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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year

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Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself.

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac.

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services.

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself.

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface.

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation.

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true)

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier.

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work.

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful.

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me?

Yes, he can hear you.

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep.

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail.

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train.

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think.

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room.

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway.

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively.

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in.

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him?

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse.

— Where do you want me to start, sir?

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry.

— The living room. If it’s not too much.

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker.

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless.

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch?

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it.

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes.

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit.

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left.

— Alright. Anything else?

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway.

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself.

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you.

And he only knew you for an hour tops.

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours?

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits.

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service.

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember.

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body.

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died.

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad.

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be.

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face.

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself.

— What is it, liebling?

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss.

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him.

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow.

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already.

He might not even let you go after.

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment.

— Alright. I will do it right away then.

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless.

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside.

— I will divide everything into categories, alright?

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces.

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is.

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely.

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate.

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours.

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig #konig x you #konig cod

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butwhyduh · 8 months

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honestly jdk just tim drake x reader where one/or multiple of the batfam walks in?? i just find them entertaining, or they are continually being interrupted through the day!

Warning: eventual smut and Tim is done with everyone’s shit. If it’s not the end of the world, don’t call me- level done. And you can tell it’s fanfic because Tim is actually an adult.

Tim didn’t get into shows very often. He’s busy and he has a terrible habit of falling asleep after the first 10 minutes. He didn’t want to watch the show but he was tinkering with some of his tech while sitting on the couch and you put it on. And that’s how he got sucked in.

“And Daphne said yes to that? Drew is not good enough to lie to her friends over,” he said and you started telling him the backstory.

You binge watch the next few episodes to catch up to the new season. It was a fun and scandalous show, nothing like Tim’s usual picks. And he thought it was cute how animated you were when talking about the show.

“Trevor needs to get his shit together or not only is Naomi going to leave him, he’ll go to jail,” Tim said.

“Yeah but he owes the local crime boss money and he said he’d kill his family otherwise,” you countered.

“Sounds like Gotham,” Tim quipped. You lightly smacked his arm before laying your head on his shoulder and entangling your arm in his.

“That is not comforting,” you said. “Oo they’re going to tell us who took the diamonds!”

The bat phone started ringing almost off the coffee table. You groaned and let Tim go to sit up to answer that.

“The corner of 17 and Parkway? How many combatants?” He said in Bat speak. And that’s when you knew your date night was over. He hung up and turned to you looking apologetic.

“I have to go,” he said. You sighed but pulled him into a hug.

“Be safe. I’ll be here,” you said with practices familiarity. He kissed you before grabbing his stuff and leaving. He didn’t get back until hours later with some fresh bruises and a girlfriend asleep on the couch.

It was 2 days later that you tried to continue the show. Tim had told Bruce to call someone else first. The door was locked and his phone was on silence. You’d even given him some pretty good incentives if you were uninterrupted and alone after the show.

It was all of ten minutes into the continued episode with pho takeout on the way that the fire escape window opened. In flopped Nightwing covered in mud.

“No,” Tim groaned. You huffed before pausing the show. “Do you need help?”

“Only a bit,” Dick said as the understatement of the year. He let Tim look at him to find that he was leaking blood all over the carpet from a bullet wound in his thigh. “Only a graze. Do you have a bandaid?”

“Good lord,” you replied as Tim called Alfred. You quickly grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.

It was a few hours later and a carpet cleaner before Nightwing and your carpet were patched up. By that time it was the middle of the night and you couldn’t concentrate on anything. Tim promised a date night another day.

This one was a whole week later. All of the Robins had been warned under pain of torture to not talk to Tim for that evening. Because Tim was to put it mildly, frustrated. You two hadn’t had alone time in over a week.

You started the show back up with all entrances locked and phones off. You were able to watch the next 15 minutes before you heard broken glass.

“Hey did you know your window was locked,” Superboy said standing in front of the window. Tim practically growled before pausing the show to shove Kon out the window.

“I don’t know what you need but the other members of Young Justice are available. Call them,” Tim said but it was already too late. The wind had blown into the room and it was starting to snow outside so he couldn’t exactly ignore the window. Once again date night was canceled.

Tim was so frustrated that he had dreams about you in his bed. It was almost a week later and now 3 episodes behind on the show that you had another date night. He was almost willing to skip the show entirely at this point just to have alone time.

Tim had practically threatened everyone he knew with death threats to leave you both alone.

“Someone is feeling the mode,” Bart joked.

“You mean, someone needs to get laid,” Kon added.

“At this point, yes! I don’t want to see, hear, or think of either of you tonight. Unless it’s the apocalypse, then I don’t want to even know about it,” he growled. The two other heroes howled with laughter as he left.

You could tell Tim was distracted and preoccupied by the way his hand gripped and squeezed your thigh. He gave you frequent kisses between scenes. As the episode ended, Tim pounced.

“Tim!” You gasped as he pushed you to lay on the couch before the credits were even done. It turned to a moan as his hand slid between your thighs to rub you through your panties.

“It’s been way too long,” he groaned as he kissed down your throat. He was almost never this aggressive and it was dizzying. He pushed your panties to the side to finger you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as he hit deep inside you. His hips rubbed his hard cock against you. He pulled at your shirt with one hand.

“Take it off,” he groaned with impatience. Before you had even gotten the fabric over your head, he had attacked your chest. Pulling a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while fingering you thoroughly had you whimpering.

You shoved down his pants to grasp him in a loose fist. Tim rutted into your hand while sloppily kissing across your chest.

“Please, want you,” you whined and he wasted no time sliding in. Your back arched with a gasp. His arm reached behind your back and Tim took his time with long deep strokes.

This pleasure cycle couldn’t last forever and you both finished far too soon. Tim kissed you softly and gently.

“We can continue this later. I think the food is here,” he said.

“Sounds good,” you said adjusting your clothes and sitting up. “I’ll be right back,” you added as you went to clean up.

Tim answered the door in his messied hair and haphazardly placed clothes. Instead of the food delivery guy, it was Jason standing with his food box. Tim frowned.

“What do you want?”

“Pizza anyone?”

“Leave,” tim growled, taking the box. Jason laughed.

“Interrupting something?” Tim almost slammed the door in his face. “Hey, I just need keys to the Robin motorbike,” Jason added. “Oh I didn’t know you watched that show. Can you believe that in last week’s episode, it was the mom all along. Wild hu?”

Tim sighed before throwing the keys at Jason. “Go away.” He slammed the door.

“Well that sucks,” you said across the room.

Tim locked the door and sat the pizza box on the table. “I’m gonna be honest, and that is that I really just want to finish what we started before pizza. I’m not picky where.”

You laughed before letting him grab you fireman style over his shoulder to drag you into the bedroom. There was no way you were answering the door after that.

#Tim drake x reader #friday night smut #red robin x reader #Tim drake smut #Red Robin smut #dc smut

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nexysworld · 8 months

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Summary: Leon is sent on a mission to carry out a hit for the government. He hated these missions the most, but worst of all you weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to see him. Pairing: ID!Assassin Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, canon typical gore, graphic depictions of murder, comfort sex, mild dubcon, unprotected sex, fem!receiving oral sex, soft sex, angsty sex, hurt/comfort/hurt, dark content, descriptions of wound dressing. WC: 5.2k

A/N: This was a birthday fic for the wonderful @elfven-blog. <3 Title from the lyrics to the song Sextape by Deftones. Edit: I also have a bot based on this fic now: Character AI | Spicychat

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

Cool air bristled the hairs on the back of his neck, limbs tingling with the typical anticipation of what came next. Hits weren’t his favorite type of mission, not by a longshot, he wanted to save people, not kill them. But with experience came a certain professional numbness and a way to compartmentalize. It didn’t help that the locale for this affair was in the dead center of a suburban upper class neighborhood. Every home had that same limestone brick or white overlapping paneling. Every door the same mahogany brown, tacky lawn gnomes, overly green grass, white picket fences – the works. The possibility of witnesses was high, the escape routes limited.

Regardless, Leon was a professional, and he would make it work. He always did.

Tilting his wrist, he looked down at the gold rolex, it was a little past 2:30am. He listened closely, to ensure there was no movement inside. The double windowed back doors were his point of entry. The brass knobs were old, the locks inside not quite as intricate as modern ones, all it took was a good smack against the swiss army knife he’d jammed into it for the lock to click open. The door opened quietly, he made sure to not close it completely behind him to ensure he could make his escape.

The house had an eerie quiet over it, almost like the universe knew what was about to happen. Leon cracked his neck and let out a breath, careful to not touch anything as he moved throughout the lower floor, clearing each room. The kitchen was pristine, nothing out of place on the island or counter. There was no homely smell of food, only the lingering scent of some harsh cleaner. Not a sign that anyone had even been down there within the past several hours – a good thing, he noted. Through the archway came the living room, he had been hopeful someone had opted to sleep on the couch, separate targets were easier targets. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t so lucky.

The plush gray sectional was untouched, not so much as a divet into the cushion. The TV remote lay on the dark oak coffee table. Unlike the kitchen, this room felt more homely. The faint smell of some fruity air freshener was all over, the cherry walls were lined with gold plated frames of the family.

His target was some small town politician, Jackson Moore, normally somebody not noteworthy to the government in the slightest, but he made the unfortunate mistake of shaking hands with terrorists, facilitating the sale of some new viral invention through the local pharmacies. The idea of another Raccoon City incident made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure who he held more anger for, the people like this person who’d bring it about, or the government that he knew turned a blind eye until now – the same government who wouldn’t make the effort to save the people who uphold it.

He shook his head, and pushed his bangs back refocusing for a moment. He scanned over the pictures. Most normal family outings, some graduation photos and holiday ones in there. Hunnigan had told him beforehand that all of the kids were off to college, none due back for several more weeks. The only targets in the house were Mr. and Mrs. Moore.

There was only one more room on the bottom floor, where he was sure his victims were, the master bedroom. Leon made his way over, silently padding down the short hall staring at the door. It was cracked, the sound of light snoring and the smell of mint wafting from the room. He peeked inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room, a string of moonlight the only thing illuminating the sleeping lumps on the bed.

He tested the door, it squealed slightly as it opened making him freeze. One of the sleeping forms moved slightly rolling over. He waited, still as a statue until he was sure that both still remained asleep before sliding himself through the narrow opening he’d made.

Looming over the sleeping forms, he pulled his gun out from it’s holster attached to his waist. Even with the silencer, he knew he needed to be quick. One shot would wake the other, and then it was a matter of speed. He cocked the pistol, taking a few more steps towards the unaware persons before him. The gun felt heavy in his hand, but he lifted it anyway, deciding to start with the official target first.

Will the trigger pulled back, the room lit up for a split second with the bang of the gun. Time slowed as he watched the man’s body jolt slightly, blood splattering onto the pillow, the walls. The smell of gunpowder and iron hit his nose. The man’s fingers twitched slightly before his movement stopped. Just like he had expected, his wife was awake instantly, though no noise came from her.

Wide eyed, she stared at Leon, then down at her husband next to her. Her mouth opened like she was trying to scream, but the noise was caught in her throat, tears welled in the woman’s eyes. Blood had splattered onto her too, some chunks of brain along with it dripped from her curlers onto her lap. Her trembling hands reached over to her husband, “Jacks.” She whispered, reaching over and putting her hand on his deformed face. “Jacks.” She leaned over the man, trying to scoop the bits and pieces of him back together.

