof. A horrified look shot to the westward window. Sunset was less than a jagged slit across the mountaintops, already erased in the smear of a rushing storm. Lightning drew livid eyes in the clouds.

“I am sorry. You might have had a chance if you hadn’t been cautious,” Jonathan went on. “There would have been a coin toss if you had simply shot me dead in the forest. I fear I am testing everyone’s patience in that household by keeping to my contract against turning until the twenty-year mark. Special occasion and all that. But if you had gone with a bullet or a slit throat, that would mean that I would be undead by sundown. You would still be slain for trespassing on private property,” he gestured to himself as best he could with his bound hands, “but it would have been tidier. They might even be grateful for ripping off the plaster and booting me over the threshold. A mere snapped neck apiece.

“Unfortunately, I saw your tools of the trade. I heard your plans for ‘destroying the vampire,’ or the madman playing pretend as such. Heart staked, head removed, burn the body. All very thorough. But because I saw and heard these things, they saw and heard these things. Just as they know your faces now.”

Thunder snarled again. An explosive sound joined with a noon-bright flicker of lightning. Wolves sang a violent song. Close.

Jacob’s friends within the gang were talking in frantic tones to each other. The rationalists of Anthony’s side of the room seemed a touch less comfortable where they stood, grasping at their holsters. Anthony himself looked as if he was waiting to wake from a particularly confusing dream.

Jacob’s eyes were running. Pleading. A man only five short years past being a boy.

Jonathan still could not hold a smile for him, but he spoke in the tone he had for Quincey the time he’d came across a bat with a half-broken neck in the forest. Wings smashed, head cracked open, it had been alive in the worst way. Quincey had been thirteen then, considering himself practically a skip away from adulthood. He had still gone to his Papa, eyes dewy with blood trying not to spill, asking please…please…

Jonathan thought back to how his son had hidden in his coat sleeve while he ended the creature’s pain with a brisk twist.

It was quick, you see? It won’t hurt anymore now, shh, it’s alright, son.

“It’s alright,” he said in the present. “You still have time.” Not much. A few minutes at most. But still, “You’ll be safe from it. From all of it.”

Jacob nodded with a twitch. A puppet on a caught string. His hand trembled as it held up the crucifix again.

“…May I keep this? After?” Jonathan nodded. “Thank you.”

Jacob kissed the Cross and tucked it under his shirt.

“Jake, I swear to God, if you don’t drop this act, I will—,”

Bang.

The sound was almost lost in another thunderclap. Not so for the sound of Jacob’s corpse hitting the floor, the new tunnel in his head oozing a scarlet pond out from under his skull. There was a moment of quiet.

Then the wolves bayed again.

The men bayed too. Curses and questions of equal inanity whirled around the room.

Bang.

The sound of Anthony’s own pistol firing a hole through the ceiling.

“Shut. Up. Every one of you, bite your idiot tongues.” The barrel swung to point at Jonathan’s temple. “He says he has people on the way? He says they’re vampires or werewolves or the Four Horsemen a-riding? Then it would perhaps behoove us to think rather than squeal like women over this,” his shoe struck Jacob’s corpse, “fool’s choice of exit. Coward.” He snapped his fingers at the room. “Come on! Block the windows, set up arms! Move!”

And so they moved. Some men scrambled and shouldered into each other trying to cover the windows. Chairs were broken into pieces for stakes. Guns were unpacked and loaded. Erik held the axe as if his hands were welded to it. Anthony, meanwhile, took one of the unbroken chairs for himself and perched at Jonathan’s side. Something between supreme irritation and a baffled sort of wonder shaped his face.

“I do have to give you credit if this is all improvisation on your part. You should have been booked at the Grand Guignol instead of rotting up here.”

Jonathan watched Erik begin to pace, gripping the axe as though it doubled for a shield.

“That or one of those hypnotist acts. Jake was always a nervous one. An easy mark, ironically enough.”

Jonathan’s peripheral caught on Erik’s figure as he came to a stop by the door. There was no peephole to spy through, yet he inclined his head toward it. His ear was cocked as if listening for something under the thunder and wolves.

“But supposing this amounts to something more than an act, I admit I’m curious to see what these things are supposed to be like outside the pulp on the bookshelves or clogging up the stage. Everyone has their opinion on them these days.”

Erik first frowned, then nodded at the bolted door. The anxious creases of his face began to smooth. A smile tugged his lips up as the axe lowered.

“Are they the same kind of horror show as you?”

“Usually quite the opposite,” Jonathan allowed. “But that is by choice. They make some rather impressive exceptions when the occasion calls for it.”

Erik set the axe down. His freed hands moved the wooden bolt aside and reached for the key on its hook. This didn’t go unnoticed. The nearest man, one of Jacob’s friends, jolted toward him.

“Erik, what the hell are you doing?”

“Didn’t you hear her?” Erik spoke over him in a dreaming lilt. “The girl outside. Lovely voice.” He turned the key in the lock. “She and her brother got lost in the storm.” He turned the knob. “Wouldn’t be right to leave them out th—,”

Bang.

Erik dropped like a felled tree. Jacob’s friend whirled on the rest of the room, his gun and free hand up. He had his crucifix worn outside his shirt now.

“I had to! You know I had to! Jacob and old Vordenberg laid it out, didn’t they? You invite the things in and it’s all over!” He pointed at the door with the new stain on its timber. “One of them is out there right now, trying to worm into our heads, so we’ll let it over the threshold.”

As every eye nailed itself to the man and the door and the second corpse within five minutes, no one paid attention to the fireplace. They had not lit it, having opted solely for lamps. Chimney smoke would give away their location to anyone happening by the area.

Only Jonathan stared at the open stone mouth of the hearth. Watching what crawled out. Watching it watch him.

Anthony swatted Jonathan in his bad shoulder. He looked up and realized he’d been asked a question.

“Pardon?”

“Is he. Telling. The truth. Or did Erik lose his brains over nothing?”

“A vampire cannot cross the threshold of someone’s home without invitation. I think, at a stretch, you could call this temporary base of yours ‘home.’ Strict definition is tricky for travelers. But if you declare this place yours—,”

“We do,” insisted half the room in unison.

“We do,” Anthony echoed, somewhat dryly. “Our lovely domicile, this. And we are strictly against welcoming any visitors tonight.”

“Understandable. But there’s still the trouble of this afternoon. It’s hard to be more insistent about an invitation than resorting to abduction.”

