#which is Very Strange and it makes me Insecure

[feline-evil]

Dethvanity is really funny to me conceptually as an episode because you can see how little they had to make the characters insecure about for the bit. They swing for obvious lowblow choices with Pickle' baldness and Nathan's weight and even those require some suspension of disbelief because ok. Sure. Nathan '(said extremely proudly) never skipped a meal in my life!' Explosion is insecure about being a big man now. Nathan *guy who everyone thinks is smoking hot 99% of the time* Explosion is a tiny bit larger than usual and is insecure about it now. Lol. Lmao even.

But anyway then we hit Skwisgaar and Toki and there's like NOTHING to swing for, you can see them going uhhh ok Skwis doesn't sleep he probably drinks a lot of coffee, and Toki? Shit, what does Toki have to be insecure about with his looks. He's perfect, he's adorable, he's ripped. Um. FUCK IT, HE'S DOING NOTHING BUT EATING LEMONS. WE GOT NOTHING, WE GOT NOTHING, JUST GIVE THE BOY CITRUS FRUITS.

WOE 🍋 BE UPON YE

I'm sure i could make some smarter points about the attempts at applying vanity in this ep and how outside of this and a few other moments i do actually like that the show rarely takes pot shots at things like Nathan's weight, but you see Nathan has shirtless scenes in this one and so my intelligence is impeded when all the blood rushes out of my head and into my-

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

POV you're taller than me so you get a front row seat to Forehead Extravaganza in all its glory

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! first time w toji, virgin!reader, reader is lil insecure about how her coochie looks and her performance, just the tip/fucking you with his tip, HEAVY praise/encouragement & reassurance, light begging, toji take its slow and is soft soft soft for you, forehead kisses, hand holding during sex is so sweet, light making out, overstimulation/hints of mind break, very light size kink, daddy/mama

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! Do you think Toji would be gentle if it was your first time having sex? Just imagine him rubbing his tip against our entrance and being like “relax for me, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Fey: we can take a moment to appreciate soft toji after some mean toji

Toji grinds his hard, heavy cock on your soft cunt. The feeling is so surreal and new to you, the warmth of his cock, the softness of his skin with how hard and heavy he is.

Toji’s weight is comforting when he leans over you. Softly kissing your forehead then encouraging you, “‘You can take me lil mama, we’re gonna go slow,” gently grabbing your hand “Squeeze my hand for comfort, how’s this sound, say blue if it gets too much.”

Sitting up grabbing his thick hard cock and lining himself up with your soaking wet cunt. Slowly rubbing his cock between your soft lips. “Your lips are so pretty mama, I love seeing them around my cockhead.” Your cheeks heat up as you look away.

“You’re staring too much! My pussy looks weird! Nnnn!” Your jaw drops when he nudges his thick cock head in. The pleasure is stronger than the acute discomfort which quickly melts as Toji strokes your clit.

Clenching Toji’s cock he croons, “We can't be looking at the same pretty lil’ cunt. She’s so soft, wet and fuckin’ gorgeous, I wanna take my time with her.” Toji keeps still groaning when you clench his fat head.

It feels so wonderful but strange having someone else touching your soft clit while they’re inside of you. When you close your eyes Toji gently squeezes your hand.

“Beautiful mama I need you to look at me.” When you look at him he smiles, “Good girl.” He glides some of his cock in and you jolt, tensing up, your nerves getting the best of you. “

He slowly pulls out leaving half his head inside you. He croons, “Relax for me mama, trust me to take good care of your gorgeous lil’ cunt.” Taking the moment to admire how your little hole is stretching when he pushes the rest of his head in.

“I can't stop watching her take me. Everything about your pussy is beautiful, the color, your shape of your lips n’ how soft you feel around me, fuck lil mama. Tell me you have a gorgeous cunt.” The way he is playing with your clit is making it hard to think.

“Nnngonna cum?! Daddy? How? I already?” Your head is going fuzzy from the intense euphoric high of cumming again.

Toji croons, “Go ahead lil’ mama cum on ya daddy’s cock.” Twisting your hips he glides his cock out.” You’re doing so good.” Stroking your clit faster as your soaking wet cunt spasms around nothing and soaks the bed.

“You can handle it, that’s it, you’re doing so good cumming. Ya can keep going.” Biting your bottom lip as he lines himself back up. He barely nudges his head in. “Say you have a beautiful cunt, if you want more than just the tip.”

Pushing your hips down whilst pleading, “I have a beautiful cunt! Please put it in, I want you to cum too!” Toji doesn't have it in him to pull away. Rolls his hips gliding in half his cock before restraining himself.

He insists, “What’s it? You’ll have to be clearer for me, look me in the eyes when you say it.” His smokey gray blue eyes are too intense, your nerves hit you full force. “Aw are you really getting shy with my cock in ya?”

Admitting to Toji, “No…I’m getting nervous again, nnn!” You feel so full as he fucks you with half his cock. “You’re too hoooot!” He. I like you a little too much, it's making me nervous how I'm doing and what you’re thinking.”

He leaves your sensitive clit alone and pins your thigh by your side. “‘I’m thinking about how I want to flip you over and fuck ya from behind so I can watch your ass bounce while you take me. But backshots might be a bit much for your first time.” Holding your hand above your head, he leans down and gives you a soft kiss.

It feels so good to be underneath him full of his cock while softly making out with him. Wrapping one leg around his waist, digging your nails into his well-sculpted backside.

Moaning into Toji’s soft slow passionate kiss, sliding your fingers into his soft dark hair. Toji keeps his pace slow and steady, fucking you a little deeper, rubbing your sweet spot and wrecking every thought.

It’s hard to be nervous when his cock is deep in your guts. When he pulls away you beg, “I can take your fat cock daddy please! I wanna make you feel good too! Lemme take your cock from the back while you hold my wrists together. I wanna try every position possible with you.” He pulls out and flips you over.

Toji can easily hold your wrists behind your back with one hand. “I can’t tell my lil’ mama no with you begging me like that. But first tell me how sexy your soaking wet cunt is.” Rubbing his cock between your soft lips.

all works

[mee-op]

Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):

NOTES:

This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine

They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.

They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).

According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.

They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).

Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).

A good listener.

Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.

Loves Grim to hell and back.

It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.

They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.

Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.

They're insecure about not having any magic.

They want to be able to help their friends.

Has a sense of self-preservation.

Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).

They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.

Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".

Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).

Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.

They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).

They're very patient.

Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.

They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.

They don't complain much.

Very much so the silent type.

The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.

They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.

Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.

Keeps calm in harsh situations.

They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).

Good with instruments.

Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).

It's implied that they have high stamina.

They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).

They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.

They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).

Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.

Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.

They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).

They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions, so their love language seems to be physical touch.

They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).

Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.

Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).

It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.

Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).

Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.

They're a good photographer.

Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).

It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.

It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]

Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.

Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.

Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).

According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."

While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.

Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."

They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.

They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.

They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).

They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.

Not very close with Idia.

Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).

Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.

They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

[prettyboykatsuki]

call it quits or call it destiny | h. umemiya.

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader(she/her pronouns, referred to as a girl, gets dressed up by tsubaki and kotoha), reader gets their hair braided (no desc of texture) and puts on makeup, lore heavy reader backstory + personality, deliquent!reader, gap moe, best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, themes of insecurity, mutual pining,the use of she/her for tsubaki, jealousy, confessions, loss of virginity, creampies / unprotected sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering, 18+

✮ wc ; 13.9k (dont. don't say anything)

✮ a/n ; me when i completely lose my mind because i have a weekend off. whats wrong with me.

anyways. there's no major triggers for this but be forewarned reader is meant to be very rag-tag deliquent type. she has a strong personality and generally is not feminine. she is like a mangy street cat a bit. also if u want u should listen to easily by bruno major while reading.

✮ synopsis ; you've been quietly pining for umemiya for a little over ten years with no plans of confessing.

you did not have a plan for what you would do if umemiya confessed to you first.

Once a day, everyday - Umemiya will come into your store, pause, smile, and confess his love to you before going off on his own.  

And once a day, everyday, you reject this confession with a soft huff  telling him to quit being stupid before shooing him away.  

It's become a ritual. A fixture in your daily routine that you're not allowed to ignore despite how hard you're trying.  

He's been doing it for three months, more or less. 

His reason for confessing everyday? Because he’s waiting on the day you confess back, of course. Which you've refused to do for the last few months and will continue to refuse for as long as you’ve got.  

It's not because you don't like him, alright? 

You've known Umemiya since middle school and you've liked him for about the same time. One of the core memories of your childhood is the day you met him, crying while sitting on a  swing-set, after what felt like the worst day of your life. 

( On the day you run away from home, you seriously consider not going back.  

You don’t really know how long you sit there. People walk by but most of them move on quickly. It’s mid-day before anyone bothers to stop and ask you something.  

 "I've never seen you around  before.” A strange looking boy approaches, friendly and unassuming but not entirely cheerful “Did you just move here?"  

You keep quiet, closing your eyes and hoping your lack of response is enough to push him away. Your hope fizzles out when you hear the swing creak as he sits besides you. 

"I'm Umemiya Hajime. I live close by." His voice is airy and causal. "I'm sorry you're having a bad day.”  

"Fuck off," You reply bluntly, frowning. “I don’t need sympathy. Leave me the hell alone.”  

He pauses before pushing himself slightly forward to barely swing.  

“I couldn’t leave you alone while you’re sad,” He voices willfully. "It might make you feel better to talk about it." 

In disbelief at his response, you finally look up and asses him properly. It doesn’t do much to change your initial unfavorable impression. White hair, blue eyes and a little taller than you. You’re definitely about the same age. All of that to say, there’s something weird about him that you can’t quite place.  

Despite his manner and way of speaking though, you don’t actually think he’s that weak which makes his whole aura even more unnerving to you. His attempt at being non-threatening doesn’t work for him. He’s being a real try-hard about trying to make you comfortable… 

Either way, he’s got an air about him that puts you on the defensive.  

 Talking to someone about it had never been much of any option, and somehow it pisses you off that he’s being so brazen about it.  

Maybe if you tell him about, he’ll stop prying into your business. Or maybe you’re just looking for excuses to let off steam. 

You don't care anymore. You wipe your nose with the back of your sleeve.  

"I don't live here and I didn’t move. I ran away." You reply.  

He keeps looking at you, curious, inquisitive and sympathetic.  

"Why?"   

"I broke a girls nose." You scowl. The words rise up in your throat like bile. Make you feel cornered. The wounds too fresh. "It—she bullied me for years for one. And I never fought back, it was all petty bullshit anyway and I didn't like getting calls home. I didn't care about that but she—it wasn't for nothing. She was causing trouble for Sensei."  

Umemiya keeps to himself, humming in response to your troubles. Your voice breaks on your next sentence, chest tightening.  

"It doesn't matter what she does to me but—" Your hands ball up at your first. Your throat feels thick, eyes suddenly watering as your chest throbs . "Anyway, I couldn’t let it go like normal."  

He hums. "So you hit her?" 

You shake your head, sniffling. "Not at first. Just told her to shut up. Said that she didn't know what she was talking about. She hit me first..." You screw your eyes shut, sighing. "...said she was gonna spread rumors about him just trying to get under my skin and be malicious,” You lean back slightly and look up towards the gray sky. “I punched her after that."  

You realize he's looking at your bloodied knuckles, but he isn't making an expression that you can read easily. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to someone like this who wasn’t Tsukimori-sensei.  

"Are you crying because you got in trouble?"  

“Who cares about that?” You sigh “Sensei had to put his job on the line and take responsibility for me,” Your brow furrows in frustration. “He’s the one person I don’t want to cause trouble for,” You grip the iron chains of the swing set with a closed fist and finally admit what you’ve been avoiding to say out loud. “I don’t want him to hate me…”  

The kid besides you smiles  absently at your words. Half-way between listening and recalling something else, it seems like. You can’t help but wonder what the hell his deal is. You barely know him but you’re spilling your guts. 

He speaks after a long while. "I don't think he sees it that way. I think you should try to talk to him about it."  

You make a face, rejecting the idea. "What? No way." 

Umemiya shrugs, smiling - though it doesn't quite meet his eyes.  

"He sounds like he cares about you. If he knew your reasons, there's no way he would hold it against you. And it’s important to share your burdens with people who care for you." You look over and see him smiling somberly at the mulch beneath his shoes before returning back to what you’ve grown to know as his usual self. "Anyways, I think we should be friends. Tell me your name."  

You sniffle again. What a weird guy. Well you say that but 

You still give him your name. 

"What a pretty name," 

When you tell him to shut up again, your new friend Umemiya just laughs.  

And you find you feel just a little bit lighter.)  

That night, Umemiya walked with you to take the last train and told you to come see him again  with good news. 

You aren't sure what compelled you to follow his advice. Maybe because he was the first person who sat down and listened to you about it other than Sensei himself. 

Tsukimori-sensei was your school counselor and the only adult in your entire life that seemed to worry about. You didn't have any friends in middle school and you were a scary looking delinquent girl without a mother and a mostly absent father.  

But Sensei was always incredible gentle to you and incredibly kind. And despite what rumors that girl tried to spread  - he was never anything more than an important mentor.  

It was fucking embarrassing crying in front of him but because you were honest - you got to keep in touch with him. He attended your middle school and high school graduation - supporting you as you started to sort your life out. Became the closest thing you ever really got to a parental figure.  

Over time, you got close with Umemiya and developed strong loyalty to him. You attended an all-girls middle and high school the next town over - totaling one other friend in all six years of your remaining education. Lack of socialization meant that Umemiya somewhat became the very center of your existence. 

It was easy to visit him thanks to parental neglect. You sort of melted into his life. Tsubaki once called you his guard dog as a half-joke, but there's some truth to the sentiment. Quick to defend, quick to heel, and always happy to see him.  

You, like many people, owe Umemiya a lot. His meddling over the course of ten years gave you reason to push forward. He even encouraged you to try and attend school and not give up on living a half-decent life. 

You've got a never-ending list of short-comings but being with him didn't make you hate yourself. It made you want to be better because you knew Umemiya would accept you for whoever you decided to be.  

So despite your delinquency, you managed to graduate high school. Post-graduation, you attended a vocational culinary school and became a patisserie before moving to Furin for permanent residency. You opened a bakery and supply bread to Kotoha-chans diner.  

You made something of your life mostly 'cause of Umemiya. He's not your only friend anymore but he's still your best. Even though you never really pictured things like dating or romance - in some way it only makes sense that it'd be that meddling, kind-hearted idiot that you end up falling for it.  

Lovesickness aside, you respect Umemiya more than anyone in your personal life.  

He’s stuck around with someone like you this long after all. That means a lot to you.  

Somehow the two of you mesh well despite being totally opposite.  

You decided as soon as you realized it sometime in high school that you'd keep your feelings a secret for the rest of your life. You had a strong resolve in your beliefs about the whole thing which made it easy. You hid 'em so well even Sakura's stupid accurate romance detector didn't uncover them.  

When you picture Umemiya's future - it was easy to picture the kind of woman he would end up with. Another kind-hearted idiot like him, a social butterfly. Someone a little softer.  

In any case it definitely was not you. You didn't need it to be. You've received so much from him already, you never entertained the idea. Plus, Umemiya has dated other people over the years, so in your head there was never any hope to cling onto.  

For all reasons listed above, a requited romance is at the very bottom of your expectations.  

That's why you've been in this fucking conundrum.  

To say it was a complete shock to you when Umemiya openly confessed to you many months ago would be understatement of the goddamn century.  

He confessed right on the last day of Spring, totally out of the blue. 

(It’s a little unusual for Umemiya to call you at this hour. If it were anyone else, you’d be a little upset since you’ve gotta be up around four-am to get prepared for the day.  

It’s him though so you’re particularly tolerant, yawning as you find Umemiya on a familiar swing-set, still wearing your PJ’s.  

"Why am I out here in the middle of the night with you?"  

Your words lack any real malice as you sit down. Umemiya remains totally quiet. It's unusual for him to not immediately go on a tangent upon seeing you.  

"Oi. Earth to Hajime." You frown at him. "Did ya get beat up before coming here and scramble your brain? Give me the popsicle before it melts."  

He looks over at you and chuckles as he hands you the bag from the convenience store. You ignore his odd behavior and open up said popsicle before it melts  - carefully splitting it down the middle and giving him the bigger side before going to town on your own. He takes it from you but doesn't even bring it up to his mouth.  

Weird.  

"Did something... happen? Like seriously happen?" You take a long lick of your iced treat. It's melon flavored, your favorite. "Seeing you frown doesn't feel right. Gives me the heebie-jeebies."  

He cracks a little smile at that. It makes you feel better. He shakes his head.  

"Mm, nothing happened. I just have something I want to tell you."  

You nod in understanding. "'kay. Take your time."  

He blinks, surprised.  

"Hm? Aren't you gonna scold me for wasting your time?"  

"Nah. Whatever it is must be serious if it's making you all introspective or whatever. 's fine. Bring me coffee tomorrow and I'll forgive ya."  

His lip twitches up. "I l really like that about you."  

You feel yourself flush and wave a hand at him. "Ahh, shut up."  

He pauses for a second then shakes his head. "Mm. It's more like I like everything about you, actually."  

You twist your face in confusion. "What are you on about now?"  

"That's what I came here to tell you." Umemiya says after a deep breath. He says it so casually you wonder if you're mishearing him - leaning back to look up at the stars. "I really, really like you. I just felt like I had to tell you that"  

You stare at him in disbelief.  

"Wha—huh?"  

He doesn't even flinch as he repeats it.  

"I like you."  

"No the hell you don't."  

He furrows his brow with a light laugh. "I just told you that I do, silly."  

"But that's—" You don't say the word impossible. You really want too, but you know exactly how he would react if you did. You simply shake your head. "No, you don't." 

"I thought you might respond like this so don't worry but how about you?" He shrugs then looks at you intently. "I thought you might like me too."  

Your eyes go wide. Oh fuck.  

You feel like a deer caught in headlights. You know you should be happy about this, deep down. That'd be the normal response.  

But you just feel complicated as shit instead. Fuck does he mean? Umemiya.... likes you? There's just no way that's true. Not after all of this time. And how the fuck does he know you like him back when you've been keeping it in? 

You can't bring yourself to look him in the face and lie. Your heart rises to your throat as you shakily stand to your feet.  

"Stop...thinking whatever you've been thinking. I'm going home." You reply in complete panic. 

 The minute you say it, you turn on your heel so you don't have to look at his face. You don’t even want to know.  

And before Umemiya can catch you and try to talk it out, you bolt. 

What the fuck was that?)  

For the last few months, you've been avoiding the topic of conversation as much as you humanly can.  

The possibility of Umemiya even just accepting your feelings was already far beyond your imagination, but him returning them? Confessing first? That wasn't even in your realm of possibility.  

Ever since then, you've been losing your mind trying to force your life and train of thought to go back to normal. You’ve done all of the math on it.  

Realistically, you can't ignore him. Your lives are so mixed together it'd be impossible unless you went under protection and changed your name which you briefly considered. You thought of turning him down but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to actually do it despite how good you are at keeping it in. Either way, your best option logistically is feigning ignorance and trying to keep the whole thing out of your mind entirely which should've been easy.  

Tricking yourself into believing the whole thing was a dream? Lightwork.  

Except. Except.  

Umemiya just won't give up.  

He confesses to you again every single day. Worse, he doesn't care whose around to hear him. No one in your friend group seems even the tiniest bit shocked by it which doesn't help the situation. You can't get used to it, can't get used to him being so fucking cheeky as he stops you midway through normal conversation to tell you he loves you.  

He's persistent to a fault and while you've done well feigning immunity - you can't survive like this.  

You've graduated to tell him to go away and treating the whole thing like some big joke.  

But honestly? 

You're avoiding having a proper conversation about it. Umemiya is especially keen in not letting you forget that. And determined to make you confess.  

But you're not going to to let him sway you.  

You've got principles, after all.  

__  

After you close up shop on Friday, you get dressed to attend a kickback with all of your friends.  

It's a barbecue technically - commemorating the end of summer. Togame is really into grilling and in their weird domestic partnership, Chouji really enjoys hosting. They've done this once or twice a year ever since they started living together.  

Once you've finished cleaning up the store, you take the train to Kotoha's place - mistakenly assuming you'd leave as soon as you got there. However you failed to realize that Tsubaki and Kotoha would be getting ready together.  

You got jumped as soon as you walked through the door - so now you're wearing a different pair of clothes that Tsuabki got for you and waiting for them to finish getting you dressed up so you can leave.  

Tsuabkino is inches from your face while Kotoha braids your hair. You feel itchy and exposed but with both of them here there's no way you're going to get out of wearing it. 

"Can we just go?" You grumble, not enjoying the feeling of being poked and prodded.  

"No," Tsubaki insists, frown making her expression pinch. "You have half an eyelash on. Sit still." 

"He'll be happy to see you dressed up," Kotoha adds, trying to encourage you. You frown and look down.  

"Whatever. I don't care about makin' him happy."  

The both of them pause and stare at you until you fold under the pressure - screwing your eyes shut and making you flush.  

“Such a blatant lie.”  

Tsubaki giggles. “Right?”  

Your face feels hot. "Ahhh, alright already. Shut up."  

"Honest girls are much cuter," Tsubaki coos. You give her a half-assed glare.  

"Don't you like Hajime? Why're you trying to set me up with him still?" You mumble. You always think they’d make a perfect pair.  

"Of course I like him. He's my prince." She smiles at you. “But it’s a little different to how a certain someone loves him. And well, if you knew the way he looked at you…"  

You frown, feeling hot all the way up to your ears as you ball your fists up and look down at your lap. "Whatever." 

"You should stop trying to worm your way out of it," Kotoha adds, much less sweetly. "You know how he is. He couldn't give up on you for ten years like some idiot."  

You blink. "Huh? But ten years would mean -"  

Kotoha braids your hair even tighter making you wince. "I know. You're both stupid like that."  

"Don't be mean, Kotoha-chan. And you, be a little more honest, okay?"  

You sigh deeply. 

"Ain't like anything is gonna happen either way. I already told you both I'm not accepting his confession," 

"Cause you're a huge wuss, yeah we know."  

You elbow Kotoha lightly.  

"Maybe nothing will," Tsubaki hums mischievously.  "But it feels nice to dress up for him, right?"  

You pretend the thought doesn't make your hear flutter.  

Tsubaki does you the kindness of laughing lightly before moving on. 

__  

You arrive to the function an hour later than planned and stick mostly with Kotoha and Tsubaki until half way through the evening.  

Loosening up with a few drinks, the three of you part ways to catch-up with different people. It's not rare you see them, but it's not often everyones schedules allow them to be in the same place.  

Lucky for you, Umemiya does you the courtesy of not confessing during the first half of the night before food comes out.  

(Though you do spit beer in his face after he calls you pretty, which he takes on the chin after cleaning up.)  

After dinner, the function simmers down significantly. People quietly break off into groups and chat to each other into the late night. About that time people split whatever desserts they brought among guests.  

You brought cookies and something specifically for Chouji and Togame as thanks for hosting.  

Towards the end of the night, you find yourself sticking sort of close to Umemiya. Though he's having his own one-on-one conversation with Hiragi while sitting next to you , turned the other way.  

You busy yourself catching up to Suo, Sakura and Nirei - all of whom you consider yourself close to.  

Of them, you're the closest to Nirei which always surprises people. 

The kids a total wimp but he helped you years ago study to graduate so you're a little closer to him than everyone else. He's a great guy though and you hang out alone sometimes too.  

The conversations gone far left at this point in the evening.  

Suo leans back against his chair and looks toward Sakura besides him with a lazy smile.  

"Sakura-chan would make a great wife." 

You snort listening to them bicker. Sakura grows beet red, throwing an empty beer can at Suo's head that he catches gracefully.  

"Go die."  

"What? You're good at domestic work and you have a cute side, Isn't that all you need?"  

"Shut up. I'll kill you."  

As Suo breaks out into laughs, Sugishita comes down from the kitchen just in time to catch the argument. He crinkles his nose up.  

"Oh, Sugishita-kun. 'Sup."  

He nods to your greeting as he leans against the wood railing of the outdoor deck.  

"What the hell are you two talking about?" 

'What? You mean about Sakura being a good wife?" Suo asks. Sugishita crinkles his nose. 

"Don't phrase it so repugnantly but yeah I guess." 

"We were talking about marriage 'cause I was complaining at work."  

"What's happening at work?" 

Nirei sighs as he lays it out again to Sugishita after having given the spiel to the three of you once.  

"One of my superiors at work is a lot older than me and keeps bringing up marriage," Nirei explains woefully. "It's all he talks about. He thinks I'm seeing someone."  

Sugishita frowns. "Eh? What gave him that impression?"  

A good question you hadn't considered asking.  

You raise your brow at Nirei who laughs awkwardly while he holds your gaze.  

"You know that picture of us from highschool? When he came to the cafe at your school festival?"  

You smile spitefully, crinkling your nose in faux distaste. "The one wear we wearing those stupid maid costumes?"  

"Yup. That's the one. It's a good picture of us so I keep it on my desk and he saw it so..."  

"You keep a picture of just the two of you on your desk? No wonder he got that impression.” Suo adds.  

You sense Umemiya suddenly tense which you find weird. He's still talking to Hiragi though when you glance from the corner of your eye. You brush it off.  

Nirei blushes, elbowing him.  

"Shut up. I've got group pictures and stuff too. But he just singled out that one cause you know,"  

You nod in understanding before it dawns on you. Your eyes widen. "Oh, shit? Does that old man think you're dating me?"  

Nirei closes his eyes and sighs. "He won't even let me correct him." 

You pause before breaking out into genuine laughter.  

"Pfft, that's terrible." You reply sympathetically, taking a sip of your beer before giving a mischievous grin. "Maybe you can make it work for you though, eh? Tell 'em we got hitched forreal and then I'll call you on the phone and nag you to get home for dinner so you can leave earlier."  

Nirei acts like he's touched making you laugh even harder. "You'd do that for me?"  

You give him another toothy grin. "I'll even help you fake some wedding photos. We'll be accomplices." You lean back with a shrug. "You gotta wear the dress though." 

Sugishita laughs at that. "You being a blushing bride is a little..."  

You snort, shooting him a dirty look "Shut up."  

"Deal. Not a bad plan honestly." Nirei says with a sigh. "Whatever gets me out of the office early."  

"Even if that means being married to me?" You joke.  

He smiles at you. "Aw, what do you mean? That's the best part."  

You chuckle at him good-natuedly and the conversation quickly moves on.  

The alcohol is starting to make you dizzy so you eventually tune out as the four of them talk, glancing at Umemiya from the corner of your eye.  

You swear you catch a glimpse of his jaw ticking.  

__  

For the rest of the night, Umemiya is off.  

No one else can tell. You know that because the atmosphere remains light until everyone leaves around two-am. There's no blips or tension, no awkward pauses. 

But you know Umemiya. He's been real weird all night and it's bugging the shit out of you.  

It's a well past two now, and you've just left the late night cab you took with him. Umemiya lives close so he's walking you home.  

He's usually energetic after a get-together like that so his dead silence is weirding you out. You're pretty good at figuring his feelings out but for once you feel totally clueless.  

It feels as if even the cicadas and crickets have gone to sleep. There's nothing bu the streetlights overhead and soft glow of the moon, coupled with the soft click of your shoes on the pavement. Occasionally, a car will pass by.  

At one point, it becomes too much. There's still a few minutes until you're home.  

You stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turn around to look at him. Umemiya pauses, startled as he stops with you, and doesn't smile which only makes your concern worsen.  

"Oi. What's up with you?"  

"Hm?"  

You cross your arms over your chest.  

"Don't 'hm' me. You've been in a bad mood few for the last few hours. It's gonna bug me all night if I don't ask, so what's up?"  

He stares at you.  

"You noticed?"  

"How could I not notice?"  

"I was hiding it pretty well, I thought." He states more than asks, half-smile on his face.  

"Yeah. But well," You shrug. "I'm always looking at you for better or for worse. So. What's wrong?"  

He stares at you a long time before sighing, running his fingers through his hair. You've never seen him like this. You've seen him pissed off before, seen him mildly irritated - but never this... pouty? It's not like he's pissed.  

He's quiet, taking a deep breath of cool night air before sliding his hands into his pockets and taking a good look at your face. 

"Do you know that I like you?"  

Your eyes widen as you blink wildly.  

This is what he wants to talk about? 