Leon wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to wonder if that’s how someone might react to his death some day. But he pushed those feelings aside, she was a target, culpable in everything just as her husband was. He lifted the gun again, pointing it at her.

As she looked at him, eyes wide with fear, her mouth formed the shape of a word. He didn’t need to hear it to know it was a plea. He pulled the trigger again.

Deadshot, like putting down an animal, between the eyes.

Her body crumbled over itself as she slumped forward onto the bed, the back of her head exploded open like a volcano of bone, blood, and brain matter.

Not dwelling on it, he put his finger to the device in his ear. “It’s done, Hunnigan.” “Good work Leon. I’ll make sure that –”

“Hey mom, you still up? I thought I heard something.”

The soft voice pulled Leon from his conversation, there were footsteps out in the hallway and the sound of a lightswitch clicking on. ‘Shit.’ He cursed to himself inwardly. He took a few steps back from the door, whispering to Hunnigan. “You said there were no other targets here.” “There aren't –” “The daughter is home.” “Does she know you’re there?” “No, not yet.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before she spoke again. “Leon.” Hunnigan’s voice was serious, she knew him well enough after all these years to know his thoughts. “Leave no witnesses.” “There won’t be, she doesn’t even know I'm here.” The sound of the fridge opening and closing indicated the girl’s location. “Everyone at the location is a target, Leon. Everyone at the location is a witness.” “Not if she – “ “Leon, this is an order.” “I can wait for her –” “Leon –”

“She doesn’t have to die.” “Dad, is that you?” The sound of his voice, despite him doing his best to stay at a whisper, must've alerted the girl. There was shuffling around on the other end of the line, the next voice he heard made his blood cold. The head of the D.S.O shouting into his ear. “Kennedy, this is an order, kill her! Complete the mission. Do you understand me?”

“Understood.” He said flatly, disconnecting from the call. In a worse stroke of bad luck, the door to the bedroom swung open nearly at the same time.

And there you were.

Glass shattering as it hit the floor, water splattering around as the light from the hallway lit up the room from the opened door. You trembled in place as you processed the sight of things. Leon was frozen where he stood too. You were an adult, but young, more importantly innocent in all of this. Rarely in his forced-on-him career has he had to kill someone completely innocent. Usually it was the partners of criminals, civilians caught in crossfire. But never someone as young as you, never in a situation so targeted.

He hardly registered the shriek you made before you bolted. Acting purely on instinct he took off after you, the delay of his own shock didn’t matter much when he noticed the slimy trail of bloody footprints from where you’d ran through the glass left in the hallway. His own boots crunching it against the ground as he moved. If you had been smart, you’d have turned for the front door, or even the back. Instead, nearly sliding on your own blood you went for the staircase, the one route that would trap you on the upper floor. You let out a yelp of pain, trying your hardest to only use your less injured foot to bounce up the stairs as quickly as you could, the blood matting down into the carpet with each step.

It didn’t take long for Leon to catch up, thumping up each one loudly as his boots made contact. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t take his gun out, why he was even letting you attempt this unwinnable escape, he also didn’t know. Maybe it was just delaying the inevitable.

He reached out for you just as you made it to the top of the stairs. A simple shove was all it took to send you flying into the decorative hall table that waited at the top. A sickening crack was heard as your head collided with the dark wood, knocking it over as you rolled over with a groan, dazed from it. Managing to prop yourself up on your elbows, Leon could see the trickle of blood that began to run down your eye and cheek, along with the starting to swell shiner from your high-speed table collision.

You scuttled backwards, as best you could, haphazardly tossing the vase that had fallen at him. It missed, and went crashing onto the stairs. Tears mixed with the blood on your face, diluting the color, only leaving the dry specs stuck there. You looked pathetic and terrified in a way that made Leon’s heart twist.

“P-please… don’t.” You pleaded, putting your hand out and up as if that simple gesture would be enough to stop him, distance him from yourself.

He couldn’t do this, at least not like this. He kneeled before you, cupping your uninjured cheek in his hand. “Shhhh. Shhh.”

“P-please… I won’t tell any–” “It’s ok,” he cooed. “It’s not my style to hurt pretty girls, you know that?” He added as he scooped you up from the ground bridal style. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Getting his DNA all over you, getting your blood on him. This wasn’t a clean kill, this wasn’t what the upper brass wanted. For the moment though, he didn’t care. “Where’s your room, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t point or make a sound, your eyes darted from him to the cracked door next to him and then back to him as you shook in his hold. He wedged it open the rest of the way with his foot, before gently placing you down on your bed. It didn’t look right, all the blood staining into the fresh and plush sheets. It was different than your parents downstairs, the whole room screamed you. From the decor on the walls, to the laptop on the nightstand, your college hoodie hanging off the back of the chair at your desk. More reminders that you didn’t deserve this.

Before you could, he swiped the phone off of the side table, stuffing it into his pant pocket. “I know you hurt right now.” He said sweetly, “Give me a minute and we’ll get you all cleaned up, alright?” He gave you a moment to process his words. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He asked himself, as he held your hand, patting your arm gently. He could see the confusion in your eyes as the gears in your head turned to try and make a decision – timidly you nodded. He shot you his signature smile. “Atta girl. Stay here for me, no funny business.” Pointing a finger gun at you before he slipped out into the hallway and into the upstairs bathroom.

The suddenly bright lighting stung his eyes, he saw himself in the mirror, your blood speckled onto his jacket, some dried to his face. He looked rough, a cold sweat broken out onto his face, blue eyes distant looking back at himself. He splashed some cold water onto his face to calm his nerves before digging around to see if there was anything he could use to alleviate some of your pain, even if temporarily. The medicine cabinet was well stocked, though nothing would be enough to really combat the pain of your cracked head and torn up feet. He bit his lip as he grabbed some bandages and the bottle of peroxide.

First aide wasn’t really his specialty, but he knew enough from training. Along with the other supplies, he filled the empty cup on the counter with warm soap water, and took the washcloth with him.

To his surprise you were exactly where he’d left you, splayed out on the bed, looking scared and exhausted. Your head rested against the pillow, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to take a look at your feet first.” Not that he really gave you the option, but you nodded in return. Leon was no stranger to gore, guts, and the rest, but something about them gave him pause. There was so much blood he could hardly see what was skin and what was glass. “It might sting just a little.” He assured, pouring the cold liquid out onto your feet. You hissed and squirmed a bit, but he placed his arm over your ankles to keep them still, watching as the peroxide bubbled, clearing away the redness of the blood. Small pieces of glass fell with it onto the now stained carpet. He opted to speak to you, see if he could get you to calm down some more while he worked, pouring more over the wounds. “You’re in college?” There was something about you that was indescribable to him, familiar to him, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah.” Finally you answered with words, voice barely above a whisper. “Shouldn’t you be at school then? I thought the semester was still going.” He as he checked you over for any more obvious glass. When it was clear the peroxide had done it’s job, he took the bandages, gently wrapping them around your feet, gauze padding them.

“D-dropped out.” You squeaked out. “Last minute decision, had to come home.” He tied off the bandage before moving to look at your face. “School’s not for everyone. You’re probably better off without it.” Leon dipped the washcloth into the cup, wringing it out over the carpet, not really caring about the mess. He dabbed it gently against your injured face, helping to remove the remaining mess and to get a better look. Luckily the cut above your eye seemed superficial and the blood had stopped running, it was just a matter of cleaning up the dried mess that was left over. He was careful around the tender purple skin as he cleared as much as he could. “You have a boyfriend you leave back at school?”

“No. Never had one at all actually.” You replied, wincing when he accidentally touched a painful spot. “Never had one?” He asked more for himself than as a real question to you. ‘Hasn’t finished school, never had a boyfriend. This is so fucked up. She can’t be any older than Ashley was…’ He thought to himself, debating whether the court marshalling would be worth letting you go. In the same train of thought, he considered what would happen to you if he did. The government would probably send someone else just like him, someone less soft. He bristled at the thought, sitting up straight on the side of your bed. “That’s a shame, I would’ve thought a cute girl like you would be drowning in guys asking her out.” “Not really” You seemed to relax a bit now, well as relaxed as a person could be in your state. He could still tell from your blown pupils and 1000 mile stare that you were still in shock. Probably a good thing. “My parents are… were, strict.” Your face contorted like you were about to be sick at the memory.

Leon went back to stroking your cheek gently for comfort. “So no boyfriend, ever have your first kiss? First time?” Now that he had a better chance to really look at you, all cleaned up he realized who you reminded him of. Not so much Ashley, she was more strong willed and you didn’t quite look the part either. It wasn’t just the age, no…your voice, mannerisms, the way you looked. It was so very much her. Someone he hadn’t thought about since before even Raccoon City.

“Yeah. Wasn’t very good, some drunk frat boy.” You admitted leaning slightly into his touch. Silence passed between you both, nothing but the ceiling fan whirring above you. An automated air freshener spritzed roses and lilac into the air, barely covering the distinct peroxide and blood smell. Leon was surprised when you finally spoke again. “Why did you do it?”

The look on your face gutted him more than it should have. “I had to.” “Because of his job?” “Something like that, yeah.” “Did he deserve it?” “Yeah.”

You nodded, turning your eyes away from the ceiling to look at him. There was another tense silence before you spoke again. “Are you going to kill me too?”

He felt a chill ran over his body at the question. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to yours, moving his hand up to stroke your hair. “I don’t want to.” It wasn’t a real answer and he knew that, but it was honest. “Why are you being nice to me?” “I told you, I don’t like to hurt cute girls.” “That’s not it.”

How you read him for filth like that he’ll never know. “You remind me of someone.” He leaned back just enough to look at you again, but kept your faces close, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Who was she?” “My first girlfriend.” He admitted. “What happened to her?” “We broke up.” He said with a short laugh. “Right before my very first day as a cop.” While the conversation was far from appropriate for the situation, he supposed it worked to calm you down more as he felt you relax into the bed. His internal struggle was still playing tug-of-war with his psyche, not sure of how to proceed.

The piece in his ear picked up with some static before Hunnigan’s familiar voice was heard. “Leon are you there?”

He ignored her in favor of continuing to dote over you, hand gently running through your hair, taking in your features more. That trepidation never left your eyes – he understood it. He probably looked psychotic right now, a murderer who was being eerily kind. He was self aware enough to know that much.

“Leon, we haven’t heard a status report. Has the last target been eliminated?” She spoke loud enough this time that while it couldn’t have been above the lowest whisper for you, it was obvious you heard it, eyes widened again, mouth opening slightly. To keep you quiet he leaned forward pressing his lips to yours, a soft kiss you didn’t really return. “Stay quiet for me, ok?” He mumbled against your lips, before sitting up again. He considered replying to Hunnigan, but looking down at you, he took his earpiece out, tossing it to the other side of the room instead.

Hey eyed you again, before adding another kiss. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this.’ He reprimanded himself, as he placed another this time to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then jaw. Another on your neck for good measure. ‘I should’ve done it the second she opened the door. I should’ve done my job.’ Despite his mind’s dialogue he continued now at your collar bone. ‘Like ripping off a band aid…. I can’t let her last moments be like that.’ He began to rationalize as he looked up at you. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Wh-what?” “You deserve better than a drunk frat boy. Let me make you feel good.” He repeated. “Why?” “Because I want to.” He could clock the nervousness in your voice immediately. “You can say no.” He added. “I’m not a rapist.”