“And? What of it?”

The fireplace continued to purge its contents out and out and out. Cooling the room like a thin and steady gust. Heads finally began to turn as gooseflesh spread and the sight became unignorable: A thick mist had been pouring into the room since Erik’s brains splattered on the door.

“You thought I was Count Dracula. Whether I was him or not, he was the man you wanted here.” Jonathan looked Anthony in the eye. He was not surprised at what he found there as it squirmed and sweated. “I’m afraid you invited him in two hours ago.”

The lamps guttered. One snuffed. Then its neighbor. A third, a fourth. Voices raised in tandem with the weapons.

“Light them!” came the universal cry. “Turn them back up, come on!”

But the room blackened and blackened until it came down to one canny fellow who’d dived for a lantern. The same man who’d pocketed the flint lighter. He lit the lantern and set it shakily on the table, its glow seemingly safer than the lamps’. The lighter was almost as bright in his hand, making a spotlight for himself in the ruddy gloom.

“What? What is it?”

Every head was turned to face him. Every eye wide enough to show its whites, like the stares of startled horses. The man opened his mouth to utter a third query—and stopped.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold. Far colder than the man he’d taken the lighter from. Its fingers ended in claws.

Above his head, the firelight caught on what might charitably be called a grin. It was, in fact, the default state of Count Dracula’s jaw in this shape. A medley of the wolf and the bat and the nightmares that are born when children’s imaginations first start to sketch the things that will eat them in the dark.

Jonathan wished he could have closed his eyes for all that followed. He did try. But there was an implicit order sunk into his mind that demanded he watch. Had this been a decade ago, this may have been for the sake of an object lesson.

This is what I can do. This is what I would have done to your little hunting party at the right hour, with your guard down for an instant. This is what I will do to any sheltering cattle you try to run away to with wife and child. Watch, my friend. Watch.

But that was practically a lifetime past. They were coming up on a mere five years until the wait was over and his free will and the final fig leaf of humanity was forfeit. Which suggested that he was a captive audience solely for the fact that an audience was desired. There was some artistry to it all, in a medieval sense. Some of the acts performed with the makeshift stakes and the barrels of guns and certain repurposed bones reminded Jonathan of old woodcuts left out for him to see once upon a time, back in that first summer alone with the castle’s Master.

By the time one of the men died choking on his own severed arm, the rest of the lot stopped shooting and herded themselves to the door, desperate. To their relief, there was no vampire at the threshold. They fled.

A heartbeat passed before the screaming began anew. Gunfire mingled with it. The screaming dwindled down and down, the choir thinning to a single shriek that ended on a terrible sound. Wet and crunching. Wolves were heard soon after.

Anthony had not moved from his position behind Jonathan’s chair. He’d resumed his grip on his hair, this time holding his blade just below the Adam’s apple.

“If you don’t have a head,” Anthony panted at the Count, now busy picking gristle from the spades of his nails, “you can’t be undead. The plays make a lot of fuss about staking the heart, but this?” He tugged Jonathan’s head back another inch and pressed the blade’s edge until the skin broke. “I figure it’s a fair bit more vital. I am a practiced man at my profession and quick when I need to be. You want him in one piece instead of two, you leak yourself out the door, call off your pets, and I’ll send him on his way come sunrise.” Though he couldn’t see him, Jonathan was certain the man was trying to smile. “If you’re amenable, perhaps we can even get a silver lining out of this whole thing.”

Dracula sucked a piece of sinew out of his thumbnail.

“I am accustomed to getting my hands dirty. While I’ve been in the habit of leading assorted hapless dregs around, I can easily see myself following someone worth respect. Your friend here indicated he’s on the edge of retirement anyway, and I imagine you could do with someone to step into the role. Or add to the ranks.”

Dracula busied himself with scanning the floor. He plucked up the silver watch still chained to a torso that was twisted like a wrung washcloth. A scowl was spared upon retrieving the key ring from a puddle of a head. Then the pouch containing Jonathan’s allowance. He deposited each bit of treasure found on the table. The last thing he discovered was Jonathan’s wedding ring. He seemed to ponder flicking it aside, but saw Jonathan watching. The ring was dropped in the pile the way one might discard a clump of dirt.

“Well?” from Anthony. “Do you talk or not?”

“I do,” from the Count. “Though not usually to vermin. Especially ones who raid my pantry.”

“Honest mistake on our part. I hadn’t realized you were the one-in-a-thousand legend that isn’t just the fumes of an invented ghost story.”

“I see.” Dracula bent and retrieved the stake that had its point burned. It left the holster of a man’s sternum with a damp sound. “And this too was a mistake?”

“Just trying to placate the skittish sorts in the party. You saw how Jake was.”

“I did.” The Count tapped the stake’s point against his chin, pondering. “In fact, I think I recall a face like his. A sailor I met once. He took to the sea, having no bullet in reach.” He leveled the stake at Anthony’s head. “You called him a coward for this, yes?”

“Am I wrong?”

“There is a fine line between cowardice and wisdom,” Dracula shrugged. “It moves more than you would think. Little Jacob was wise tonight, if sadly mistaken in his target. He was not the first of his type. Likely not the last. The same goes for you, vermin. You, who squeak and chitter about preying upon the predator, and then try to sell yourself to the cat.” Though much of his face had reset to a human shape, the Count’s teeth remained a bristling forest of white needles when he grinned. “I have had this land in my jaws for half a millennium. I have not gone a single century without your like slinking underfoot, thinking to kiss my cape and offer a tithe of others’ throats to win my favor. My power.”

“Way of the world, isn’t it? Strong bows to stronger. What makes this cadaver,” another jerk on Jonathan’s hair, another throb in his skull, “so special? Better resumé? Seasoned arteries?”

“A number of things.” Another shrug, a twirl of the stake like a toy. “He does so hate to hear it anymore. It has been so long since any kind of praise heartened him and age has made him shy. But he cannot shush me, so I can say he does far more than bleed, be it himself or his victims of old. He certainly has a more impressive history than robbing and gutting tourists for a living, and so is far more attuned to the Law of this land than any other. Not the yapping dogs of mortal authorities. Not your jailor or judge or bureaucrat. Not even those of the sciences, such as they are.”

Thunder cracked and lightning danced. The Count’s eyes burned brighter than the lantern.