He pins you down with his stare, hands in his pockets and intense as ever.  

"Don't even think about bolting this time, okay? I'm asking you seriously. Do you?" 

Your eyes flicker down the concrete - feeling extremely uncomfortable and suddenly sweaty. You shrug, unsure of what else you could say or do.  

"Hard not to know." You mumble. "You tell me everyday." 

"But do you get it?"  

Your frown deepens.  

"Of course not. How could I possibly get something like that, stupid?"  

He takes a deep breath. "But you like me, don't you?"  

Panic sets in. If you could sink straight into the Earth you would.  

"...Never said that." 

He calls your name quietly. "Look at me, at least. Stop running away from me and just look." 

You know you're being stubborn but you can't help it. You've kept it a secret for ten years and all of a sudden he wants you to tell him you like him? You've held it in for so long already and he's telling you not to run away.What other choice is there?  

One wrong move move and everything will come crashing down inside of you. You can't even lie about it either.  

Damn it.  

"I won't look." Your voice is warbly and it makes you feel so pathetic you could die, tucking your chin petulantly "Don't wanna,"  

Umemiya frowns at you.  

"If you say you don't like me I'll let it go."  

You remain very quiet and close your eyes tighter. He sighs softly, making your chest hurt.  

After a minute, you muster up the courage to be dishonest - determined to drop it at all costs. You're slow as you pick your head up.  

"I don't like you," You repeat slowly, carefully - trying not to stumble the words. "So quit it, alright?"  

He laughs humorlessly and holds your gaze.  

"That's the first time you've ever actually lied to me. You're terrible at it," 

"I'm not lying." You snap. Umemiya smiles somberly when he sees tears on the corners of your eyes. He steps closer to you. You freeze. When his hand reaches cups your cheek, you feel your legs lose all their strength and close your eyes. You're terrified to even look at him, not wanting him to see what you know is obvious on your face.  

He wipes them as he tilts your face towards him slowly. 

"Tell me, at least. If you're going to refuse me, don't I deserve to know why? Do you hate the idea of dating me that much?"  

You shake your head. "Stupid. How would anyone hate that?"  

"So I deserve to know why you're turning me down."  

A long moment of silence draws you out of your feelings. You guess that's fair enough. Maybe this way he'll leave you alone  - as long you're clear about your reasons. He’s the earnest type after all.  

You manage to suck up all your tears and clear your throat enough to give him an explanation. 

You step back a little from him, putting some distance between you as you stare down at the sidewalk. 

"You know... I respect ya more than anyone else. You've always been someone I admire. And I uh, owe you a lot. So I only want the very best for you and all." You scratch your neck, taking a deep sigh. "For me... regardless of my feelings, I want you to be with someone who really fits, you know? Well put-together and everything. Someone that suits you better"  

He pauses before frowning.   

"Regardless of your feelings? Does that mean you were willingly pushing them aside?" He says distraught. "For how long?"  

You shrug, trying to lighten the conversation. It’s too devastating otherwise. "About ten years, give or take." 

The sheer distress in his face makes you want to keep talking, just he doesn’t look so disheartened. Like some explanation will clear things up.  

"It ain't a bad thing, Hajime. You've given me a lot and I'm serious when I say I want the best for you. I love you, if that's what you wanna hear. I'm content just being besides you as your friend." You say with a shrug. "I can be kinda selfish but there's a limit to my greed,yknow."  

He looks like he's in shock. 

"Wanting someone to love you back isn't greedy or selfish."  

You find you don't have anything to say with that, but hope he drops it for the time being. 

Umemiya stares at you seriously. It makes your breath hitch meeting his eyes, blue with all the depth in the world. You feel like you can't pull yourself from his gaze.  

"And there was never a possibility? Not once that I could've liked you? That I wanted to be with you?"  

"It doesn't matter." You say. "And no, it never crossed my mind.."  

"Stop saying it doesn't matter. Of course it matters. Your feelings matter the most so don't toss them aside so easily. Do you really believe that you're not right for me?"  

You aren’t sure how to answer him.  

"You think you're not good enough for me." He says with some realization more than asks.  

It's the first time you see his face change. When you look up, he looks well and truly angry. The whole thing is confusing.  

"I'm sorry," You say. It’s such a timid thing to say but you don’t know how else to fix.  

"It's not—I just don't like hearing you talk about yourself like that. I don't like hearing someone I love get spoken about like that.” 

You ignore the sentiment again and wait in the quiet. You always thought this would be an easier conversation to have but it hurts.  

He sighs a bit, getting closer to you again. He’s less upset than before but there’s something else in his expression.  

"You wanted to know why I was upset earlier right? It's because of you and Nirei-kun." He admits.  

"What about him?"  

"You talked about marrying him so casually. I overheard and it bothered me all night."  

Your eyes go wide.  

"I—it wasn't serious."  

"I know that. I never thought I was that childish either but you being married to someone else as a joke." He laughs humorlessly. "I really hated it. That’s why I asked if you know how much I like you."  

You feel frozen in place by his admission. 

Umemiya steps towards you faster than you can muster up a counter for why he shouldn’t bother.  

His arms around you feel sudden. His grip on you is so tight, like you could slip through his arms all at once if he loosens it. He smells like cologne and beer and summer but it's not unpleasant. He rests his chin on your head and lets out a deep breath.  

Your chest is throbbing for different reasons now. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  

"If you won't be greedy, then you should at least let me be." He lets out a long, tense breath "At least let me have what I want." 

You're stuck. Your mouth moves faster than your brain.  

"Why me? And why now?"  

Umemiya pulls away to stare down at you. You can't bring yourself to turn away from him. 

"It was always you. I felt guilty... for wanting to you that way when you were a precious friend. Wanting to treat you delicately when you were strong and proud." He admits. Hearing him say that out loud embarrasses you to no end, “But it was those things that made me love you. Strong yet clumsy. Prideful yet honest. Awkward yet trying to be gentle. Loyal. And always considerate of everyone. Of me, when I was taking care of everyone else."  

Your stomach feels like it's going to erupt. You're losing your resolve faster than you know how to mend it.  

"Stop saying stuff like that."  

Umemiya holds you tighter and shakes his head. "No. How else will I get you to change your mind?"  

"I won't change my mind." You say stubbornly.  

"I love you." He repeats.  

You squirm.  

"Stop it,"  

"I want to be with you. I want to kiss you. I want to hold you. I want to stay by your side forever. I want to do things with you and make you feel good. I want to make you smile. I want to grow old with you." 

Your hearts fluttering. Fuck.  

"Idiot. What are you saying? Let me go."  

"It has to be you for me. I won't have anyone else no matter what you think. The person I love is you. I love you."  

"Hajime." Your voice is shaking. 

His drops down to a whisper.  

“I can’t change how you think of yourself overnight but I can tell you that there’s no point in trying to push me away. Whether or not you accept  me, we’ll never stop being side by side - so please stop fighting it.”  

You put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away. “Stop it,” 

"Please tell me it's okay to love you how I want too," He says, soft and doting while he crushes you in his arms. "And please love me in return."  

You put your hands up to your misty eyes wanting to wipe them away as he melts through the rest of your resolve like it's nothing. It's hard not to be moved. You've been pretending for ten long years that you don't love him at all and he's declaring his love for you like it's the easiest, most sensible and sane thing in the world.  

A kind-hearted, willful, meddling idiot. How you are you supposed to push him away when he's holding you this tight?  

"Shit," You voice, huffing as your voice shakes. "Don’t be stupid, alright? If you’re so insistent, I wont let you back out if you meet someone else."  

He laughs wetly.  

"I already tried meeting other people, but it's still you. Always was."  

He smiles above you. 6'2 with watery eyes with the look of pure relief like it's the best news he's ever heard in his life. It's too much for you. Your heart is racing so fast you wonder if you're gonna die.  

"Can I kiss you?" He asks.  

Your eyes go wide as you look away, not wanting to look too eager. "That's..."  

He makes another puppy-dog kinda face. "Please?"  

You're embarrassed by how easy it makes you give in. "...Do whatever you want."  

He laughs bright and warm as his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and kiss you with all the passion he can muster. It's intense, almost suffocating the way he slots his lips against yours and breathes you in. He doesn't let you up from it, doesn't part from you for a second even when he pulls away - noses brushing and stealing the air from your lungs.  

It's your stupid first kiss and it's perfect - so perfect you wonder if you're going to wake up in a dream. He kisses you hard and makes you stand on your toes to chase his lips when he pulls back. Elated. Ecstatic when you grasp the front of his shirt and keep kissing him when he stops. 

He pauses before littering your whole face with pecks even as you weakly protest, unable to stop frowning but feeling the happiest you've ever been.  

There's so much longing in between you, you feel like you could die. You feel helpless.   

"Can I come home with you?" He asks, once he stops - only holding your hand a short distance away. "I want more time together." 

You feel your skin burn hot as you nod, all while trying not to read too much into it. 

"Yeah."  

__ 

You barely get to lock your door behind you before Umemiya crowds you in the door way.  

His arms circle around your waist, chin resting against your shoulder.. Broad chest against your back, you try not to flounder as his warm voice caresses your ear.  

You're going to die young if he keeps this up.   

"I love you,"  

You flush. "Enough already. And let me go so I can wash up."  

"Do you need to sleep early? Thought you were closed tomorrow. Wanted to talk a little longer."  

You pause.  

"...Sleep?" 

"Hm?"  

You both freeze as the miscommunication dawns at the same time. You try to pull away from him as soon as you realize, skin burning hot. You're quick but Umemiya is quicker.  

"Hajime." You say gravely. "If you don't let me go, I'm gonna kill you."  

"No way," He laughs  as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. "Is that why you let me in? Were you expecting something?"  

"Shut up! Don't say anything, I swear I'll —"  

"Don't be like that, baby. I'm not making fun of you. Hey, turn around. Look at me."  

You're upset but you think the reason is more embarrassing then the feeling.  

"Don't wanna,"  

Umemiya laughs as he gently turns you around to face him. In your utter mortification, you can barely bring yourself to meet his gaze.  

"Stop staring."  

He doesn't.  

"Do you normally invite guys in just 'cause they ask?"  

"Wha—no! It's because it's you, stupid!"  

He smiles in satisfaction.  

"You shouldn't say yes so easily even if it is me. What if I took advantage of you?"  

You think he's just being smug for the sake of it, which is pissing you off. You grab him by the front of his shirt.  

"Fuck off. Maybe there's a reason I said yes."  

He pauses before his eyes widen. You push your hand against his mouth before he blurt anything else out but he's quick to pry your hand away.  

"Don't say it." You hiss.  

"I was planning on taking my time. I cherish you and I want to make sure you know that. I'm just a little surprised you’re moving so quick when you were telling me not too long ago."  

You can feel the tips of your ears growing hot, feeling even more self-conscious. "Whatever. If we're just going to sleep I still need to wash up."  

He keeps his arms behind your back so you can’t move.  

"Hey. Didn't say that. It's not like I don't want to do it with you. Just don't want you to regret anything."  

You give him an flat look. "I was prepared to give you my virginity and you're worrying about that. Unless you're planning on backing out, there's no way I would."  

"Your—" His jaw drops a little.  

You drop your voice down just a little close as you grab his collar.  

"If you get it, then hurry up and fuck me. Stupid Hajime."  

He gives you the dopiest smile you've ever seen while your face grows increasingly hot, leaning to in to press a kiss to your lips. He brushes his nose with yours. Laughter from deep in his chest.  

"Yes, ma'am."  

__ 

Once you give Umemiya permission to have you, you get the feeling that there really is no going back from here.  

You both know it. The tension in your bedroom is so thick you can barely breathe around it.  

Umemiya lands gently onto your bed - sitting up as he holds you by your waist and pulls you over to him. You're so aware of his touch it makes your nerves feel they're on fire. You're not a total virgin - at least not enough to be feeling this worked up over someones hands lingering on your waist.  

But they're Umemiya's hands—Hajime's hands, so you can't rationalize your thoughts of out it. His hands are strong and big, a little calloused and rough from the gardening and fighting. You can feel how much he adores you in a gesture so small it makes you concerned for your own heart thinking about how the rest of the night will go.  

He invites you into his lap gently, so pleased by the way you go to him so willingly. You spread yourself over him with your knees on either side of his thighs. He's big - wide and broad.  

Your barely hovering over his bulge as you lean your weight onto him. His hand barely brushes underneath your top, just barely touching the skin.  

You shiver.  

"Are you really sure this is what you want?" He asks. "I don't mind waiting as long as you need,"  

You give him an bored look. "Not very convincing when you're makin' a face like that,"  

He chuckles nervously. "That bad?"  

You nod before adding a little bashfully. "Dunno if I mind, though."  

He buries his fact against your chest all of a sudden making you jump.  

"The hell?"  

"You're so cute when you're honest like that," He mumbles into your chest, cheek pressed against your tits.  

"Jeez, shut up. What're you talking about?"  

Umemiya pulls back and leans forward - enough to breach the inches of space between you. Nose to nose, your eyes meet. A bated breath, you put your hand on his shoulders and work up the nerve to kiss him.  

It's chaste. Mostly for you to break the ice otherwise you're sure you're gonna pussy out.  

He smiles at you when you pull away.  

"See what I mean? So cute," He hums, and leans in again. "Come on. Kiss me again."  

Something about him is different when he tells you to kiss him. It's not smug or cheeky. But it's not casual either. Softness tinges his words, his touch - his whole demeanor screams like he loves you absolutely. It makes your heart rate pick up again, hands shaky as you try not to lose your nerve.  

He's restraining himself though. How he intense he could be vs how soft and calm he is being. You know Umemiya like the back of your hand so you want him to do what he wants. It's hard to find your voice.  

"You don't have to.." You cast your eyes down in embarrassment. "…hold back with me, either. I'm not some maiden."  

He smiles at you a little. "You really do know me better than anyone, huh? I was keeping it together pretty well."  

"Look I know I’m kinda difficult…I'm not real good with stuff like this either," You fidget with the collar of his shirt with your free hand. "But once I say yes I don’t back out. So don't worry about scaring me off or putting too much pressure on me or whatever. ...'s fine to just do what you feel like. I’m scared out of my mind but I wouldn’t do that to you,"  

“Don’t know how long it’ll take but I’ll do my best to make you feel secure. Might take some time but we’ve got our whole lives.” You flush at the implication. He smiles a little. "Whatever I want seems like a lot to give, though."  

"Well...depending on what, I'm might not be good at it,"   

He shakes his head. "I don't want anything like that."  

"What do you want then?"  

"You." He says easily. Your stomach flips. "All of you. I just want to make you feel so good you can't stand it. Want to worship you top to bottom. There's not a single part of you I don't want."  

You flush. "The hell... I meant like a blowjob or some shit."  

He laughs. "I know. And I want that too, another time." He hums, taking a deep breath. "Right now I just want you to feel so good for me. Is that okay?"  

You can't look at him. You can barely stand how bashful you're being, but you can't even play coy. Something in you is bursting at the seams.  

You love him so much you don't recognize yourself, or your voice, or how you're acting. It makes you sick but you can’t do anything but go with it. "Yeah. 's okay, if it's what you want."  

"It is," He says, leaning in. "All I've ever wanted."  

You ignore the latter half of his comment as he finally goes to kiss you again.  

He pulls your body close to him as you do. Until your chest to chest, arms wrapped around the span of his shoulders as you press your lips together soft and slow.  

He slides a hand underneath your top, undoing the clasp of your bra. He lets his palm stay on the center of your back while you keep kissing - straps of your bra falling down your shoulder as he splays his fingers to feel more of your skin and hold you. Hugging you close to him, his other arm wraps around your torso. His forearms feels especially strong they way they hold you by the waist.  

You're so close to him. Kissing him so deep, his tongue sliding against your lips. Something about the kiss is languid but the touch is so hot it makes your skin burn. You feel wrapped up in him, can't even tell whose heartbeat you're hearing. 

More of your weight ends up in his lap as you feel your knees go weak. Something hard presses against your clothed cunt and you gasp a little into his mouth.  

"Oh, shit." You mumble in surprise. Umemiya laughs.  

"You're making me feel good." He hums.  

Your face heats up. "I barely did anything." 

"You just being on my lap is more than enough."  

You make a face at him before rubbing yourself over the zipper of his jeans, slow and deliberate trying to get a feel for it. You hear him moan, nearly jumping out of your skin in surprise.  

The way Umemiya moans is a lot for you to process. Breathy and a little low. It resonates through your whole body like a caress.  

You make a few more tentative passes over his bulge, just to hear him do it again. Driven by your instinct more than anything, you lean into kiss at his jaw - making use of the limited experience you do have to try and draw more sounds from him.  

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, still breathless. Maybe amused.  

"Like the way you sound." You mumble in reply.  

"I thought I told you I wanted to take care of you, hm?"  

You frown. "So what? I can't touch you at all?"  

He thinks on it. "You can touch me everywhere else and you can have your way with me later, if you want it. I don't wanna cum too fast."  

"I'm just..."  

He shakes his head. "You're underestimating me. I'm still a guy, you know? With a woman I love at that. There's no way I would make it through our first time if I didn't focus on you. Don't pout,"  

Hearing him describe you in such an embarrassing way makes you flush. You roll your eyes half-heartedly. "Fine, whatever."  

He smiles.  

"Good girl. C'mere. Lay down."  

You decide not to think about how effected the praise makes you as you comply.  

Umemiya lays you down carefully, making sure you're comfortable before hovering over you. He looks a lot more imposing from this view - the dim lights of your room making his face seem more well-defined. Your nipples harden in arousal, peeking from underneath your shirt as he stares long and hard.  

"You're so beautiful to me."  

He leans down and presses a hot kiss to your jaw, just underneath your ear before slowly kissing down your neck. Open-mouthed kisses along delicate skin, tongue sliding over every patch he scrapes lightly with his teeth. You fidget underneath him, a dull throbbing between your legs. You try to figure out what to do with your hands but you’re too nervous.  

He kisses your throat where it's extra sensitive and you bite back and involuntary noise. 

"Don't hold your voice, please?"  

"It's embarrassing,"  

"It's not," He assures, bumping his forehead to your shoulder lightly. "I want to know what makes you feel good. Let me pay attention to you."  

You frown but nod ultimately.  

Umemiya isn't the first sexual encounter you've had in your life. You've done other things, but you've never really gone all the way with anyone. All of your other partners were mostly strangers - people mutually interested in using someone else to try and get off.  

This is the first time anyone has taken this much time with you. A little kissing and groping, sometimes touching your chest.  

No one's ever touched you like this, though.  

His hands feel like they're all over your body no matter where they actually end up being. Makes your heartbeat rain drumming on a tin roof. Makes your stomach tingle, a heat in your calves and a prickly feeling on your back. Your whole being drowning with pure anticipation.  

"Take this off for me." Umemiya mumbles. You nod, feeling absent as you wiggle yourself out of your tight little tee and toss it somewhere.  

The air shifts again when you're naked. His eyes drink you in, tracing the soft lines and edges of your body. Looking over scars and stretchmarks with pure, blown out wanting that shoots lust straight into your veins.  

You want him to fuck you so bad it's killing you but the very thought makes you feel so shy you could die.  

"You're beautiful," Sounds dirty the way he says, makes it spill from his lips like wine tipping over a glasses edge. "Perfect. Every inch of you is so perfect."  

He proves this to you by kissing you again. Running his hands over your skin. Up against curved sides and down against your arms, brushing the back of your biceps and forearms.  

Infatuation in his touch ruins you. Makes your voice let out. You can't think of anyone whose treated you so preciously in your entire life and you find you don't resent it as much as you should.  

(You find it feels so good to let someone touch you so kindly. A touch like you're being loved.)  

Nonetheless it's embarrassing. Of course it is.  

But it's so hard not to feel pulled in when you feel the way he kisses you. Draws a trail with his lips and tongue from jaw to shoulder blade - kissing down your biceps with his hands on your body, taking  gentle inhales of your scent.  

Anticipation makes your stomach tie in knots but finally he relents. Both hands squeeze the soft weight of your chest, palms brushing your hardened nipples.  

"Fuck."  

He laughs a little, heavy with want. "Yeah? Do you like being touched here?"  

"Mm." Is the best reply you can get out.  

He brushes against the tips with his fingers in a feather-light gesture, testing the waters before rubbing with a little more pressure. Your body jolts from the stimulation, wetness pooling and dampening your underwear. He leans in and takes one of your nipples into his mouth making another dull wave of lust wash through you.  

And he makes sure to pay attention to both. It's just like him to be so attentive to some shit like that. Your spine arches as he sucks on your sensitive nipples, letting his tongue flick across them and giving into a sweet friction. You buck your hips up against instinctively, gripping onto the sheets as your sense of restlessness grows.  

Your voice is whiny to your own ears but you can't calm down to save your life.  

"You're taking too long," You huff. He laughs lightly, looking up at you from underneath his lashes.  

"Don't be impatient." He tsks.  

"It's enough already," 

He shakes his head. "Nope. Still got a long ways to go. Promise you'll have me when you're ready for it, so just try and focus on feeling good."  

You make a frustrated sound. "It's embarrassing being the only one feeling good,"  

He pauses before standing up on his knees. He takes his black t-shirt off in one swift go until his torso is bare, and undoes the top button of his pants. He gives you a little glance. "Better?"  

There are too many layers of that to process in the moment it happens. You mumble. "A little,"  

He beams. "Good. Now let me take good care of you,"  

Sliding down lower, he kisses you from sternum to navel. Hands gripping at the softness of your sides, smoothing over the bare skin as he his thumb finds the waistband of your skirt. He glances up at you, silently seeking your permission. You nod back at him, watching him slide the short skirt away from your waist.  

The sudden air feels cool against your skin. He presses his cheek against your belly, both hands on your hips..  

"You're gorgeous. Even more gorgeous than I thought. I feel so lucky being able to touch you when you're this perfect.” He praises endlessly.  

You cover your face with your arm.  

"Ugh. Quit it. You're sayin' too much."  

"Seeing you get so shy when I praise you a little is so cute." He trails his lips down further and further - just above your sex before stopping. "You're so cute."  

He sits back, standing up and bending your legs slightly at the knee. You hold the position as you feel him massage your calve. Thumb drawing hard circles in the muscle, slowly working his way up to your knee. He kisses you afterwards trailing the same spot his hands were touching seconds ago before moving onto the other side.  

There's nothing you can call it short of worship. The nagging feeling that it's undeserved is washed away each time Umemiya holds your gaze.  

Devotion colors every touch no matter how small. And it’s so obvious, so prominent - it feels outright wrong to deny the fact it’s there.   

You think the closest thing you can compare it too is the way Umemiya gardens. A patience as his fingers root through earth and soil, a kindness towards delicate things that makes even hours of work under the sun look beautiful and easy. His expression is what's most uncanny - what makes you you feel so hot. 

An expression that says he loves doing it from the very bottom of his heart - not even a hint of apathy or complaint.  

A face that says he loves every long, drawn out motion and actions of repetition all fro the very core of him.  

Having it directed at making love to you so blatantly makes you more aroused than you know what to do with. You don't know how to let yourself be treated like the most cherished flower in Umemiya's garden - and you aren't so sure how you're meant to get used to it no matter how much it makes you feel...nice. You don’t have any other experience.  

Which is why you're trying to be patient. Trying to be at least temporarily secure in whatever he sees in you that makes him worship every inch of you, memorizing all your ins and outs.  

Umemiya places hot, wet kisses on your inner thigh before laying himself between your spread legs - breath barely hovering over your sex.  

By the time he gets there, you feel utterly melted into your sheets. Your mind is hazy, impatient and wanting as strong hands secure your thighs. He's so close.  

"I wanna eat you out. Is that okay?"  

"If you don't do something soon I'm gonna kill you."  

He laughs warmly. "I'll take that as a yes."  

You pause. Umemiya waits.  

"I didn't uh," You clear your throat. "Wasn't planning on getting laid so y'know. Haven't shaved in a while."  

"Were you worried that I'd change my mind? I like it for the record. Feels natural." Umemiya says. "It's your body so there's nothing I would dislike about it."  

"You're too much." You reply back in earnest. You cover your face with your arms. "So cheesy."  

"I'm being serious." He says suddenly solemn with how sincere he is. 

The sudden change is amusing. You pause before breaking into genuine giggles, unable to help yourself.  

"You're really somethin', yknow that?"  

He's quiet for a long time. Long enough for it to catch your attention, turning your gaze more clearly towards his face. Swiftly, he pushes himself up to catch your mouth in another kiss. It stuns you a bit, very different to all the rest. More teeth and tongue than lip.  

"I like you," He murmurs, forehead to yours. "How can someone be so cute?"  

"Would you quit embarrassing me and get on with it?" 

He smiles. "As you wish,"  

Umemiya settles back down between your legs after easing your panties off and putting your feet flat on the bed to give himself more access. You can barely look down at him doing it. His fingers brush the slick hairs back gentle as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy apart and look at you more intimately.  

You can feel him. Feel his every breath and movement. He stares at you awestruck. "How is all of you so pretty? Even here it's such a beautiful color."  

"Stop looking so much,"  

He takes a breath, taking in your scent one more time before pressing a kiss to your clit. You make an attempt to squirm away from his grip as his finger dig into your thighs and hold you down. The strength of it knocks the wind out of you, forcing you into place. Umemiya pushes his tongue and gives you a long, tentative lick through the seam of your cunt.  

Your whole body breaks out into shivers at the sensation. The warm weight of his tongue on your sex makes feels like an electric current through water - your toes curling as he makes the same few passes over and over. He collects your pooling arousal on the tip as he drags upwards and flicks your clit tentatively. You grind against his face instinctually, hips chasing the pleasure. Amused laughter vibrates against your core as you do, mumbling at you to be patient while he's still face deep in it.  

You let out another pitchy whine before he finally stops teasing. He lays his tongue flat against your clit, cupping it lightly before drawing it around experimentally. He watches carefully as he plays around with pressure and angles - trying to see what makes you react the most. You can feel how closely he's watching you. 

You cover your mouth with your hand when he does find it, your voice breaking off as he licks carefully right where you need. He smiles into your cunt as he toys with your with the sensitive bundle of nerves, pleased by the change in your reactions. The obvious pleasure he's making you feel.  

Something blooms into your chest. You've never— 

"You're—" You close your eyes, hands tangling in the sheets as you break out into a fever. "Ngh, never had someone l-lick me,"  

He must've heard you because he seems to laser in his focus the minute you say it. He's lapping at your clit so deep, licking precisely and holding you with nose against your bush.  

You reach down tentatively, pushing back the hair falling in his face and he gives you a look so lovesick you want to run away. The pressure changes gradually, more intensely.  

It feels better somehow. Makes you feel restless. Your whole body curls in tight with want at the sensation of it, the lower expanse of your belly tensed. You're shaking as you drift closer to the edge, arousal upped by the wet sound of him sucking your clit.  

"Hajime," You warn, spine starting to arch as you helplessly try to pull away from the intense sensation. It's not familiar to your body, so much so your mind can barely make sense of what's happening to it, "Cumming—c-cumming!"  

Something in you goes undone as Umemiya keeps pace during your orgasm. All the tension inside of you suddenly comes loose - specks of white matter behind closed lids as you screw your eyes shut. Your back curves up into arch, your hips trembling, your insides pulsing. It comes running into you, crashing into your body as waves of pleasure drown out the noise in your head. He eats you out until you feel borderline hysterical.  

You feel melted and reshaped by him - yanking him off when he continues to be insistent after you're too oversensitive. He laughs when you pull him away, resting against your thigh as you take worn out heaving breaths.  

He kisses the inside of your knee as you calm down, bright smile on his features - painted pink with a slight flush. "You came. I'm so happy."  

You look at him in shock. "You're a scary guy."  

He pushes up to kiss your temple, voice soft. "Did I scare you?"  

Your stomach flutters, tucking your chin. "You were intense, but I didn't... hate it or anything."  

"Yeah?" He grins, pressing a few kisses to your cheek and face before whispering against your ear. "Then, is it okay to go farther?"  

You nod silently. Umemiya smiles.  

He stands up on his knees, pushing his hair back as your eyes are drawn to his pants. You reach out for the waistband of his pants unthinkingly, hooking your finger into it. "Isn't it stuffy?"  

He blinks, frozen before rubbing a hand across his face. "Ah a bit, but it's fine."  

"Take 'em off. Please?"  