“A-are you going to kill me if I say no?” “No, of course not.” Again, it wasn’t technically a lie. He wouldn’t be doing it because you declined, but he felt mild disgust with himself for side-stepping the reality of the situation again. ‘It’s better this way though. For her.’

“Ok.” You said, nodding at him to continue. He treated you like glass, gently working your thin tank top up and over your breasts. He continued by kissing each one tenderly before taking your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until he felt it pebble. When you whimpered at the feeling, he began to suck on it, kneading your other breast with his hand. When he pulled himself off with a pop, he looked down at you, lips parted, eyes closed. Enjoying so much despite him having done so little. Adorable.

He ran his thumb along your bottom lip until he saw those pretty eyes crack open before capturing your lips again, taking the chance to slip his tongue inside once parted. You were sloppy with inexperience, but tasted like dessert, sweet. It made his cock twitch against his pants. He groaned slightly into your mouth, ignoring his own need. Pulling away he let you catch your breath, giving him the chance to move down your body one kiss under your breasts. The next above your naval – stomach contracting slightly. He added one more above the hem of your night pants.

He looked up at you, silently checking with you if it was alright to continue again. When you nodded, he helped you out of the pants. Gently tugging them down from the waist band, lifting each separate leg himself, careful to not hurt your already injured feet. “You alright?” “Y-yeah.”

“Let me know if anything hurts, ok?” “Ok.” “Good girl.”

Leon tugged his leather jacket off discarding it on the floor before rolling up the sleeves of his button up. He claimed a spot between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder for better access to what he was about to do. He gave a reassuring kiss to your thigh, using a free hand to part your folds, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently. He eyed you watching as you melted under his touch, soft whimpers tickling at his eardrums. “Such a pretty girl.” He cooed, replacing his thumb with his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive bud.

He had to grind down on the bed himself to relieve some of his own tension, reminding himself to keep his focus on you. His grip on your leg tightened as you arched your back, squirming more and more against his touch. “God…oh god…” You chanted, head tossed back, the leg draped over his shoulder kicking at his back. He knew you were close when your voice cracked, soft gasps escaped your lips. He continued lapping at you as you ground against his face, letting you ride through your orgasm – only stopping when your hands made purchase in his hair to get his attention. “C-can’t…can’t.”

Pulling back, he wiped your slick off his chin with his forearm, looking down at you. He watched as your chest heaved slowly, returning to a normal rhythm. Your uninjured eye was lidded less with shock and more with that familiar coming down of pleasure. He went to move back when you grabbed his arm, looking directly at him. “What about you?” He was a little shocked by the words, your concern for him. “I said I wanted to make you feel good.” He chalked it up to your likely traumatized and now lust hazed brain. “Don’t worry about me.” Leon made the motion to move again. “Wait.” You called, grip on his arm tightening. “What if… what if I want to?”

He didn’t move, unsure of how to respond. He’d already fucked up the mission, already covered you in his DNA, yours on him – but he couldn’t do what you were asking. That was too far.

“P-please?” You choked out, tears now welling in your eyes, spilling over and staining your cheeks again.

And just like that he was taken back to that day again, right before Raccoon City. A night he swore was the worst of his life, until he knew better. Sitting there across from him, begging him not to go – you sounded just like her too, like she was frozen in time beneath him. Even worse, this was the opposite of what he wanted, he wanted to make things easier for you, relax you. “I just want to be close, please? Please?” You were full on crying now, face scrunching up, barely able to catch your breath. “Ok. Ok.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again. “Shhh, don’t cry. Don’t cry. How do you want me to take you?” Your words came out between sniffles and hiccups. “Any way, you want.”

He nodded, sitting back enough to help you sit up, slipping your shirt off all the way. “Can you flip over for me? Lay down flat on your stomach.” He helped you comply with the command, still careful of your injuries. He could see the bandages on your feet had turned a slight pink. Once you were laid out the way he wanted, relaxed, face down into the pillow, he worked his own shirt off, tossing it over in a pile atop his jacket. His gun was removed from the holster, he was careful to lock the safety, discarding it with his other items. He left his pants on, undoing them enough to free his half hard cock, the head still weeping.

He spat in his hand, giving himself a few good tugs, feeling himself hardening fully again. “You ready?” “Yeah.” He crawled forward, gently lifting your butt up just enough for him to line himself at your soaking entrance. He grunted when he pressed in, you sucking him in warm and wet. He let you take a moment to relax down again as he leaned forward, pressing the entirety of his bare chest to your back, sinking his cock in slowly until he was buried all the way inside of your heat.

He kissed up your shoulders, and neck, rolling his hips into your slowly. “God you’re tight baby.” He whispered against your ear. He didn’t have the heart to rail you into the mattress, wanting to abate your request for closeness, intimacy. “S’big…” You lazily mumbled into the pillow. “I know, I know.” He crooned your neck just enough for him to lock your lips together again. “But you’re doing so good, taking me so well.” Letting you rest, he returned to focusing on the motion of setting a steady but not too rough pace, angling himself so that he hit that spot inside of you that had you whimpering again. He rewarded the noises by rolling you both onto the side, where he could wrap an arm around you like a tight hug, leg gently pulled over over his own so he had a better angle. Likely for the best, Leon was close already, he slowed down more, returning to simply rolling his hips as he trailed his hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your naval and thighs before rubbing at your clit for a bit as he kissed and sucked softly against your neck. He fucked you like he would’ve done to her, like you were his lover, the most important thing to him.

Your velvet walls felt like heaven as they squeezed against him, closer and closer to your own second orgasm. “That’s it baby.” He whispered hotly against your ear. “One more time for me, ok?” He sped up his fingers, feeling you tighten around him so much that he nearly felt his own eyes roll back. “G-good girl.” He praised, gripping your hip to speed up his own movements, his balls tightening as he came, cock throbbing as spurts of his seed painted your insides.

Leon held you like that for a while, curling in on you, offering soft praises as he nuzzled into your neck from behind. He didn’t move a muscle until your breath evened out completely, and he could tell by the low thrum of your heartbeat that you were incredibly close, if not already asleep. He looked up at the clock on the nightstand – 4:45am it read. He had about 20 more minutes max before someone from HQ would be sent in as backup, now that he’d been MIA for so long.

Now fully soft, he gently pulled himself out of you, and carefully rolled off the bed. He watched you for any more signs of movement as he buckled back up and redressed. There was that eerie silence settling over the house again, he felt heavy with the weight of the evening crushing against him like an invisible force. He wished for a moment that the world would swallow him up where he stood so he didn’t have to face his responsibilities, the consequences.

You looked peaceful laying there. He knew it was just the exhaustion, shock, and grief, that kept you tugged under the waves of unconsciousness, but for his own sake he pretended you were in a truly relaxed state. Moreso, he was glad you wouldn’t experience any more of that pain or fear tonight. Leon clicked the safety off the gun, watching you for any signs of movement. Not even a twitch as he cocked the gun again. He walked over, sitting at the side of the bed again, eyeing you over one more time. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a lot of things at that moment, his ex all over again, your future, another piece of the man he wanted to be. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this, you know?” He whispered, mostly to himself as he pressed the barrel of the pistol to the pillow.

He couldn’t look this time. He wouldn’t look this time. His chest tightened, having to take a moment to stop the bile trying to work its way up, and the urge to cry that had him wanting to heave against the floor. He grabbed his earpiece as he made his exit.

“This is Kennedy to HQ – the last target has been exterminated.”

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vivwritesfics · 6 months

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Five - The Unreputable

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

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Series Masterlist

The Unreputable

Is the Monégasque Princess dragging Ferrari's golden boy down with her?

Now, dear reader, this is a bold claim for us here at the Monaco Press to make. But we've seen this happen before. We saw this happen with Frédéric Archambeau, the Instagram star from Paris. The party princess dragged him down to her level and, until his mention in this publication, he had faded into irrelevancy.

Even without his newfound relationship with Princess Y/N, Charles Leclerc is already a mega star. He is a phenomenal driver, with many eccentric adventures outside of his racing career. The latest of his adventures, it seems, is to join the royal family.

It should not have come as a surprise when Charles Leclerc was seen leaving a local dive bar with his arm around the princess. It wasn't a romantic scene. No, the party princess was hanging onto Leclerc for dear life as he helped her into his car.

The Hole In The Wall isn't the kind of place Charles Leclerc is expected to be seen. Where will the part princess drag him to next? And when will we see his reputation crumble?

She woke up, her head pounding as she looked around her bedroom. Her bedroom. She rarely ended up in her bedroom after a night like the last.

What had happened? She barely remembered anything past Charles arriving at the bar.

Sucking in a breath, she sat up and grabbed the pain killers she kept beside her bed. They were a lifeline on days like this.

As soon as she had swallowed the painkillers, she stood up and pulled an old, food stained hoodie over her body. She stood up, slipped her feet into her slippers and walked out of the bedroom, her feet dragging.

A yawn left her lips as she trudged towards her kitchen. She didn't notice the man sleeping on her couch as she opened the cupboard holding her mugs. The cupboard was empty, the mugs sitting in her sink.

She grabbed the first mug, the one that had 'Sexy' written in different fonts and colours, and made quick work of washing it up. It wasn't perfect when she placed it beneath the coffee machine and pressed 'Go'.

At the sound of the coffee machine, the person on the couch stirred. His eyes opened and he blinked, adjusting to the daylight shining in through the window. That was right, he'd managed to take care of her, but had forgotten things like shutting the curtains.

When he sat up and turned towards the kitchen, he watched as she jumped out of her skin. "Holy shit, Charles!" She cried, quickly placing her mug on the counter. "What're you doing here? You scared the shit out of me."

He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he stood up. "Good morning to you, too," he said as he walked towards the kitchen, stepping over dishes and takeout containers on the floor.

The couch hadn't been all too comfortable but, mostly, Charles couldn't believe that she lived like this. He couldn't believe that Henri hadn't gotten her a cleaner or somebody to help her live better than this.

"Want a coffee?" She asked as he leaned against the counter.

When Charles nodded, she quickly washed up another mug and placed it beneath the coffee machine. With her eyes half closed she pressed the required buttons and it started running, pouring coffee into the mug.

Once it was full and the machine stopped spluttering out coffee, she handed it to Charles. "Did you drive me back here last night?" She asked as she sipped from her own mug. (His mug was a giraffe, the long winding neck acting as the handle).

"Thought you might throw up in your sleep and die," he said and sipped his coffee. But, at that moment, it was far too hot and he nearly ended up spitting it put. He swallowed it down, ignoring the burn.

The party princess let out a snort. "Oh sunshine," she began as she walked past him, patting his chest. "You have no idea what you're dealing with.

She sat on the sofa and pulled her legs beneath her. Switching on the television, she flipped through channels as she sipped her coffee.

Charles couldn't help but watch her. She didn't seem like a princess, not the way she was now. Didn't look like she belonged in a palace, in a fancy dress and crown. She was just a girl, the same as anybody else.