“He knows that I am Law in these mountains. That my will, my word, and my want order all that is here. He knows that there is no escaping consequence for trespassing upon what is mine. But.” The Count clapped the stake into his open palm with the joviality of a cruel teacher with his yardstick. “Beyond all this, he is something which guarantees his value over yours or any other’s. He warned you himself.” The jagged grin turned almost saccharine. “He is a married man. And you have kept him out far too late for his spouses’ liking.”

Anthony shifted behind the chair. The grip on Jonathan’s hair shuddered a moment as if suddenly repulsed to be touching it.

“God. Even the monsters are in on that depravity up here?”

“Depravity is a pastime of mine. But I am not so low as to debase myself by touching filth like yours.” So saying, the Count raised both hands in mock surrender. “I shall not waste my time or teeth on you.”

“Fine. Fine, you say that and I can believe you. Once you’re out the door.”

The door, still open.

The door, which Anthony had not dared to look at for fear of taking eyes off the Count.

The door, full of mist.

“Ah, but I cannot go yet. There is a show I have been so looking forward to. You mentioned the Grand Guignol. Such a promising establishment! I plan to see it in person some night. But for now, we must content ourselves with your meager scene.”

Anthony opened his mouth to ask something. Say something. Maybe he was just drawing breath. Whatever the reason, his mouth froze in a voiceless O of epiphany.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold.

It distracted him from the other, decorated with its simple gold band, locking around the man’s forearm; the one responsible for holding the blade.

Snap.

Anthony’s mouth dropped open wider, belting a screech that left Jonathan’s ears ringing. Then the man was torn away from the back of the chair and all the noise of him was pinned and shrilling on the floor. Laced over the ensuing sounds of his dismantling, both vocal and visceral, was a voice that threaded through the mind more than the ear:

He cut you. Twice he cut you.

“I’ll be fine, Mina.” Said because there was concern in the statement. There was. But, more pertinently, there was the accusation. The condemnation. The citing of the crime.

He cut you. He meant to kill you. He meant to unmake you out of reach forever.

Anthony made a new and piercing noise. The kind just an octave short of a dog whistle. Jonathan winced.

“And he failed to. It’s alright, Darling.”

“Hardly,” from the Count, now turning Anthony’s abandoned seat around to face the slaughter. “You are too soft as always, my friend. Even when it comes to a rightful culling. Or do you think they deserved to live after their crimes?”

“I think this was excessive.” Jonathan withheld a sigh as Dracula hooked the back of his chair, hoisting and turning it so that his back was no longer to Mina’s work. She seemed to have an innate understanding of what could be taken apart and to what degree, the better to leave Anthony still clinging miserably to a thread of life. “And I also think I’m ready to have these off.”

He flexed his hands and feet as far as they could go against the ropes.

“Have what off?” Dracula asked as he swiped a finger into the shoulder wound. A child stealing cake icing. He clicked his tongue. “This would happen just after a feeding. All this guilt-free cuisine and your knights-errant are too full to enjoy the banquet. A pity. Have you eaten?”

“If I had my hands free, I could get my—,” Jonathan pursed his lips as Dracula brandished a bouquet of the retrieved dried pork. Deciding against waiting for the mesmer to prod him into it, he opened his mouth a crack. Bit. Chewed.

“Do you suppose the Grand Guignol has concessions? Any actual blood used in place of the stage swill?”

Jonathan swallowed. A nauseous feat, considering the piece Mina removed from Anthony in the same moment.

“I doubt any director is so dedicated, Sir.” Anthony was growing quieter now. There wasn’t enough air in him. Jonathan could tell by the glimpse of lung through his ribs. “Does Quincey know about this?”

No. It was blocked from him. He believes we are out on business.

Crunch. Twist. Rip.

Anthony went silent and still at last. Dracula afforded this a light round of applause.

“Not wholly a lie, you will grant. Though I suspect the boy thinks it was code for a more,” the Count made a face caught between glee and disdain, “intimate excursion. Which should be an easy enough ward against any prying you fear from him. You may have made a sickening romantic of the boy, but there is never a child alive or undead who wishes to know what his parents get up to out of his sight.” The Count craned his head, squinting at what was left of Anthony. “Did you come across it?”

That depends. Where’s mine?

Mina stood with the dragon clasp in one red hand and her other held out and open. Dracula idled a moment or three longer than was necessary before the stolen wedding band was produced. Clasp and ring were thrown rather than exchanged. Jonathan had each reattached to him. Though the Count spared a curse in three different languages at finding the coat not only mangled at the shoulder, but torn where the clasp had been ripped away.

“As if they could not understand the mechanics of a brooch? You should have pinned this in his eye.”

You should have fed him the stake. Look at this.

Mina touched the nick on Jonathan’s throat.

I know you count my wound as a blessing, but I would think you’d not risk losing his voice.

“I had to stall while you cleared up the leftovers outside. I may as well have left you with the boy.”

And lost your show and your diversion.

“You—,”

“I cannot feel my feet anymore,” Jonathan announced. “And I would like to stitch and plaster myself before we head out. Whatever Quincey may think we’re up to, it will be easier to lie without me looking like I just left,” he gestured as best he could at the room, “this.”

A minor miracle came and went as there was no suggestion made that they simply lay a new bite apiece over the wounds. The ropes were cut, what was filched was returned to its owner, give or take a little scavenging of their own. Jacob and the others were left with their tokens of the Son. Outside, the wolves went on enjoying the meal Mina had left for them. Up until a titanic thunderbolt struck the cabin and sent them scrambling. The building went up like a great bonfire.

“I know, my friend, you were clearly looking forward to digging more graves. But you must admit my method is quicker and far more thorough in erasing evidence.” The nettling cadence waned. “I suggest you avoid wandering away from the castle for some time. Considering your state.”

Not while dressed in this, at the very least. It’s clear this insignia draws as much ire as it deters.

“A fluke,” the Count huffed. “Such degenerates as those are rare. The chattel know better. Besides, the folly was in drawing attention by playing Good Samaritan to the wrong victim and her maudlin pleading. Something else to keep in mind.” Jonathan tried and failed to keep his head down as the hook landed in his mind and turned his eyes up. Dead blue against burning red. “At least for as long you insist on holding to your last few years as…this.”

Jonathan bit into his last strip of the dried pork. Loudly.

“Five years. That’s all.”

“Four and a half.”