Umemiya looks unusually distressed by the request, but follows through without another word. You watch him undress - revealing the tight black fabric of his boxer briefs snug against his waist. Your eyes go wide as you see the outline of his cock - head still half hazy. You voice your unfiltered reaction.  

"Your dick is so big,"  

He laughs breathlessly. "Are you trying to stir me up? What's with you?" He pauses to lay down besides you. You turn to lay on your side and face him a little better. "You're being cute. I'm not used to seeing you so docile."  

"Shaddup," You reply half-heartedly. Your body is still on fire but it knocked the wind of you to cum once already. "Your fault."  

He grins, a hint of smugness as he laughs. "That's true."  

"You gonna fuck me?"  

"Mm, yeah. Gotta open you up first or it'll hurt."  

"I've put stuff in before. Toys. Should be fine."   

"Still wanna play it safe. It's your precious first time after all."  

You make a face before pulling him into you, hugging him tight as your whole body breaks out in a shameful flush. "Then hurry up and do it already."  

His arms slide underneath where your laying, holding you to him as he hikes one of your legs up. He slides his free hand in over your leg - his forearm holding your thigh. You press your face to his neck and shoulder - hiding your expression. "Guess I should huh? You were always impatient,"  

You can barely tell him to shut up, the way your body waits for it. A warbled little noise leaves your mouth as he slides his middle finger through the sticky folds of your cunt - careful as it catches on your hole. Wet and so aroused, the first finger he puts in goes in completely smoothly with no real effort 

Umemiya speaks low and soft as he holds you. "I don't know if I can get used to seeing you like this. I'm glad no one else but me ever wil You’re really all I think about lately," He catches the lobe of your ear between his teeth gently. Your head spins. "People misunderstand you because you're prickly, you know? For a long time, only I knew what it felt like to be liked by you. I liked that,"  

"Why are you—mmgh," 

He slides another finger in carefully after the first one slides inside of you with no resistance. His voice is so hot against your skin, the low bass of it in your skull as he speaks so close to your ear.  

"Don't get me wrong I'm happy seeing you with so many people surrounding you. But I was a little sad too. And it kept getting worse over the years until I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t figure out why for a long time and then it clicked,” Umemiya explains. You realize half way delirious this is his real confession. God, you’re gonna kill him. “Suddenly it was all I thought about. I wanted to be special to you. I wanted to monopolize you. It was my first time having thoughts like that,”  

Another finger slides into you easily. Umemiyas fingers are so much bigger than yours. Thicker than they are long. The stretch is enough to make you gasp.  

“Hajime—“ 

He curls them up, careful until he finds the spot he’s looking for. Your body reacts, another sensation of pressure as his middle finger rubs tenderly against your gspot. You weakly try to wiggle away as he holds you firm.  

“I felt a little guilty, too. You’re my very best friend. You’re independent and diligent. Tough. But you know, when I saw you for those few months - all I could think about was how much I wanted to spoil you,” He whispers. Something in your body shifts the way touches you. Pushes in further and further - stretching until it’s easy for him to be inside. “Somehow everything I liked about you became so cute I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t help but want to dote on you over every little thing even though I knew better than anyone you didn’t need something like that.”  

Your eyes well up but not necessarily from emotion. Totally overwhelmed. You don’t feel like you’re gonna cum but there’s something else that’s waiting and each time he thrusts his fingers into you it comes a little closer. Your voice is shaking.  

“It—fuck, quit talking. Somethings gonna—“  

His smile grows a little. It’s the first time it looks so hungry.  

“I was happy in general when I realized you liked me too. Even when you were being stubborn, I liked the way you couldn’t turn me away. I liked how happy you looked talking to me as usual as if that alone was something so precious,” He hums, so focused and precise as he stretches you open on a third finger but never once losing his train of thought. Like saying all of these comes to him so easily it doesn’t matter. “I didn’t want to corner you. But it felt like I couldn’t rest until you were mine completely. Which is why I’m being so unfair to you. Why I’m so persistent. ” 

Your voice breaks on a whine. “It’s gonna come out—“  

“You make a pretty face when your heads filled with nothing but me. I don’t think it’s bad to wanna stay that way,” He hums, almost conversational as he presses a kiss to your skin. “Go on. Let go,”  

Something hot sprays between your legs as Umemiya fucks you open on all three of his fingers.  

A rush of warm liquid squirts onto your sheets as your legs shake wearily. Umemiya marvels at the mess. Your hands curl into fists, nails digging in your palms as he finally pulls them out - leaving you stretched, almost gaping.  

You lay limp in soaked sheets as you pull away from Umemiya with a very weak glare.  

He’s smiling at you, dopey and lovesick.  

“Too much?”  

Angrily, you smack at his bare chest over and over, trying to recover your pride.  

“You’re insane. What’s,” You swallow thickly. “What’s with you.”  

He shrugs. Wordless, he flips you onto your back again before hovering over top of you. Pressing his forehead to yours, he brushes your noses together and plants a tentative peck on your lips as if trying to gauge whether or not you’re upset. He melts when you kiss him back, smiling happily.  

“Were you like this with your other girlfriends? No wonder they broke up with you,”  

He laughs. “Mm, no? I was more of a gentleman.”  

You break out into another exhausted fit of laughter.  

“Pfft, yeah? Guess I’m pretty special,” 

“Yeah. You are.” He kisses you again. “Wanna keep going or are you too tired? I don’t mind if we sleep.”  

“Stupid. I said it already didn’t I? Hurry up and fuck me.”  

“Okay, okay. Let me go get the condom from my wallet,”  

You wrap your legs around his waist and stare up at him plainly as he tries to move, keeping him pinned in place. You’re frowning, brows furrowed with a hard glare. He stares at you.  

“Did you want something else? Water?”  

“Want you to fuck me,” You restate, arms reaching up to circle around his neck. “Just do it already.” 

He pulls back to look at you seriously.  

“Do you know what you’re asking?”  

You flush. “Of course I do. Stupid. Are you trying to get me to say it out loud?”  

“I might think I’m deluding myself otherwise.”  

You sigh, looking at him flatly as you try to tamp down the part of you that’s screaming to be more tactful.  

“Don’t bother with the condom, a-alright? Or pulling out,”  

He looks like he’s experiencing the shock of his life. “But…” 

“Stop being dumb or I’m never gonna have sex with you again.”  

He nods suddenly solemn. “Fine. But,”  

You give him another look that silences him. He sighs again, getting the message before kissing your cheek and pull back to sit up on his knees between your legs. Pulling his briefs down, his cock springs free. It looks a lot bigger than you saw underneath the fabric, weighed down from it’s own weight even though it stands up stiff. He opened you up with three but you wonder if it’ll be enough not to stretch you open.  

You reach your hand out to touch it tentatively, feeling it’s weight and heft. He clears his throat but seems content to let you. The palms of your hands cup the shaft, feeling all the veins pulse. The tip is sticky with precum. You pull your hand away, another sudden wave of self consciousness overwhelming you.  

Umemiya hovers over you again, placing he length of his cock against your pussy. You shift a little feeling it slide against you, hard and hot.  

“Gonna put it in now, okay?”  

Nodding, you put your legs up. You take a deep breath when the head pushes in, letting out an involuntary noise. You feel well-stretched but the thickness of his cock is still enough to make you feel it in your legs. Umemiya is focused above you, barely sliding the tip through your folds as you open up around him. The air feels punched out of your lungs on just the first inch.  

His face is strained is he holds his hips steady, leaning down to tap your foreheads together. “Feeling okay?”  

“Mm,” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine. Feels different.”  

“Different?”  

“Yours is bigger than all the stuff I own,” You explain. “Feels hotter. Harder, too.”  

You feel his cock twitch inside of you suddenly, shocking you. He smiles sheepishly.  

“Gonna push in a little more, okay?”  

You nod, watching as Umemiya so slowly presses his cock into you further. Enough that it doesn’t hurt when you take him, as much as it just feels like something is inside of you. You feel a warm sense of satisfaction at how full you feel. You feel like him like he’s in your stomach, taking up so much space. After a while of pushing, stopping, and going again  - he finally bottoms out.  

“You feel incredible,” He murmurs, half-smile on his face. Your stomach flutters. “It’s hard not to cum right away. Feels so good inside of you. I love you.”  

You feel yourself twitch, frowning at the expression of delight Umemiya has. You put your hand against his fact to keep him away but he kisses your palm and moves it. Bottomed out, he grasps both hands and holds them  - pinning them to the bed as you watch him wide-eyed.  

“Think you’re used to it?” He hums, clasping your fingers together. “Is it okay if I move?”  

You feel so damn bashful. “It’s okay.” 

He kisses your forehead. “I’ll go slow.” 

As promised, Umemiya pulls out carefully before pushing back into you. You’re so wet that it slides in without any real friction. It takes a few thrusts of him going slowly for your body to get adjusted to the sensation. After a few motions, though - it starts to feel different.  

Starts to feel good. Really, really good.  

“Oh,” Your eyes flutter open. “Shit. You c-can go faster.”   

“Yeah?”  

You nod, trying not to seem too eager. 

When Umemiya picks up pace, you feel your  the whole lower half of your body weaken all over again. Something in your legs, your spine go soft against the bed underneath, a sudden unusual arousal swelling. Somewhere in deeper as he cocks thrusts against your gspot, knocking against it with more force than before. The change in pace coupled with the visual of Umemiya over you, face drawn together in focus as he fucks you is too much. Split open on his cock, you can hear how wet you are each time he moves.  

“Feels…” Your words come up empty. “’s so much.” 

“Yeah? Is it too much for you, baby?”  

You shake your head as your thoughts get increasingly cloudy. It’s like there’s nothing else your body can focus on. The way his cock drags against your sensitive, silken walls. The feeling of being full to empty and then full all over again. The way your pussy gets so much wetter each time he moves, sloppy and sucking him in so tight. You can feel your body want for him.  

Umemiya lets go of your hands, sliding one between your bodies. Palm resting on your sex, he lets his brush against your clit. The difference it makes is significant, makes your eyes go wide. He smiles a little, hair falling in his face as he pushes it up with his free hand.  

“That’s it,” He hums, contented to keep at it like this. “Feels good, right? Your holding onto me so tightly it’s hard for me to pull out even though you’re so wet.”  

You make a whiny noise and wonder if other peoples first times feel this good or if you’re just outrageously lucky. You decide on the latter he fucks you faster and matches his thrusts with the movement of his fingers. You’re warm all over - skin scorching as your hands find his biceps and shoulders to cling onto.  

Your voice is so whiny when you call out for him “You’re so deep, ngh.”  

He laughs, deep and raspy. “Yeah? Tell me what you’re feeling,”  

“It feels good when you’re in me.” You reply drunkenly. “Want it faster. Please,”  

He complies with your request almost immediately. You cry out loud, physically incapable of holding the sound in as he gets to fucking you faster and harder. Your pussy is throbbing. Senselessly horny, you pull Umemiya closer to you as he fucks you and smash your lips together. You feel so good, so thoroughly fucked and completely out of it. He’s in you but you want him even closer, want the scent of his skin to mark you.  

A second time your body builds up to that familiar feeling but it’s so much farther inside. An orgasm pulled right from your core. Stomach tied in knots as Umemiya fucks you hard, you wrap your legs around his waist and take him. 

“That’s it. You’re so good. Cum on my cock, sweet girl. Let me feel it” He murmurs against your skin, holding you close. “You’re making me feel so good. So cute. Go ahead, it’s okay. Let me see how good I’m making you feel.”  

Pliant to his request, you hold onto Umemiya for dear life as your body gives into second orgasm. Your nails dig into his biceps as the built up arousal gives way pleasure - and you cum hard with his cock sheathed all the way inside of you. All the wind gets stolen from your lungs as you press forward with another kiss, your whole body trembling violently as you let go.  

Umemiya sweet talks you through without letting go once, only stopping to take a pause when you’ve fully ridden out your high.  

You stare up at him in a daze as he takes a breather to kiss you, still hard as he’s bottomed out inside of you.  

“You gonna cum soon?”  

“Mm,” He nods. “Yeah I’m close. If I move, I will.”  

“’s okay to cum in me,”  

Umemiya laughs warmly. “I’m already about too. You’re not helping,”  

You smile a bit as you hug him close to you and tell him again that it’s fine. Before long, he holds you too, whispering the same three words into your neck as he finally lets it out. It’s a weird feeling, thick white ropes of seed spilling into the deepest parts of you.  

You don’t really hate it, though.  

“I love you,” Umemiya repeats. Tired you don’t try to fight yourself.  

“Love you too,”  

__ 

The next morning, you’re stirred away by the sound of your front door unlocking and the sound of Kotoha’s voice echoing through your apartment.  

You’re still half-way asleep, so it barely dawns on you that anything is off. Not cognizant enough to think twice, your body tries to go back to sleep.  

Or it does until you hear a very loud shout coming from your kitchen that wakes you up with a start.  

“No fucking way,”  

You sit up suddenly, hearing faint conversation before the sound of steps barreling towards your door. You just barely manage to pull the sheets up over your chest before she comes storming through the door of your bedroom.  

You watch her eyes scan your entire room, mentally collecting data before she finally lands on you. As your brain starts to load back in, your eyes go wide with horror at the look of pure scandal on her face.  

Fuck. You were supposed to be having dinner with her and Tsubaki tonight. Usually you confirm with them in the mornings since your up. It’s not uncommon for her to drop in when you don’t reply to check in since you live close by. 

Fuck.  

“You—Oh, I have to text Tsubaki-chan, I can’t believe—“  

Before she gets to finish her sentence, Umemiya appears behind her in your door way. The sight of him only adds fuel to the flame of your embarrassment. You went another round or two before bed last night and it looks like it too. Shirtless in sweats he left over a while ago, his biceps are covered in scratch and with a few hickies, he’s wearing his hair down with a cup of tea and a very apologetic smile.  

You cover your face with your hands unsure of how to deal with the feeling of pure mortification.  

Kotoha snaps a picture of your room that causes even more distress.  

“If you don’t delete that right now, I’m gonna kill us both.”  

“In your dreams.”  

Umemiya laughs warmly. “Please don’t kill each other.”  

He slides past Kotoha coming over to you. Bending down to kiss your forehead, he pulls the blanket up over you so you’re more well-covered. You give him an incredulous but Umemiya is unfazed - smiling as bright as ever. 

“Good morning,”  

“I can’t believe my eyes,” Kotoha says. She points at Umemiya. “You, go put on a shirt.”  

“Fine, fine. Stay for breakfast,” Umemiya says with a smile. “It’ll be nice having it with my two favorite people.”  

You make another face as Umemiya gives you a long, affectionate look before disappearing. She sighs as she looks at you, pinching the bridge of her nose.  

“I would ask if you’re gonna meet us for dinner but you don’t have a choice anymore so show up at seven. I’m gonna leave before that tactless idiot comes back. We’ll talk later.”  

You nod in understanding. She turns to leave but then turns back with a genuine smile.  

“And, well - congrats. He’s a tactless idiot but he does love you or whatever. Cherish each other,”  

You flush, nodding your head. “Yeah…thanks.”  

With that Kotoha leaves quickly. Umemiya returns still shirtless, pouting a little when he notices she’s gone.  

“She left already?”  

“Of course she did. I can’t believe you would invite her for breakfast.”   

Umemiya shrugs. “No point being coy about it. I thought it’d be nice. I was looking for a shirt but I guess I don’t need one now,” He sits besides you on the bed, turning to face with a goofy smile. “Anyways, good morning.”  

“You already said that.”  

“You didn’t say it back,”  

You frown. “G’morning,”  

He smiles suddenly  before grabbing you from underneath the blankets and sheets - pulling your naked body ontop of him as he grins. Sunlight pours through the window as he holds you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head before pressing his cheek into your hair.  

“Mm, yeah. It’s a really good morning after all.”  

“You’re stupid.”  

“And you love me,”  

You fail trying not to smile.  Damn him. You're so happy it hurts. You roll your eyes.

“I guess so.”  

[mirohlayo]

NOT SO JEALOUS

( Max is desperate to win your heart, but what can he do when other suitors are looking for you too? - Or in other words, the 2 times when Max denied his jealousy. )

warning : cute jealousy, sexual harassment, fluff fluff fluff

note : I think this one is cute

word count : 1.6k

You were incredibly perfect in Max's eyes. You were kind, funny, very very beautiful and adorable to everyone. You had your principles and your values and you were the most modest person in this world. To summarize, Max was destined to conquer you and your heart, because there was only you as the perfect woman.

But Max knew he wasn't the only one who saw your qualities. Other men saw in you the beautiful personality that you possessed, so naturally they also sought to seduce you, because that was all they dreamed of.

"Max, you've been staring at her for 3 minutes." Charles' eyes were mocking at the sight of his friend who seemed to melt on the spot admiring you. "How could I not? She's so... breathtaking." The Ferrari driver rolled his eyes as he went to retort.

However, looking back at Max's face, he could tell that something had changed. His jaw was clenched, his facial features more pronounced and his gaze - much darker and frightening. Charles frowned, examining his expression, as he decided to turn his head towards where Max seemed to be glaring at someone.

And a few meters further on, there was still you, in the paddock, and surprisingly, a man with a confident appearance and a dazzling smile. The dark-haired man seemed to make you laugh until you were close to tears, and Charles had also noticed the subtle touches this man was trying to do. Him too, because obviously Max had noticed that from the moment the man appeared in his vision.

"Jealous ?". Charles asked simply, curiously. Perhaps with a playful tone, which seemed to annoy the dutch. “No, not jealous.” “Not so jealous?” Charles continued again, friendly titillating the pilot next to him. Max was giving him a look that certainly screamed 'keep going and I'll kill you', so Charles didn't bother to tease him further.

But sure, his ears did not miss the curses that Max grumbled in a low voice, like a slight "anyway, he is not as beautiful and perfect as me. I am much better for her", before finally leaving with his head bowed and a pout on his face.

-

Clubbing. That word was pretty clear – dance, have fun and of course, flirt. So Max knew very well what he was going to get into when he took you to this famous little club in Monaco, your pretty navy blue dress that he adored on your body. He knew he couldn't really save you from any suitors.

You stayed by his side all evening. He absolutely didn't want to move his arm wrapped around your waist, a sign that showed others that you were potentially his. But when you kindly asked him to slip away to get some refreshments, apologizing, that's when he started to display his famous jealous expression.

“I can accompany you if you want.” Max said those words, and they sounded more like an order than a question. “Don’t worry Max, I'll be there in two minutes.” It seemed like the driver was looking for every possible excuse for you not to leave him, and you were starting to find that strange. “Max, we’re going to join Lando’s group, are you coming?” One of his close friends was yelling at him loud enough for him to hear.

His face fell as he already felt himself being dragged by the arm, seeing you disappear among the crowd. It was only a few seconds later, sitting like a sulking child who didn't get what he wanted, that he saw you sitting at the bar, impatiently waiting for your drink. You couldn't wait to join Max, because after all you'd be lying if you said you felt safe in this club.

Where Max gave you a feeling of peace and security. And this feeling of insecurity took shape when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders and the alcoholic breath of a man older than you. His smile was scary, you tried to be as comfortable as possible but it wasn't working. “Don’t be afraid, pretty girl, I won’t do anything to you.”

Those words sounded like a lie and you inwardly begged the bartender to switch to lightning speed. The man felt more and more comfortable, his hands roaming over the bare skin of your arm. That's when you started to panic. "Sorry but I already have a boyfr-" "She already has a boyfriend, so no need to come touch her like a dirty pervert. Get out of there, otherwise I'll take you out myself."

Before your eyes, was there, Max. A look filled with disgust and fury, an expression almost similar to when he didn't achieve his goals in F1. An expression of rage and anger. You had never seen him so angry, at least just for you. The man was decomposing on the spot, and without a word he didn't bother to stay any longer.

"Are you okay, princess? Did he hurt you? Did he insult you? Do you want to go home and rest?" The way he worried about you made your heart melt, as he looked at you like you were the most beautiful and fragile thing in the world. You nodded slowly, taking the time to calm down. "I'm fine Max, don't worry. And I'd like to go home and rest, if you don't mind."

"It doesn't bother me at all, princess. Your wishes are orders." While he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders to keep you warm, you waited patiently for your Uber on the sidewalk of the club. The scene replayed in your mind, and a question tickled your tongue. "Jealous ?" The word came out naturally, and you watched as Max's cheeks flushed as he looked at you surprised. Completely in shock.

He looked away, his eyes glued to something nonexistent. “No, I just wanted to protect you.” “Not so jealous then?” You couldn't help but respond promptly, amused by his reactions. He cleared his throat embarrassed, before gently squeezing your hand that was in his. “Maybe a little, then.” That response alone was enough to make you giggle as he enjoyed the sweet melody. Maybe a little too much much after all.

-

It was your birthday. You had invited a few people, but enough so that you could organize a nice little evening. You had invited your closest friends, including two or three boys, and of course Max was one of them. Except he just wanted to be the only boy invited to your birthday.

It was perhaps immature and childish of him to think like that, but after all he had made the decision to confess his feelings to you at the end of that evening. He wanted to be the only one of the male gender who could tell you this tonight.

However, he didn't want to risk keeping you to himself all evening. It was your birthday, you were enjoying it to the fullest with your loved ones and that alone made him happy. Only, he would have liked not to have to endure your interactions with your other guy friend, who seemed to steal all your attention. He was once again displaying that terrible, tense and marked facade.

But he couldn't blame you. After all, who wouldn't want a woman as pretty as you? Except he couldn't take it anymore. To wait and endure all these hours. As you were about to blow out your candles, you slipped away to cool off in the kitchen. The guests finished lighting the last candles, and you found yourself alone with yourself and... Max.

Surprised to see him appear at first, you slowly turned to face him fully, an angelic smile on your face. Your smile that he could admire all day. “I saw you staring at me all night Max.” This sentence had the effect of a bomb on him, as his eyes widened. He thought he was at least being discreet, but it turns out he wasn't.

He scratched the back of his head nervously, feeling uneasy. “Don’t worry, I don’t feel anything for him.” He knew that you were referring to your friend because otherwise he would never have planted his gaze on yours as quickly as in this present moment. A faint giggle left your lips, amused. "Jealous ?". Max rolled his eyes playfully as he tried to hide his smirk.

“No, I don’t think I’m jealous.” You raised your eyebrows, surprised by his response. "Not so jealous, huh? Then I can go back to chat and laugh with my friend-" "NO- I... no, please. No, don't go back." He seemed completely panicked at the idea of seeing you laughing with this man he hoped to suffocate under his pillow tonight.

Suddenly, his strong muscular arms wrapped around your waist as he approached your bodies slowly. His gaze burned your skin, your eyes, but it was gentle. "I'm jealous, of course. You have no idea how much. Seeing you laughing, even just standing next to another man. I almost lost my mind. So I hope that a kiss could fix it, if you're okay with that ?" He asked in a cheerful voice.

A big smile took place on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I'm perfectly okay with that, Mr. Jealous.” Your lips against his were perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever tasted. It was sweet and innocent, but full of love and emotion. "Birthday kiss, birthday gift". He laughed softly.

“Oh yeah, I saw that you didn’t make an effort to actually gift me something.” You giggled back, kissing him again. “Maybe I should have given you some pepper spray to blind the men who admire your sublime beauty.” Another laugh escaped your body as he fully savored this happy moment.

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” You were referring to your guests. “Absolutely not, I really need to yell at them and tell them that I have the most perfect girlfriend in the world.” And in new laughter, you joined the others, who absolutely did not expect to see you kissing each other passionately behind the smoke of your blown out candles.

[bamfkeeper]

Red...?

RQ: 'Hello! I adored you Dad!Nightcrawler story! And wanted to know if you could make this possible headcanon since it seemed funny. So Kurt's parents are Azazel&Mystique so what if his kid gets traits/mutations from them? (Like it skipped a gen) Like red skin from Azazel or Mystiques abilities/scales. It may be humorous to see/for Kurt to handle' -@aphrodite4lover

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x F!Reader // Warnings: None I think lol.

A/N: I love this, actually. I know his parents were re-written as Mystique & Destiny, but for the sake of this, Kurt's parents are originally Azazel & Mystique. Yes ofc here's some hcs. Added a few things to make it interesting. Also I know that's a red bamf not a baby just pretend it is okay 😭

When your little one came out you were both surprised to see that they weren't blue like expected...but red.

As you held your little one, you were a bit confused, of course. You looked at the red infant, their little body soft but lacking Kurt's fuzz and instead had carefully placed soft scales. They adorned the baby's shoulders and upper arms, cheeks, a little on the forehead, down the spine and shoulder blades, and of course the thighs.

The signature spaded tail was there, and the baby did have three digits like Kurt, but nothing else resembled him at all.

You loved your baby, but you were just a little worried. Kurt wasn't sure what to think either. He knew you hadn't cheated, heavens no. Plus...mutations are random.

Azazel would have a field day if he heard that Kurt's child ended up red instead of blue. The asshole might even make a comment about mating you but...that's a whole other scenario.

The baby always favored you too, which he sort of understood since you were the mother, but your child always cried and he could never soothe them. "Ach, bitte....calm down, you have food and you are clean...why do you cry?" he tries to hard, rocking, bouncing, cradling.

He gets a little jealous when your baby calms instantly when in your arms. "They do not like me, liebling..." he frowns and pouts.

As your little baby grew, they proved themselves to be a little devil indeed. Kurt felt himself being run rampant, the toddler ran after him and Kurt could barely keep up. Your child was slippery and extremely cunning for a toddler.

Kurt tried to help them teleport, assuming your child inherited his mutant ability, but as they watched him disappear and reappear, they instead shifted from a red toddler to a blue one, taking on Kurt's appearance if he were a toddler again.

So...great. No teleporting, red skin, and his mother's ability?

He wasn't upset, just...very surprised. His shock made your baby laugh, giggling in amusement as they continued to shift into different appearances.

Not only people, but they could also shift into animals.

The baby did inherit his wall-crawling. You often found them hanging out on the ceiling, hanging from it and chasing each other around on the walls.

You felt a little insecure or worried, thinking Kurt might have some resentment towards you, even though you had zero control over the development and outcome of your child's mutation. Kurt could tell you felt bad, and he always reassured you.

"Mutations are so strange, liebe...please do not fret. I love unser Kind...they certainly were a chock when they came into the world." he teased lightly, kissing your cheek.

Your child was just as mischevious and troublesome during their teenage years. Very rebellious and the complete opposite of Kurt. It was rather entertaining, the two literally opposites in appearance and interests.

Your child took on a lot of bad habits, displaying both Mystique and Azazel's personality more than your own or Kurt's. It was hard to deal with at first, but you figured they were just trying to find themselves.

Your child struggled with identity, (take with that what you will it can be implied with whatever you like!), the shapeshifting and everything else was hard on them. Also the fact that they looked nothing like either of you made it hard. They felt like a red black sheep, and their behavior was just them trying to deal with it.

After you both sat down and spoke to them, you got to the bottom of why. It was an emotional night for you, Kurt, and your child, but it ended in tearful hugs and many 'I love you's.'

Kurt loves your child no matter what they look like and who they decide to me. They will always come home to you and Kurt.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image: Amazing X-Men (2014) #1

[vettelsvee]

DON'T BELIEVE WHAT THEY SAY | Oscar Piastri

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

oscar piastri x gf!reader

summary: reader is quite insecure about herself due to fans and paps comments, and oscar tries to comfort her

word count: 1206

warning: wait till the end and tell me if you'd like a part 2 *kiss kiss*. reader feeling insecure about herself and thinking she's not good enough (remember: you are good enough, don't hear what others say!). use of y/n. corrected the translation at almost 1am so i apologize if there are mistakes

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback as well as comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! <3

After a long day in the paddock, and after a race that was supposed to be the highlight of the season but ended in a DNF for Oscar, your boyfriend decided to cheer both of you up by inviting you to have dinner in a fancy restaurant. You have been in a relationship for several years since you both were high school sweethearts, so sometimes the romance wore thin. Today, he wanted to give his best after a day worth to forget.

Lately, he had noticed that your behavior was a bit strange. You seemed uncomfortable with yourself, and your self-esteem was at an all-time low, judging by the unpleasant comments you had been making lately about herself. Moreover, the media and "fans" criticism didn't help either, as paparazzi and journalists had been harassing and spreading rumors about Oscar cheating on you, or that you have been gaining too much weight for Piastri’s liking. All of them, among others, were damaging your relationship slowly. 