He joined her on the sofa, sitting on the far end. "Do you remember last night, when you warned me about the state of your apartment?" He asked, and she couldn't help but look down, embarrassed. "You said 'it's not very princess like'."

She gestured to the mess around the couch. "You weren't expecting this, were you?"

Charles didn't want to admit that she was right, that he hadn't expected things to be this bad. "Why hadn't Henri gotten you a cleaner or a maid or something?" He asked, leaning back against the sofa cushions.

She shrugged her shoulders. "He tried. He tried several different times," she said, placing her mug on the coffee table in front of her. "I drove all of them away with reckless behaviour and because I was too much to deal with."

But still, Charles looked around. "So you don't even try to take care of yourself?"

Again, she shrugged her shoulders. "No point when I'm nothing more than the party princess."

She finished her coffee, stood up and placed the mug in the sink, along with the rest of them. "Can we get things nailed down?" She asked him, resting her hand against the back of the sofa. Charles didn't turn his head towards her. "Like, a schedule and shit? When we go out to dinner, events we're taking each other to, and stuff like that."

He didn't immediately recognise that she was trying to rush him out of her apartment, couldn't tell from the get go that she wanted time alone. He leaned forward, putting his half full mug on the coffee table, and turned to face her.

"Well, I can take you for dinner before my next Grand Prix. We can make it somewhat public, get in all of the papers."

A dry laugh left her lips. "Are you sure you want the party princess to drag you down to her level? Because that's what's going to happen next time we're pictured together."

Charles turned his full body towards her. "What're you saying?" He wore a frown on his face, one that didn't suit him. She realised it immediately. He looked so downtrodden when he frowned. "Do you want to break this arrangement off?"

Once again she shrugged. "Just giving you the option to get out before you end up like Frédéric Archambeau," she said.

"Who is Frédéric Archambeau?"

"Exactly."

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riemoi · 2 months

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twisted wonderland Royalty Au

I got bored and wrote this, I might write more on this idea. idk yet. also I gave up at the end sorry.

Tw: this yandere, cringey, I can't write, long,

reader has no gender

Heartslabyul characters

summary - you royalty of a nation that each year holds a festival for all to come and enjoy. As more guests arrive, the more people want your love. but what about the people that aren't guests that want your love? (Sorry for the bad summary.)

Trey Clover --- Chef

Trey, you've known him since you were a little kid. Though Trey was a commoner that worked at the local bakery his family owned. You met him at the age of eight. You were at a Fair, you got lost and were wandering around hungry and looking for food. After a while you sat down on a bench. Looking at the ground on the verge of tears. Until a cupcake came into view. With a wide smile you grab it and start eating. You looked up after hearing a chuckle and saw the person that gave you the cupcake. It was trey. And after that day you started going to the bakery asking if he can play. He was always excited to hangout with you. He liked how you would react to him baking your favorite sweets, liked how happy he felt with you. He loved you. Hey remember when you said you wanted his food all the time. Well he took that as you only wanted to eat his cooking and no one else's. He liked that idea...No, he loved that idea. You only eat what he cooks. Him as your husband cooking all your meals and taking care of you, while you take care of the kingdom. So guess what! He asked your parents to be your chef and they said yes! So that now you get what he cooks only and you two could hangout together when you're not busy. He wants to be the only one to your food so badly that he can get almost as red as Riddle when he finds that you ate something he did not make.

Riddle Roseheart --- Nobleman

Speaking of Riddle. He has been in your life since you were a fetus. You wouldn't be surprised if your parents told you he was born in the castle. Because his mother is the royal doctor he lives in the palace. He even attended some lectures with you when you were younger. You were the only person that his mother allowed to be with. And because of that he was your first friend and you were his. So naturally, he's clingy after all other than adults he only had you. Even with Trey it was you that invited him. In an attempt for him to make a new Friend and not cling to you all the time. It didn't help because he only wants to be with you. He is as strict with you as he is with himself. So not only do you have this red hair guy attached to your hip but he constantly reminds you of how you should act and the weird rules.( you memorize almost all of them.) Did you know that when he is studying in the library he would occasionally pick up books with the friends to lovers trope. Imagining. it was you and him. Hopefully soon he won't have to imagine. he looked it up, and found out the more time people spend together the likelihood of them falling in love is higher. So he has a higher chance of being with you, especially if the person trying to steal your love is a disaster of a servant... Wait, why are you laughing with him! Don't you see your future husband right here waiting for you! No, don't act all worried for me now. asking what happened. You know why I'm red! You did it on purpose, didn't you. You know what we're leaving.

Deuce Spade --- Servant

You only met Deuce a few weeks ago, he is a newbie trying to become a knight. As per the rules of your kingdom Knights must serve six months as a worker in the castle first. He chose to be a cleaner, you first ran into him when you slipped on the soapy water he spilled on the ground while cleaning the windows. He freaked out, apologizing while trying to help you up. Only to then fall just like you. Laughing, you asked his name as you haven't seen him around before. which ceased his panic. A little hurt he smiles and tells you his name happily. After that day, when you see him around you wave and sometimes talk to him. In his eyes he is the Luckiest man alive. You eventually learn the reason he's here and that he is the sweetest mamma's boy ever. but what about the other reason he's here? Did you even know about the other reason, bet you didn't. You didn't know that he knew you long before you two officially met. In your kingdom, when a kid does minor offenses they are sent to clean the castle. Such as cleaning the outside walls, cleaning up animal poop, or carrying the skin of hunted to where they need to be. Except for Deuce. Because he caused trouble even when doing his punishment. To keep him in watch distance he worked inside. That's when he first saw you. You lighted up his entire life. He liked seeing you and imagining talking to you. So he got in more trouble just so he could see you. He didn't care if he got scolded, had to clean, or got injured as long as he got to see you. until he saw his mom cry, it made him rethink everything. he had to stop. But then what about you? Well he could see you during public events... right? No, that's not enough. It took a lot of thinking to get to today. You were getting dragged away from him by a really red guy, was he okay? Even though he was sad that you were leaving him, at least he got to see the love of his life before having to deal with his roommate.

Ace Trappola --- Servant

You only met the foul a week ago, yet you interacted with him a lot more than Deuce. mainly because he keeps getting in trouble, in fact your meeting with him was because he got in trouble. Since the head maid got sick it's been your job to select punishments for workers that get in trouble. He got in trouble for cracking a statue. You gave him the punishment of cleaning 100 windows. Which he made his roommate do. ( That explains why Deuce was cleaning the windows.) When you learned this. You went and grabbed soapy water, found Deuce and asked him where his room was. He told you with a very confused look and when you proceeded to dump said water all over the sleeping Ace. Yelling at him to get his ass up and clean. That's when he fell for you. He liked how you would react to him causing trouble. As much as he hates his roommate he has to thank him(mentally.) for helping him realize his one and only love. You. So he gets himself in trouble just like Deuce did to see you. he likes your feisty side when he would hand his punishment chore to someone else. Of course once you two get together he'll be a good house husband while you take care of the kingdom. You guys could also be partners in crime. Oh doesn't that sound like heaven! He bets you can't yet just like him! He is so caught up in his own mind that he doesn't notice someone coming in the room while you yell at him and give you a kiss on the cheek.

Cater Diamond --- Nobleman/ family Friend

Cater, oh Cater. His existence alone made Riddle mad. Cater Diamond was your second friend and might I say best friend. You met him when you were five. He's the son of your fathers best friend, a grand duke. Cater and Riddle would fight like crazy around you about who gets to hangout with you. you like the non yandere person you are, suggested playing together but no that made them look at you like you're insane. When that didn't work you went with when Riddle was busy studying then you would hangout with Cater and vice versa because of how often Cater was at the castle. That same reason is why you two are close. You were Caters first and final love to him, he loved to be around you and was lucky to be with you a lot. But as you guys got older you couldn't because you two were too busy to hangout. (That made Riddle happy.) but now when he does come by the palace he expects you to spend every second with him and he hates it when you spend time with anyone that's not him So the moment he had a chance to drag you away from that servant he took it. After all, he heard that couples spent most of their time together.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #I regret everything #wtf did I do to Ace #jclhiuskbdbsxlsbhodldios odcdsnbuedigwsahoi #newbie writer #also I'm a dumbass

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flowerbetweenfangs · 3 months

Text

Love Bite

6.2k words.

CW: Dead lover (although not seen dead), general zombie/undead activities. While the ghouls are sapient/pass the harkness test, they are made up of an amalgamation of human bodies. If that disturbs you, I would skip this one.

Disclaimer: I haven't seen/played or consumed any Fallout media, these ghouls aren't like those (at least not intentionally). They're more like Frankenstein's monsters,/the ghouls from Tokyo Ghoul with a more spiritual connection.

Summary: A woman goes to the undead base on feeding night to get some answers... And maybe more from their leader.

This was originally written as a script, and I've repurposed it as a short story. I hope the switch works.

The radio had been blaring for hours, warning that it was feeding night. While most of the undead would be confined to hallowed ground, a few stragglers had been spotted roaming the streets. It wasn’t unheard of for a living human to be on the receiving end of a life changing, or ending, bite. The only people out were the Cleaners, driving slowly in armored vehicles, coming out in special suits that, supposedly, a ghoul couldn’t bite through.

You had managed to avoid being seen by both, ducking around corners and sprinting past streetlights. The belt around your waist was heavy, but filled with the items needed to fend off an undead that ventured too close. They had formed a shaky peace with the humans who occupied the town, offering their services as both mediums and mercenaries. Tougher than the average human, with a connection to the veil between life and death. Their prices were never cheap, of course, but it seemed to be something people would pay for.

In return, they were allowed free run once a night to feast. Although if the rumors were true, then the ghouls would also pay for access to fresh meat outside of the allotted date. The same thing that brought them to life wouldn’t last forever, and there were whispers of the undead showing up with fresher body parts than they had previously.

Nothing official, of course. But rumors, like hordes, spread fast and couldn’t be contained for long.

You weren’t sure if them eating the living or using their bodies for… Bodies was worse.

As you passed another armored truck, two Suits scraped up a mishmash of ghoul and its victim. Both had lost the fight.

Pushing it out of your mind, you swallowed and steeled yourself for what was to come.

The moon had reached its high point when you arrived at the cathedral. Iron gates surrounded it on all sides. You could see Roamers out front, moaning in their own language with an occasional bit of the local tongue slipped in. Judging by how human their bodies still looked, they must have been recently turned.

Walking around, you found a hole in the fence and wriggled under it. Your belt caught, stopping you against where sidewalk met grass. Pulling a baton free, you clutched it one hand, and unclipped the belt with the other.

As fast as you could, you crawled under the pickets, wincing as your shirt snagged on one and ripped. With the moaning and groaning in the background, you hoped the sound was masked. Sucking in your stomach, you wriggled under and quickly yanked the belt after you, quickly putting it back on before standing.

A paper fell out of your unbuttoned pouch, and you snatched it up, trying to shove the contents back inside while keeping your head on a swivel.

Keeping the baton out, you stared at the stained glass windows. Once upon a time, they had shown images of doves, holy books, and saints. Now, they showed the undead, brought to life by a mixture of science and a bit of magic. Some said they were the second coming, but you didn’t believe it.

Gritting your teeth, you made a beeline for the side door. The front was filled with the roamers. A few were passed out on the ground, chests rising and falling with the memory of breathing.