“Four and a half I mean to savor. In-between being waylaid.” The careful placidity fractured as his free hand drifted up to the back of his skull. Still aching. “I think I shall finish off the Golden Mediasch tonight.” His hand was plucked away by Mina’s own, her chilled fingers seeking out the tender place under his hair. Her fingertips felt the scabbing patch.

I should have skinned him.

“You are welcome to stroll through the fire and do so,” the Count hummed. But his smile stopped short of his eyes and his own hand swept Mina’s away to thumb at the ache. “The Mediasch is barely more than fruit juice. You will want something stronger.”

Jonathan didn’t argue. Nor did he protest when the horses of his ex-hosts were commandeered for the return to the castle. Quincey thrilled at the sight of them almost as if they had arrived riding wolves. Was this the business they went on? Tunet and Pretekár were quite new—and solid obsidian as the horses before had been—but it was good to see them gain more company. And they’d picked piebald this time!

“They’re beautiful. Do they have names yet?”

“Thought we’d leave that to you,” Jonathan managed lightly enough. Or nearly so. Quincey frowned at him, nose pricking at the smell of dried blood.

“Papa, are you alright? You—,” his eyes landed on the coat, “—what happened?”

“Just a quick lesson from our new friends about minding their moods. I was tossed and landed in a less than opportune pile of rocks.”

Quincey scowled at that and scrutinized the stallions.

“Which one? I’m not riding him. Or petting him, even.” He considered. “At least for a month.”

“Seems a cruelty too far. I suppose I just won’t reveal the guilty party.”

“And what if I get on the wrong horse and I get tossed and land on a rock somewhere? What then?”

“Then you will get back up and be perfectly alright. Or am I misremembering the night you fell asleep on the side of the north turret and fell through half a tree on your way down?”

“Yes, well. They were fairly soft branches.” Quincey fought and lost the attempt to keep his smile up. “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“The horses weren’t the actual business, were they? You could have gotten them yourself.”

“That’s true. The horses were only picked up afterward. Quite a bargain, not counting the lumps.”

“Then what happened?”

Jonathan looked at his son. His Sweetheart, though the boy had finally started to bud into that stage that visits all adolescents, demanding a shedding of childhood names. There was a dusting of stubble barely fringing his jaw and his mother’s own whorls outgrowing the edges of his last haircut. But the eyes were still a child’s. Bright and molten as the sun at dusk.

“…There was some trouble two days ago. I aided a girl trying to leave behind some people who hurt others. Who hurt her. They had some less than scrupulous plans for the future and had already bypassed local authorities to get where they were by the time I crossed them. So I reached out for some assistance.” And, because he felt the air prickling with observation, “Your Father was very keen to educate them on the difference between the laws of other lands versus the Law of his land. And your Mum has always been of a rescuer’s bent as a rule. So.”

“So Mum and Father caught them? Together?” The sunset eyes gleamed at the prospect.

“They did,” Jonathan nodded.

“Were they bandits?”

“Of a sort. But they won’t hurt anyone now.” Jonathan watched from the corner of his eye how the boy, so near to a young man, glowed over the notion of being a son to heroes.

He got to the tower before he felt his eyes begin to sting as sharply as his head.

#I'm beginning to think I simply cannot go more than 0.5 days without making a novella #oops #anyway enjoy the One and Only scenario in which Dracula and Mina would willingly work together on literally anything:#Their Damsel/Jonathan is in peril. Time to do some mauling about that.#anyway #jonathan harker #mina harker #dracula #dracula bad ending #blood of my blood #my writing

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resident-gay-bitch · 1 month

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OKAY PRONGSFOOT AU (that I'm totally not working on or anything):

E&F are exactly like the Black's here. Sirius is in Slytherin. His canon personality stays same. James is much more serious, almost dark!Potter. Seriously invested in social work and reforming the take on MBs and Squibs. He and Sirius aren't best friends but they run into each other in the corridors and he is one of the few Slytherins who openly respect James. So he and James have a respectful acquaintance, though aren't emotionally invested. Then, in 5th year, Snape rears up and starts openly attacking James. His future DE pals gang up against him. James is well respected among Griffindors but doesn't have many friends so he doesn't have anyone else to back him up. When they attack him he takes them all himself. BUT then Sirius finds out about a big plan of the Slytherins, they are planning to send James into the Whomping Willow on the next weekend, which just happens to be a full moon. Sirius is concerned because James alone would be no match for the ginormous tree, so he tags along to inform him. He didn't mean to personally get involved, he didn't know James well enough to risk that, but he wanted to inform him.

He arrives late. James is already locked with the tree. He joins the fray. Tumbling along, they fall into the Shreiking Shack route

It ends with them becoming friends, later best friends, befriending Remus whom they find up there and barely escape from.

In their 17th year, E&F are furious and plan to marry James off to some domineering pureblood girl, and they find Lily Black, sister of Sirius Black. Sirius is facing the same dilemma. He and James then make a deal to elope to escape their arranged marriages. There is a six month period necessary before divorce according to the wizarding world. During that time, they expect to get jobs and a stable income, so that they would be financially independent before their marriage would be ended by the Blacks and Potters, and wouldn't be financially blackmailed and coerced into an arrange marriage.

And the rest is spoilers lmao but we all know how this "deal" is gonna end. But thoughts? Would you read it?

Okay! For one, I’m so sorry for such a late reply, this got lost to my drafts and i don’t even know how it ended up in there lmao. I have so many goddamned drafts, everything gets so lost all the time.

Anyway, YES I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH WHAT THE FUCK THATS SO GOOD. OH MY GOD IT SOUNDS SO YUMMY YESSSSSSSS

Okay okay okay, have you written anything for this yet? Or how’s it going? I would absolutely 100% read this! It sounds so gooooood.

We all read about dark sirius but DARK JAMES?! Yum yum scrumptious. I love this idea so much so yes I would read it.

It makes me sad to think Effie and flea could be meanies but like… the plot, it’s just so juicy. I’ll allow the sacrifice for the sake of a good fic.

Anyway, please let me know if you write this! And I’m so sorry for the late response again! I hope you’re having a lovely day/night <333

#jay answers #prongsfoot #prongsfoot au #fic idea #slytherin sirius #sirius black #dark James #James potter #bambibelle

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itchyeye · 1 year

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~1.5k words of two small scenes from a larger wip au; elias upgrades jon’s wardrobe

In his early morning reverie, he failed to plant his smooth-soled workboot with enough resolve on the next rain slicked marble step and felt himself slip. He realized that rather than ascending the Institute steps, they were rushing up eagerly to meet his face. Before he had time to stick his arm out to try and break his short, wet fall, someone had grabbed him and pulled him back upright. His rescuer pulled harder than Jon's frame would have warranted, and he staggered backwards, catching himself with a hand against their chest.