For those two reasons, and because he felt like changing the scenery after the weekly training stress, Oscar told you that you would go out to enjoy a peaceful dinner. He was conscious of all of those criticism, and he was going to remind you how special you were to him and most of it, how perfect you were for him. Also, that you shouldn’t give a damn shit about others opinions, specially when Oscar was the one dating and loving you.

Although you initially resisted to go because you didn’t want to be the center of attention once again, you finally accepted because you knew it hadn’t been an easy day for your boyfriend. You dressed in a beautiful electric blue dress he had gifted you for you birthday las year, and decided not to wear makeup and jewelry. However, you still felt nervous. It was the presence of paparazzi, who followed you wherever you went, made you feel increasingly insecure about yourself and your relationship once again.

In those moments, you thought that Oscar deserved a girl better than you.

"Love," you addressed you boyfriend, a bit hesitant. "Do I look fine like this?"

"My God, Y/N… You're perfect. You always are."

You looked at yourself in the mirror once again. You tried to fake a smile, but you didn't like what you saw in front of you.

"I don't know… I feel a bit ridiculous in this dress," you explained. "Do I look too fat? I don’t think this color suits me very well either..."

"Don't say that," Oscar scolded, approaching you. "It looks amazing on you. Do you remember when I gave it to you? You loved it! You have been wanting it, for months actually, and even though you didn't say it, your face said it all."

"Yes, I remember perfectly, but the problem is that I don't feel comfortable with myself," you continued. "I'm tired of everything that's being said about us and the opinions people seem to have about us. To be honest with you, every day I feel more like… well, that I don’t deserve to be in your life. At least, not as your girlfriend.”  

Oscar sighed. He knew you were right. He was pretty conscious about the media and obsessive fans’ behaviour towards you, and he didn’t like that part of fame either, especially when it was for no reason, and because they had no right to comment on your relationship, which was definitely private, but not secret.

You started to cry shily. He did nothing but hesitate to hug you and make your head rest on his chest. He immediately starting to stroke your hair while gently rocking you from side to side, trying his best to calm you down.

"That shouldn't worry you because you're the most important person to me," he assured you. "I love you just the way you are, for the worst and the better, and I’ll keep doing so every day for the rest of my life, ok?."

"Yeah, I know," you said, pulling away from him quite angrily, "The thing here is that I don't care about what you think, but what other people think. I hate that there are people who are spending their free time, or not so free, making theories about us as if we were a Marvel movie!t”

"Darling..."

"Don’t," you exclaimed, interrupting him, "I understand, and I respect, that you're a public figure, but that doesn't mean I can't be tired of the treatment I receive from girls that are in love with you! Aren't they such big fans of yours, and do they admire and love you so much, that they can't have a minimum of respect for the person you share your life with?"

Oscar knew you were right.

"Don't let that worry you," he explained. "What matters is that you and I love each other, and it's not a fake relationship like many out there, so don't let the negative comments affect you. Remember: those people don't deserve even a second of your thoughts."

"Well..." you replied simply. "It's difficult, Osc… I feel like people are analyzing and judging me all the time, no matter what I do."

Your boyfriend sighed again. He didn't know what to do to calm you down. Seeing you hurt made him feel really bad. Although he was familiar with the daily attention and hate comments, it didn't mean you, his girlfriend, had to get used to them. He felt frustrated and worried for you because, even though he knew you were aware that negative attention was part of the deal you signed when you started dating back in high school, it didn't mean you weren't bothered by seeing the love of your life being constantly mocked.

Oscar started thinking what to do. He wanted to make you happy, but if going out to have dinner isn’t what you desired that night… 

"What do you think if, instead of going out, we stay here, at the hotel?" he proposed to you. Immediately, you seemed a bit cheered up by the suggestion. "We can order something and have dinner in bed while watching a movie or a series you fancy."

"Really? You don't mind? I'm sure you already had the reservation made, and I really feel so bad..."

"Of course I don't mind," he explained, giving you a kiss on the forehead. "You are the most important thing in my life, so I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better."

Your eyes were still red, but you tried to feel better and fake you were ok. You hugged Oscar and thanked him again for what he just did.

Immediately, you both snuggled up in bed while watching a movie you chose, while Oscar phoned to the hotel’s reception so you could have room service for dinner. Pizza, most specifically, as you wanted it and told your boyfriend.

You didn’t know, but that moment made Oscar the happiest man on earth. He made you smile, even amidst the sadness. However, it was time to start thinking how he could propose to you in a different way because your insecurity, sadly, ruined his plans to kneel and pull the question.

[hungharrington]

i’m almost 22 and have never even kissed a boy (which i’m chronically insecure about). it’s made me feel very nervous regarding intimacy or “doing it wrong”. i feel like steve would be great coach and reassure the reader it’s okay and that they’re doing great. nothing to embarrassed about. (my soul needs this so bad)

hi honey !! i think you r so right & steve would be the perfect guy to give all the assurances <3 i hope u know that kisses don’t matter too much til they’re with someone you’re rlly sweet on so i wouldn’t sweat it angel x this one is sfw! wowzer!

You’re on your couch and in Steve’s lap and worried about just about everything. 

Steve’s being sweet about it, his hands resting gently on either side of your waist, his thumbs swiping up and down to comfort you. He’s watching you closely, unaware he’s just taken your first, second, and third ever kisses. How could he know? you think, on the side of insecurity— it seems everybody else your age has already kissed someone. 

“You okay?” He asks, hazel eyes tracing over the soft features of your face. He loves your nose and the shape of your bottom lip— strange things to like perhaps, but Steve doesn’t care. 

You nod but don’t say anything. The motion is a bit jerky. Your hands are planted on his shoulders, holding them probably a bit too tight. Exhaling a breath, you nod again and pretend the fondness in his gaze isn’t making you shy.

“Yeah,” you finally speak, voice smaller than you intend. “Just- just wanna like—“ you swallow, eyes darting to the ceiling for a moment, if only to avoid his intense eyes. “I wanna get this right.” 

A car engine drones by outside in the dusky evening. Steve gives a little chuckle and his hands on your waist tug forward, pulling your attention down and your body an inch closer to his. It’s warm— every part of him is glowing warm. 

“I don’t think there’s any way you can get this wrong,” He admits, awfully sincere about it. 

It’s the truth. Steve likes you a lot. You could probably bite his lip too hard and make it bleed and he’d still find it pleasant. You have that effect on him. 

You don’t know that though. So, every stress seems very, very real. Are you kissing firm enough? Too firm? God, are your lips too dry? 

Your tongue flicks out to wet them, your hands giving his shoulders a nervous, minuscule squeeze. In your chest, your heart is torn between rabbiting in its anxiety or shrivelling in insecurity. 

“I mean,” you laugh a little, if only to cover your embarrassment. You duck your head to avoid his face, murmuring, “If there is, I’m sure I’ll find it. I haven’t, uh, exactly done this… too much.”

“That’s fine,” Steve says instantly. His warm, large hands give a tender squish on your waist, before sliding up and around to curl snugly around your body. He sits up a little straighter, his nose nudging against yours. 

“No, Steve,” you say, cheeks a touch heated. You count his eyelashes so you can avoid his eyes, you voice dropping volume towards the end of your sentence. “I mean, like… like ever.” 

Surprise flashes in his eyes for only a moment. His gaze darts down to your lips quickly but then he’s smiling, nudging closer, and stealing a quick kiss off your lips. Now he’s taken your fourth kiss too. 

You flush, something warm pinging its way up your spine. 

“That’s okay,” He murmurs, sounding like he really means it. 

“It is?” 

“It’s great. You’re great.” He kisses you again—your fifth— so sweet it tastes like sugar on your lips, his arms around you pulling you in closer. You drown in it, enamoured by how it feels to have his lips against yours. God, he makes you dizzy. 

Steve breaks the kiss but stays close, his arms pulling you closer still so you’re straddling him properly. He’s warm, so warm— and so freakin’ nice to you. 

“You don’t find it weird?” You can’t help but whisper. Your eyes crush closed, unable to face him. 

“Weird?” Steve echoes. “Are you kidding me? It’ll take more than that to freak me out.” 

One of his hands shifts up, moving up off your waist to cradle your jaw gently in his large palm. He peppers a string of kisses along your cheek and jaw, beginning to suck a sweet spot beneath your ear. Your hips shift before you realising, subtly grinding down into his. Flames begin to burn in your stomach. 

“It’s—I mean it’s kind of, like, a little embarrassing, don’t you think?” You continue, voice a little breathier than before. You’re not sure what you’re trying to convince of him of— you certainly don’t want him to stop. 

Steve’s lips brush over the barely forming bruise on your skin and your breath hitches. 

“Are you feeling embarrassed?” 

One slow kiss against your neck, his plush lips accompanied by the heat of his tongue. You squirm in his lap but don’t answer, fearful of being too truthful. You are and you aren’t. He isn’t making you embarrassed but you are, just a little. 

Your silence makes Steve pause, digging his face out of your neck to meet your eyes. “Hey. You shouldn’t be embarrassed- if you are for some other reason, we can— we can like stop—“ 

“No.” You cut in, God, now you’re seriously giving him the wrong idea. “No, oh my god, I sound so stupid- it’s not you— Steve—“ 

He cuts you off with another kiss, your sixth, and steals your runaway thoughts. It blissfully chases away your nerves for just a moment. 

“Great.” He smiles against your mouth, giving another squeeze of your waist. “Cos you don’t need to be.” He kisses your mouth again, seven. “All you need to be is enjoying yourself, okay? 

You like the sound of that— adore the way he’s so seamlessly finds the thing that sets your nerves alight and soothes it so easily. You whisper back, “Okay,” and gift him your eighth kiss, sweet and fierce. 

[hxmocrastic]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐋𝐚𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | HCS

Pairing {📺} ; Yandere!Laios Touden x GN!Reader

Warnings ; Delusion, Obsession, Exhaustion, Brief metaphors of Cannibalism 👀👀

A/N ; He might be a tad bit ooc because I haven't kept up with the manga, but enjoy dungeon meshers !!!! There will be more dungeon meshi content after this 🤍🍲

Before anything takes place, I feel Laios would have to take an interest in you, Whether small or enormous. You'll have to do something that catches his attention, and evidently as short as it is it'll have to be something as large that snags his eyes away from his fixations or something as small as greeting him.

Laios continuous hyperfixation with monsters is an obstacle from granting you his concentration, But it can be done. Laios' obsession would stem from his insecurities and misgivings, Due to his inclination to monsters and beasts many people around him found his person to be eery and strange which lead to the isolation of his peers with the exception of his dear sister, Falin.

The constant sneers and scrutinization from his community of tall men and others have never weakened his resolve, And his love of monsters but the result of it still stings.

Once he takes an interest in you is one for the history books, Only the winged lion knows when or IF he looks away. Once you've caught his interest there is no undoing what shortly ensues.

Laios could hardly remember the people he had met even when they'd be as assertive as they could. Laios could barely remember Kabru's name not his party, So to think he'd finally grant you a portion of the attention he gives to monsters is downright impressive.

I see Laios taking the observational route before he deliberately approaches you, But I can see him greeting you fairly often. Laios would attempt to strike a conversation with you, Whether that'd be related to monsters or a simple warm greeting as he introduces himself. He would try to maintain his gentle demeanor ensuring that he doesn't frighten you away like the rest of his fellow comrades, But oh boy would he fail at doing so. You could just smell the excitement coming off of him.

Laios would begin to befriend you, Sharing the meals Senshi prepares with you, Inviting you to associate with his party, and most of all sharing all of his interests and passions with you.

Think of the way he behaved with Shuro but 10x more augmented with you. He'd talk your ear off day and night about all the different species of monsters as if he wouldn't wake the next day, He'd rant about the various types of basilisks, the eggs of chimera's, and strangely the taste of a female minotaur's milk?

But due to his connection with his party, I think he would be a lot tamer had he been if you had met on the island. Laios would predominantly share all his meals with you, And you'd better put on your best smile and chewing impression if you weren't hungry because your cheeks would be endlessly assaulted by a spoon full of food.

Laios would constantly make sure you'd have enough to eat and enough sleep, So much so you could to start calling him mom habitually at this point. Although you'd see this as nothing but an affectionate gesture, In a way he'd see it as courting.

To me Laios secretes a very delusional vibe, I can definitely visualize him justifying all of his latent clingyness towards you as normal and sweet despite your annoyance. Though the severity of his infatuation depends on when and where'd you meet him. I'd say with his party, He'd be much more gentle with his affections and try to be as sensitive as he could with his eccentricities.

Laios would still often make the mistake of being overly blunt with his observations and compliments, And it could sometimes even insult you. But spending time with this goofball would more likely than not make you aware of his intentions with his words and spare him the scrutiny he receives from Chilchuck, And the others.

Due to this, His infatuation with you will worsen and he'll start equating you with Falin. His sister was the only person who understood the true meaning behind his words and once you, the object of his obsession start showing him he same compassion He'd simply have no other choice but to entertain his delusion.

This is where it begins to take an odd turn in his behavior. The way he'd start to greet you would become jittery, Like a dog greeting it's owner. His excitement would increase tenfold whenever he'd be within a distance of you, like your presence fuels his eagerness. At times it feels as if he's trying to impress you.

Laios undoubtedly try to hog your attention, Try to keep your eyes on him. He'd begin fishing for praise in whatever way whether that be from formulating an elaborate strategy or simply fetching ingredients for the next meal Senshi would cook. He'd begin to grow possessive in a way, trying to pin all of your attentiveness on him, the way he does to you.

Poor boy wouldn't realize what's wrong with it until he starts to see why you always seem so exhausted whenever he's in view, or how he's slowly taking so much of your time and energy you barely give the effort to do something for the party because he's already done it.

He'd still see nothing wrong with it of course, you're still eating, still getting enough sleep but he wonders why you begin to avoid him now. You of course say nothing, trying not to hurt his feelings knowing what he has gone through, See you want to be there for him when his father wasn't, You want him to be happy even with the absence of Falin.

And you prioritizing his happiness is what links you to the party. Laios is without a doubt beyond obsessed with you at this point in time, Your wellbeing far exceeds any voice of reason. Your health and happiness is at the far most importance, Even exceeding his.

You're his everything, And most importantly wants him to be yours. He wants you to dedicate yourself to him, To throw yourself at him like a rabbit to a wolf. To gift him your flesh to consume for HIS wellbeing, To gift yourself his flesh for YOUR wellbeing, The ultimate exchange of love.

Of course Laios himself would never ask you of this, But at times he desires YOU would come to him with such devotion. The same devotion he gives to you day and night, sunset and sunrise, to repay him the same way he has worshipped you ever since he's gained a glimpse of your eyes, and a glimpse of your heart.

A heart he'd consume with his own, Becoming singular with the person he has loved the most, For is that so much to ask??

Laios wouldn't kidnap you, But oh would he have you stay. I mean isn't that what he's been doing all along?? Draining your sense of independence, Training you like a bunny to a owner to rely solely upon him, For it is he who possesses everything you need.

And that's all that matters.

[tinybrooms]

Our Last day, or maybe the first - Pt 2 Thomas Hewitt x fem Reader

NOTE: Since part two was very acclaimed, I want to clarify that I have gained confidence and will bring more than a second part, I also want to say that this is an adaptation of the movie but with changes made by me so that the character fits better with the environment, I hope you enjoy my work, love for all here ♥

Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever

Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary, Stockholm syndrome

Part 1 here!

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Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you looked out the dirty window of the police car, you knew there was no escape, there would be no way for you to run away from the Hewitt's without getting killed and you had to find a way to make everything as good as possible for you and for them

-You're very quiet, honey - the old man looked at you in the rearview mirror with a sarcastic smile - Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Tommy wouldn't let someone hurt you, right?

Your eyes barely looked at him and quickly returned to the window trying to control your sobs, you felt more than insecure in that car with that disgusting man, for some strange reason you knew that Thomas was also someone dangerous, his hands could break your bones with a single squeeze if he wanted, but his mere presence made you feel safe, as if you had this giant beast in the palm of your hand who would be willing to do anything you asked, everything except let you go.

-We have arrived, come down before Thomas arrives, we don't want him to find you here and get angry, do we? - The man smiled opening your door in a sarcastic way of being a gentleman.

You had no other option, so you went down carefully, the visibly overgrown grass scraped your legs as you walked behind him towards the huge house, many questions were running through your head while your eyes looked everywhere looking for a quick way to escape but everything seemed useless, Thomas should be nearby and could reach you at any second and end your life.

The house was dirty, there was dust everywhere and stains on the wooden floor that seemed to have never been polished the footsteps sounded as you entered a room where a man even older than the one who had brought you to that house was looking the television

-Go get ready Uncle Monty, we have a beautiful guest today and we will have a great feast for dinner - the disgusting man smiled looking at you touching your chin to which you only reacted by turning your face in disgust.

-Who is she? ..- the old man with glasses sat up looking at your body from head to toe while he scratched his crotch.

-She is Tommy's girlfriend, pretty don't you think? The boy is very lucky - they both laughed looking at you and then felt something cold on your arm which made you turn your head noticing how the now ''sheriff'' was pointing a gun at you - walk pretty girl, we don't want Thomas to arrive and found a hole in your beautiful body, right?

Your eyes widened as you walked in front of the man, guiding you to where he told you, climbing the long stairs towards a corridor that was barely illuminated by the poor rays of sun that came through the windows.

-Here, this will be your room come in now - the barrel of the gun pushed you in the center of your back, making you enter a room arranged in a feminine way but even dirtier than the rest of the house, it was obvious that no one had entered to that place in a long time, there was dust even on the bed and spiderwebs on the night lamps - make yourself comfortable, Tommy will arrive soon

The man closed the door leaving you standing in the middle of the large room and after a few seconds making sure he didn't come back quickly you ran to the window to open it and look into what seemed like an abyss, if you jumped out of it you wouldn't get out without a broken bone if you weren't lucky enough to be killed by hitting the floor.

You were trapped by that family of murderers, there was nothing to do just wait for them to end your life.

Your feet slid against the floor, sitting against the window while you hugged your legs crying, your tears wet your skirt, you could only hear your own sobs and heavy breathing losing track of time until you heard the door open, your wet eyes trying to focus was he the disgusting old man? or maybe Thomas?, you could notice a small, plump figure taking slow and careful steps approaching

-Don't worry, I won't hurt you - a kind, feminine voice sounded as the woman's hand extended so you could take it and help you get up from your place on the floor - tell me your name little one.

-y/n…my name is Y/n…please don't hurt me - your voice was broken between your cries of desperation and fear.

-I'm not, come to bed with me - the woman walked slowly guiding you to the bed while she made a gesture of disgust when she saw all the accumulated dust and sat you down next to her - I'm mama, Thomas is my little boy ya'know, he's my Baby you must be the girl from the slaughterhouse right?

-Yes, I worked with him in that place-your free hand carefully cleaned your cheek while your other hand held it Luda caressing it slowly with her thumb

-I see, you are a pretty girl and you look like those educated people who are not stupid like we are - her eyes looked at you with little kindness - I know what you are doing, you are kind to Thomas so you don't end up like his boss right?

-No…I…I don't - your head shook quickly, looking at her - I would never treat Thomas like everyone else treated him, I was just kind and…and I ended up here, I don't know what I did wrong, I didn't want to hurt him, i don't want to hurt no one - your crying again made Luda soften her gaze realizing what they had put into you.

-Don't worry, you see Thomas won't let you go soon, it's the first time I've seen him be different from how he's always been and I don't want you to break his heart, try to get to know him, my boy is a sweet man, give him a chance and we'll give you a chance

Her hand delicately patted yours, standing up looking at you from the doorway giving a deep sigh.

-You better remember what I told you, dinner will be ready in a while, get ready to look good.

What was happening with that woman's words, they seemed to go round and round in your head, should you give them a chance?

You walk to the bathroom and was disgusting, clearly the same as the room, so with just a little water you cleaned your hands and face, just the thought that you would be downstairs surrounded by strange people made you feel nauseous but something even deeper made you miss Thomas, he hadn't shown up all day or maybe not in the room and you were curious to know where he was.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the figure that was looking at you from the bathroom door which you could see in the reflection of the mirror and made you jump in fear.

-I see that you are getting pretty for dinner, mama wants you to come down and join us, we put another plate for you - the old man dressed in a police uniform smiled at you, rudely looking at your body to which you could only respond with your gaze towards him the floor settling slightly.

You followed him through the dark corridor barely lit by a couple of lamps and then up the stairs that made every step you took sound with a creak in the wood.

-Look who has arrived, our beautiful guest will be with us tonight - the old man moved a chair away from the table, inviting you to sit down, you just approached with fear, sitting down without saying anything, looking at everyone around you, there was the old man with glasses. and the woman who looked at you through the strands of her blonde hair.

The plate was in front of you, empty and cleaner than you expected, the song that played on the old radio in the distance made you dissociate from the speech that the man was giving until you heard his gratitude to the ''sheriff for accompanying them that night on the table'' your eyes traveled quickly to the casserole, just as everyone was in disbelief at what they were going to have for dinner that night.

-Don't worry doll, just like in the slaughterhouse, meat is meat - the man smiled sarcastically, serving you what looked like a stew on your plate.

-I'm not hungry…thank you - you looked at him with fear, regretting your words when everyone looked at you with some annoyance.

-Food is sacred and we must be grateful for what the Lord gives us, now eat - Luda looked at you, scolding you apparently she had taken what they had told her very seriously, now you were her ''little girl''

It was after a few minutes when you heard a door open but no one came in, it just stayed open until the policeman looked and smiled a little excitedly, moving his hand inviting whoever was in the shadows to come through.

-Come here boy, we don't want you to miss this first dinner with your girl, right? - The old man served another plate, placing it next to yours.

Thomas doubted it a little but after sighing (which almost sounded like a growl) taking courage, he entered with his head down, sitting down sadly and despite being next to you, he took his distance.

Your eyes stared at him, as if his face had a magnet for you, he looked different, he was no longer wearing the bloody apron, his clothes were clean as were his face and his hands, even his nails looked clean and with a pink color that you had never noticed

-Don't they look cute together mama?

-Shut your mouth Charlie, stop bothering them and eat once and for all - The woman looked at him, annoyed, eating from her plate.

-Hoyt mom, Charlie is dead now my name is Hoyt

The tension could be felt in the air, despite the conversation that the other three were having, you felt their gaze on you as if waiting for you to make a mistake in something so they could kill you but there was no way that was going to happen, your mind was somewhere else while Your hand slowly turned the spoon inside the plate, playing with the food, losing your appetite more and more, sometimes you felt your eyes get wet but you took a deep breath and convinced yourself that everything would be fine, at least for a couple of days in what you found how to escape from that place.

Your trance was broken when Luda took your plate pushing it away, scolding you again for not eating anything.

-I'm…I'm sorry, I don't feel at all well - you looked at her embarrassed and afraid with your hands in your lap - can I go and rest?

-It's been a long day, hasn't it? Come on, go rest honey - the woman patted your shoulder lightly and then took another plate and walked to the kitchen.

As soon as you heard those words you stood up as quickly as you could, almost running to the stairs, the only thing you wanted was to get out of that place and be alone, but when you got to the room and made sure that the door was closed properly you realized the problem which you had gotten yourself into.

Being careful not to make noise, you began to clean the place, at least dusting the nightstands, removing the spiderwebs and also arranging the sheets, leaving only those that looked cleanest, you opened the window wide so that the breeze from the night could enter and when you were ready you sat on the bed.

You carefully removed your heels that, despite being low, made your ankles hurt, then you removed the bun from your hair, feeling a relief in your skull and finally you opened the buttons of your blouse, opening it completely to take it off but something stopped you making you close it quickly with fear when hearing the door suddenly open.

-Thom..Thomas hi - you looked at him embarrassed, closing the blouse in a hurry, your hands securing the fabric, looking at him nervously.

He just approached slowly, with his gaze everywhere but on you.

-What are you doing here? -Despite the little light in the room you could see his eyes through the long strands of his hair.

But the huge man only stretched out his arm towards you, offering you something that he was hiding in his giant hand and making you copy his gesture but in your case offering your palm to receive what he was going to offer you.

-What's that? -You looked at him curiously, his fingers barely touching the palm of your hand as they opened, letting an apple fall out- oh…is it for me?

Thomas just nodded, looking at the other side of the room. Over the years he had learned to be careful and alert to every situation that happened around him and with you, his sensors worked harder than normal, noticing every millimetric gesture you made. He knew that you had not eaten anything and the humanity that still remained inside him made him know that that was not fair for you, after all you were there because he wanted it that way, not because you chose it.

-Thank you, I'll eat it before going to sleep - you smiled shyly, taking the apple with both hands, looking at it carefully, trying to look for any defects but it was perfect - are you going to sleep too?

He just shook his head, playing with his hands as they grabbed the fabric of his pants and after so many months you could notice his arms, which now that they were clean showed scars and wounds that still looked open.

-Thomas, what happened to you? are you hurt? - Your natural state of worry made you leave the apple on the bed, approaching him, but he just rejected your touch, moving away, making you also walk away from him in fear - I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just… you are injured

He shook his head, looking at his arms, quickly lowering the sleeves of his shirt covering himself and before you could say anything else he quickly left slamming the door so hard that it made the nightstands shake.

Had you done something wrong? His rejection made you feel something inside your chest, a pinch that made you sigh as you sat down and took the apple again, looking at it carefully with the night light.

What was it you felt? After all, you weren't there for pleasure, but strangely he made you feel it.

Part 3 Soon...

Tag List: @leslie-sawyer @nonfunctionalmf @multy-fandom-lover @trainboom @not-neverland06 @venussinsreblog

[kingconia]

VICE HOUSEWARDENS WITH MC, WHO IS BLIND, BUT, SOMEHOW, FEELS AND KNOWS EVERYTHING

warning: Ortho is excluded for an obvious reason, and I consider Ruggie to be a vice.

Trey Clover. ❤️

— Trey is absolutely surprised, when he sees you for the first time. It is not like he had never seen a blind person before, but there is something alarming in a fact, that a student without magic and sight, is left all alone in the NRC;

— He might be a little awkward around you, but he is still respects you, and will never points out at your possible insecurity. Hits Ace a few times, when he openly reminds you about being blind;

— ...When he finds out that you are not helpless, and in fact might be more attentive than all of them, he is speechless.

•

Trey glances over his shoulder, instantly finding you in the havoc that first-years had made in his kitchen. He has no trust in this kids, and it is quite dangerous place for you. So, he tries to look up for you wordlessly.

”Ace,” he calls for a redhead boy, sighing, when he almost drops a bowl with flour on the ground, ”pass me a few apples, would you? They should be somewhere here.”

Ace smiles at him crookedly as he starts walk around, squinting, while trying to find mentioned apples.

”Eh... Where are they?”

Trey turns, planning to guide him himself, when you are suddenly raising your cane, the tip of it moving in the direction of a basket with red apples.

”Ace, I think, they should be here,” you remark softly.

Neither Ace nor Deuce find anything extraordinary in your act, which makes Trey realise that it must be not the first time you do so. But he is astonished!

He examines you once again, and as he stares right in your colourless eyes that almost never blink, Trey is sure: you don't see anything. That it is not a lie.

...Perhaps, you are not without a magic as others think you are?

Ruggie Bucchi. 💛

— Alright, I am sorry, but Ruggie doesn't give a fuck if you are blind. It is not about bullying—he wouldn't do that—but he will not try to pamper with you either;

— And as soon as he realises that you, in fact, are highly aware of everything around you, Ruggie is even more comfortable around you;

— But! Your instincts are reminding him of beastmen—he had seen a few of them, who were just as blind as you, and you act suspiciously a lot like them—and so, he starts having a very strange theories about you.

•

Ruggie holds his breath, and as his back straightens, he is ready for attack.

In his homeland, he is considered to be one of the most dangerous beasts, a natural predator. He knows how to stalk his prey, how to stay out of its sight, and how to bring food back home. So, of course, watching after you, shouldn't be a—

”I know you are hiding on the tree, Ruggie.”

Urgh. Just how you always know where he is?

Here you are, sitting on the bench under this tree. And Ruggie, who stands atop of it, too high to be heard, shouldn't be noticeable even for a usual humans. Even he made a sound—but he didn't!—how could you say that it is him? Unless, you are feeling his scent, just like a beastman would...

Ruggie keeps his silent. Maybe, it would be easier to trick you this way, and then...