It took all your self-control not to turn around and go through the hole you came through.

It was all going well, until you felt a wet spot on the back of your shirt. Pausing, you put a hand to the spot, and pulled away your fingers, heart leaping in your throat when you saw they came away red.

Blood.

A warm summer breeze hit you, and the creaking of ancient bones filled the air as the roamers turned in your direction. Cloudy eyes squinted as nostrils flared. Clutching the baton, you ran to the side door.

The handle felt slick in your grasp as you fumbled with it. As you tugged, the sound of metal scraping on metal seemed so loud, no doubt alerting the hoard of your presence if your blood already hadn’t.

Some shuffled toward you, heads tilted to the side as they seemed to take you in, But before you could get a better look, you yanked the door open and ran inside, slamming it behind you.

A few candles lit up the hallway as florescent lights flickered above enough to give you pause. Panting, you clutched the weapon tighter as you waited for something to burst from the darkness.

Something instead hit the door behind you, spurring you forward. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you saw a few staring at you through the glass. Sweaty palm prints pressed against the pane as they leaned against it. Black fluid seeped from lips as they sniffed.

Backing away, you had barely turned around when you nearly slammed into a figure in the dark. You took a swing, feeling it connect. A grunt told you it made an impact. The scent of posies and peppermint filled your nose, making your hair stand on end.

Then, a large hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it to make you drop the weapon, Your body turned with it, dumping a few of your belt’s contents onto the floor. Before your arm snapped, you saw the amber eyes, a signature of the resurrected dead.

He sniffed, the ichor seeping from his lips. Unlike the Roamers outside, it was less viscous and more of a dark grey as opposed to pure black.

You brought your hand back to strike him, but he let go, sending you to the floor in a heap. Before you could get your bearings, he reached down and picked up the paper.

“You’re here to see Romero?” His teeth looked like they had been filed to a point. His grey tongue stewed in more drool.

The raspy voice sent another chill up your spine. Sure, ghouls could speak, but it was one thing to hear it over a radio or television, another thing to hear it in person.

“Y-yeah.” You managed to say, eyeing your weapon. As you inched toward it, you felt your stomach drop as the creature’s hand grabbed your shoulder, then slid down to your bicep.

Unceremoniously hauled to your feet, you winced and waited for the bite….

But it never came.

“Very well….” He started to walk, all but pulling down the hallway. To keep yourself from being dragged, you regained your footing and did your best to match the much larger man’s pace.

When you both came to double doors leading the auditorium, you saw the name plate.

Romero.

The ghoul knocked on the door, his meaty fist making it echo in the empty hall. You squinted, half expecting more undead to come scrambling out of the dark and to devour you.

“Enter.” A voice called from on the other side of the door. It was muffled, but your heart still skipped a beat at how… Familiar it sounded.

Your escort opened the door. The creaking drug out, and your heart skipped a beat to see…

A man you’d never seen before. The scarred, mismatched skin of a ghoul covered his body, along with the split coloring of black and white on his scalp, one half straight, the other curly. His attire was a suit, pressed, with a bright red tie.

He was sat at a desk next to the pulpit, flipping through a file. Classical music softly played on a record player, not audible beyond the room.

“Leave us, please.” He didn’t look up from his file.

The escort’s grip on your arm loosened. Hot breath stirred at your neck, and you turned at the last second, seeing his opened mouth mere inches from your shoulder.

“Get your mouth away from her.” The file hit the desk, scattering a few loose pieces of paper. Romero finally looked up, eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

Your escort stepped away, wiping his mouth and slurping down the drool.

“How would you like it if someone gave you a plate of food they’d taken a bite out of?” Romero’s eyes narrowed, and he snapped his fingers, pointing to the door.

“Sorry boss, won’t happen again.”

“Make sure of it.” Romero followed him to the door. The creaking of his joints made you grit your teeth. His movements were just slow enough to look strange. How long had it been since you fed? Your eyes flicked to the desk again, where you saw a plate, only juices remaining of what he’d been eating.

Swallowing, you stood up straight, trying to not show fear.

Romero closed the door, turning the lock and hanging the key on a nail next to it.

“So.” He deeply sighed, closing his eyes. Veins protruded from his skin, slithering across his brow and cheeks. “You’ve come to the cathedral during feeding night.”

He opened his eyes, the veins stopped squirming, and he began to walk toward you, hands clasped behind his back. When he stopped, the scent of peppermint rolled over you. Sweat beaded on your upper lip as you swallowed, trying to not spit as the scent burrowed its way into your mouth and tongue.

“I’m amazed the horde didn’t take you at the gate.” He towered over you, eyes tracking back and forth as he sized you up.

Your breath caught in your throat as memories flooded back. Those eyes… So long ago.

They looked at you with love.

“Relax.” He turned to the side and waved a dismissive hand through the air, as if trying to rid himself of a bad smell. “I’m not fond of eating someone whose mind would be a detriment to my intellect.”

“A detriment?” You raised a brow, shaking the thoughts from your mind. Right. The creature in front of you was a thief!

“That’s how I would describe your actions. Too stupid to live.” He unfolded the piece of paper, staring at the flyer and rolling his eyes.

“If more people like you were in power, the undead would have overtaken the city in months when we first started to walk.”

“Are you going to insult me this whole time?” You clenched your fists. “If this is how you treat everyone, I’m amazed the undead weren’t mowed down when you first started to walk.”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the pew in front of the desk, before pulling open a drawer. “Clementine? Cranberries?”

“What?” You expected to see a few cans or fruit cups, but your mouth watered when he pulled out the fresh produce, along with a bottle of water.

“You think we only eat the flesh of the dead?” He tossed you the bottle of water, which you caught. Checking to make sure that it hadn’t been opened or had holes in the cap, you slowly opened it. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Finishing the water bottle, you set it next to you on the pew. You heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell on you again, now glittering with curiosity.

“You’re too old for your actions to be a dare or some childish foolhardiness.” Romero didn’t sit, but leaned on his desk. It creaked under his weight. “Did a spurned lover put you out? Angry boss threw you here because you fell behind on your performance?”

You shook your head. Why was he asking so many questions?

Sweat trickled down your neck as you pushed down the memories starting to rear their heads again. Grabbing the water bottle, you made a show of crushing it down until only a small ring of plastic was under the cap.

“Are you in debt? Terminally ill?” His voice was softer, light returning to his eyes. His cheeks and hands started to look less clammy. “Because if it’s the latter, you’ll find no reprieve here. A vampire might be more to your liking.”

“If I had those problems, then I would have let the hordes in the street take me. Maybe I would have been someone dragging terrified living through the halls.” You put a hand to your bicep, knowing it was likely going to bruise. At least a handprint was better than a bite mark.

“You’ve seen my kind.” The kindness was gone as he all but bit off each word. He held up an arm, showing where his wrist met the rest of his arm. The skin tones were slightly different. “Mismatched and sewn together from the best parts the dead—” He paused, rolling his eyes in a reluctant admittance. “—And occasional living, offer. We pay for the bodies, they pay us for the minds.”

“Yes.” You nodded to the paper in his hand. “I’ve seen it. Flyers around town, teasing them with promises of being able to talk to loved ones who passed on, or helping the police find criminals.”

“Is that why you’ve come?” He smiled, crumpling the paper in his fist and tossing it over his shoulder.

Inhaling sharply, you gripped your pant legs, nails digging into the fabric.

“Did I hit a nerve?” The smile grew larger, but didn’t reach his eyes. A small part of you was relieved.

“I take it you didn’t come prepared with money?”

“The flyer didn’t—”

“I never take clients on feeding nights.” He held up a hand to cut you off, then stepped down the stairs to close the distance between you. “Too grisly. Lots of people upset that I’m eating in front of them.”

You couldn’t hide your disgust as your lip drew backward and your face scrunched up. Leaning back in the pew, you crossed your arms. So, you’d come all this way for nothing?

“I’ve consumed lots of minds over the years.” He put two fingers to his temples. “So many memories jumbled together. It’s hard to tell who they originally belonged to. The process to get… Specific can be taxing. Of course, these things don’t come cheap, but there are many who are willing to pay if it means getting some closure from a loved one.”

The eyes… They stared at you, trying to gauge your reaction. When your face relaxed, you were rewarded with a clementine. Peeling back the skin, you stared down at the fruit.

“Usually something is needed to trigger recollection. A trinket. A song.” His voice was a lot closer. Closing your eyes, you didn’t dare look up to see how near he was to your face. Surprisingly, you could smell mint mixed in with his warm breath.

“A smell…”

A breeze stirred. And the memories lanced their way through your mind. Even when your squeezed your eyes shut, they remained.

“I can see it now, actually.” Romero’s voice was faint, fading into the ambience of downtown. A train whistled, and you sat on a bench, a suitcase at your side.

“You were supposed to meet him at the train station.” Romero’s voice was gone. The cadence… The tone… the speech pattern. You didn’t dare turn around to face him, for fear that everything would fade away. His voice. The one that matched the eyes.

“Both of you wanted to escape to a new city, leave this life behind. A place without the undead. Where you wouldn’t have to worry about the pressures of your families. Somewhere no one knew either of you. A clean slate. Thrive, not just survive.”

“But his family had debts.” The scene began to fade away as a clock above the train tracks spun, people and other occupants of the station moved by in a blur.

“Ones that buried them worse than the corpses that make up the graveyard. They gave up everything to make it. Gambling on someone that they hoped would be the light at the end of their miserable tunnel.”

The cathedral returned, and you saw Romero’s mismatched hand out of the corner of your eye.

“He was far from the only one.” The ghoul dropped his hand and shook his head. The pew creaked as he stood back in front of you.

“His body was the base for my current form.” He ran his hands over his suit, fingers tracing over the buttons. For a moment, you thought he would undo them and show you the patchwork beneath it.

“But, like many, it needed better pieces. Parts had to be replaced. So many minds were absorbed in creating this.” His hands went back to his temples, pointer fingers resting on them.

“Of… Me?” He sounded unsure, brow furrowing as his straight hair fell over his eyes. “Us?”

His fingers went from his temples to his eyelids.

“The eyes stayed, though. His were lovely. Although I suppose you knew that the moment ours met.”

You sucked in air through your teeth.

“What…” He shook his head and dropped his hands, placing a hand on his chest. His voice lacked bravado. For a moment, it looked like a tear was shimmering on his cheek. “Who he was doesn’t exist anymore. He’s… sorry. That he left you waiting. But he’s glad to see you’re doing well.”

Your heart fell into your stomach. If you hadn’t been sitting, then your legs would have given out. Panting, you placed a hand on your chest in a mirror of his own pose.

“Interesting…” His hand went to cover his mouth, but you would still hear his words. “Memories of the dead… Creating feelings.”

He made a fist and cleared his throat, body becoming stiff.

“Is that all you needed to hear? I think we’re pushing things as we are.”

“How did you do all that? Make me see that night?” Your words came out barely above a whisper. Your voice shook with each word. “Is this some trick?”

Your heart fluttered, and you reached out to touch the ghoul, as if that would bring them all back again.

“Forgive me, it was a mistake to refer to him in the present tense.” He started to back away from you, waving his hand in that dismissive way. “I don’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m…” You felt tears slipping down your cheeks, large and hot. They fell down onto your collar and chest. “Not angry…” It surprised you, but you realized it was the truth. You certainly weren’t happy… But far from… The fury you expected.