It was Elias. His left hand was wrapped firmly around Jon's upper arm, his right held his large black umbrella over them both. He wore a knee length burgundy overcoat and black leather gloves.

"Alright, Jon?"

"Yes, thank you." Jon said dryly. His raincoat swished under Elias' fingers. He made no move to free himself from his grip.

I should take my hand off his chest, Jon thought. He heard a bus pass over the street below them, its brakes squealing in their efforts against the slick pavement. I should say something and I should take my hand off his chest. He thought again. He cleared his throat. He flexed his fingers. The rain continued.

Elias took his hand off Jon's arm and gestured forward towards the Institute's main entrance. Jon turned, and Elias gracefully moved to switch his umbrella to his left hand to cover them as they walked up the remaining steps. Jon remembered a time two years ago when Elias had extended the same favor. It had rained hundreds of times since then. Thousands. And Jon still didn't bring an umbrella to work. He wondered, angrily and dimly in the back alley of his mind reserved for self flagellation, if he had been hoping it might happen again. That he might be rescued again. He scowled at the thought.

Elias held the door open for him and turned to shake the rain off his umbrella before coming inside. He walked past and around Jon to face him, placing the tip of his umbrella against the marble floor with a sharp, resounding tap<.

"Jon, it's freezing out there. Is this really the warmest thing you own?"

"What? Oh," Jon looked down at his grey ziptop fleece and tan Mackintosh, "Uh... I uhm. I run hot.”

Elias reached out his free hand and ran it down the length of Jon's lapel, pressing the (admittedly thin) fabric between the pad of his thumb and the side of his index finger. He tutted.

"Surely, Jon, we pay you enough to upkeep your winter wardrobe. This is positively Dickensian."

Jon felt the blood rush to his cheeks, "It's-- yes. I mean-- sorry."

Elias' mouth, already poised in a sly, easy smile, twitched up at the corners. "I'm not scolding you, Jon. There's no need to apologize."

"S-" Jon began. He shut his eyes for a moment and pressed his mouth into a line. God, he sounded so much like Martin when he stammered. "Yes, alright."

Elias' hand, still resting on Jon's lapel, moved up, his gloved fingers brushing lightly over his chest as it made the journey. He ran his palm along the full length of Jon's shoulder, from the side of his neck to the seam in his fleece. "Hm," he said.

"Hm?" said Jon, feeling the blistering heat in the tips of his ears.

Elias looked up from his hand, something sparking in his deep grey eyes. His next gesture he made so quickly and so naturally that Jon couldn't process the novelty of it until he had left. He raised his hand to the side of Jon's face, cupped his jaw, and thumbed his nose. His eyes crinkled, and he turned to leave.

"I'll see you on Friday," he called back, without turning his head, "Good morning, Kelly!”

Jon stood still and said nothing, his mind having gone utterly blank.

"Come in, Jon."

Elias' voice was clear and resonant through the hallway, as if he was standing right in front of him. Jon poked his head in through the door frame and saw him seated at his desk. He had a steaming mug sitting by his left hand. Jon approached with his two paper coffee cups. Elias turned toward him and his eyes widened in surprise.

"I brought you a coffee," said Jon. Idiot. He said to himself. Obviously you brought him a coffee. Why the hell else would you be carrying two coffees?

"Yes, I can see that," said Elias.

I wish I were dead, thought Jon.

"That's very thoughtful of you, thank you, Jon," said Elias with a smile, and reached for his cup. Jon handed it to him, trying not to feel that it was being taken out of pity.

"Dark roast, no cream, three sugars," said Jon, pulling out his chair. "Hope I got that right," he added casually, and then glanced down. There was a garment box on his seat. An elegant ivory garment box tied with a silky cream colored ribbon.

"You did," said Elias around the lid of his paper cup. Jon looked up and saw him sipping from it, watching him from over the shining gold rims of his glasses. "Open it."

Jon looked back down at the beautifully packaged gift. It was the kind of wrapping you had someone behind a glass counter do for you. Someone who had a selection of ribbons and an imposing set of shears to cut them with. No one had ever given him anything wrapped like that. Tentatively, he pulled the ribbons loose and gently lifted the lid. It came away easily, which caught him by surprise. The all-white packaging had primed him for the slow descent of an Apple product box. But no, the lid of this garment box, made of sturdy, carefully folded cardstock, came away easily from its base to reveal a swath of grey fabric.

Elias had stood and rounded his desk in the time it took Jon to open the box. He was right behind him, standing so close that Jon could feel his breath against his neck when he reached past him to pull the coat from its packaging. He reached out his other arm to hold it up by both shoulders, framing Jon between his outstretched arms, holding him in place with his chest against his back.

It was a long peacoat, made of heavy grey wool with matte black buttons and broad lapels that could be pulled up to protect your neck from the wind. My neck, thought Jon. The inner lining was a glossy black, embroidered with gold thread in a minuscule repeating pattern that looked at first like snake scales. As he stared at it, Jon realized that it was a field of eyes, each nestled perfectly against its thousand identical siblings, sewn so delicately and so closely together that they blended into a sort of netting if you unfocused your vision.

"Do you like it?" said Elias. He was looking straight out at the coat in front of them, but as they stood his mouth was so close to Jon's ear that he didn't need to raise his voice above a whisper.

"Well, it's not coffee," said Jon.

Elias smiled, and Jon could hear the shape of his mouth in his sharp exhale. "No, there I'm afraid I've been upstaged."

He moved, dropping his arms from around Jon and stepping back, holding the coat out in front of him so Jon could step into it. He did, letting Elias place it over his shoulder and smooth it down his arms. He stepped back again to admire his work. Jon brought his hands to the lapels, feeling down their length before moving to explore the pockets. It was pleasantly heavy, well structured but soft, and incredibly warm. It also fit him like a glove. Like it had been tailored for him. Jon turned to look at Elias' exceptionally satisfied face and realized that when he had passed his hand over his chest in the front lobby on Wednesday he had perfectly eyeballed his measurements.

"Well?"

"It's certainly not Dickensian."