”Ouch!”

Almost when he touched your shoulder, you easily hit him with your cane.

”Ruggie,” you sigh. ”I thought, you are better than his.”

Rubbing his hand, he can only murmur a quiet:

”Sorry.”

...His belief that you might be half-beastman are getting more and more rational with each passing day.

Jade Leech. 🩵

— Jade is somewhere between acting all gentlemen around you, and searching for a way to use your disability in his advantage. Nothing personal, though;

— When he realises that his calculations are completely wrong, and you are not so easy to crack, Jade is impressed. What a good challenge you are;

— Jade might get an idea that, perhaps, you are lying to everyone... And if so, he is about to catch you on this lie.

•

”Remind me, please... Had you been sightless from the very young age?” Jade asks casually, pouring tea in your cap; for a third time in this morning.

You nod with a gratitude, and your hand easily moves to your right, where the pot with sugar is located. Jade told you where it is, when you first started having a breakfast together.

”I had been born this way, yes.”

As you put one cube in your tea, Jade hastily moves the pot to an opposite side of the table. Waiting. His eyes pierces in yours, trying to notice some strange signs. Anything.

”How complicated it must be.”

There is always a possibility that you just have those colourless eyes, which helps you to lie to other. Perhaps, you are as mischievous as he is, after all.

”Well. I think, it would be harder if I lost my sight earlier in life,” you smile.

Your hand flawlessly moves to the new location of the sugar. Jade hums in the disappointment.

...Once you will crack.

Jamil Viper. 🧡

— When he hears about you for the first time, he can't help but huff about how irresponsible headmaster is, if he allows you to walk around these dangers so easily;

— Much later, he becomes your close friend, and with that, he finds out about your talent. Jamil had never seen such things before, he thinks you are a miracle;

— But he will accept it without any side thoughts. He trusts you, and overall, Jamil is simply glad that you are not as enamoured in this world as he first thought you are.

•

Jamil knows you are coming from a ringing knock of your cane in the corridor. And, so, he rushes to the doors, opening it widely, still with apron around his waist.

”Good afternoon, Y/n.”

”Hello, Jamil,” you hum, slowly stepping in.

It is a secret for Jamil why some of his classmates are thinking that you are lying about your blindness—or use a secret magic for moving around—when a little evidences of it are always here.

He can say it from the way you never make sharp on inaccurate movements—he had only seen you running with Grim on your hands—and move slowly, though, gracefully. Or how you relay a lot on you cane.

”I had prepared a few pastries for you,” he exclaims quietly. ”From the Scalding Sands.”

You might be independent, but Jamil still thinks you struggling sometimes.

”I can smell that,” you smile. ”Thank you.”

But it is not a problem. He will make sure to help you from time to time.

Rook Hunt. 💜

— Oh! Oh! Rook can't hide his curiousity when he hears stories about you;

— As someone, who relays a lot on his senses and instincts, Rook fully understands what helps you through your blindness;

— So, if anything, he thinks you are a lot alike! Rook constantly helps you to develop and sharpen your senses by taking you on walks around the forest, or asking about what you feel in certain rooms.

•

”Incroyable!” Rook sighs out delightfully, eyes sparkling as he stares at you. ”You are such a talented person, ma flèche!”

Another little laugh escapes your lips, and Rook can't help but feel proud of how happy you are about these dates of yours.

He wants you to feel equal with others, but even more, he desires for you to know how much better you are, than the most.

”Ah, you are flattering me, Rook,” with a free from a cane hand, you rush to wave him off. Then, you frown suddenly, tilting your head on the right. ”Ah... I think there is another bird, Rook. Behind you, on the left.”

As soon as you warn him about it, Rook swiftly turns on the told direction. A mere second and arrow flies past you, hitting a target easily.

”Parfait!” He praises you again. ”You notice things even quicker than I do!”

As your cheeks blush furiously, Rook only smirks.

If you only know how special you are!

Lilia Vanrouge. 💚

— Lilia is a war veteran, so, he is not surprised by your abilities. He had seen a lot of his old comrades losing their sight in the battle, and slowly learning to live with consequences of that;

— But, he finds it impressing either way. Especially, considering that you are just a mortal. It is fascinating how strong and brave your kind can be;

— And, Lilia loves how you are always aware of his presence, never being scared of his sudden appearances, like others usually do. It is rewarding!

•

”Ah, aren't we going to be late?” Cater sighs, shifting from one leg to another, while scrolling through the Magicam. ”That's ridiculous.”

You hum, pressing your shoulder to the wall, yawning.

”Why are we even waiting?”

”What do you mean why?” Cater frowns. ”We can't go without Lilia... And I don't know where he is, but dude is really late.”

It is your turn to frown now.

”Cater, Lilia had been here for another five minutes,” you say. ”Just look up.”

Cater is suspicious at first, but then, as he does what you told him to do, a terrified help escapes his chest. Lilia is, indeed, here. Hanging from the ceiling, smiling cryptidly.

”Hello, love,” he flashes a smile at you. ”And hello there, Cater.”

”Hi, dear,” you wave at him. ”Well... Can we, please, go now?”

Cater sighs. His face is still pale, when he hisses out:

”You both of you are awful. Period.”

Lilia only chuckles at that. Well, aren't you just a perfect match?

[mysticdarling]

Calling them by their real name - part 2 (spicy)

Characters: venti, xiao, scaramoche (genshin impact!)

Warnings: established relationship, NSFW, breeding., biting, n!pple stimulation, primal, exhibitionism, penetration, smut, no pronouns used for the reader, NO MINORS.

(A/n): hello again, miss me? I apologize for my absence and im happy to announce this long awaited part i turly hope you enjoy your time with my naughty boys~ hope it was worth the long wait! Ps. (I suggest you read the first part first)

_

Venti

The evening grew darker you didn't know if you should hide or just give up and hope he has Mercy. "Maybe he can only find me where the wind can reach…hmm where could I go without wind?" You talked your thoughts aloud as you walked around, enjoying the scenery of Monstadt. You came across a nice wooded area still feeling the soft Breeze, only getting more anxious by the moment. 

You wander a while on the brink of giving up hope before coming across a cave, which seemed to be empty, only harboring a put out campfire. It was a perfect place to hide out for a while so you did. You walked in no breeze to be felt not even a draft. 

The night began to brew and since you figured you would be there a while, you lit the fire and sat next to the controlled flames. So what if a Hilichurl was to wonder by, you escaped Barbados!…….so you thought at least. 

In a flash of a second a cool gust of wind found its way inside extinguishing the flames.

" oh Windling~ you truly didn't think you could hide from me in my own Nation right? I had fun acting as if I couldn't find you ehe!" You jump just from the sound of his voice, it making your skin crawl.

Venti got into the cave with you without hesitation or invitation taking a bite from an apple he  must have picked from a passing tree. "Me hiding?! Psshh noo i was just…Exploring! Yes that"

Venti busted out in laughter "I'm a god remember you cant lie to me windblume, more importantly I'm your boyfriend I would see before it left your tongue, speaking of your tongue I could think of a lot of places I want it to be right now" He flirted his eyes gazing you up and down.

"Venti!? Geez must you be such a pervert" You grumbled pulling his hat down over his face, soon feeling his slender hand grip your wrist. Venti pushed you down cradling the back of your head as he lays you back getting on top of you. " I've been looking forward to this my disciple, I almost immediately wanted to come running after you even before the rich wine reached to my lips" He pulled at the bow around his neck untying it  letting his cape fall to the ground. He started at your face cupping it softly before his hands wandered, taking in the beauty of every inch of you.  It wasn't long before he had you in nearly nothing at all, the way he looked, touched, made all your insecurities melt away. " Tell me Traveler do you think all of Monstadt could hear you if i make you loud enough?" he slipped off his shorts leaving the stockings, rubbing his rosy tip against your entrance.

You stared up at your bard, it was very clear you weren't speaking to him anymore no, you were talking to a god. "Venti maybe not here what if Adventures walk by or-" Your words were cut short, venti sinking himself inside with no remorse, an unexpected gasp escaping your lips. Your walls swallowed him whole, taking every inch of him as if your body was made for it. "Venti!" You moaned out only to be cut off once again by the bards chuckle.

" Oh windblume I don't want to hear that now call me by my name it sounds so beautiful coming from your lips" He leaned down whispering in your ear, the ends of his braids starting to glow against you. "Say it for me please my beloved" Venti begged, his breath against your neck sending chills down your spine. It was strange it was still your venti but his voice was different, serious, ethereal, too perfect for this world and the whole of tayvat. You felt your face burn with a blush as you turned your face away from the God of freedom "Barbados….my lord… BarbADOS!" It was as if something snapped inside Venti he wanted to defile his disciple. So he did, his hips struck you like lightning noises and moans filling the cave. Even as he was fucking into you Venti Whined in the orgasmic pleasure of your warmth. you couldn't tell which of you were louder.

"That's right, sing for me!" Venti relished in making such a mess out of you

"Mghh! W-Windblume… windblume.. ah! Y/N!!" With every word Venti's voice strained higher. He gripped the back of your thighs folding you to hit the most unholy spots inside you, it nearly made you melt into nothing. Your abdomen tenses reaching the highest point of climax before completely relishing in the finishing feeling. Venti wasn't close behind. He filled your every office before collapsing onto you panting with a huge grin on his face. He laid Apon your chest keeping his seed trapped inside you not daring to pull quite yet. " Now that is how you worship a God ehe"

Xiao

You ran to Liyue as you near the border from the neighboring nation, clearly excited to see your darling yaksha. Once you finally step foot you notice a dark figure, Xiao breathing heavily staring at the ground. This only causes you to hurry to worry filling your face. " Xiao? Is that you are you feeling oka-" Your words stop, in a blur Xiao tackling you in the grass. He stared down at you his fingers digging into the ground next to you. "xiao i-its okay now its me im here" you slowly removed his mask it disapping in your hands. " I'm ok...i didnt harm you did i?" Xiao put a hand against his head, making him shutter. "Y/n is it really you…. I'm not seeing things right…" He places the hand on your cheek feeling the warmth, his thumb pressing your lips, letting out a breath of full relief " i…i missed your visits and company" Before the golden eyed boy could continue you tugged him down by his necklace, pressing your lips against his, the kiss desperate, rough, feeling the shared breaths.

Xiao pulled back only when you both were breathless. " say my name" your lips parted "no my real name" His pleading eyes was enough to make you melt where you laid "Alatus" xiao couldn't hold back his blush, he trailed down your sides gripping the fabric before ripping it open finding you so beautiful exsposed under the moon. Xiao stared at you for reassurance with each touch before grabbing a hold of your wrist dragging your hand against his own chest his heart racing .

With a smile, your hands wandered down hooking a finger on his pants tugging them down  honestly surprised at his mere girth, but Xiao didn't leave you much time to think before he folded you. He Threw your leg over his shoulder, dragging his tip against your awaiting hole. "Y/n Please stop me.  If you don't stop me now I don't think I'll be able to"

Self-control was leaving his body as he spoke his golden eyes dilated and targeted on you. " I trust you Alatus-" As those words escaped your lips xiao rammed his cock inside. All at once you felt his teeth sinking into the of your shoulder trying to muffling himself. He was a rough lover not that he always meant to be but he couldn't control it, all he does for his life is fight for control so with you tends to accidentally let loose a little too much. His blows were merciless as he pounded into you under the night sky, grunting and panting with every move it all dissolving into pleasure.

"Alatus A..Alatus don't stop p-please don't stop" Xiao rutted inside you gritting his teeth as he came filling your needy hole. 

His cock twitched from the over stimulation but not daring to stop. Whining and shuddering with every movement "wouldnt…Gh! Dream of it." He hunched over you not daring to stop his hips for a second, even with his seed pouring out of you from around him.

Xiao was so worked up he was even overstimulating himself refusing to let it end as he jerked and whined his length twitching like crazy inside of you. Beads of sweat dripped down his neck, fucking you so hard his hips slapped against your ass making the most obscene sounds even after you did finish, Xiao still couldn't persuade himself to stop. He needed it, he desperately wanted to fill every orifice of you and by the time he did stop he did fill up every bit of your sore little hole. That night he was especially attentive, carrying you to his room in the inn, wiping you down with a warm rag. He served you for the rest of the night, whatever you may ask he will provide. Xiao made sure to remind you, all you need do is say his name. Even the one that was Heaven to his ears as it escaped your lips.

Scaramoche

Scaramouche grabbed your hand leading you to an old abandoned inazuma house. The house was pretty well preserved, apart from the few leaks in the roof and the smell of dust. "we should rest here. I'll get a fire going" Scara removed his hat a little doll falling out, you stared at it then looked up him "what a cute doll! it looks like you, did you make it?" You ask curious, him clearly trying to brush it off as he picks it up. "It's just a stupid doll. Don't think much of it." He shoved it in his sleeve huffing turning away. "...hey kuni i would love to look after him for you, so he doesn't fall into the fire" He froze for a moment before grabbing the plush doll out of his sleeve placing it in your hands. "You wouldn't have liked me.." He said quietly looking at the doll in your palms.

What?"

"You wouldn't have liked kunikazushi, he was gentle, he dressed in silks and was naive to the world. Me and you both know you like when I'm rough with you" Scara looked up at you from his eyebrows, his head still tilted down.

" I think I would enjoy seeing your soft side, I would love if you showed me"you cupped his face his eyes softening.

"In your dreams."  he said in a snarky tone, but with his height you picked him up with ease, setting him on the creaky but stable table. "ah! Hey what the hell do you think you're doing!?" Scaramouche struggled, clearly not used to being lifted off his feet.... by someone else "I want to see you every part of you kunikazushi please show me" you plead really making it hard for the puppet to refuse.

All at once he gripped your hair staring at you with a threatening glare. "y/n if you tell a single soul i swear no one ALIVE will believe you" He glared, you nodding in response.

Scaramouche relaxed becoming completely tender as he brought your hand to his cheek nuzzling against the palm " I love you  and I never want you to abandon me even if you grow to hate me please stay by my side" Scaramouche looked away almost embarrassed of himself, all while you melt like putty in his hands. "Could i touch you more y/n? I want to ingrain every inch of you into my mind so I'll know that I met someone as perfect as you" Scara eyes trailed over every inch of you, slowly dragging his hands down to your neck and then shoulders soon replacing his soft cold hands with kisses. He admired your whole body as if it was complex art, all the way down to your toes leaving a soft kiss as a pure act of humble adoration.

He stood a hand clasping your top. " I want to explore more will you let me?" once you gave him the okay he lifted your shirt dragging his soft tongue against the bud of your nipple. He captured it in-between his lips, suckling on as he stared up at you innocently, you so focused on the stimulation you didn't notice the Wanderer seemed to have switched places with you, he sat you displayed on the table. It was clear Scaramouche was starting to get more worked up then he originally meant to. He layed you back his hips so desperate whines escaping his parted lips as he grinded himself against you, not even able to wait until he gets you fully unclothed.

Not like you were complaining, his tent causing enough friction to your sex to make you enjoy it, Hooking a leg around scara waist. Especially with the adorable noises he made causing you to unshamefully move your hips against it only getting more shutters and whines from him.

He gazed down inbeween, a blush filling his face watching you pleasure yourself on his hard on a wet spot  soon growing on to his shorts.

"Aww kuni you got yourself dirty its a good thing you don't wear those silks any more" you pull his shorts down with one swift movement his length springing out still painfully hard leaking pathetic amounts of precum.

Scara's embarrassed face only worked you up by the second, you didn't know if he was suppressing it or if he's really good at acting, but his innocence unleashed something deep inside of you.

You guided his cock unable to wait a minute more, his hands covering his face peeking through his fingers as he watches his cock sink inside whining from the tightness that surrounds him making him hunch over the pleasure overwhelming the poor little puppet. "Mm oh kuni  does it feel good?" You bit your lip clearly knowing the answer, watching his ears even start to turn red as he nods fast. Scara placed his hands on either side of you moving his hips at a comfortable pace. "i-is this okay y/n im not hurting you am i?" You shake your head in  response to wrapped up in the feeling struggling to even keep your eyes from rolling back. Scaramouche continued both of your noises nearly drowning out by each other. He hid himself into your neck, causing him to bury himself into the silky walls with no remorse  making sure you feel every inch of his member inside of your needy hole. a gasp escaped your lips unable to even scold him finding his embrace so soft and sweet, even if he's playing it off as a innocent moment with no Sinister ulterior motive.

Scaramouche's breasts were heavy against your neck he couldn't help but rut himself into you barely even letting himself pull out before pushing back, not wanting to leave your warmth for a second.

You were starting to get unbelievably close and you could tell by the way scara shuttered in your arms he wasn't too far behind. You couldn't help it you reached your Edge your abdomen tensing. " s-something's happening i don't think i can stop.. I can't hold on… please take all of it" with one loud yelp he released painting your insides with his cum so sensitive he's teary-eyed. Once you come down from the high you slowly wipe a tear that happened to make it to his cheek smiling like an idiot " you're so cute kunikazushi" As if on cue Scaramouche rolled his eyes burying his face in your chest "oh shut it." He grumbled as you tangle your hand into his hair. " welcome back scara"

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

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A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

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Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ‘tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How much luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone’s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoken out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

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Tagged: @darkflowerav

[withahappyrefrain]

For Drabble 2:

NSFW PROMPT: “Don’t hide from me. Let me see you!” w/ Mr. Tyler Owens 🤠

So I know this is supposed to be smutty but I got in my feelings for Tyler and insecure!reader. Talk of body image issues, language, Tyler being a real sweetie.

The bed was squeaky, the sheets accompanying it appeared to be knitted but in reality they were scratchy, and you were pretty sure there was cigarette smoke dusting the walls.

Normally you'd complained. Except the person you would complain to was currently pressing kisses into your neck.

Alcohol can make you do strange things, like karaoke or confessing to your coworker you had a huge crush on him.

You didn't think Tyler would tease you, he wasn't like that. At most, you were expecting a subtle acknowledgement of your slip up and for it to never be brought up again.

Sure, Tyler was flirty. But you figured he had to be that way with everyone; he was so charismatic. That's why you never thought anything of it when he commented on how great you looked, or how he would place a hand on your waist when he was passing by.

So when he confessed he felt the same way, it was shocking to say the very least.

His hands felt huge as they skimmed your body. His breath was a mix of bourbon and mint, no doubt from the gum he chewed while driving you back to the motel.

"You're so soft," he murmurs, voice hot on your skin, "Fuckin' love it."

Tyler's words make you feel warm all over. You can feel the pit of desire forming in your stomach.

His fingers found the hem of your dress, toying with it.

"Oh, we don't have to..." You began, the idea of him seeing all of you under these lights mortifying. He could pass as a Calvin Klein model and you were just.....yourself.

"Do you want to?" He asked, piercing green eyes staring into yours.

You want to, God, did you want to.

But that would require him to see all of you.

"Yeah, I do," you paused, "If you want to."

Maybe he would want to save it for another night. That would give you time to eat light or even go workout beforehand.

Instead he just smiled, "I would."

Fuck.

Okay, you could do this. Just get up and turn off the lights. Then he can't see you and you won't have to focus on what you look like. Besides, he wouldn't mind.

"Where ya goin'?" His question caused you to freeze, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"To....turn off the lights?" Wasn't it obvious?

Tyler's brows knitted together in confusion, "Why?"

He was actually genuine. Great.

"Y'know....." You motioned to your body, "So you don't see.....y'know."

Now Tyler was offended. You were absolutely gorgeous, why on Earth would he not want to see your body?

Better question, who the fuck made you think that?

That was what caused his face to soften, "Hey, c'mere."

Timidly, you walked towards him. His hands encompassed yours. He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. The gesture was so heartwarming, it made your eyes begin to water.

"Can I make a confession?" You nodded, signaling for him to continue, "I've thought about doing this with you like every day. With the lights on."

"I'm sorry," you began, but he shook his head.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Just don't hide from me, okay? I wanna see you. All of you."

You nodded, though hesitation still ran through your veins.

"Would it help if I took my clothes off?" He offered.

You snorted, "Honestly, no. You're all chiseled and I'm just.....soft."

Tyler tried to hold back a chuckle, but failed. Hearing the sound made the tension leave your body, your shoulder relaxing for the first time in the last ten minutes.

"Alright, then we'll just start slow. Tell me stop at anytime, alright?"

Which is how you found yourself lying on your back, dress pushed up to your plush hips, and Tyler in-between your legs.

His tongue was fucking talented, and not just for explaining meteorology.

Your hands gripped his soft blonde hair as he lapped up your release. Even after you had cummed, he still continued his ministrations, as if he was determined to pull another one out of you.

His lips wrapped themself around your clit as his fingers traced your entrance. Once it had gathered enough slick, he thrusted a finger inside you.

Your walls clenched around him, welcoming the intrusion. Soon another digit joined as he angled his fingers to ensure they reached the spot that made you see stars.

White hot pleasure sent sparks throughout your body, starting at the pit of your stomach, all the way down to your toes and fingertips. You heard the bed shift and creaked, but didn't register it until you felt Tyler's lips against yours.

His tongue slipped between your lips, allowing you to taste yourself. His fingers still thrusted in and out of your core, only now at a lazy pace. The edge you had been teetering over was now slipping away.

"Tyler," his name came out as a whine, "Need-"

"I know, pretty girl," somehow that twang of his was more pronounced, "But I need ya to do something for me before you can make a mess on my hand, 'kay?"

You nodded, barely registering his words, your hips too busy trying to cant upwards in an attempt to get more of his fingers.

Tyler knew what you were trying to do and withdrew his fingers. A desperate keen fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. His hands gripped your plush hips, steadying your body.

"Please Ty, I-"

"Tell me five things you like about yourself. Then I'll give ya whatever ya want pretty girl."

This man was going to be the death of you.

[sailorrhansol]

TRICK OR TREAT!!!

fuck, i love this concept.

sour skittles + ghostface + the craft, pls 🤲🏻

(smut is always welcome, although i know that is highly dependent on whatever it is i just chose, lmao)

❀ Pairing: Vernon x afab reader

❀ Summary: Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you. 

❀ Word Count: 21,558

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Thriller

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, recreational drinking and smoking, crude humor, some of the members of SVT are a bit of an asshole in this - it is not a reflection of how I think of them, mentions of occult practices, a NOT ACCURATE spirit summoning/ritual, mentions of a murder suicide case/event, mentions of murders, light mentions of blood, mentions of infidelity, catching someone in a sexual act (not the main couple), Vernon is a bit of an asshole at times, mentions of insecurities/confused feelings, I owe Chan and Mingyu an apology for how I wrote them, sexual tension, some angst, sexually explicit content including thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, a lot of biting and scratching, choking/breath play, vaginal fingering, a lot of spit and cum mentioned, unprotected sex, references to sub space, Vernon takes a dom role but it is not explicitly established, Vernon gets a little bit possessive, calls reader a slut a total of one time, some light finger sucking, reader is at several points annoyed with the women in this fic which can come off a lil bitchy, general creepy scenes in woods and in some dark spooky places. 

❀ Additional Content Warning: It is implied by the end of this fic that Vernon is possessed to some degree by a spirit in this. I make zero distinction as to whether it’s Vernon or the spirit calling the shots or if there is even a difference/distinction between the two, which poses the fair question of consent in parts of this that I do not address or provide nuance to. The lack of clarification is due to the POV of this fic being entirely from reader’s perspective and she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on until the very end, and thus we are unable to unpack to what degree this character is or is not himself. If that lack of nuance bothers you, that is valid but this is not the fic for you. 

❀ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. This was supposed to be a drabble. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Anyways, Jade my beloved you got Vernon + Friends to Lovers + Slasher and honestly it’s less slasher and more supernatural so I actually totally apologize but I leaned too far the other way I’m so sorry soifsdiofjdfiogj I love you love all the specific easer eggs for you and also show you to Jade because they specifically helped me write the Mingyu ‘graveyard smash’ line thanks bye

❀ A/N 2: Alternative summary for this fic is Hali repeatedly drags Chan because she loves him so much 

❀ Reader Notes: This reader is never explicitly gendered as girl/she/her etc. so I have listed them as an afab reader. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

Cool wind lifts the pages of your book, threatening to flip them over. You press your fingers flat to the page, fighting to keep them from flitting over and losing your place in the story. There’s not much daylight left in the sky as the afternoon dies to make way for the evening, but you’re eager to finish the chapter, craving to unravel the mystery you’ve been working your way through the past week. 

Atmospheric sounds play in your headphones as you read. Your legs are crossed, book in your lap as you sit on the concrete wall separating the quad from one of the sidewalks on campus. Now that there’s a chill in the air, you crave being outside, finding the opportunity to sit wherever you can on campus to crack open a book before the sunlight finally fades. 

Flipping the page, you only get a split second warning of the shout you hear through your headphones before something hits you in the back of the head. You yelp, dropping the book to the ground as your headphones clatter from your head to the grass from the impact. 

Scowling, you swivel around to see Mingyu jogging over, his hand over his mouth as apologies start pouring out of him. A flush creeps up your neck as he approaches, his friends and fellow fraternity brothers watching from afar. Some of them are bent over cackling, the others have their hands on their head, visibly stressed from hitting you with their football.

Again. 

“I am so sorry,” he pleads, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Seungcheol threw wide.” 

“Maybe play on a rec field, then?” You snap, sliding from the wall, picking up your headphones and book. You kick the football toward him, irritated. “There’s literally so many other places you can play. Don’t you have a yard at your little frat house?” 

“It’s being used for float building for the Halloween parade.”

“Convenient.” 

For the most part, Mingyu isn’t so bad. He’s a little loud and obnoxious, but he’s always nice and he does seem to mean it when he picks up the football and apologizes again. It’s more than a lot of his fraternity brothers would do, though it’s not much now that they’ve managed to hit you twice with the same ball. 

Someone like Mingyu wouldn’t even pay attention to you if it weren’t for Vernon, though. As Mingyu retreats, the reason you’re even friends with Mingyu appears on the sidewalk, coming toward you with his hands in his pockets, hood pulled up on his head and headphones on. He lifts his chin in greeting to Mingyu, but Vernon’s brown eyes focus on you, his true destination. 

Vernon pulls his hood and headphones down when he’s within a few feet, jerking his thumb at Mingyu. “What did he want?” 

“He was apologizing for hitting me with the football. Again.”

“Again?” 

“Yeah. They hit me earlier.”

Vernon hums, displeased. He doesn’t say much, instead turning to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets again.

The last embers of sunlight hit his side profile, stunning you to momentarily silence. In a halo of fiery light, Vernon looks like a god. His light brown eyes turn burnished gold, reflecting the dying sun. His hair is spun copper, strands dancing in the breeze as he watches the world around him. 

Not for the first time, you think that you understand why Helen of Troy inspired a thousand ships to come after her. Vernon’s face is the kind of thing you’ve read about in all of your mythologies and folktales for your Occult Studies major, so beautiful that it can’t be real.  

If Vernon notices you staring, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes watch the other members of his fraternity play football, one of them crashing into someone on a lawn chair. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, wearing his second-hand embarrassment silently as he watches them apologize for the millionth time. 

Vernon is nothing like the rest of his fraternity. You’re still unsure why he even joined. It was something he had done his freshman year going into school, wanting to put himself out there and make friends. 

He certainly looks the part - he’s handsome and in shape from playing soccer in highschool, and he’s got good fashion sense for a college student. But he’s quiet and a little awkward, unsure how to navigate conversations with most people who aren’t in his immediate circle of friends and shy to an almost crippling point. 

It had taken Vernon seven weeks of being your lab partner before he finally spoke more than three sentences to you. For the longest time, you’d assumed it was because he thought you were beneath him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. Greek life on campus tended to stick with their own. 

Now, you know it was because he didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. You’d only managed to get him to talk to you when he noticed a song by Frank Ocean bleeding from your headphones, piquing his interest. 

Four years later, talking to Vernon is easy. Well, maybe not easy. You’ve got years of friendship between you now and you know what makes Vernon tick, but the butterflies you get when you’re around him and the way your heart swells when he does something so simple makes it a little harder. 

Like now, as day fades to evening and the world is awash in purple and gold, and he’s looking at the watercolor sky like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, completely unaware that while he’s in awe of the sky, you’re in awe of him. 

Vernon jerks forward, making you flinch. You have no idea what he’s doing until his hand is in front of you, smacking down the football that has been sent your direction again. You huff in frustration, watching as this time it’s Chan who jogs over to get it. 