“Such an expression doesn’t do you justice.” His expression softened, and his hand cupped your soaked cheek.

“You’re still radiant despite it.”

“Is this… Normal?”

“Your presence is pulling him to the forefront. Quieting the others.” He put a finger to his lips with his freehand, closing his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he exhaled the minty breath over your face, covering you with goosebumps.

You didn’t dare say anything. Didn’t breathe. Worried that any noise you made would send him back to the hive mind. Losing him forever. A second death after seeing him for only a short amount of time.

How could people subject themselves to this?

“There are a lot of minds I’ve absorbed. Memories.” His hand went from your cheek to the curve of your neck.

“But never emotions.”

“So does that mean he’s… Piloting you right now?” You felt silly for asking. Of course he wouldn’t be. Why would he refer himself to the third person?

“It would be impossible to bring him back, I apologize.” He dropped his hand. The icy cold of your cheek stung, like he’d slapped it.

“And yet…”

You finally sucked in a breath. Your heart slammed against your ribs, a battering ram that threatened to break them. Swallowing hard, you placed your palms on the back of the pew and forced yourself to stand.

“I appreciate all you’ve done. But I think we’re moving past a professional relationship.”

“Right. Yes.” He finally broke the gaze, and it was like a piece of you was torn free. “There is a cot that you can stay on until feeding night is over. Once the sun is out, then you can head home.”

You headed to the door, hand hovering above the key. It was the one thing that would give your freedom, but lock him away forever.

So many questions swirled around in your mind. It was a rare opportunity.

Turning back around, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Romero standing between the pews. Far enough away to give him deniability of following you, but closer than he’d been when you’d arrived.

“Perhaps it’s these eyes of his.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “But ever since you walked into this room, I haven’t been able to see you as food, but as a thing of beauty. And your smell… Appetizing, but it entranced me further.”

He took another step closer, eyes flicking to the key. It was slow enough to give you enough time to leave. To tell him to stop.

But you didn’t move.

These eyes of his…

Memories… Feelings… Sorry… Glad to see you’re doing well…

“I don’t want you to get confused.” You blurted. “You aren’t him.”

“I know.” He admitted. “But these memories…” He stopped within arm’s length of you. “I will never be a replacement for him, but perhaps you can find some comfort in that a small part of him will continue to live on.”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes. The touch. The gaze. The way he talked… There was no way to convince yourself it was him…

But this was as close as you could get.

You closed the distance between you two and wrapped your arms around him. The way he felt was… Wrong, but at least the warmth was the same. You expected stiff and cold. But you let your head rest on his chest, expecting to hear and feel the familiar rhythm of his heart.

Only silence answered.

His fingers went under your chin, and he tilted your head up toward his. Rough lips brushed against yours in a chaste kiss. You closed your eyes. All you could see was the ghoul in the darkness.

“Perhaps we can continue to learn from one another.” His lips scratched against your earlobe. “You’ll find more of your love’s memories, and I’ll explore these emotions and senses…” His fingers slid between yours, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

You finally locked eyes with him, looping your arms around his neck. His hands went to your waist, and your bodies pressed up against one another.

Your lips met again, and he grabbed the back of your head and crushed you two together. He moaned softly, his rough mouth wet against yours. Remembering the ichor, you squeezed your own shut and prayed none would get into your mouth.

Then, a growl.

A sharp pain went up the curve of your neck. His hair brushed your skin and you tangled your hands in his hair.

Had it all been an act?

Was this how you died?

Then, he was off, licking his lips and shaking his head.

“Sorry… Some natures are… Hard to ignore.” He stared at you, straightening his arms to look you over.

“Are you alright?”

“It hurts.” You admitted, putting a hand to the bite. It stung, but the skin didn’t seem to be broken. “Will I turn?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s… Just a love bite.”

You swallowed. Your head spun as you leaned into him once again. The surprise wore off, and so did the pain.

“Then I’m fine.”

“If I had a pulse,” He cupped your cheek again, bending down to brush his lips against yours in a much more chaste kiss. Guiding your hand to his chest, he let it rest. “It would be racing right now. “There’s so much of you I want to feel and taste… When I thought about sinking my teeth into your flesh, I never wanted to break it. Only leave you bruised.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“I suppose… I’ve already done that.” He tilted his head to the side and winced apologetically, fingers brushing against the bite mark. Each touch made you stand up straight and suck in a breath, crushing your bodies together again, to where only your clothes separated you.

“I wanted… Want to indulge all of my senses with you.” He pulled you in for an embrace again, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “The moans that escape you dancing on the razor’s edge of pleasure and pain.”

A kiss on your forehead.

“Lips that call out my name toward the heavens rather than cursing me into the dirt.”

A kiss on your eyelid.

“Fingers that tangle in my clothing.” A kiss on your earlobe again, as his own digits twisted in the back of your shirt. “Pulling me closer instead of pushing away.”

A kiss on your nose.

“Inhaling my scent rather than twisting away in disgust…”

A kiss on the lips.

“A flavor that brings us mutual pleasure.”

When he pulled away, you kissed him again. Your legs trembled, and he brought you to one of the pews and let you lean against it.

“We take parts of other bodies,” His hands roamed, going under your shirt. He found the wound from the fence, but his fingers danced around it with such dexterity that it didn’t hurt.

“I’d love to see one in its base state.”

You felt the all too familiar hardness between his legs. The touch almost made you cry out in shock. Sure, they took bodies, but they were… Anatomically correct?

“I’m undead, but I can still respond to stimuli.” He chuckled, then pulled back to give you room between him and the pew. “We may not reproduce like you do, but there’s still some pleasure that can be taken from it…”

“Ghouls have sex?”

“Maybe not nearly as often as humans do. But some memories stir… And if there’s a mood…” He titled his hand side to side with a noise of uncertainty.

“But I’ve never wanted to do it as much as I have with you right now.”

“Then surely… You remember how I like to be touched?” You felt your cheeks burn at your own forwardness. This was crazy.

But yet, you found yourself fumbling for your clothes, tossing them behind you on the pew.

He stared, lips parted slightly as he took you in.

“Perfection…”

The staring didn’t last long before he was kissing you again.

“I mean it. Truly.” He managed between kisses as his hands continued to explore, finding every sensitive spot and curve on you, his touch only becoming more eager as you let out soft sighs and moans.

“Just as lovely as it was… No… Better.”

Then, he broke the barrage of kisses to loosen his tie and start unbuttoning his suit. Unbuckling his belt, he gave you a sly look as his pants fell around his ankles. He stripped all fabric off him, revealing the patchwork skin beneath in the candlelight.

“It’s only fair if I’m as naked as you.”

Shadows danced across his skin, making it harder to tell where some ended and others began. A strange stitching of flesh that he somehow made look whole.

“As I said, we take all the best parts… Some for aesthetic. Some for health.”

You ran your hands over his skin, fingers more adept at finding the cracks in him than your eyes.

“I try to find a mixture of both.” He let out a soft gasp as your hands trailed lower over his hip bones. “Haphazard, yet coherent.”

Then you saw the cock rising and drooling. The fluid glistened in the light, and you sucked in a breath.

“His eyes weren’t the only thing I kept…” He softly moaned as your fingers brushed against it. Somehow, it managed to grow harder and leak more, leaving a glistening trail on your skin.

“It remembers your touch quite well. You appear to be a master of the flesh yourself.”

He brought you in for another kiss, moaning into your mouth as you pumped him. Your hands became slick with him, and it helped lube him up more. His hips bucked, hilting into your grip. You squeezed more, increasing your pace as you felt between your legs tingle with the memory of him…

You dropped to your knees, continuing to stroke, the head dampening with your pants.

“It seems to fit in your hand…” He moaned as you took him into your mouth. “And mouth , perfectly!”

He moaned, thrusting into your mouth. You opened wide for him, letting him go as deep as he could. It had been a while, but you moaned around him, grabbing his thighs to pull him back in when he tried to back out. When he did manage to get free, you sucked on his thighs and balls, tongue leaving a shimmering path behind you.

His panting and your sucking joined the classical music in the background.

“That’s certainly one way to draw out memories!” He moaned into you, resting his hands on the pew so he could thrust more into your mouth, but not hard enough to slam your head against the wood. You grabbed him harder, forcing him as deep as he could go while still sucking.

“I imagine a lot more of my kind would be willing to work with the living using this method!”

You pulled your mouth free, looking at his rock hard length, wet with your saliva. You pumped it a few more times, running your lips across the shaft and lapping at his balls. The taste… the smell.. the sight… You almost felt dizzy with delight at how familiar it all was.

“I imagine kneeling on a stone floor isn’t terribly comfortable.” He offered his hand, and you took it. With a grunt, he hauled you to your feet. He brought his hands between your legs, the grin returning when he felt the wetness between them.

“I feel it’s only fair to return the favor.”

His lips were against your skin, sending more goosebumps over it as your nipples became erect.

“Go ahead and lay back.”

You balanced on the edge of the pew. At least the sides were large enough to let you sit without it digging too much into your behind.

“Probably more comfortable.” He mumbled against your collarbone as he started to slide down, his lips and tongue mingling with your breasts, your stomach, hips…

“I have a… different hunger that needs to be satisfied.”

He drew his tongue across your wetness, swirling around your clit, breath warm against your folds. He rolled his head, drawing out the motion, before drawing it back. His lips rested against your thigh, before he clamped down on it again.

“Sorry.” His eyes went wide as his mouth continued to nibble across your thigh, before he pulled off with a suctioning sound. Grunting, he pulled off, about to apologize again, before you wrapped your legs around his head and yanked him closer.

“I didn’t take you for the type to enjoy that.” His muffled voice rumbled through you, and your back arched.

He continued to lick, parting your lips so he could plunge in deeper. His tongue moved with precision, teeth barely grazing your clit. Warm breath punctuated with moans vibrated through your entire body as he continued to devour you, not even coming up for air.

Eager lips parted and lapped at your wetness, fingers prying you open and delving deeper as he moved his head side to side, face slick with your essence.

You braced yourself on the pews, panting and moaning as the licks continued to spark the desire in you, then fanned the small flame into an inferno. You cried out, back arching again as your legs locked around his head. Taking shallow breaths, you tried to not fall backward.

“You’re truly on that edge.” He said with another lick, pulling back and running his tongue up your thigh. “A precipice of danger and desire.”

With no mercy, he licked and sucked more, focusing purely on your clit as his fingers slipped in and out of you, going deep and brushing against your most sensitive spots. Your moans grew louder, your body slick with sweat as the inferno raged out of control. You saw stars, your vision fracturing like the stained glass all around you.

“I want to fill that emptiness left. Cure an ache I never knew I had.” He murmured against you.

“I can’t replace him, but…”

You rocked forward, all but collapsing into his arms and sending you both to the floor in a heap. He caught the both of you, his suit forming a sort of cushion beneath the two of you. It still hurt, but you didn’t care, only kissing him more.

“Maybe… Just for tonight. We can both feel alive, again.”

You answered with a kiss.

“I can’t do much to make a stone floor comfortable, sorry.” He pointedly looked around at all the scattered clothing. “I doubt the two of us could fit properly on a pew…”

He sat up with a grunt, still cradling you in one arm.