"That was indeed my intention."

Jon lowered his eyes and spoke to Elias' oxfords. They were black and white spats, today, smartly contrasting his pale grey slacks. His socks were mauve argyle. "It's... beautiful, Elias. Thank you." He risked a glance up and quickly averted his eyes again. "I really don't know what to say."

"Thank you was sufficient, Jon," Elias hummed, "I'm very happy you like it."

#tma #jonelias #[📚] fic #the magnus archives #magnuspod

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olde-scratch · 6 months

Text

mm momsger high au. i didn't mean to misspell that. inspired by this post from @tobisiksi . sorry this took so long i had everything written out and then tumblr Deleted Everything even tho i had like two backup posts.

i tried to include everyone i could and give all of them unique monster types but there are some repeats :( ib sowwee i tried to make them unique when i could tho. lmk if u have any suggestions for characters or different monster types.

ALSO HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! i have to work but im going dressed as saiki so i still have the spirit

Saiki Kusuo - Lovecraftian Eldritch Horror

i mean. duh.

he poses as his own (human) worshipper to avoid being indoctrinated elsewhere

"i can't attend, i have worship tonight." "oh that's cool who do you worship?" "they don't like being talked about." "ohh so it's an... invite-only system. right......"

deciding now that closed worship systems like saiki purports are generally a total Scam and people avoid them like a plague. it fits with saikis foray into the internet lol

hes still sooo silly dw

to the people with the eldritch kusuo headcanons, i see u..... i hope u like monster high........ :)

Saiki Kuusuke - Cult Worshipper (Human)

bet you thought i was gonna say mad scientist. WRONG that's his day job.

kuusuke operates as a mad scientist since humans aren't allowed into the monster world (afaik humans arent even seen outside of jackson, who is half monster). idk what he makes tho. maybe he pulls a doctor finklestein and makes bone animals to roam the monster world?

kuusuke is the one who got his family into the monster world btw. i mean he definitely found it p quickly after kusuo started morphing and speaking in tongues and shit

kuusuke would LOVE the monster world, at least at first. he might get bored really quickly, but he'd love being able to be more of a crazy bastard than he already is

kuusuke functions as a head cultist for kusuo, but instead of strengthening him with sacrifices and praying for protection, he weakens him with sacrifices (the limiters) and prays for himself to be smote (kusuo to play games with him) (kusuo ignores him a lot)

maybe he made amp/anpu like he did warp. idk.

Saiki Kurumi / Saiki Kuniharu - Cult Worshipper (Human)

they were 100% human before being dragged into the monster world due to their sons

they basically live the same as they do in canon tbh i dont think a lot would change in the monster world

during the new years chapter maybe instead of saying kusuo has powers, they say something about his eldritchness or how glad they are to "worship" such a chill god. god i wanna write this now.

Kaidou Shun - Vampire

okay so not ACTUALLY a vampire but i think it was nopsi who had like an au where kaidou was like a weaker version of a vampire?? GOD i dont remember the name (hampir?? i cant find it on wikipedia, did it start with an f????). for all intents and purposes, im just gonna consider him a weak vampire

i cant remember if he'd be made thru a human/vampire relationship but if he was then i think we should play into the manga hair colors of his siblings and say that whole toki and sora and his mother are all full vampires, he was half vampire (perhaps he's from the father's side of the family from a previous relationship, since his mother has purple hair in her manga cover i think??)

draculara has her red drinks and her spf and her cute little parasol so OF COURSE kaidou has all of those as well. i think it would be very funny if kaidou had his umbrella customized to look like a hidden anime weapon, but it wasn't waterproof so he has to use a different one when it rains

i have a gen 1 og draculara from when i was a kid and i love her she's so cute :] someone draw kaidou in her outfit he'd slay. actually, just draw all of them in her outfit(s). gloom beach teruhashi. sweet screams mera. freak du chic saiki. sweet 1600 saiko. fearleader hairo. you cannot make her look bad idc.

Nendou Riki - Zombie (Frankenstein's Monster type zombie)

okay so this might be controversial but imagine:

everyone's chatting like normal, nendous head falls off, everyone goes deathly silent, nendou puts it back on and goes back to talking, cue kaidou screeching

bc im rewriting this im not gonna go thru my thought process so my idea was that takeuchi was a mad scientist who created midori after himself bc he only had access to a mirror (neither realized they looked the same). takeuchi died and chouno, who was smitten with midori, remade takeuchi who midori named riki and chose to raise as her own. chouno intended it as a poetic final goodbye but cut to 16 years later and hes still not over her lol

nendou being undead could also play into his appreciation for life.... protecting the obviously smaller and weaker saiki and kaidou.... his care for his dad that he never met (altho he might have two dads in this au?).... THE HAMSTER SCENE. NENDOU :((((

Teruhashi Kokomi - Tomie

im SORRY for bringing up junji ito but come ON

for those who dont know tomie, she's basically So Beautiful that men are supernaturally attracted to her until she drives them mad with her beauty. they cut her up and scatter her remains and they turn into more tomies

however. teruhashi isnt just a pretty girl. she's The Perfect Pretty Girl. so we can just ignore all the bloodshed and murder and deathmatches :D

i debated making her a siren but that just doesn't fit her for some reason. she doesn't have to try.

in op's post they made her aphrodite reincarnated but i don't think that there are gods walking amonst the student disembody unfortunately

Teruhashi Makoto - Intersection Bishounen

IM SORRY THE TERHASHI SIBLINGS JUST FIT JUNJI ITO SO WELL

the intersection bishounen is a vengeful spirit that roams the streets and gives fortunes to young girls that drive them to suicide, after which they come back as ghosts and beg for his affection.