“Are you all fucking serious?” You demand. He slows his approach, eyes darting to Vernon as though looking for help from his friend. Vernon says nothing, bending over to pick up the football and toss it to Chan. “I should shove that football up your ass.” 

“Maybe not the football,” Chan quips, catching it. He looks you up and down, head cocking to the side a little. His mouth lifts at the corner and there’s a glint in his dark eyes that makes you even angrier. “I’m open to other things, though?” 

“You’re so gross.”

“What? You’re hot when you’re mad.” 

“Go away, Chan!” You shriek, flustered and angry as you spin around to grab your things and storm off. You only get a few feet before realizing Vernon is still leaning on the wall. “Are you coming or not?”

He scrambles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet to catch up. Chan is snickering as he runs back toward where the others wait for him, yelling a trilling bye toward you and Vernon as you charge north toward the main campus parking lot. 

“He’s so annoying,” you gripe, shoving your book in your bag. Vernon hums, noncommittal. You glance at him. “Nothing more to add?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s cause they think you’re hot, Lovecraft.”

You smile at the nickname, fondness sweeping through you. He’d started calling you Lovecraft your freshman year after learning about your major, deciding that it just fit. You like it - at least coming from Vernon, who understood Occult Studies was more than just spooky and magic and the metaphysical. 

“They think anything with a set of tits and a hole to stick their dick in is hot. I’m sure a blowup doll would blow their fucking mind.” 

Vernon’s mouth twitches at that. “You’d hate Chan’s room.”

“Don’t give me that visual!” 

His laugh is warm. He bumps shoulders with yours, grinning at you as the two of you walk. You feel the telltale sign of your traitorous heart beating extra hard at his closeness, your gaze shooting to the floor as you try to hide any evidence of your feelings that might lurk on the surface of your expression. 

Thankfully, Vernon never seems to notice. You’re glad that he doesn’t. You don’t think you’re very good at hiding how you feel, but he is equally bad at picking up on it, totally oblivious to the long stares and the way you fumble over your words when he gets too close. 

Vernon has that effect on a lot of people. His proximity to being attractive has always outweighed his inability to make small talk among the female population on campus. The amount of times you’ve watched girls openly flirt with him and whisper about what it would take to get him to crack was insurmountable. 

Autumn wind kicks up leaves at your feet. Neither one of you says anything as you walk, simply content to be together. It’s one of your favorite things about him, never feeling pressure to perform or to have conversation. Being with Vernon is just… easy. Natural, even. 

The parking lot is slowly emptying as the rest of the late afternoon classes end. A few unlucky evening class students pull in, slamming their car doors and rushing off to their auditoriums. Vernon’s car is easy to find and you let yourself in, sliding into the passenger seat like it’s yours - it kind of is. 

“Pizza?” he asks, engine humming to life. 

“Please.” His lips twitch in a soft smile as he nods, flipping on the radio. You hum, leaning forward and turning up the volume. “I love this song.” 

Vernon’s smile increases as you lean back, the sounds of Emotional Oranges filling the car. He rolls the windows down once he’s on the road proper, cool wind kissing your skin. You pull your feet up onto the seat, leaning toward the window as the fading twilight brushes past you. 

Outside the car, the world smells like pine. You take a deep breath in, loving the way the October air feels just right. Fall is always your favorite time of year, and with the music playing in the background, wind in your hair and Vernon drumming on the wheel, you don’t think there could be anything better in the world. 

Sal’s Pizzeria glows against the dark, a beacon of hunger and hope against the night. The giant pizza slice on the roof blinks rapidly, the neon a little bit broken. Gold light glows through the windows as you climb out the car, gravel crunching beneath your feet. 

A bell chimes as the door opens and a group of students pour out, laughing and carrying boxes. Vernon catches the lip of the door and holds it open for you, gesturing you to enter first. The smell of bread and warm air hits you in the face, your lips curving as you tell the girl at the host stand two.

College students and local residents fill the restaurant. The hostess leads you to a booth in the corner, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you hop-slide your way in. She hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Vernon as she does, lips twitching when she asks if there’s anything else you need. When he doesn’t answer, you shake your head, shooting her a thin-lipped smile. 

She’s hesitant to leave but she does, casting one last look over her shoulder as she heads back to the stand. You look at Vernon too, studying him. He’s none the wiser, brown eyes scanning the menu even though you know he’s going to order the same thing. 

When the server comes, Vernon does as expected: orders a diablo pizza with a side of fries. You shake your head a little, asking for the white feta pizza, handing over the sticky menus. When the server is gone, Vernon leans back in the seat, sipping his coke as he drinks you in, wordless. 

You kick your feet up on his side of the booth next to him and he lets you, patting your ankle fondly when he sets his drink down. He has no idea how torturous that alone is, the simple comfort of his familiar touch enough to send your eyes averting across the room, trying to control your breathing. 

“What are the favorites and least favorites this week?” he asks, balling up the paper his straw came in. 

Favorites and least favorites is a game you like to play with him. It’s not so much of a game as it is a routine where you tell him your favorite piece of material from your classes and your least favorite. Most people dismiss your major as too peculiar for interest. No one knows what you’re supposed to do with Occult Studies but it fascinates you.

And Vernon, who has always had a keen interest in the goings on in your classes and homework. 

“We’re in the psychology of the occult module.” He nods, eyes fixed on you. “Mostly covering the psychology of community as it relates to the occult. We have sections on covens, clans, actual cults, sects and more modern mass followings.” 

“Hmm. So like… Twitter stans.”

You smile a bit. “Something like that. We covered the maenads in class today. Ever heard of them?” He shakes his head and you lean forward, elbows on the table. “They were women in Ancient Greece devoted to the god Dionysus and they were believed to be possessed by the god. They were said to have wild parties in the woods with one another where they’d do all manner of sordid things, all while under the influence.” 

“A Friday night for Chan.”

“Exactly. A lot of historians call them crazy and speculate they were raving mad, but if I was a woman under the thumb of men in Ancient Greece…”

“Shit, I’d get fucking crazy in the woods with my friends too.”

“Exactly. It was more about reveling in female companionship and being unfettered from the male-dominated societal norms.” 

The arrival of your dinner interrupts the conversation. Both of you lean backward, making room for the hot plates and Vernon’s basket of fries. You slide your feet down from his side of the booth, leaning to grab the red pepper flakes from the corner of the table. He grabs salt, immediately dusting his fries.

“Ugh, you could have at least let me have some first.” He looks up at you through his lashes, brows raised. “They’re already salted, Vernon.”

“Not enough.”

“You know, if you were haunted or possessed you’d never want the salt.” He gives a questioning hum. “Salt is used in purification rituals. It’s believed spirits hate it because it’s used in banishing spells and rituals. It’s why a line of salt keeps them out.”

“Good thing I’m hungry, not haunted.” 

You snort, taking a piece of your pizza from the tray. “Speaking of haunted, are we going to your Halloween party this weekend?”

“My halloween party?”

“You are in the fraternity, Vernon. Yes, yours.” 

He makes a face and tears into his pizza. You shake your head as he lets out a sound, huffing and tilting his head backward as he tries to deal with the too-hot food in his mouth burning him. “Ya,” he says around the slice. “I guess so.” 

“What are you going to wear?” He raises a brow at you, swallowing down the hot bite. You pout, sagging in your seat. “Dude, you have to dress up. You can’t just go in a black shirt and a baseball hat.” 

“Why not?” You kick him under the table and he winces, ducking down to rub at his shin. “Shit, fine. Okay, what do I go as?”

You grin, picking up your appropriately cooled pizza. “Leave it to me.” 

-

“This makeup itches,” Vernon mutters, looking up at you through long lashes. You hush him, putting the finishing touches on the black line down his mouth. “Couldn’t I have gone as something easier?”

“What is easier than black jeans and a jacket you already own, huh? Stop talking, I’m gonna fuck up this line and this makeup is perfect so far.” 

It’s true. You’ve outdone yourself on turning Vernon’s face into a skull, taking inspiration from American Horror Story for the costume. Vernon is a low effort kind of person, so getting him into costume is a lot easier when all it requires are clothes he already owns and makeup that you have to do anyway. 

Stepping away from him, you admire your handy work. His eyes are painted black, hollowed out for the skull. His dark hair is slicked back, the perfect skeleton. He looks… good. Painfully good, which makes you nervous and turn away quickly, heart flipping. You’re not sure what it says about you that Vernon staring at you while painted as a deadly skeleton makes your heart race but… it does. 

“How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” you admit, turning back to him. “But good.” 

He grins and if it were anyone else but Vernon, you’d be terrified. Maybe you did a little too good of a job. 

“What are you again?”

“One of the witches from American Horror Story Coven. Close your eyes, I’m going to use setting spray.” 

Darkness blankets the sky by the time you’re both scrambling down the steps and into an Uber. The driver does a double take when they see Vernon, eyes watching nervously in the rearview as you give him the address. 

“That’s at a closed down gas station.”

“Yep,” you agree, leaning back into the seat.

The driver mutters something about fucking college kids and fucking holiday but otherwise says nothing about the questionable location. He doesn’t need to know that a mile from the abandoned gas station is also an abandoned farmhouse notorious for unsanctioned parties and being distinctly haunted. 

Haunted isn’t your favorite thing in the world. You didn’t like to mess with ghosts, despite your area of study. You were infinitely more interested in the intersectionality of occult studies and modern culture and society and less enthused about the idea of drinking stale beer from a foamy tap in the middle of a murder house. 

If the driver thinks there’s anything weird about other people being dropped off at the gas station - you’re sure he does - he says nothing, ignoring the two of you as you get out of the car and dive into the night air. Vernon is close behind as you take a few steps away from the car, eyeing the old gas station.

The windows have long since been broken and cracked, foggy with time. The stations are stripped of their labels and stickers, just white residue left behind and no pumps. A few people lounge around the building smoking, dressed in a variety of halloween costumes. 

Nervous, you look up at Vernon. His smile is small and he juts his chin toward the dirt road that leads through the woods. Nodding, you both fall into step, sand and gravel crunching beneath your feet as you go. Vernon recognizes a few people associated with his fraternity and others, throwing a casual wave or a nod as you pass by people.

Music echoes down the road. It’s a little less foreboding in the dark trees when you can hear Michael Jackson’s thriller coming down the way and the dull roar of voices. The bend in the road straightens out, the line of trees giving way to flat land. 

The farmhouse is pretty, even in old age. It’s two stories, glowing from within from all of the battery lanterns and lights being used to light the party. A generator roars somewhere behind the house, light flooding the yard where people mingle and crowd the kegs. 

A chill slithers down your spine as you enter the yard, the broken gate doing a poor job at keeping trespassers out. Even with the lighting, shadows dance as you navigate through people, the strange anxiety crawling up your throat worsening as you near the house. 

Vernon pulls the sleeve of your dress so that you’re closer to him, his fingers steady and calm as he leads you up the steps where you can clearly hear Mingyu’s howling laughter inside. 

Bright light fills the house. As do a crush of people and beer pong tables, the abandoned home turned into a raucous display of drinking and debauchery. If you weren’t so distracted by the wave of people pushing you into Vernon’s arm, you might be impressed at how much you could forget the farm home was abandoned because someone had been murdered here. 

“I need a drink,” Vernon announces, continuing to pull your arm after him as he plunges toward what used to be the kitchen.

It’s where you find Mingyu dressed as a lifeguard - and loudly yelling directions. He blows his whistle shrilly when he sees you and Vernon, pointing at the two of you and spitting the whistle out of his mouth to scream, “NOT WET ENOUGH!”

“What a weird way to offer drinks,” you mutter. Chan, who seems to be on lifeguard assistant duty - while dressed in a horrid felt dinosaur costume - scrambles to get you drinks, spilling rum as he tips it over into a cup. “No ice?” 

“There’s not a fridge,” he pouts, shoving the cup in your hand. His eyes drink you in. “Are you a hot goth or?” 

Instead of answering him, you roll your eyes and turn to Mingyu, who blows the whistle again. Both you and Vernon wince, the latter throwing back his drink to chug it all before thrusting the cup back at Chan. “That’s gonna get real tiring.” 

Mingyu comes around the corner of the old island countertop, pumping his fists in the air to the music rattling through the house. “Vernon you look fucking sick!” He and Vernon do the little hand-clap-to-half-hug men do. Mingyu turns to look at you, eyes dark. “Are you like, a hot goth?” 

Your smile is plastic as the whistle around Mingyu’s neck. “Sure.” 

Mingyu, dancing and moving toward the living room, reaches out to you. “Come dance with me! This song fucks.”

“Decidedly not!” 

“Go ahead, Lovecraft!” Vernon urges, pushing you toward the obnoxious lifeguard with a shit-eating grin as he imitates Mingyu’s voice. “This song fucks.” 

Before you can chastise him for egging his fraternity brother on, Mingyu has you sucked into the dancing crowd, throwing his hands in the air as he swivels his way through the crowd. You try to knock back as much of the lukewarm drink as you can, cringing at the burn of cheap rum and not-iced coke. 

Bodies pressed in. Mingyu is close to you, a hand going to your waist. You frown and look over your shoulder, eyes scanning for Vernon. You know he’s probably lingering on the edge of the crowd, watching you with a smirk over the rim of his cup as he watches Mingyu roll his hips toward you.

“Mingyu,” you snap, turning back to him when you don’t find Vernon. “It’s the Monster Mash, it doesn’t require grinding.” 

“I mean, if you wanna graveyard smash…”

“You’re all insufferable! All of you!”

Still, you sway back and forth, trying to stomach finishing the rest of your horrid drink. It takes an effort, but shaking your head at Mingyu and judging him silently gets you most of the way through it until Soonyoung - dressed in the same tiger costume from last year - crashes through the crowd into the pair of you, thrilled when he realizes who it is he has slammed into. 

“Hot goth!” he screams, pointing at your outfit. “Where is your other half?” 

You don’t have to ask what Soonyoung means and both the drink and the accusation have you flushing. You shrug a shoulder, eyes surveying the party. Before either of you can find Vernon, Joshua appears at Soonyoung’s side, leaning to his ear to murmur something. Soongyoung’s face lights up and he grins at you, grabbing you by the wrist to yank you through the crowd. 

“Hello?” you demand, pulling your wrist from his grip. “Have you heard of asking?”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“The last time I heard that was promptly followed by you showing me that stupid peach tattoo on your ass.”

“First of all, that tattoo is amazing.” He heads to the stairs, which you eye warily. “Second, Vernon is already upstairs, come on. You like weird ghost shit, you’ll like this.”

Without waiting for a reply, Soonyoung thunders up the stairs. You cringe, waiting for a foot to go through a dry plank and send him falling. It doesn’t happen, though. Tentatively, you creep up the stairs after him, eyes glued to each of the steps as you go. 

It’s colder upstairs, the windows in the rooms open to the elements. You shiver, looking down the hall to Soonyoung heading into a bedroom. You tentatively follow him, stopping at the threshold of the doorway to survey the people inside.

Vernon is one of them, back pressed to the wall near the window, his eyes focused on his boots in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. A girl next to him dressed as Red Riding Hood is leaning close, speaking to him rapidly. Nothing on his face indicates he’s listening. Then again, his expression is hard to read while painted as a skull, mystifying and dark as you follow Soonyoung down the hall. 

Soonyoung goes straight toward a pile of things on the floor next to Seungcheol’s feet in the corner of the room. The president of Vernon’s fraternity pays Soonyoung no mind, eyes totally focused on the pretty fox in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

Suddenly, the room feels too intimate for you, like everyone is a couple tucked away. You have half a mind to go back downstairs when Vernon looks up at you, dark eyes zeroing in. His face is ten times more intense with the skull paint, pinning you to the spot. 

Everything dulls to the background for a second. You don’t dare breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment as he stares at you, unblinking. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the room, two amber pools reflecting the moonlight. 

Joshua enters the room behind you, shattering the spell as you step out of his way. You turn back to Vernon, clearing your throat. He pulls a hand from his pocket, beckoning you over. Mouth dry, you obey, skittering over toward him quickly as you observe the materials that Soonyoung is sifting through in the corner. Candles. Matches. Salt. A bell. 

“Soonyoung,” you say sharply, slowing your step. “Why do you have ritual materials?”

He looks up at you, his grin wide. “Told you that you’d like this.” 

“What is this?” You turn back to Vernon, who shrugs one shoulder. 

Hesitantly, you take the unoccupied space next to him, casting the girl at his side a cursory glance. She observes your costume. “Are you a hot goth?” 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, head thunking against the wall as you watch Soonyoung stand, materials in hand. Vernon coughs next to you, trying to cover his laugh. You glare at him sidelong and he says nothing, but his skeleton mouth is screwed up in a smirk. “What is he doing?”

“No clue.”

Soonyoung walks over to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway before shutting it. You fight a shiver, disliking how quiet the room becomes, cut off from the rest of the world. The window near you is the only source of light, and the only one shut on the second level of the abandoned home. 

“What time is it?” Soonyoung asks Joshua.

“11:45.” 

“Perfect.” Soonyoung spins, eyes falling on you. “Want to talk to a ghost?” 

All eyes turn to you in the room. You open and close your mouth, confused. “What?” 

“Do you want to talk to a ghost? Like someone who died?” 

Your eyes drift to the candle, bell and matches in Soonyoung’s hand. A tingle spreads over your skin and your spine stiffens. “Soonyoung that better not be to invite a spirit in.” 

His grin grows. “Come on, you are the ghost major or whatever. You should be thrilled to do this.”

“Occult Studies. And that doesn’t mean I fuck with the unknown or make a mockery of the dead. We’ve been over this.” 

“It’s basically the same thing, come on. You learn it all in class.” 

“No.” 

He pouts. “You’d be best at it, though. Rumor has it that when the veil is thinnest, you can talk to the spirit that haunts this house.” 

“The murderer? Or the murdered?” Soonyoung shrugs. “I doubt either would be very happy a bunch of drunk college kids are trying to bother them. My answer is no.” 

“Ugh. I was kind of counting on you doing it.” 

“Do it yourself.”

“I don’t study ghost shit!”

“Occult! Studies!”

“Ghost shit,” Soonyoung assures the room confidently.

“I’ll do it,” Vernon sighs, pushing off the wall. “Leave her alone.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes are alight as Vernon steps toward him. You reach out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Don’t.” 

“It’s fine.”

“Vernon.”

His eyes are soft when he looks at you. As soft as the terrifying makeup allows, anyway. “It’s fine, Lovecraft. Let me. He’ll stop asking.”

“I’m right here.”

“We know,” you and Vernon say in unison. You feel warm, chewing the inside of your cheek before nodding. You drop his wrist and turn to Soonyoung, eyes hard. “Give me that, you’ll do it wrong. Tell me what the mythos is.”

“What math? You need math?”

“The story, Soonyoung. What is the fucking story of this house?”

“Right. Apparently some dude murdered his girlfriend in here and then hung himself in that closet.” He points to a door you didn’t see when you walked in, dark and far away from the window. “Legend says at midnight, ring the bell three times and step into the closet with a candle. If the candle blows out, the spirit is with you. If it doesn’t, it didn’t work.” 

Grabbing the items from Soonyoung’s hand, you look at Vernon. “When you’re done, ring the bell three times again and say: Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.” 

“Thank you,” Vernon repeats gently, taking the bell from your hand. “I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Everyone else take candles,” you direct, voice rough with irritation. You glare at Soonyoung and Seungcheol in particular as you shove candles in their hands. “Stand in the four corners of the room. Did you bring sage, Soonyoung?”

“Bring what?”

“Of course not, why would you?” Everyone starts moving to the corner of the room, using matches to light their candles. The room feels unnaturally cold now, despite your long sleeves. Turning back to Vernon, you say, “It’s probably a stupid rumor.”

“Probably.”

“If your candle goes out, just ring the bell, say the words, and dismiss it.” 

“Right.” 

“You don’t have to do it, Vernon.”

His mouth kicks up at the corner. “I’m not worried, Lovecraft. You are.” 

Letting out a breath, you give a laugh that’s only half-there. You are nervous. You don’t like the idea of inviting a spirit into Vernon’s space, and though Soonyoung’s little ritual doesn’t really sound right, you’re not going to correct him. 

Still, you feel unsettled as you light your own candle and then Vernon’s. He cradles it in his hands as you escort him to the door. Tucked under your arm is the canister of salt. Crouching down, you pour the salt in a thick white light in front of the door, careful to ensure that there are no breaks and that it covers the entire entryway from corner to corner.

“Be careful when you step over it and when you open the door,” you instruct, standing up. The candle in your hand flickers unsteadily. “Don’t break the line. The idea is that if Soonyoung’s stupid summoning works, the spirit can’t get through the salt.”

“Banishing and all that,” Vernon recalls with a smile. Your heart flips. “I remember.” 

“Come on, you only have a minute!” Soonyoung calls eagerly. 

Shooting him a glare that silences him, you turn back to Vernon. “Ring the bell three times. Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Got it.” 

Unsettled you shuffle back from the door a little bit. You don’t go to a corner of the room like you’ve asked everyone else, unwilling to totally leave him by himself. Heart hammering, you hold your candle in front of you, cradling the warmth like a second heart. 

Vernon is unbothered. You can see it in the loose set of his shoulders and the way he sighs, already tired of Soonyoung’s antics. The party downstairs feels a million miles away as you watch Vernon stand in front of the closed closet door, looking up at it, unimpressed.

“It’s midnight,” Joshua whispers from the corner. 

Vernon doesn’t make any sound that he’s heard Joshua, but he lifts the little bell in his hand. It’s a hand bell, the wood grip worn and cracked. You wonder where Soonyoung got it from, having half a mind to ask him when the first clear ring of the bell disrupts your thoughts. 

The note sings through the air, your blood turning to ice in your veins. It feels like your pulse is throbbing in your neck as Vernon rings the bell hard a second time, the sound chasing the echo of the first. The third ring feels like a tremor in the air, warbling as Vernon quickly sets the bell on the floor, careful not to extinguish his candle flame. 

You hold your breath when he sets his hand on the doorknob. No one makes a sound as he twists it open. He pulls on the door and it comes away with a silent swing. The darkness on the other side is gaping, like there’s no back to the closet, just a wide hole of nothing. 

Vernon doesn’t seem to mind. He steps over the line of salt carefully until he’s in the middle of the closet, pivoting to face you. The orange flicker of his candle casts a haunting glow over his skull face. You swallow down a brief moment of fear before he winks and leans forward to pull the door shut.

For a long moment, there’s nothing. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the thudthudthud so loud you swear everyone else in the room can hear it. No one moves, everyone fixated on the door. The silence is so piercing that your ears start to ring, the sound of the party completely unreachable over your mounting anxiety. 

“Well?” Soonyoung whispers somewhere behind you. “I guess it didn’t work.” 

Vernon begins pounding on the door. Someone screams behind you followed by a bunch of curses. You leap forward, heart in your throat as Vernon screams something unintelligible on the other side. You drop your candle, completely throwing caution to the wind as you grab the doorknob and twist. 

It doesn’t move.

“Vernon?” you ask, voice spiking with fear. “Let go of the doorknob, let me turn it. Vernon!”

The pounding doesn’t stop. He is screaming in a way you’ve never heard before, his fists rattling the door against the frame. You shriek his name back, yanking at the door frantically, your panic mounting as he screams and- 

When the door opens, you nearly fall backward with the force of it, stumbling over your feet. Soonyoung steadies you, to your surprise. You hadn’t realized he had left his corner of the room to help, his hand warm and firm. 

Vernon stands on the other side of the door, mouth pressed in a firm line. 

“You fucking asshole,” Soonyoung swears, throwing his unlit candle at Vernon. Vernon laughs, dodging it. “You fucking suck.”

“Yeah, well don’t ask me to do stupid shit.” Vernon steps out of the closet, eyes dropping to you. His mirth is edged with something sharp, a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar. “I was kidding.”

“You fucking asshole!” You screech at him, slamming your hands into his chest and knocking him back a little. He smirks and says nothing, letting you hit him a few times. “Why would you do that to me? What is wrong with you?” 

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you sound really fucking sorry.” Anger sours your mouth. Turns your words to poison. Your throat tightens up and you feel the telltale sign of tears, equal parts livid, embarrassed and offended that Vernon would do such a thing. “Fuck you, Vernon.”

Someone laughs awkwardly as you storm off. Vernon calls your name but you ignore him, bolting down the hall and down the stairs. The wood creaks uncertainty under your feet but you don’t care. You want to be anywhere but here, the hot lick of embarrassment burning your heels as you go. 

You blow past Chan on your way out, his bleary eyes following you. “Nooo,” he whines. “Hot goth, come back to me!”

“Shut up, Chan!” You scream, slamming down the steps as you go.

People nearly dive out of your way, swiveling to watch the wake of your wrath as you leave the party. You ignore them, not wanting anyone to see the hot tears that spill over as you hit the dirt road, boots crunching. 

It’s hard to tell what’s worse. The fact that Vernon had played a joke on you he knew you wouldn’t like, or the way you had panicked and lost all resolve to be the one in charge. Both feel awful, but the sting of Vernon’s joke is the sharper of the two, cutting you to the quick.

Vernon has never dared to do something like that in your entire friendship. You have no idea why he did it now. Was it because he had an audience? Was he drunk? Was he actually like the members of his fraternity he associated with? 

You had no idea, which only made things worse. Above anyone else, you thought you knew Vernon best. But perhaps, you didn’t know Vernon at all, which was far worse than any sort of haunted spirit you could imagine. 

-

The next morning, you don’t hear from Vernon. It makes your blood boil, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You put on a big set of headphones, blaring music to keep you sane as you set about cleaning your apartment furiously. 

It’s an okay distraction. The lull of clinical cleaning is nice and the music soothes the sting that nips at your heels like an incessant hound. When you run out of things to clean, though, you’re forced to face the fact that it’s nearly evening and Vernon still hasn’t said anything to you.

You don’t want to text him first. Your pride is wounded from the night before and you’re shocked he hasn’t apologized - he should apologize. The silence only makes you angrier, and with nothing left to clean in your apartment, you decide to think of all the things you’re going to say to him when he does finally reach out to you. Because you’re not saying anything first. 

Vernon’s radio silence makes it nearly impossible to sleep. You toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable, checking your phone and social media. It’s difficult to remember the last time you went over twenty four hours without hearing from Vernon, and the realization forms a pit in your stomach.

Maybe the silence was good. Maybe you were too reliant on his friendship, the one constant that you had grown far too fond of. Maybe he was into that girl last night, making a show of you because he wanted to make her laugh or maybe he was just putting you in your place.

The insecurity wars with your logic that Vernon wouldn’t do that. He’s never had a history of that kind of behavior before, and though he might tease you on occasion, you have never been the butt of his jokes or the target of his humor. 

Jokes like that aren’t even Vernon’s style. He doesn’t like cruelty, and that’s what pretending to be screaming for help was. It was cruel, and strange and it hurt. 

What hurts more is the silence continuing into a second day. By the late afternoon, though, the hurt has morphed into something else. You sit on your couch, staring at the phone on your coffee table. Your pride was begging you not to text him, but your worry was starting to chip away at you. 

Heaving a sigh, you pick up the phone. The tap of your nails against the glass screen is loud in your quiet apartment, the final rays of sun melting through the blinds while a candle burns on the counter. 

[You 5:14 PM]: So are we not talking? 

Setting the phone down, you immediately start making dinner. It doesn’t matter that you’re too early. You’re nervous waiting for his text back, which makes you feel ridiculous. Then you feel ridiculous for feeling ridiculous, validating yourself that it is totally okay to have feelings and be nervous.

“God,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m exhausting.” 

By the time you’ve had dinner and watched a full episode of Alice in Borderland, Vernon has said nothing. Worry eats away at the lining of your stomach. You pause the show and pick up the phone again, dialing his number.

On the other side of the line, the phone rings. And rings. And rings. 

You hang up when you get the automated voicemail, frowning. It’s all strange, and a nagging feeling tugs at your nervous system but you can’t put your finger on it.

Just as you set the dishes in the sink, your phone starts to ping. You’re grateful no one can see you in your apartment as you lurch to the phone, picking it up and unlocking it to see if it’s Vernon. It isn’t, but your heart starts to thud when your group chats with other friends and classmates in projects flood with the same rumor over and over.

A dead body had been found on campus. 