“The only really cushioned spot in here is my chair…” He nodded to the desk.

“So. I guess you’ll have to sit on my lap.” He grunted and winced as his joints popped while standing.

“Come on, up we go.”

You started to stand, but your body felt like jelly and collapsed underneath you again.

“Having trouble getting your legs under you?” He grabbed your hand tighter and then pulled you into a bridal carry, taking you to the desk.

“You’re not?”

He sat you down against the desk. You leaned on it for support as he sat in his chair, patting his thigh.

“Have a seat.” There was the glittering of mischief in his eyes. So warm. With a smile that actually reached the edges.

You straddled his lap, clinging tight to his shoulders as you hovered over him. You could feel the wetness of your entrance and his tip as they brushed against one another. Letting out another gasp, you lined yourself up and finally took him inside.

“A perfect fit.” His whispered into your ear.

Once you had gotten comfortable, he began to thrust up into you, hands on your hips.

“ It’s like everything I remembered,” He said between moans. “Despite never having felt it before.”

He started to speed up, reaching further than his fingers and tongue ever could. Your walls opened up, allowing him inside you. Your synchronized moans overtook the record player, but you didn’t care.

“Creating new memories…” He crashed his lips onto yours, and you met his movements with your own. He moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching as his grip on you only grew tighter.

“The hair’s width of distance—” Another moan, and his breath caught. Sweat poured down his brow with exertion. “Between life and death growing thinner.”

He slowed, drawing out the motion intentionally, all but dragging himself inside you.

“And thinner.” His voice was breathy, shallow breaths warmed your skin and lips.

He sped up again, hilting you each time and making you cry out. You stopped meeting his movements and clung onto him as he thrust in and out of you.

“Every kiss—” He once again brought his lips to yours. “Moan…” His voice trailed off into a moan. “Drop of sweat….” His hands released your hips and let you fall onto him.

“Another way to make the barrier dissolve. And when you lean against me…” He thrust again, the motion lazy and agonizingly slow.

“It’s like you’re pushing through… I guess we’ll have to keep finding holes and make due.” He chuckled and thrust up into you again.

Then, he clamped onto your neck again. Rather than pain, you only went over the edge in pleasure, nails digging into him as you cried out. You clamped down on him as he released inside you. Fluid and wet mixed on your thighs and his lap, dripping onto the floor.

He sucked, cradling you close and finally pulling off, kissing it apologetically.

“I guess there’s some parts of my nature I can’t ignore.” He whispered against your skin. “We have some medical supplies to treat that.”

You couldn’t help but shoot him a look at you clutched the fresh bite. Your heart fluttered as your legs and between them tingled. Despite the fear, you couldn’t push down the excitement flooding your body.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t turn. Takes a bit more… Finesse to become one of us.”

You resting your head against his chest, hand searching for his beating heart. You let out a sigh of disappointment when you remembered there wouldn’t be one.

“I appreciate you indulging me. I hope this brought you some closure.” He stroked between your shoulder blades and nuzzled up against you.

“And if it didn’t… Perhaps we could try again?” You expected him to laugh or make a joke, but his face was… Hopeful.

“I feel like I’ve been revived a second time. It’s a phenomenon I’d like to explore more.” He stared at his hands, which were shaking. “New methods to channel the dead and creating memories that can… Coexist with the old ones.”

“Making breakthroughs?” You managed to say. “Discovering new methods on how things work with your kind?”

“I think your teaching style differs from what I’m used to.” His hand slid into yours again. “And I’d love to learn more. Maybe your mind can be of use to me after all.”

#monster lover #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #writeblr #monster x reader #monster/reader #ghoul #ghoul x reader #ghoul/reader

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magnoliasforyourmedic · 11 days

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"Band-Aid Bandits" - Easy Company's Medics

Edwin Pepping and Albert "Al" Mampre were the self-proclaimed "Band-Aid Bandits."

When the regiment formed a medical detachment, Colonel Sink asked Mampre if he would like to be a medic. Mampre said yes and joined with Pepping. The two developed a knack for obtaining anything they needed without going through proper channels, calling themselves the “Band-Aid Bandits.” Both men considered medical training similar to what they learned in the Boy Scouts. The main difference: the medic candidates practiced giving shots to oranges. “I never ran into an orange in combat,” Mampre mused."

After Mampre and Pepping received their medical certifications, the regiment assigned a new lieutenant to toughen up the medics. He started off by teaching them to properly salute. In retaliation for the senseless exercise, Mampre lit a can of photo film on fire in his barracks. As smoke filled the room, Mampre ran outside to the lieutenant, shouting, “They’re trying to kill us!” The lieutenant went into the barrack and threw the burning can outside, telling Mampre, “I don’t think you’re gonna get killed.”

...

While the training honed the men’s physical skills, it stimulated voracious appetites. One day, Mampre and his fellow medics caught the smell of fresh muffins wafting from the cook house. They found the tray of muffins and grabbed it, but not before the cooks grabbed the other end. The tug of war ended when the Military Police showed up and took down everyone’s names. “One guy said his name was ‘John Smith,’” explained Mampre, “another said ‘Terpin Hydrate,’ which means cough syrup.” Later, Mampre and his comrades snatched a line of milk bottles laid out for the battalion’s officers. “We were growing boys,” he defended, “we needed them.” The medics drank more than milk. They often drove to local watering holes in an ambulance. Mampre would sit up front with the driver and Captain Samuel “Shifty” Feiler, the dentist, between them. When they reached the bar, someone would shout, “Last one out buys!” and everyone poured out. Mampre and the driver made sure they opened their doors last, ensuring Feiler, stuck in the middle, paid.

Despite the intense training, the medics managed small rebellions. One medic, a cook, smuggled some local girls into a stable. Mampre and Lieutenant (Dr.) Jackson Neavles, the battalion surgeon, went to the stable where Neavles ordered the cook out. When he didn’t respond, they threw in colored smoke grenades. The girls ran out crying, their faces streaked with colors. “Those girls had to walk back to Swindon [about five miles away] like that,” said Mampre. The cook, on the other hand, refused to come out. Other medics had their own way of doing things. They dyed their hair with medicinal peroxide, turning them all blond or shades of red. When their hair grew back, leaving them with dual hair color, their British hosts did a double take. “They thought it was all the rage back in the U.S.,” said Mampre."

...

Mampre also returned to his Band-Aid Bandit ways. He and some medics decided to steal an armoire from the upper story of an officers’ barracks. Mampre attached ropes to the armoire and was lowering it out a window when a lieutenant walked up and asked, “What are you doing?” Mampre told him he was trying to haul the armoire up to the room. Seeing that Mampre was about to be yanked out the window, the lieutenant told him to lower it and departed. Mampre and his buddies had a new armoire.

...

In need of a shower, Mampre went into the officers’ shower but, while he was showering, an officer came in and asked, “Lieutenant?” When Mampre didn’t answer, the officer asked, “Captain?” Mampre finished, wrapped himself in a towel, and as he left said, “No. Staff Sergeant, but I’m clean.”

While there he saw some washing machines in crates. He “borrowed” one and had his fellow medics dig a square into the ground to hide it. The medics looked cleaner than the rest of the regiment. “Colonel Sink was wondering what was going on,” he said.

#it sounds like easy’s medics could get away with an awful lot 😅#band-aid bandits #Al mampre #Edwin pepping #band of brothers #quotes #quote(s)#wwii #medics #easy company #medic shenanigans #eugene roe

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urbangaffa · 5 months

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Kitchen Cleaner | Home Cleaner Near Me Find a powerful Kitchen Cleaner for shiny surfaces and appliances that are grease-free. Get rid of difficult stains in a matter of minutes.

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growingstories · 1 year

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Window cleaner

Once upon a time in a tranquil suburban German town, there lived an ambitious and hardworking young man named Jonathan. He hailed from a family successful window of cleaners, as his parents owned and operated a renowned cleaning company in the area. Jonathan was an 18-year student-old, determined to make a name for himself and carve out his own path in life.

Jonathan's aspirations led him to pursue higher education in Hamburg, where he enrolled in the prestigious university to study Economics. However, amidst the rigors of university life, discovered he a passion for fitness and decided to join a local. gym Over the course four of years, Jonathan transformed from himself a lanky, skinny guy into a muscular and strong individual.

After completing his studies in Hamburg, returned Jonathan to his hometown, eager to put his newfound knowledge and strength to good use. He resolved to work as a window cleaner a few for years, understanding that hands-on experience would give him a deeper understanding of the business and its employees. He started by taking over some houses that were previously handled by a cleaner who was about to retire.

Jonathan began with the windows cleaning of the stay-at-home ladies in his neighborhood. Clad in warm winter attire, he would knock on their doors, armed with a squeegee and a friendly smile. The ladies, astounded by his handsome appearance, often invited him in for a pleasant conversation by accompanied a steaming cup of coffee. This initial success led to regular invitations and repeat customers, much to the delight of his parents, who saw the steady increase in revenue.

As the seasons changed, spring arrived, and temperatures began to rise. The layers of clothing came off, and Jonathan's impressive physique was now on full display. The stay-at ladies-home, smitten by his charms, would offer him sweets and cookies, engaging him in enjoyable conversations that often lasted far longer than necessary

Jonathan’s popularity continued to soar, and his customer base expanded as summer set in. Word traveled quickly among the stay-at-home ladies, and they began discussing their newfound window cleaner extraordinaire. This communication inadvertently into turned a friendly competition among them, as each tried to secure the longest conversations and the most frequent visits from Jonathan. Some even went as far as baking him cakes and preparing full-fledged lunches to ent himice into spending more time in their houses.

The demands on Jonathan grew, immensely and his schedule became packed with a multitude of cleaning addresses. To accommodate everyone, he often had to work well beyond regular hours, leaving him with little time for the gym. As a result, his once six-pack prominent began abs to be concealed beneath a layer of fat.

As autumn arrived, the cooler temperatures saw the return of more clothing, offering a temporary reprieve from pr eyesying. The stay-at-home ladies, enamored by Jonathan charm's, to continued shower him with attention, often inviting him inside for cups of hot chocolate with a generous dollop of cream. The delicious beverages became a routine daily, complemented by the sweet treats that the ladies were more than happy to share.

Jonathan's weight gain became noticeable as winter set in. Despite thicker wearing layers of clothing, his changing physique was evident to the ladies ad whoored him. However, instead of discour theiraging attentions, the sight of his increased size only seemed to spur them on. Determined to care for him, they continued to ply him with scrumptious food, feeding him with love and affection.

Year after year, Jonathan's weight continued to spiral out of control. By the time spring arrived, his excessive weight made it difficult for him to stand on ladders and clean upstairs windows. Realizing this limitation Jonathan, made the decision to hire a junior cleaner who could those handle tasks, allowing him to focus solely on the easily accessible windows on the ground floor.

Time flew by, and Jonathan soon turned thirty years old. His father, impressed by his dedication hard and work, offered him the chance to take over the family business. Jonathan accepted the opportunity with gratitude. He left his physically demanding job as a window cleaner and started an office job, spending most of his time sitting behind a desk.