makoto is more of a teenage/ya heartthrob than a vengeful spirit tho so we can get rid of all the cool stuff like fortune telling and driving to suicide

the intersection bishounen also didnt want to fuck his cousin so points to him

Hairo Kineshi - Fire Elemental

i KNOW he's BORING

think of heath. i think heath is like the son of hades or something idfk i say fuck that ive never heard that before until i started getting back into monster high that's not canon to me

theres... a surprisingly low amount of sports name puns :( there's casketball, ofc ofc, because mh is american. there's monster soccer from toralei's ghoul spirit notebook, but baseball and tennis from clawdeen and spectra dont get named so they dont have names. thats BULLSHIT btw someone who's good w puns help me im freezing up

gilda goldstag was also a fire elemental right? i dont actually know anything about her other than that she was in the student council bc she was in the doll pack

theres a wind elemental mentioned in spectras ghoul spirit notebook. figured that id mention it idk

i have nothing else to say this should be obvious

Mera Chisato - Shouku-jinki

okay i need to preface this with something that is very important to me about this, the Japanese creature the jikininki/shoku-jinki originated in the story of musou the preist. as far as ive been able to see, there is a second story featured on wikipedia about a pregnant woman that is legitimately someone's fucking oc insert. im not making this up, it appeared one goddamn day and i dont want to make an acc just to get rid of it but i dont want to have my ip address just There and i dont know how to like draw attention to it. so please know that the story of musou is the only legitimate source of the jikininki and the "jijinki" are just someones fucking oc inserts. i dont know why they did this, i dont know how it's still there bc its been YEARS how has no one removed it??

anyways im calm now.

jikininki (or, iirc the more modern version is shoku-jinki) are demons that were greedy or impious in life and were cursed to wander the earth forever starving and thirsty. at night, they eat dead bodies.

sooo remember how mera acted when she got her money back for a day.

her death was the cause of their bankruptcy, maybe they put all their money towards avenging her?

i think that mera would come from a half human, half monster family so she could already be in the monster world, but i dont have to worry about what powers she'd have due to being a monster.

her mother would be a demon and her father a human who doesn't quite know how to navigate the monster would, so he still has to go away to earn money. also imagine four kids following mera around, three have devil horns and taiks and one is just some guy. (idk if she has 4 siblings but you get the idea)

so yeah, mera is immortal, unable to feel satisfied by any amount of food or drink, working herself to the bone to provide for her siblings. the mera lore is Strong w this one.

u could totally also go for some real body horror with her if u wanted

Yumehara Chiyo - Ghost

ill go into the difference between ghosts and souls in toritsuka's part since you cant take away toritsukas thing but you cant just remove ghosts from mh

i initially thought of making her a cherub/cupid but girlie would be getting No One Together. also there's only one cupid in mh and uhhhh there would be no hope if that was chiyo. yk what chiyo loves tho? gossip. u know what spectra loves? gossip.

i think the ghosts in mh all have a chain motif iirc? ik spectra does but sirena von boo also does (the siren/ghost hybrid) and i dont know any other ghosts off the top of my head

anyways yumehara is totally just a regular people ghost. maybe she cries blood or somethin fun like that? maybe have a bit where she keeps getting told off for having makeup and its her eyes leaking or its her having anti blood leaking drops or wipes

Saiko Metori - Mummy

i was gonna make him a vampire but HELLO??? CLEO IS RIGHT THERE????

rich, bratty, self-centered?? DE NILE IS CLEOS LAST NAME.

idk if him being a mummy would change him like cosmetically, like skin tone or hair texture or whatever but i cant draw so that doesn't quite matter to me. altho ig hed probably just look like a pale, dehydrated, brittle pile of bandages if you wanna be historicallty accurate

his father glows because he's ra next question

he definitely decks himself out in a looott more gold than just his earring as a mummy. bangles, cuffs rings, anklets, hair accessories.

the bodyguards are just the tomb protectors that cleo gets as slaves

he gets a custom made desk of pure gold at pk and he never uses it

i think in ancient egypt married couples would be buried together regardless of if at least the wife was dead or alive, so he definitely propositions teruhashi to take a sand nap with him

he gets a pet crocodile. he has a tiger in canon i think and cleo gets a snake so like. nile crocodile obviously.

i cant tell if he lives in a pyramid just randomly in the middle of hidari wakibara, or if theres a bit about nendou asking him where his pyramid is and saikos just like "bro i Dont Live In A Pyramid."

Kuboyasu Aren - Werewolf

hello?? violent, tragic past that comes back to haunt them regularly and interfere with their daily lives?????

i dont think werewolves can turn into wolves in mh but like if you want doggy kuboyasu who's as big as kaidou, go for it

KUBOYASU WITH DOGGY EARS AND A TAIL.... i dont think that werewolves in mh have tails but thats. a crime.

kuboyasu can smell the rest of the cast. god i wanna know what they smell like in the non weirdest way possible.

i dont have a lot to say about this. doguyasu

Toritsuka Reita - Cult Worshipper (Human)

okay so there's a difference between ghosts and souls in this version. ghosts are a form of undead that are sort of just humans that can float and go thru walls and stuff. souls are the base forms of dead people that remain chained to existence with no knowledge of who they were. normal people can see ghosts, but not souls. toritsuka can see both

toritsuka was also raised in a temple in this au, pretty standard stuff. nothing interesting there.

so yk how toritsuka found out abt saiki thru the souls

and yk how saikis an eldritch monster that melts mind and twists reality to his will in this au

toritsuka does not know the meaning of the term eldritch btw

if ur a torisai or toritsuka angst fan then u can always imagine toritsuka thinking himself inferior to the rest of the pk psychickers bc he's a human and didnt even find saiki by himself, but with the help of his ghosts. sorry i gotta push the torisai agenda.

i personally also hc him to be hypersexualized by the adults in his life due to his touchyness from a young age which lead to him being ostracized by his peers when he began repeating the behavior, thus encouraging the development of touch starvation that he misinterpreted as horniness. in other words, "damn bitch u live like this?". sooo do with that what u will in this au.

(could saiki like..... taste his desperation??)

Aiura Mikoto - Cult Worshipper (Devil)

basically aiura but with cute devil horns and a tail that reacts with her mood. she 100% bedazzles and paints her horns like she paints her nails.

shes still a prophet and stuff but like shes just a lil demonic now. as she deserves.