Vernon doesn’t live on campus, but it doesn’t stop you from calling him again. And again. And again. When the voicemail turns on a fourth time, you seethe into the phone, fingers gripping it so hard it feels like it’ll break. “Call me back you fucking asshole! Someone died on campus and you’re not answering and I just need to know it’s not you. Fuck!” 

Time passes and you get so desperate you do the one thing you didn’t want to do unless it was dire circumstances. You hit dial and bring your phone up to your ear, pinching the bridge of your nose to prepare yourself for when Mingyu answers the phone. 

“Am I dreaming?” he says by way of greeting. “It was the life guard costume, right?” 

“Mingyu, it wasn’t a costume. You were shirtless with board shorts.” 

“But it worked, right?”

“Have you heard from Vernon?” 

“Nah, why?” 

“Like you haven’t seen him at all since the party?” 

“Mmm. I don’t think so.” There’s a muffled sound on the phone like he’s trying to cover it when he yells, “Chan, have you seen that fuck head Vernon?” You wait impatiently, holding the phone further from your ear as Minguy yells. “Chan hasn’t seen him either.” 

“Isn’t that weird? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”

“Nah, I mean we never really see him. Usually he’s with you.”

“Right. And he isn’t with me, I haven’t seen him since the party.” 

“Well have you checked his apartment?” You hesitate. “Helloooo?”

“No.”

“Well. Do that. He’s probably sleeping or some shit, who knows.” 

“Great. You were so helpful,” you deadpan.

Mingyu sounds genuinely happy when he says, “I’m so glad!”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything else. 

Chewing your nail, you stare at the wall, mind racing.  Mingyu has a point that it’s normal for them to never see Vernon. He is usually with you, or he’s solitary. There is little in between. He also has a point that most of the time if you were looking for Vernon, you’d just swing by his apartment. 

The thought of seeing him again makes you want to curl in on yourself, but your concern weighs out. You get dressed and grab your keys, trying not to let your fear of what you might find there keep you from leaving. 

Opening the door to your apartment, you get one foot out the door and then slam directly into Vernon. You reel backward, eyebrows shooting up as he steadies you by the elbow, equally surprised to see you as though he wasn’t at your doorstep. 

“Easy there,” he greets, a half smile on his face.

Vernon looks totally normal. He definitely doesn’t look like he was murdered, and he’s dressed in his usual jeans, plain black shirt, and a backwards hat. For a second, you just stare at him, totally shocked and utterly relieved he isn’t dead.

Then, the anger comes. 

You slam a hand into his chest, cursing at him. “Where?” Slap. “Have?” Slap. “You?” Slap. “Been?” 

He takes the blows in stride. His chest is firm beneath your palm, heart beating steadily. Alive. And now that you’ve established he’s not dead, you feel so much anger ripple through you that you don’t let him answer before you’re pivoting on your foot and storming back into your apartment.

The sound of the door closing behind you followed by his shuffling as he takes his shoes off tells you he hasn’t left. A small part of you curls in satisfaction with the domesticity of his arrival, but it is blotted out by the hurt and rage at the surface of your emotions.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. It isn’t as eloquent as your practiced rant, but it’s something. “You better explain yourself. And quickly.”

Vernon’s dark eyes connect with yours, simmering. You feel your heart lurch as he slinks over to the kitchen, never taking his gaze off you. The back of your neck tingles. Vernon never keeps this much eye contact and it’s both thrilling and unnerving. 

“I want to apologize,” he murmurs, pitching his voice low. You watch with trepidation as he reaches out to gather your hand in his. He folds your fingers under his, pulling your hand to his chest. Your breath quickens, pulse throbbing as he cradles your fist to his chest, his heartbeat steady. “I fucked up. I wanted to fuck with Soonyoung but I did it at the expense of you, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”

Warmth spreads from his hand to yours. You don’t know what to make of the apology - it’s so unlike him. Vernon has no problem apologizing when he’s wrong, but he’s usually not so confident, so well spoken. You stare and stare, that pitless gaze of his pinned on you. 

“I just…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You really hurt my feelings, Vernon.” His hands tighten around yours and he tugs a little, pulling you closer. It’s harder to think when you’re this close, fingers wrapped in his. “You really scared me and then you vanished for nearly three days. Why did you do that?” 

“I wasn’t feeling well and I slept most of the days away. Honestly.”

“You weren’t feeling well?”

He gives you a look. “I see the skepticism. I’m serious, I just… wasn’t myself. I tried to rest and I didn’t hear my phone and I’m sorry. Really.”

Vernon’s apology settles around you like a weight. You watch him, contemplating what to do next. He doesn’t look ill, his gold skin as flawless as ever, his rosy lips tucked under his teeth as he watches you, waiting. His heart thuds under your palm, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the top of your hand.

Breathing becomes difficult. Vernon isn’t overly affectionate, but the way he presses your hand to his chest now sends you down a dangerous path. The desire for him bubbles just below your surface and you’re terrified it’ll boil over, exposing everything you’ve ever thought about him.

“Alright,” you say softly, pulling your hand from his. He lets you. “Don’t ever do something like that to me again. It was scary and I felt stupid. And I thought you were dead.”

“Why?” 

Gesturing to the couch, the two of you plop down, seemingly back to normal. You’re still a little off kilter, but you report back to Vernon what your classmates had been saying. He grabs your remote and turns on the news, settling close enough to you that your thighs brush against one another. You shoot him a questioning look but he’s fixated on the TV, leaning forward to press his elbows into his knees.

The reporter on the news confirms the body of one of your fellow students had indeed been found on campus. Names and details were not yet available, but they were interviewing students about whether or not they felt safe on campus. By the second interview, Vernon was turning off the TV and leaning back.

“Freaky,” you murmur, tapping the arm of the couch. “Weird timing, right?”

“How so?”

“We just had a Halloween party in a weird murder house.”

Vernon goes silent. You turn to look at him, eyes searching. He stares at you, again the eye contact unsettling. Even though it feels like your Vernon sitting next to you, there is an edge to him that’s new. You don’t know what to do with it, shifting in your seat a little.

“Forget the murder house,” he says eventually, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “That party sucked and I’d rather forget it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyeing him as he looks out the window. You swear he’s agitated, but you can’t pinpoint why. “Me too.”

-

Someone sitting down roughly next to you draws your attention away from your essay, barely audibly over the sound of Current Blue playing through your headphones. You raise a brow as Vernon slings his belongings on the table unceremoniously, uncaring how loud he is in the library.

You glance around, seeing that he’s attracted the attention of a few people at nearby tables, some scowling, others blushing. When you turn your gaze back to him, you see his mouth moving as he divests his bag of its contents, but you can’t hear him. 

Pulling your headphones from your head, you ask, “What?” 

“Can you help me with my organic chem assignment?” 

“I hate chemistry.” 

His mouth twitches as he opens his laptop. “Right, but you’re good at it. You’re the smartest person in school.”

Again, something nags at your instincts. You can’t pinpoint it, examining Vernon more closely. He looks totally normal, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a jean jacket pulled over it. He’s without a hat today, his hair falling in messy strands over his brow as he sets up his area to study.

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “What?” 

“You seem different.”

“Different how?” He types on his computer to start bringing up his chemistry homework. “Different as in going to fail organic chem without your help?” 

“Oh shut up. I’m obviously going to help you.” 

His mouth is wicked when he grins. “Good.” 

When Vernon looks up at you, the world stops a little. His gaze today is fathomless, dark eyes smooth like the surface of a lake with no end. You tip into that gaze, letting yourself drown in it for a moment. Normally, Vernon would break eye contact by now, easily distracted or unrealizing that he’s got you stuck on him. 

Now, he doesn’t do that. He looks right back at you. Heat crawls up your neck and your breaths quicken. For the first time since you’ve known him, Vernon looks at you like he knows everything inside your locked-tight heart. 

You lick your lips and his gaze dips to your mouth. Inside your chest, your hummingbird heart hammers, threatening to break free. The corner of Vernon’s mouth tilts upward as his eyes meet yours again, and you watch, completely frozen, as he leans toward you. 

Vernon is so close you can smell the spicy cologne on his skin. It’s heady and makes you dizzy, and you watch, totally lost as he wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and tugs hard. You yelp, startling a few people around you as he yanks your chair next to his, your thighs pressed together. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper harshly at him, throwing an apologetic look at the people you’ve disturbed for a second time. 

“How are you going to help me from over there?”

“You could have asked me to move my chair.” 

The problem isn’t that he moved your chair. Not really. The problem is how close he is, leg pressed against yours and elbows touching as he shrugs and turns his computer screen toward you. The problem is how at ease he is with you nearly on top of him, his lazy smile making your thoughts tangle and your breath quicken. 

This Vernon is still the one you’re used to but there’s something about him that keeps you on edge. Keeps you looking at him when his hand brushes against yours to grab a pen, or when he leans back and puts his arm across the back of your chair, idly playing with the hood of your jacket.

It’s almost like he’s flirting, and you spend half the time stumbling through his homework, barely able to assist him in a meaningful way because you’re busy decoding the subtle touches and the light teasing. You feel yourself blush more and look the other way to collect yourself more in the hour you help him than you have your entire friendship, unsure what’s happening or how to handle it. 

Homework completed, Vernon stares off into the distance, his finger twisting in the string of your hoodie absently as you try to write the rest of your paper. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate like this, the intimacy more than you’re used to. 

“You’re very distracting today,” you comment as you reference a text to the right of your screen. “Are you aware of that?” 

He hums. “This is hardly a distraction. I could try harder, though.”

You cut a glance at him. He seems utterly serious, any sort of mirth nonexistent in his expression. There’s just that shadowed gaze, that spark of something right where you can’t reach it. You abruptly stand, surprising him as you knock his arm away from you and clear your throat. 

“I need a different text. It’s downstairs, though.” 

“I’ll come with you.” You raise your brows and he shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else to do.” 

“Sure.” 

Without another word, you pivot on your heel and nearly run for the far set of stairs that lead to the subterranean level of the library where all the old texts and books exist. Vernon follows you at a casual pace, still totally at ease despite the fact that you’re obviously unraveling.

You have no idea what his sudden interest in you is and it’s making you unspool, thoughts wild and racing as you reach the stairwell that leads down. 

Damp air greets you as you start down the steps and it smells like wet carpet. You cringe, hating every time you have to come here. It’s always poorly lit and damp, not at all what one would expect from a library trying to keep books from molding. But no one really comes down here anyway, only the history majors and people like you, who require weird books long retired from the main shelves.

It’s eerie in the old stacks. There are lamps above head casting a burnt orange glow over the green, shag carpet but otherwise it’s nearly impossible to see in the shadowy parts of the room. You certainly could never read a book down here. 

Vernon is silent behind you but you can feel him, his gaze burning into your back as you navigate toward the last set of rows. As you approach, you hear a sound, stopping you dead in your tracks. Vernon crashes into you, nearly knocking you over but his hands grab you, steadying you and holding you close to his chest. 

For the first time today, you’re able to ignore his nearness in favor of straining your ears for the sound you heard, a small whimper, perhaps. You hear it again, distinctly human. Your heart starts to pound as you remember that just the day before there was a body found on campus, mind racing with thoughts as you stand rooted to the spot, Vernon pressed against you.

Craning your head, you look up at him. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you through long lashes, face shadowed. There’s a soft bang, like someone knocking something over. He looks over your head and back at you, shrugging his shoulder as if to say your choice. 

Slowly, you move forward. Vernon keeps close, his heat radiating behind you like a furnace as you creep through the last few rows of shelving. As you near the third one, you stop and peer around the corner, eyes trying to adjust in the shitty lighting. 

What you see has you snapping back around the stack, mouth dropping open. Vernon, curious, leans around you to peer around the stack. He raises his brows and steps backward, mouth pressed in a firm line to conceal his laugh. 

In the next row over is a girl you vaguely recognize, naked from the waist down while someone who is very much not her boyfriend, pumps their fingers between her legs. Slapping Vernon’s chest you point toward the door, silently screaming at him to turn around and hightail it out of there. 

Vernon, for a second, bites his lower lip and wags his eyebrows at you, suggestive. You glare and shove his chest. He goes easily, grinning at you playfully as he turns on his heel and heads back up to the main floor. 

When you reach your table, you drop down in the chair, totally shocked. Vernon drops down next to you, laughing. “Listen, when the urge hits, I guess.”

“I guess,” you agree sharply, shaking your head. “That was not her boyfriend, though.”

“No shit?” 

“Yeah. She’s dating some dude in Sigma whatever.” 

Vernon’s gaze turns sharp and his eyes trail back toward the far side of the library, resting on the stairs. “Interesting.” 

“Not really. That seems to happen a lot among you Greek lifers.” 

“I would never do that.” The severity of his declaration has you looking up from your notebook. Vernon’s expression is cutting, his jaw flexing. “I would never participate in infidelity. Ever.” 

“I didn’t mean you, Vernon.” 

“I’m not like that.” 

You soften a little, guilt tugging at you. So often you remember that Vernon isn’t like a lot of the people around him and grouping him in is unfair and insensitive. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He nods once, turning from you to pack up his stuff. Somehow, you can’t help but feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. 

-

“Oh shit,” Vernon mutters. You look up from where you’re flipping a grilled cheese in the pan. He holds his phone out to you from where he leans against his kitchen counter. “They found another body. Same MO or whatever as the first.” 

“No way?” 

Putting down the spatula, you grab his phone from him where he has the article pulled up. Sure enough, there’s been another murder on campus. Your eyes drink in the details, similar as before: student victim, stab wounds, message written on the wall. 

“What is the Hello Darling Murder?” you ask, more to yourself than Vernon. “It’s linked here as a reference to these being copycat murders.” He says nothing. You read out loud, “The Hello Darling Murder is a case of a murder suicide that happened in the same town in 1979. It was the town’s first violent domestic crime in years, and drew national media attention for the gruesome crime scene in which a message had been written on the wall in blood.” 

Vernon makes an amused sound. You look up at him sharply, staring. He has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a mildly bemused expression. You kick him and he looks up at you. “What?”

“Why are you laughing? That’s not funny.”

“The way people sensationalize murder is weird.” 

“I mean, I agree. But what is funny?”

“It’s not funny as in funny ha ha,” he clarifies. “It’s funny stupid. The media is going to sensationalize this and turn it into an entire thing.” 

“Yeah, well. That’s their job.” 

Off put by his dark mirth, you turn back to the article, reading further. You skip over the old murder, more interested in the details of the two new ones. Your heart seizes in your chest when you see the name and picture of the second victim, stomach roiling. 

He sees your expression, pushing off the counter toward you, hands shooting your arms. “What? What’s wrong?” 

In any other scenario, you’d be overwhelmed by the sudden care and affection. Now, you just turn the phone toward him, showing him the photo. “It’s that girl from the library. Her name was Sidney. She’s the one I told you was cheating on her boyfriend.” 

Nothing registers in his face when he looks at the phone, his hands still resting on your arms lightly. He looks away from the screen and at you instead, a sharpness to his gaze that’s there so often you’re starting to grow used to it.

“You’re burning the grilled cheese, Lovecraft.” 

-

Mosquitos nip at your skin as you walk down the narrow path between trees. You slap your hand against your neck again, muttering under your breath. Vernon chuckles next to you, keeping his pace even as you struggle to step over a fallen tree branch. 

You hate the woods at night. It’s not your first time going to a bonfire deep in the woods off campus, but you don’t know why you keep coming back. Tripping over another branch, Vernon catches you by the arm and steadies you, stopping to make sure you’re okay before he lets go.

Scratch that. You do know why you keep coming back. For as long as you’ve been friends, you’ve been Vernon’s permanent plus one to all of his parties, formals and events, even if both of you hate going. It’s become a weird obligation to show up at things like this as a pair. 

They aren’t always terrible, you have to admit. When Mingyu isn’t absolutely hammered, he’s mostly tolerable to be around. Soonyoung isn’t bad either, though you’re still pissed off at him for the Halloween party incident, unwilling to talk to him. 

But nights like this where you have to trek out into the middle of the woods using your phone’s flashlight to navigate, you sort of loathe your unspoken oath to attend with Vernon. 

Instead of focusing on the distaste and the inherent anxiety the shadows of the trees give you, you let Vernon help you slide down a ditch and climb up the other side. His fingers are firm on your wrist, not quite holding your hand but keeping you connected. 

Your skin is warm and tingles when he lets go, deeming it safe enough to let you walk yourself. It’s easier to see now, too, the orange light of the massive bonfire casting a circle of orange glow that only grows as you near the party. 

Party is perhaps too strong of a word for it. There can’t be more than twenty people in the small clearing surrounding the roaring fire the Soonyoung tends to, foldable chairs and coolers arranged in a circle. Chan is trying to roast a marshmallow and failing, the white snack immediately catching fire and singing in the heat of the fire. 

Mingyu whistles when he sees you, catching your attention to wave you over to a pair of seats by him and Chan. You make your way there, navigating through groups of people clutching plastic cups and stepping over various sizes of coolers. 

The heat from Soonyoung’s inferno is nearly unbearable, making you cringe back as he adds something that cracks and pops, sending bits of orange ash floating toward the sky. 

“Jesus Christ, Soonyoung!” Seungcheol complains from his seat where a girl sits on his knee. “Enough, it’s fucking hot!” 

“Sorry,” Soonyoung answers, sheepish. 

Backing your chair away from the fire a little, you sit down and curl into the folding chair, accepting the drink Vernon hands you before moving his chair closer to yours and sitting down. A shiver ripples through you at the cool can in your hands. You crack the top and take a sip, trying to cool down from the blast of heat you’d taken while passing the fire.

Mingyu turns to you and Vernon as Chan pops a burned marshmallow in his mouth, the two of them immediately launching into discussions of the murders. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, listening as they recount the details in the news mixed with the rumors on campus. 

So far, two bodies have been discovered and linked together. The authorities don’t want to call it a serial killer, attempting to avoid a media craze and inspiring the killer to go on a spree, but denying the murders are connected is impossible.

You’re unsure what the victims have in common. The first had been a male senior who was in the business track, discovered by the dorms near the lake on campus. The second had been the girl you’d seen in the library in her apartment off campus, and Sidney had been in the education track and a junior. 

Neither of them were friends. You don’t go to a large university, but there are enough students that it’s normal to have a ton of people that you don’t know. From what anyone can tell, there was nothing the two victims had in common.

Except that they’d been murdered by someone who had left a bloody Hello Darling written at the crime scene.

A chill sweeps over you as Mingyu mentions the Hello Darling Murderer. It was the same story as before - a man had murdered his girlfriend in the 70s, a shocking and violent domestic crime that had unsettled the citizens and local university. He’d promptly killed himself after that, leaving only a bloody Hello Darling on the walls.

Authorities didn’t even know who the blood had belonged to - it took them so long to realize the couple was missing before they did a wellness check that by the time they investigated, they’d been dead a week. 

Vernon snorts at that and mutters something about the ineptitude of law enforcement. You cut your eyes at him. Though you agree, Vernon is usually the last person to make degrading comments - or comment at all really. 

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you can’t help but sense that honed edge to him he has now. You’ve attributed it to him moving with more confidence, talking to people directly and making actual eye contact. You don’t know where the sudden swell in self-conviction has come from, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t look good on him.

Still, it’s got you a little uneasy, trying to adjust to this version of him. 

The topic shifts to football and you find yourself tuning everyone out, sipping your cider and staring at the fire as it warms your feet. More people arrive and drag chairs up. Someone hauls a few kegs into the firelight, cheers going around the fire.

Vernon stands and holds his hand up for your empty can. You give it to him wordlessly and he heads to get you a refresh, tossing the trash into one of the trash bins.

Turning to Mingyu as he goes, you ask quietly, “Has he seemed different to you lately?” 

“Who?”

“Steve Jobs,” you deadpan. “Vernon, obviously.”

“I don’t think so? He’s around a lot more lately and actually talks to us.” Mingyu pauses, thinking as he cocks his head to the side. “I mean, I guess that is kind of weird for him. He also actually goes to places with us now.” 

“Exactly what I mean.”

“Hey! We are friends, you know?” 

You hum uncertainty, your attention trailing back to Vernon. You observe him, noticing all the little details that are different. He stands a little bit straighter, inserts himself in conversations where he didn’t before.

Now, he stands near the keg, nodding along to something the girl next to him is saying. They’re standing close - you realize it’s the same girl from the Halloween party that had been talking to him, except this time, he’s talking back. 

Vernon leans in close to her and says something, making her laugh. He bites his lower lip a little, watching her with half-lidded eyes. Your stomach turns a little, eyes glued as he brushes her arm when he reaches for the cup that Joshua hands him. 

Turning away from them, you tune yourself into Chan’s conversation, needing a distraction. You try not to count the minutes until Vernon returns. When he does, the girl is with him. He drags a chair over so she can sit on the other side of him. 

It’s close, their knees touching when he sits and hands her the drink he was holding for her. He turns and holds out your drink to you, which sloshes a little when you snatch the cup from his hand. He arches his brows but you say nothing, taking a large gulp and turning your back on him to ask Chan about football instead. 

“You watch football?” Chan asks cryptically. 

“Sure. Go Green Bay Ravens.” 

He stares. “Packers. Green Bay Packers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. In fact, if you want to tell me what’s what more often-”

You scoff. “Shut up, Chan!”

Stuck between Vernon flirting with the girl next to him and Chan and Mingyu being - Chan and Mingyu - sours your mood. You try to lose yourself in your cup, going mute as you stare at the fire. Vernon hardly notices the shift in your mood, leaning in to the girl as they chat. 

You can’t help but notice everything about them. It’s impossible not to see the way she leans into him, bumping shoulders when she laughs. He lets her, watching her with a gaze you can only describe as hungry. The grip on your cup tightens as he knocks their knees together when he shifts in his chair, leaving it pressed against hers. 

It reminds you of the way he’d behaved in the library with you, brushing against you on purpose, making his words come out in a playful pur instead of what you’re used to, and seeing him do it with her now makes you snap. 

You stand abruptly, drawing the attention of Chan and Mingyu but not who you want. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Need company?” Chan offers. It seems genuine, but you give him a sharp no before you’re walking away, sticks snapping underneath your boots as you go. 

Chill air licks your face as you get further from the fire. There are plenty of people dispersed throughout the general area, some people pulled far away for intimate conversations, others pulled away to pass a joint in a circle, the pungent smell chasing you as you pass them. 

Away from the smoke and the noise, you feel like you can breathe a little more. You find a fallen tree, thick enough to sit on. You test your weight on it first before deciding it’s safe, swinging your leg to straddle it and look off into the dark trees.

There’s just enough light from the silver moon above your head and from the distant fire to feel safe. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you hug yourself and close your eyes, breathing in deep. The fire smoke isn’t strong here, the air clean and crisp.

Opening your eyes, you look at the sky. This far out in the country, you can see the stars. Out of habit, you start mapping out all the constellations you know, eyes tracing Orion the Hunter. You skip over to Andromeda, counting each star before moving to the east to spot Cassiopeia. 

It reminds you of the time you taught Vernon all the different constellations. He’d been a silent and attentive listener, watching as you’d pointed them all out while sitting on a bench at the park. You’ve caught him drawing them more than once in his chemistry notebooks, little dots of perfect constellations memorized. 

An ache you’re familiar with fills your chest. It’s the same ache you had when you realized you had feelings for him but didn’t want to tell him. The same ache you had when he’d hurt your feelings on Halloween. The same ache as when you’d seen him actually look back at someone who's interested in him, for once. 

Crying seems silly, but suddenly you have the urge to, throat twisting as you stare at the sky and try to puzzle out the direction your friendship has gone since that night. As you sit on the tree, a prickling sense of awareness creeps up your spine, tugging at you. 

Looking around, you see nothing. You can generally see in a good circumference, but the sudden instinct that something or someone is watching you drives you to get off the branch, hitting the ground with both feet to stride back toward the fire. 

As you go, your foot gets stuck in a tangle of tree roots again, making you stumble. You curse, bending down through squinted eyes to untangle your foot. Your fingers are a little cold and shaking, anxiety creeping up slowly as you pull the weeds and roots away from your shoe. 

Something snaps behind you. Your fingers freeze, head whipping around to look for the source of the noise. Again, you see nothing but your heart is hammering. You don’t dare to breathe, holding your breath as you strain your ears to hear anything else. There’s only crickets and an owl in the distance, no more snapping branches.

In that moment, it occurs to you that you’ve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.

Turning back around, you wrench your shoe free and stand up, nearly colliding with Vernon who leans backward to avoid smacking into you as you shriek in surprise, stepping backward. Vernon’s hand darts out to grab you, catching you and tugging you forward into him before you can lose your balance fully.

Heart hammering, your fingers dig into his biceps, keeping yourself standing as you hiss, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing? You’re wandering out in the middle of the woods while there is an active serial killer in town.” 

“Oh please, like you noticed.”

He frowns. You drop your hands and try to step away from him, eager to put some distance between you. Vernon’s grip on you tightens though, keeping you where you’re standing. “I’m here, I obviously noticed.” You snort derisively and his grip tightens a little. “Is there something you want to say?”

You open and close your mouth, scowling at him. He’s never so direct you’re unsure how to approach the question. So you try for a little bit of honesty. “I wasn’t having fun.” 

“Okay, so let’s leave.”

“You look like you were having fun.” 

Silence hangs in the air. Vernon’s face is indecipherable. Then, “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your response is so fast that it even sounds practiced and hollow to you. It’s hard not to wince, hoping that as always, he doesn’t see through your cellophane defense. Vernon’s touch drops from your biceps to your wrist, delicate. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead staring at the buttons on his jean jacket. 

“I noticed you were gone.” His voice is gentle, a low purr. You dart a quick glance at him to see the intensity of his gaze. It makes you squirm, unsure how to respond. “I always notice when you’re gone.”

“Alright. Well.” 

“I notice everything about you.” 

The way he says it is a soft whisper. A promise, a suggestion. Again, it feels like Vernon has discovered your loose thread, tugging lightly on it. If he tugs again, you think you might unspool all the way, showing him everything you don’t want him to see. 

It feels like he wants to, and that’s what scares you more. That suddenly he’s looking at you like he wants to see past the veneer of your words, like he’s ready to look inside. You hear the double meaning. It’s so terrifying that you look away from him, ready to hide. 

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper. 

“I’m not. If you’re not having fun, let’s go home. I came here with you.” He tugs your wrist. “Come on. You can’t be walking around out here alone with a killer on the loose, Lovecraft. I’ll be forced to fight them off.” 

The tension fades. You let out a breath and laugh, looking at him skeptically. “Yeah? You’re going to fight for me?” 

His grip on your wrist tightens. You wonder if he can feel the speed of your pulse under his thumb, the way it hammers when he smirks. “Yeah, I am.” 

-

Sal’s Pizzeria isn’t your favorite place to do school work. It’s too loud and bright, the promise of food is way too distracting for you to focus for much longer than a few minutes at a time, and usually your fingers are too slippery with pizza grease to type properly. 

You only have a narrow window to finish writing your paper before going to the bar for Jihoon’s birthday. You barely know him, but he’s someone Vernon is decently close enough too that you feel obligated to attend. More importantly, you’re finally almost done with your paper you’ve been working on for two weeks, eager to celebrate hitting submit. 

“You know that dude who was killed first was a rotten cheater?” 

The girls sitting behind you catch your attention. Your brows knit together and you turn your head a fraction to eavesdrop, eyes unfocusing on the words on your screen. There are four of them behind you that you don’t recognize but assume go to the same school as you, based on the attire and the backpacks. 

“Yeah! Sam told me about that. Apparently he was sleeping around with a bunch of freshmen. Maybe his girlfriend found out and went all psycho killer on him?” 

“Ew, how scummy. But what’s with the hello darling message shit? Can you say weird?” 

“I know, right?” 

Their words give you pause. The first victim had been someone known for his infidelity too? Turning back to your screen, you pull up your web browser and type in Hello Darling Murderer to the search. The original murder from the 70s hadn’t given you much thought beyond assuming someone was being a copycat, but now you feel something nagging at you. Something you’re missing. 

All of the top stories are of the recent murders. You amend your search to the 70s and get older articles and links to podcasts covering the initial incident. Clicking on a story from a reputable journal, you start reading in detail about the first murder and his victim, skin prickling as you go.