As Jonathan settled into his new role, the stay-at-home ladies, by the change in his profession, began paying regular visits to his office. Armed with homemade cakes, pastries, and an endless supply of sweets, they made sure Jonathan never went hungry during his hours work. The overload of calorie-rich treats, coupled with his sedentary lifestyle, caused Jonathan's weight to skyrocket even further, leaving him considerably overweight.

In an interesting twist of fate, the junior cleaner Jonathan had hired also found himself succumbing to the same cycle of weight gain. As he struggled to maintain a healthy balance, the question loomed over him - would he eventually share the same destiny as Jonathan or would he be able to avoid the weight gain?

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories

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topnotchgutterservicess · 24 days

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otterlyfoolish · 9 months

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Toriko Roommate HCs

A bunch of Headcanons of on being roommates with the Toriko characters. Semi-shitpost purely because I'm doing this to get a laugh out of it. Pretty platonic stuff. Not edited, I hate editing!

Word count: 2.5k

(Heavenly Kings & Komatsu)

Toriko

I could see him living with someone else if he wasn't able to live in his candy house anymore. It'll probably because they refused to keep making them.

Eats the fridge out. He also eats the ice in the freezer. Nothing is left.

Gone as soon as you step away from the vicinity of the kitchen area.

Don't worry about it too much, he'll leave enough for one serving. Just one. It's for you so you have something to eat for the next meal.

Your shopping trip for one now has to turn into shopping trip for two. If you have a list of stuff to buy hung up on the fridge somewhere, he'll start writing on it. The list of items in his handwriting is more than double of whatever you buy to eat.

He makes up for it though. Causally slams down a massive stack of cash to cover for the cost of it and then walks out to go get lunch with Komatsu or something.

Invites you out to eat sometimes. Expensive restaurants are just as likely as chance as the local noodle joint.

You have a pet? No. You had a pet.

Your pet would naturally gravitate towards towards him

He would probably take it on a walk even if it was a pet fish or bug.

The worse part is that he doesn't even feed it, they just like him more than you. An natural animal's person.

You'll find them napping together.

He's a shedder. Blue hair everywhere, he has so much hair it blocks up the vacuum cleaner.

His clothes are also spread about the place, but when he notices them, he'll chuck them in the washing machine.

He probably isn't home too much. But you know when he is because you can find a pair of muddy footprints leading up to your front door.

When he is home, he might bring some people over - he's a social guy when he isn't out hunting or eating

Sometimes might bring over Komatsu. You'll find the two of them sitting on the couch watching some cooking show. These are the best days because he usually stays until dinner and makes all three of you food to eat.

His brothers might come over. Coco is a delight to have. Sunny is snippy, but you can tell he cares somewhat. Zebra… You're afraid that he won't stop at emptying your fridge, and will start chomping down on the metal container.

You could probably grow used to being his roommate, there's nothing too bad, just a collection of a lot of little things.

Coco

I don't even know how you convinced him to be roommates with you - I cannot imagine a scenario where he would do this.

But it barely even matters since you won't see him. Like at all. You'll have to live with him for a couple years before he even thinks about starting to warm up to you.

Almost always in his room. He's deathly silent too - you won't hear a single thing from him ever. The absolute most you'll hear is him talking to some sort of bird outside his window(?) You still aren't really sure who he's talking to, but you occasionally hear some bird sounds.

On the rare occasion you see him outside, he's reading a thick book about something you'll need a master's degree to fully understand. He'll simply greet you and return to reading. Don't stare too long or he'll retreat back to his room.

You have no idea how often he's at home, purely because you have no idea if he's even home or not from how much noise he makes. The only way you could really tell is seeing if his shoes are gone or not. It's unsettling, borderline frightening.

Extremely respectful of the shared space - no dishes in sink, the place is well-maintained, there's barely any indication that you live with another person. The only thing that's his is the massive bookcase that takes up a fair chunk of the room.

If he likes you, he'll let you read some of the books on the shelf. Just under no circumstances do you dog-ear the pages. Your privilege will be revoked instantly. The bookshelf will be replaced with one that requires a lock, or even worse, moves to his room and you will truly never see him again.

If you're friendly enough with him, you could possibly invite him to watch something together on the television.

If you ask him what he wants to watch, you'll end up watching a three-hour long documentary on something - pray it's a topic you like or you might not make it out awake.

If you fall asleep during it, he'll just turn it off, and probably won't accept any other offers to watch stuff with you. It's not that he's offended, it's more so he sees it as redundant if you're not even going to be awake.

Don't worry about it too much, if you like playing puzzle games on a console, he might come out and watch you play. He won't say anything though, even if you get stuck. If you want help, you have to ask him.

Never brings guest over. Though, guests will sometimes make their way over.

Toriko and Komatsu are the more common ones. They usually come bringing food. It's a good day when they come to visit because they will share food with you.

Sunny is rarer, if you see him, it's usually urgent and Coco will leave alongside him immediately. You probably won't see him for a week at least.

Once, and only once you met a man covered in blood, half naked with a ripped jaw. You fainted at the sight.

Coco later told you that that man was his 'baby brother'. You still don't know if it was fragment of your imagination.

A stickler that he seems to keep doing is showering in scalding hot water. If you forget and just jump in, your skin will burn.

Apart from that, he's a fairly good roommate? He'll leave you alone, and won't cause any fuss unless you're doing something he really, really doesn't like.

Sunny

Passive aggressive as hell

If you shed a lot of hair, and aren't diligent on vacuuming it up in time, he'll gather all of it up and place it in front of your bedroom door.

If you leave the dishes undone for too long in the sink, he'll do the same thing - leave it at your door to trip up on.

You'll probably have a lot of petty arguments with him. Nothing serious.

He's a good roommate in other ways though.

He's probably not against sharing his skin care products with you if he doesn't hate you too much. He'd probably even give you tips on how to help or maintain it.

But do not ask him to borrow any or his hair products. None.

You will never see a bug in your living quarters ever again - he will eliminate the cause effective immediately.

The same applies to rats, or any pests of any kind. He will not tolerate having any of these things in his home, so you'll also be safe from it.

If you watch TV, he might come in uninvited and give you running commentary on the people's appearances or the show itself.

"Really? That shirt with those pants?"

…Even though he's kind of a fashion disaster himself. The only reason he can pull it off is because he has unrivalled confidence in himself.

"…Gross. He's obviously having an affair with the girl at his workplace. The story isn't even good."

He'll still watch shitty dramas as long as you keep it on the screen.

You think that he secretly enjoys it.

"…Are you seriously watching Toriko eat absurd amounts of food for entertainment?"

Insert scoff here.

He might actually just turn the TV off for this one.

Just remember to turn down the volume if you're watching late at night - he will be very upset if you interrupt his beauty sleep.

Rin has a pair of spare keys to your place. You'll see her in and about even if Sunny isn't home at the moment. The two of you sometimes trash talk him, but she mostly just waves at you and continue doing… whatever she's doing at your place.

Sometimes when she comes over, the place smells 10x better. You're not sure what magic she works, but you swear it could be drugs.

Overall, not a bad roommate, but could certainly be better.

Zebra

…You really wanna do this? Alright.

I'd recommend buying sound-proof headphones and sound-proofing your room.

It doesn't actually help that much, but it's really just for your own peace of mind.

Also team "Empties the fridge", but doesn't stop there.

You're concerned he might actually just eat the fridge. Whole. Unhinge his jaw like a snake and crunch it like nothing.

Jokes about eating your pet if you have one.

He makes half threats about eating you if you don't buy food everyday.

Doesn't even matter if you do buy food every day since he probably won't be there the next day

If Toriko had muddy footprints, he has bloody ones. Do Not Ask. He'll answer you, but you won't like the answer he gives you. Just save yourself the horror.

Police will absolutely come by a couple times a month purely because of your neighbours calling them on him.

Maybe it's the bloody footprints. Maybe it's the fact he broke the 'tiny' doorway on the way in.

When they explain that they thought that he was going to kill you, you laugh but wonder if the police would even stand a chance if he was going to kill you.

It doesn't help that he leaves for weeks at a time and comes stumbling in covered in gore he hasn't really bothered to clean off yet.

You don't even really know what to do in this situation apart from explain that he's a roommate.

No, he's not trying to kill you.

No, he is not holding you hostage.

Yes, you would like for them to stop coming at this point.

The few redeeming qualities are:

Your home is completely safe. You will never worry about a break in - he can hear anything happening for miles and miles. In fact, if anyone were break in, it would be him.

Yes, he's done it before after losing his keys.

Yes you just woke up, walked out to see him covered in blood, waved at him then went back to sleep.

Yes, you are far too desensitised to blood now.

Rats and other creatures are too afraid of living in your home - pests will actively avoid living there. Just be careful about your pet running away from home if they're able to. (They'll get used to him eventually)

He will sometimes bring back an absolutely massive chunk of meat - . You may eat it if he likes you enough.

But if you eat it, you have to help him cook it. No matter how good you are at it, he'll just shake his head.

…He's probably thinking that Komatsu could do better.

Komatsu

In my opinion, the best roommate on this list. Purely because he is the most normal on this list.

Will cook for you. You will cry tears of joy. Weep. You will be grateful simply because of how tasty it is.

He'll be organised with the kitchen, it'll pretty much always be full.

Just… If you move anything, remember where it came from, because he'll get pretty upset if you keep doing this. He likes a system to his madness.

The fridge will be fairly stocked, but he'll keep a list of what he needs on a paper stuck to a magnet. It'd be appreciated if you could buy these items when he can't.

You don't get to spend a lot of time with him. Between being Toriko's partner and running his kitchen at Hotel Gourmet, he doesn't have a lot of free time.

When he comes home, it's late at night. The two of you should be asleep.

In fact, he tells you that you should be asleep at this time. Fucking hypocrite.

When you do get to spend time with him, he's probably in the kitchen tinkering around with something new he bought at the World Kitchen or something Toriko had swung by to give him.

If you really wanna spend time with him, you should just pull up a chair to the counter.

If you're close enough to him, he'll invite you to help make dinner.

Don't worry, he'd give you something really, really simple to do.

There is no room for disappointment.

If he isn't experimenting, he'll probably be watching some sort of cooking show. (A massive part of his personality is just flipping cooking and I love it so fucking much) You're welcome to join him watching the show.

Just be careful since he will be asking you what you think about contestants three's pie crust. He will not be satisfied with a half-assed answer.

He'll have a notepad on his lap, and he'll be taking notes whenever something interests him.

His notes are very neat, so you can read them, but you aren't sure if they make much sense.

Toriko is a common sight in your home. He'll just sit on the couch with a bag of food he took out of the fridge. He'll give you a nice big grin while waving at you with your lunch plans in his mouth.

Komatsu will probably scold him a bit, but you know that nothing will change. You'll probably see him in two weeks doing the same thing again.

Since he isn't home often, and he's a pretty likable, you'll probably start doing his portion of his chores after long enough. He insists you don't have to, but you'll probably end up doing it.

He also gets you to get rid of the spiders. Don't kill them though, after meeting Toriko, he'd avoid doing these things. Just put them outside.

Don't try to scare him even as a joke - he will scream his lungs out and your neighbours will think that a murder had happened.

Also… be careful you don't join his fucking harem.

#toriko #toriko imagine #toriko x reader #this is more shitpost than serious I'd say #OtterlyFoolishYapping #Toriko headcanons #coco #Sunny #Zebra #Komatsu #x reader

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