"yeah i can totes check ur future!!" (rips open a portal to the underworld, chants in a forgotten language, focuses in on one damned soul that writhes and screams for mercy as it withers out of existence where it will wait to be reborn into hell after being offered the temporary reprieve of total nothingness) "babe ur bf is cheating on u like one hundo percent. but ur gonna be a bomb ass doctor one day!!"

i want her to trip toritsuka with her tail

she's not human and she lords it over toritsuka's head when they fight for saiki's attention

Akechi Touma - Cult Worshipper (Human)

initially i wanted to make him a bugboy bc yea but consider

saiki knew him in elementary school so he pulled a real I Tracked Down My Childhood Friend Who Is Actually An Eldritch Monster Masquerading as a Pretty Boy with Pink Hair in a High School?!

yeah soo like what if their dynamic was "what if we were friends in our childhood years before you had to leave to stop the uncontrollable desire you had to break down my reality and drive me into irreversible madness, yet despite knowing the danger i faced i still hunted you down, my prayers meant solely to get a response from you devolving into genuine reverence, solidifying myself as your most loyal devotee...... haha jk. unless?"

we all know that akechi likely faced no difficulty finding the monster world dont even ask

you can insert ur own hcs with his mom all ill say is that shes probably masquerading as some sort of cult worshipper or jekyll/hyde situation to live in the monster world. or maybe he just moved schools and lives sort of nearby but not in the monster world idk

akechi would fucking Love the monster world. he'd never get bored of it. you know the sweet potato scene? oh, honey, he's got access to information about the average size of different monsters, along with the influence of proportions and size, magical interference, etc etc. hed fucking LOVE the monster world.

Satou Hiroshi - Ghost

ive already got three ghosts (see suzumiya and makino) but i couldnt think of the Most Generic monster but hear me out

he's a sheet

hes got two black or cut out circles for eyes and a little 'o' for a mouth. just fuckin 0 。0 .

HES SO. USELESS.

SO PLAIN.

SO BORING.

SO GENERIC.

SO. PERFECT.

and saiki is IN LOVE WITH HIM.

toritsuka is honestly so offended that he is not the ghost-themed object of saiki's affections

satous friends and baseball team are either the core basic monsters (werewolf, vampire, zombie, etc) or theyre basic japanese spirits. im. not doing tons of research on if there are generic japanese demons or if theres just sort of one kind of demon that has a lot of forms,,,, im so sorry i can only do so much research please correct me if you know better

Rifuta Imu - Catgirl

i dont know what the name of the actual catgirls are in mh (werecats?) like purrsephone and toralei and meowlody but fuck it catgirl

she would have THE cutest collar. OR she'd have a ribbon around her neck w a matching one on her tail like catrine de mew. she could maybe even have some sort of shredded piece of clothing like catty noir's skirt or a habit of shredding things

im sorry i dont know a lot about cat breeds so i dont have a lot to say about her species

cat themed accessories.......

btw she's a cat bc of japans obsession w cats. i considered making HER a siren since i scrapped that idea for teruhashi but i feel like it just. doesn't suit her.

Bonuses (people i couldnt find that much to talk about)

Suzumiya Hii - Cursed Soul

i mean what else would she be.

okay so shes not a SOUL shes a GHOST i just think it sounds better like that

Makino Arisu - Ghost

ring-style ghost. i think it's called a yuurei? i did my research for her but i forgot it and the og post got deleted so. im upset.

Matsuzaki - Headless Horseman

idk what is his horse would be i just wanted bloodgood to have Presence in this and the principal is only seen like. three times.

i considered giving kuboyasu the status as headless horseman bc of his motorcycle but g1 bloodgood did not serve that much cunt for her type to be given to a 16 year old im sorry

(i also recently got a bloodgood as my first doll when i got back into mh and i love her :] she came w a cool coat that isnt her og coat but its nice anyways)

Chouno Urkyoku - Mad Jester

okay so ik i said he was a mad scientist but he retired that in order to go into entertainment. it's not going too well.

you could also go for a ringmaster/clown route but we all lived thru 2016 (or was it 2017?) and the ensuing cliche-ifying treatment the media gave scary clowns put me off them personally lol they kind of bore me

(if u don't live in the us or don't know what im talking about that happened in 2016, then god i envy you. just look up "2016 clowns usa" im sure you'll figure it out)

Michael (Ikemi something I think?) - Zombie

idk it just fits him

zombies in g1 can only communicate thru moans which makes them nonverbal in some way but g3 STOLE that from us. fuck them.

Nendou Midori / Nendou Takeuchi - Frankenstein & His Monster

i explained this in nendous thing im not repeating myself sorry

PK Principal - Gorgon

yes its bc of the glasses

also i think theres something fun about being able to say he can rule the school with an iron fist (or ig rock fist) without needing to use his eyes

Kongou - Minotaur

big strong and VIOLENT. you can also play into manny's more delicate side with kongous change of heart after saiki helps him realize what matsuzaki does for him

Takahashi - Goblin

idk i think it just suits him

Shima - Changeling

her whole bit is being a forgettable face so what if she was always just a Little Bit Different every time you saw her

Iridatsu family - Mummy

okay ik ive already done mummy but HEAR ME OUT.

idk abt the mom but i think it would be funny if yuuta was just covered in bandages and his whole thing is tripping over/hitting people with them

The pervy teacher who wasn't actually pervy at all he just had an unfortunate face - Human

he's not even disguised as anything

the monsters saw him and said "nah im p sure he's one of us" and then took him

teacher doesnt quite care cause the monster world has better health plans /j

The "your manga artist is gnc af" guy - Kitsune

kitsune are typically seen as elusive tricksters which doesnt suit his character BUT

theres a whole joke about japanese mangakas being worked to the bone to provide chapters every week or so for serialization even going so far as to hide or make excuses as to why they did not complete the chapter

i feel so bad for them bro i could not (used to do weekly updates for fics for 5 years before i started needing money bc i turned 18)

also. someone give that man fox ears and a tail.

The Alphonse guy - Invisi Billy

idk what invisi billy is but he can be here helping alphonse hide from the shame of his chunnibyou :D

Makoto's rival guy - Banshee

it just. Suits Him.

idk if there are male banshees bc we only know sarah screams and her mom but we can have a trans icon if we need

#saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki kusuo #aiura mikoto #toritsuka reita #akechi touma #im not tagging everyone LMAO #ive definitely forgotten some characters like the scammer guy that kurumi almost murdered but no one acknowledges him so i think im safe #this was really fun tho i havent done anything like this before cause i usually resort to fics #but saiki k is. way too long to make a fic SOLELY about what monster types people would be #i feel like i definitely had more written for some characters but i got lazy when it came to rewriting sorry lol #if i come up w anything else itll be in the reblogs suggestions welcome btw #this is my sacrifice to the fandom for halloween btw bc i cant draw and i have not written any halloween themed oneshots #happy halloween everyone :D #also my inbox is open for trick or treating ill provide writing stuff and answer questions abt my fics #cant promist ill get to it immediately but i WILL EVENTUALLY if tumblr doesnt eat it

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