As an Occult Studies major, a lot of people think you’re into murder mysteries. In truth, you’re not. They have little to do with what you study, and you’ve spent countless times telling people that occult and people obsessed with true crime are two totally different things. You have no idea why they’re lumped together so often, but on more than one occasion you’ve had to explain you’re not interested in serial killers or their stories.

Except now. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you unwind the story of Thomas Ellswater, who had apparently murdered his girlfriend at the time before promptly killing himself. The initial investigation hadn’t dug up much, assuming that it was a case of domestic violence gone as bad as it could. 

But the journalist who had written the story had other details. Accounts from family friends that detailed Elsswater’s girlfriend, Maya, unhappy with their relationship. One even insinuated that she had been cheating on him for a long time, though with who, they were unsure. 

Further down in the article, you stop. Read the paragraph again. Look at the picture of the house. A sickly chill coats your skin as you lean forward, taking in the details of the house. You’ve seen it before, though your memory of it at night surrounded by floodlights and full of drunk college students makes it almost unrecognizable when you see it on the screen. 

Thomas Ellswater lived in the same house that you’d partied in on Halloween night, where Vernon had played that horrible prank in the closet. Thomas or Maya had been the haunting spirit Soonyoung had been attempting to summon.

And now someone was killing in the same exact style.. 

The server bringing you two trays of pizzas and a basket of fries breaks you from your trance. You close the article, a sick feeling in your stomach as you try to piece together the puzzle. Was it just a spurned lover who was paying homage to someone who related? Or was it a serial killer poking fun at the MO?

Vernon crashing into the seat across from you startles you. He gives you a grin, eyeing the pizza in front of him and rubbing his hands together. Rolling your eyes, you grab the red pepper flakes and salt, passing the latter over to him. 

“So I learned something weird today,” you venture, pulling a slice of pizza from the tray. 

“Tell me,” he answers over a mouthful of pizza, once again burning himself. You roll your eyes, shaking your red pepper onto your slice. “What is going on in the world of occult today?”

“Actually, not occult.” He gives you an appraising look, popping some fries into his mouth. “What, no salt today?”

He pauses, looking at the basket of fries. “Nah, I need to cut back on the sodium.”

“Good idea. Anyway, it’s about the murders.” 

“Do tell.”

“The girls behind me said the first victim was known for cheating.” 

“It’s college. Apparently there is a lot of that.” 

“But remember that day we saw Sidney in the library? She was cheating too.” 

“Right.” He rips into his pizza, gaze sharp as he looks at you. “So this town is full of a bunch of lowlife fucking cheaters.”

You flinch at his vehemence, leaning back in your seat. Vernon drops his gaze, tearing into his slice in silence. “Sorry,” he says after swallowing. “I’m hungry.”

“Right. As I was saying, I looked up that Hello Darling Murder.” 

He pauses, gaze flicking to you. “And?”

“And it was ruled as a case of domestic violence gone wrong, but there were some people who think the Maya Caravalo was cheating on Thomas Ellswater, who killed her.” 

“I’m sure cheating is the leading cause of crimes of passion.”

“In the house that we were in on Halloween.” 

Vernon frowns. “Ah. Weird.” 

He doesn’t elaborate. You watch him as he chews on more pizza, shoving fries into his mouth on occasion too. He seems totally at ease - and more normal than he’s been in weeks. You watch, mildly disgusted at the way college men eat. 

“That’s all you have to say?” You ask. “Weird.”

“It is weird.” 

“Kind of an insane coincidence.” 

He becomes still, only his eyes moving as he settles his inky gaze on you. For a second, you can’t help but think he looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary, eyes glittering. “So tell me what theory is in that pretty head of yours, Lovecraft.” 

Ignoring the way your heart leaps at him calling you pretty, you sigh, picking at the wooden table with a thumb nail. “I don’t really have one. I just think someone came across the original murder and thought I could write that at my crime scenes. I don’t study criminology, I can’t figure out motivation.”

“You’re the smartest person in school, Lovecraft. Try.” 

“I guess… I don’t know. The new killer was probably cheated on recently, came across what happened in the 70s, and has been taking out their rage on other adulterers because they feel some sort of kinship with Thomas. Maybe like finishing his work or ridding the world of a common enemy.” 

Vernon hums. “Maybe so. Do you think they deserve it?” You look at him sharply, mouth downturning. “The victims. Do you think they deserve to be killed for their infidelity?” 

“I don’t know that anyone is deserving of murder.” You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Vernon’s face for any sign of what he’s thinking. He’s totally closed off, a blank canvas. “This is why I’m in Occult Studies and not law, Vernon.” 

He gives a wolfish grin. “Touche. Come on, eat your pizza. We have a bar to go get drunk at.” 

-

The bar in question is teeming with people. You’re immediately overwhelmed, squeezing your way between chairs, tables and people as you navigate to your group of friends. Vernon keeps you close, his arm encircling your waist as pulling you to him as you go. 

He either ignores or doesn’t notice the sharp look you give him. Instead, he’s focused on keeping the two of you attached, shouldering his way through the crowd, the press of his fingers on your hip dizzying and steadying at the same time. 

At the far back of the bar, an entire section of people associated with Vernon’s fraternity crowd from wall to wall. Vernon manages to get you onto a stool at the bar top, shouldering one of the pledges off the seat with a narrow-eyed look. You raise your brows at him and he winks, leaning his elbow on the bar top to order you both drinks.

Spinning to face him in the stool, you give him a quick once over. You’d been so engrossed in your murdery mystery findings at the pizzeria that you haven't really looked at him until now. He looks good, dressed simply in dark jeans and a dark, long sleeve shirt that shows how broad he is. Has he always been that broad? 

Vernon catches you staring. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing.” 

He grins, accepting drinks from the bartender and sliding one over to you. You burn under the full weight of his attention as he pops his straw into his mouth. “Tell me.” 

“You look nice tonight.”

“You look nice every night.”

“Oh shut up.” 

“What?” he laughs. “I mean it.” 

“Whatever.”

Spinning in the chair again, you place your back to the bar, facing the crowd to watch people. Vernon is content to stand next to you in silence, both of you sipping your drinks as you observe the people around you. Someone jostles him a little closer, his arm shifting to lay across the bartop along your back. 

Heat creeps into your cheeks and you try to remain breathing normally. Vernon leaves his arm there, pressed against you but not exactly wrapped around you. There is a distinct difference, but this is still new. Still confusing. 

People who recognize you both come up and say hi. You keep the conversation polite and short, especially when you see the girl who has lingered at the last two parties slink toward you, her eyes only for Vernon. 

“Hi,” she yells over the crowd, totally ignoring you. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m friends with Jihoon.”

The girl opens and closes her mouth, lips pursed at that. You sense the serrated edged to Vernon’s words, casting a glance his direction. He’s not looking at her, eyes instead scanning the crowd. Uninterested. Even you know she didn’t literally mean she wasn’t expecting to see him - it was just a conversation starter. 

Using the opportunity to sip from your straw to hide your laughter, you have to admit you’re a little relieved to see Vernon missing social cues again. It’s more him, a Vernon that you're used to. Maybe a little meaner than usual, but this is closer. 

“Right,” the girl says. Her eyes flicker to you for the first time. “It’s his birthday, right?” 

“According to the giant sign in the corner and all the balloons, yes.” 

Okay, maybe it’s not entirely normal Vernon. Usually he isn’t so callous. In this case, you don’t mind, watching as she tries to puzzle out how to keep the conversation going. Vernon decides for you, turning from her to press his mouth close to your ear. 

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, breath hot against you. “I’m gonna greet Jihoon really quickly.” 

All you can manage is a breathy, “Alright.” 

Vernon finishes his drink and pushes off the bar, fingers dragging against you as he goes. He ignores the girl standing and watching, her eyes darting from you to him until he vanishes in the sea of bodies. Without Vernon there, she has nothing to do. She tilts her chin up, sucking up her pride and turns on her heel to walk a direction distinctly not the same way as Vernon.

Alone at the bar, you swivel in your seat to order you both another drink. You assume Vernon is drinking a whiskey coke, hoping that’s right as you flag down the bartender. While you wait, someone slips into the spot next to you. You turn, thinking Vernon’s already back only to find someone you definitely don’t know. 

“Sorry,” he shouts over the loud voices and music. “Did not mean to get in your personal space, this spot was way smaller than I thought it was.” 

“That’s okay! Getting a spot kind of sucks.”

“No kidding.” He grins at you, turning his attention back to trying to get anyone to take his drink order. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to notice me?” 

“About seven years.”

“Yikes. I’m Seokmin, by the way.” You give him your name and he grins. “What brings you to this shit hole ass bar?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday. You?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday indeed.”

A bartender finally comes over to take Seokmin’s order. He leans forward to shout over the crowd, his shoulder knocking into yours. You don’t mind - he’s nice. He looks over at you, a question on his face. “You like tequila?”

“No!”

“Let me rephrase - want a shot of tequila?” 

“She doesn’t.”

Vernon slides behind you, his palm pressed flat to your back. You startle, looking up at him in surprise. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes zeroed in on Seokmin. You slide Vernon’s drink toward him, eager to dispel the sudden tension thrumming through him.

“Whiskey and coke?”

He looks down, eyes rounding out a little as he softens. “Mhmm. Thank you.”

Drink in hand, Seokmin turns to you both and waves. “Y’all have a good night!”

When he’s gone, Vernon leans against the counter again, his tone flat as he says, “He was nice.”

“He was, but what do you sound bothered by it?”

“Maybe I am.” 

“Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. Instead of answering you, he picks up the lime in his drink and squeezes it, stirring it with his straw before taking a long pull straight from the rim of the glass. 

You nudge him. “I’m going to say this again: you’ve been different, lately.” 

“Different how.” 

“I don’t know. You talk more. You’re a lot more engaging. You’re a little…” 

“A little what?”

“Cockier?” He hums, eyes dropping down to your mouth. “Like that,” you point out, voice a little weaker. “You do that now, and you didn’t used to.”

“I always did. I’m just a little more obvious about it now.”

Tension crackles between the two of you. Your mouth feels dry as you watch him, reading the minute expressions of his face. Finally, when you can’t unpuzzle him, you say, “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell if you’re coming onto me or if it’s some sort of game to you.” That makes him frown as he sips his drink again. Your fear and frustration clash, wrestling for dominance. “It makes things confusing.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m happy to clear things up.” 

You grip your glass, trying to keep your fingers from quaking. This moment feels like it’s all or nothing. Vernon puts it out on the table so easily, leaving the option to you. Either you can ask for clarity, or keep playing this new game of cat and mouse. But you have to decide. 

“I would appreciate it if you did,” you say eventually. 

Vernon nods and finishes the rest of the drink. He sets the glass down before he leans forward, hand going to the underside of your chin to lightly tip your face upward with his knuckle so he can press the world’s most gentle kiss to your mouth. 

You freeze. When he doesn’t pull away, lips soft and warm, you sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He feels you relax, mouth curling in a smile against yours. He steps into your space without breaking the kiss, finding the space between your legs as his lips press firmer to yours. 

Vernon smells like his cologne and something distinctly him. It makes you dizzy, and the way he tastes like whiskey and lime makes the room spin. When he pulls away from him, you feel like you’re going to fall from the stool, leaning toward him. 

His hands grip your thighs, squeezing generously as he leans in and drags his mouth to your ear. “Does that clear things up?” 

“Actually, no?” 

His groan is throaty, turning into laughter as he buries his face in your neck. Your hands tentatively settle on his waist, a little hesitant. “I always said you were the smartest person at school, but maybe not.”

“Hey!” 

“Come home with me.” He feels your delay, laughing. “Come home with me because I like you. Is that clearer? Because I want you to come home with me, and I don’t want anyone else here.” 

Your heart goes bolting like a rabbit, running in circles. Vernon pulls away from you to study your face. You watch him for any sign that he’s kidding, that he doesn’t mean it. You find none. In its place, you only see honesty. Hunger. Fiery desire burning at the surface. 

“Really?” Your question is small. Vulnerable. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He tugs on your thighs. “I’m not playing games with you. Come home with me - I’ll prove I’m serious about you. You are what I want. I just had to be sure.” 

Lightheaded and heart slamming, you let Vernon pull you from the seat and lead you out of the bar. 

-

Vernon’s apartment on the north side of town is a place you’ve been a million times. You recognize all the cars in the parking lot, and you know exactly what building and floor belongs to him. You even recognize his neighbors come in mat that you’ve always hated. 

He catches you staring at it with distaste now, laughing as he shakes his head and inserts his keys. “You and that mat.”

One hand works the keys into the door while the other is stretched behind him, fingers linked with yours. Your hand is warm and your heart is still racing as he gets the door open, pulling you inside the dark of his home. 

“They could be inviting anything in,” you assert, a little breathless as he pulls you to his chest. He kicks the door shut, the frame rattling as it slams. “You should never have a doormat that just welcomes whatever shows up at your door inside. You could end up with a vampire in your home.”

“A vampire, huh?” Vernon ducks his head towards your neck, lips skimming your throat. Your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth scrape against your pulse point. “Sounds scary.” 

“It is. There’s nothing to disprove that vampires exist.” 

Vernon bites down and you whine, melting into him. His laugh vibrates through his chest as his tongue presses to the bite mark, soothing the pain. His mouth closes over the spot and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through your body. 

“I promise the only thing biting you will be me.”

The full weight of his words hit you between the legs. You feel like putty in his hand as he navigates you to the island counter in his kitchen. He presses your back into it, careful not to jam you too harshly against the marble. 

Heat licks through your stomach as Vernon steals your lips in a kiss. It’s different from the gentle one he gave you at the bar. This one drinks you in, pries you open and lets you spill out into him, all the feelings and bottled thoughts you have free for the taking.

You get lost in him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him close, fingers sliding through his hair. He moans and you respond, curling your fingers to scrape your nails against his scalp. His hips twitch forward, pinning you between him in the counter as he sucks your bottom lip harshly. 

“Be careful,” he warns, a hand drifting from your chin to your neck. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around your throat, but his hand rests there, heavy and wanting. “I’m trying to be gentle.” 

You steal a kiss, nipping his bottom lip sharply. “Don’t be.”

His resounding groan makes you dizzy. His kisses become rough and heated, using his tongue as much as his teeth. He presses you hard into the countertop now, the marble digging into your back as he nearly folds you in half with the weight of his body. 

It feels like the air has left the room. Vernon is the only thing you need to breathe in, fueled by the way his tongue licks into you, the gentle squeeze of his hand at the base of your throat. His fingers press against your pulse, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to send a bolt of pleasure and thrill through you. 

“You have no idea,” Vernon pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your jawline. “How long I’ve waited to do this. I could have had you this entire fucking time, but I held myself back.” 

His thumb presses under your jaw, angling your head to the side. With more access to your throat, he peppers you in bites and kisses, tongue soothing each sting. “I have wasted so much time,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Being a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” you gasp as his other hand presses between your legs. The ache in your cunt is already throbbing, and he does nothing but make it worse by adding pressure but doing nothing more. “Please don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” He pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he gives you a quick kiss, tugging you toward his room. “I shouldn’t have waited until I had a little… encouragement to do this. I’m going to give you everything you want, love.”

A quiver slithers down your spine at the shortened version of your nickname. The new endearment hits home when you see the way he looks at you, the want and desire more unrestrained than anything else you’ve ever seen on his expression. 

Hand in yours, he pulls you into the bedroom, spinning you to sit you down on the edge of his bed. You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the shape of his face and the way you can just barely see his freckles in the soft glow from the nightlight in his bathroom as he slots himself between your knees. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Vernon whispers, voice like velvet. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze even higher as he watches you, eyes blown. “I’m entirely devoted to you and you only. You know that, right?” 

Vernon’s thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You open your mouth on instinct and he growls low in his throat. He pushes his thumb past your swollen lips, pressing down on your tongue. You taste the lime from earlier and the hint of salt on his skin, closing your mouth as you suck gently. 

“Fuck,” he swears, thumb pressing harder. “You really have been a little slut for me this entire time, huh?” 

Hearing Vernon say it in that deep, whispered voice of his does something to you. There’s a note in his voice you’re unfamiliar with, a dangerous edge that you want to lean into and cut yourself on. So you nod, lashes fluttering as you bat them up at him. 

“Yeah, thought so.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it spit-slicked down your chin. “Lay back on the bed for me, love.” 

You do so immediately, shuffling backward so that you can lean back. The sheets smell like him and you tilt your head to the side, nuzzling his comforter a little. You try to ground yourself, feeling a little staticky as he kneels on the bed, mattress dipping. 

Vernon plants a knee between your legs, leaning forward to cage you in with a hand on either side of your head. His kiss is all consuming, any sense of delicacy gone. You let him devour you, your hands pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer.

He’s not close enough, never close enough. 

Having him like this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He’s familiar, the scent of him and the warmth of his skin and the little sounds he makes but he’s also entirely new. He is rougher than you imagined, sharper than you thought. He drags his blunt nails over your collarbone as he pulls your shirt away from your neck, giving his mouth access to litter your skin with kisses. 

Your hands slip under his shirt, curious as you press the pads of your fingers into his stomach. You feel the muscles flex and he hums low in his throat, enjoying your exploration as you slide your hands around the perfect taper of his waist to the small of his back. 

Vernon slides his knee higher, pressing it directly to your clothed cunt. You twitch against him, a questioning sound leaving your lips as you breathe in sharply. 

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against your chest, one pulling sharply at your shirt. You hear the seams rip and you don’t even care. “Take what you need, love.” 

The rawness of his words fucks you up. You do as he says, rolling your hips against his thigh for any sort of pressure and friction. It helps relieve the tension a little, but not nearly enough. Your breathing turns ragged as he harshly bites and kisses his way to your bra. 

Yanking hard, he rips the rest of your shirt. You let out a throaty laugh and he looks up at you, eyes like burning coals. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

“I did not expect you to be able to rip my shirt.” 

“Oh?”

The dangerous note in his voice makes your hips stutter and stop. He runs the tip of his tongue around the soft curve of your chest, watching you all the while and fuck. If you’d realized that this was the type of Vernon you’d get, maybe you’d have been braver sooner. Because this Vernon is something else, confident and cocky and ravenous. 

“Want me to rip this too?” He teases, teeth pulling at the cup of your bra. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, a little overwhelmed. “Say the word.”

“Maybe salvage some of my clothing, Vernon.”

“Fine. I will not salvage you, though.”

You believe him. Nothing about the way Vernon peels your bra off of you is gentle. Nothing about the way his hand cups your breast, squeezing before he lowers his mouth to give a generous suck to your nipple feels like he has your survival in mind. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let Vernon have his way. It feels like he’s peeling you open layer by layer, plucking every string connected to your pleasure that he can find.

His mouth is a weapon, tongue lazily circling your pert nipple until you’re whining and squirming under him. He laughs and drags his tongue to the other side of your chest, licking his way to your peak to tease you further. 

“Shit,” you whisper, one hand leaving his back to tangle in his hair. You don’t know if you’re pulling him away or pushing him closer - maybe both. “Vernon.”

His teeth scrape your nipple and you whine. He shuts you up by closing his mouth around you, sucking sharply. When he pulls away with a loud pop, you let out a shaky breath. 

“You can barely keep it together,” he observes. He placed closed mouth kisses on your stomach as he descends, pulling his knee from between your thighs. “What are you gonna do when I eat you out, huh?”

Flushed and embarrassed, you cover your face as his tongue licks the skin above your jeans. “Cat got your tongue, love?” 

“You - you’re - ugh!”

He chuckles, popping the button of your jeans. “I’m ugh?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Vernon tugs on your jeans. You try to lift your hips to help him, but your thighs are like jelly already, turning you useless. He coos at you, pressing a kiss to your hip gently. “I got you.” 

Unsure if he means about your inability to get out your fucking pants or he understand what you mean, you let him peel them down the rest of the way. His hands skate up your calves, squeezing and firm as he sinks to his knees on the floor. 

Bracing yourself, you brave a look between your legs where he presses your thighs open gently with his palms. Veronon’s eyes are on the apex of your thighs, entirely focused on where your underwear stick to your folds. He licks his lips, hand brushing up and down your thighs. 

His gaze flickers to you. For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. You feel overly exposed, naked from the waist up, cool air pebbling your spit-slicked chest. The weight of his gaze presses you down like a physical thing, but it’s comforting. Warm. Reassuring. 

The air is charged between you as he keeps watching you while he drags a hand up and between your legs. He presses a thumb between your folds and you whimper, feeling the way he prods at your aching entrance, only the thin fabric keeping him out.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asks, thumb slowly dragging up the damp patch to your clit. He digs in sharply, pressing firm enough that your pleasure spikes and your hips pop off the bed. He hisses at you and smacks your thigh, making you lower your ass to the bed again. “Everytime we were together, did you get like this?” 

It takes effort to rasp, “Sometimes.”

Vernon hooks his thumb in the side of your pants, pulling. The fabric peels back achingly slow, cool air hitting your cunt and making you whine. He hums thoughtfully, placing the fabric to the side.

“Like what times?” he questions, blowing cool air against you. You thrash and he laughs, pinning you down by the hips. “I’m curious. Elaborate for me.” 

“Umm.” 

It’s the only word you can get out before he renders you speechless, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly up your pussy. You go boneless, breath stuck in your chest as his tongue lazily circles around your clit and drags back down. He repeats the motion, the slow-soft brush of his tongue driving you insane instantly. 

“You’re not elaborating,” Vernon notes. He presses a kiss that is far too sweet for the moment to your bundle of nerves. “I wanna know all the times you were with me where you felt like this. Go on.” 

“I don’t,” you breath catches when his tongue curls through your folds. He’s soft and slow as he licks you, a lazy smoothless to it that makes you see stars. “Know how to speak when you’re doing that.” 

“Should I stop?” 

“No.”

“Try,” he murmurs, dipping his tongue in your dripping entrance. “I want to know.” 

Fuck. Trying to pull together any coherent thoughts is like wading through thick water. You’re distracted by the way Vernon’s mouth closes on you, sucking gently. He takes his time, fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he keeps you open, enjoying you fully. 

“I - shit - I guess sometimes when we go out,” you manage. “I like when you wear your hat backwards.” 

He flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit, making you clench, toes curling. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around your throbbing bundle and sucking gently. Your hips lift but his grip is firm, keeping his mouth to you. 

When he pulls away, the suction is audible, a string of spit and arousal connecting his lips to your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” he whispers. You think it’s more to himself than you, his tongue carving through you again. “Tell me more.” 

“Halloween night. When you were in skull makeup.”

His tongue starts circling your clit again, the indirect stimulation driving you wild. Your hands tangle in the sheets, sweat slicking your skin as Vernon works to firmer motions. You realize he knows exactly how you like it, gentle to start, working you to firmer motions, a little hungrier. 

It makes him all the more lethal, the way he can just figure you out like that. “Yeah?” he asks, sucking harshly against you. “Wanted me to fuck you like that?” 

“God, yeah.”

“You should have asked. I’ll fuck you however you want.” 

“Didn’t think you liked me.” 

Vernon is too busy to answer, increasing the attention of his mouth. Your hands slide down to his, nails digging into the tops of his hands where he holds you. He lets go of your hips in favor of linking your fingers, pressing your clasped hands to the mattress. 

His name drips from your mouth, eyes falling shut as you sink into the pleasure deep in your stomach. He makes little sounds of pleasure, grunting and groaning as his mouth becomes more fervent. You feel yourself toeing the edge of an orgasm, so so so close.

He can tell too. He finds a harsh rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to your high with each sharp suck of his lips. You twist in his grip, fingers squeezing his so hard you think you might break his hands. You don’t, feeling your breath catch and hold as you come hard, thighs squeezing as you writhe on the bed.

You draw in a ragged breath, desperate for air as he kisses your cunt once. Twice. His slick mouth presses against your thighs, teeth dragging against soft flesh as he mouths his way to your knee. He gives you a moment, letting you pant against the sheets. 

Fabric sticks to your skin as you wiggle against the bed. He stands up, crawling up you again to find your mouth. You lean forward, catching him in an open-mouth kiss that is more tongue than anything, your taste heady in the heat of his mouth. 

“Turn over on your stomach for me,” he groans. His hands squeeze your side as he gives you room to follow his direction. You do, but not without his help, your orgasm making you a little clumsy. “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Maybe?”

“I’ll help you in a second.”

Instead of moving, you lay slumped on the bed, fully intending to let him do the work. You turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off, revealing firm, tan skin. Vernon is beautiful, the sleek lines of his body reminding you of a painting. He kicks off his jeans before shuffling back on the bed behind you, looking down and snorting.

“Didn’t want to move like I asked?” You shake your head. He pats your ass lightly. “Come on, darling. Help me get these panties off or I will rip them off.” 

Huffing, you do as he says. He does lend you his strength hauling you up by the arm as you lean up on your knees. The room is cold, making you shiver but he presses your back to his chest, mouth dusting kisses over your shoulders. 

Vernon’s fingers dance along your sides until he’s pulling your underwear the rest of the way down your thighs, helping you kick out of them. When he’s got you full naked, he presses your back to him, crowding your space as he angles your head to kiss you slowly. Fully. 

Behind you, his cock presses firmly into your ass. You push back against him, putting pressure against his shaft. He hisses, biting your shoulder harshly. 

“Careful,” he growls, teeth at your neck. “Or I won’t be very nice.” 

“Want you, though.”

“You’ll have me when I say you can.” 

One of his hands slides up to your neck, gripping your throat lightly. He pauses, leaning to catch your gaze. His eyes are round and soft. Honest. Open. “This okay?” He questions gently. He gives a little squeeze to indicate what he means. You nod eagerly, reaching a hand to close around his, making him press harder. “Fuck you’re perfect.” 

You lean your head back against his chest as he holds you by the throat, one of your hands dropping to his elbow, the other reaching behind you to sink your fingers in his hair and tug. The sound he makes is feral, the hand he has placed on your waist dropping between your legs, fingers pressing between them. 

“Oh,” you squeak, feeling his deft tough on your clit. His movements are aided by your earlier release, fingers circling smoothly as he squeezes your throat, thumb pressed perfectly, to make it just a little harder to breathe. “Shit.” 

“Can you tell me a safe word? Not gonna go hard, just wanna know if it becomes too much.” 

“Maenad.” He snorts and you huff. “I just wrote an essay on them, don’t start.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright. Just please use it if it’s too much - any of it. If you can’t talk, pat my arm, alright? Just wanna do this right.” 

You nod, so in love with him it takes all of you to stop yourself from blurting it. 

Vernon shuffles behind you, letting you tilt forward a little. The hand between your legs leaves and he instead brings it behind you, prodding at your pussy with his fingers from behind. You let out a loud sound and you can almost feel his grin as he presses a finger into your heat. 

He’s slow at first, the same way he was with his mouth. He explores what you like, testing the way his fingers drag against your walls combined with different grip strengths on your throat. You feel light headed. The room spins as he finds a rhythm that draws the most noises from you, that makes you clench down on his finger the most. 

All of your weight is against the hand around your neck, barely able to hold yourself up as he presses another finger in. This time, his fingers prod right against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars. He must realize he’s found it, because he starts finger fucking you in earnest. 

The grip on your throat loosens a little, careful not to keep you short of breath for too long as he works your cunt with his hand. His lips find your shoulder, peppering you with light kisses that are delicate and butterfly soft in comparison to the way his fingers fuck into you. 

“Vernon,” you whisper, only able to think of his name. “Vernon vernon vernon.”

“Doing so good, darling,” he whispers against your skin. He kisses his way to your ear, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. “So fucking good for me.” 

His words hit below the belt. You shudder in his hold, letting him drive you toward another release. You never imagined Vernon to be talkative in bed, but he is, his voice like velvet. Just like that. Perfect for me. There you go, come on. 

Everything about him is perfect, driving you to mania. His grip on your throat tightens suddenly, sensing how close you are to your second peak. Your breath quickens until you can’t breathe, going mute against him as his fingers press hardly into that spot over and over and over.

A high-pitched ring winds in your ears. You hold and hold and hold and when Vernon lets go of your throat, a gust of air flooding your lungs, you shatter around his hand. You collapse backward against him, head knocking into his. You don’t even care, twitching and gasping against him as his hand stills. 

For a few moments, you just lean against him like that, sweaty and lost and in a dream. Slowly, you become aware of his pounding heart against your back and the slick between your thighs. Vernon’s mouth is pressed to your shoulder, waiting patiently as you blink a few times, the room swimming into view.

“Hi,” he murmurs, watching you with shadowy eyes.

“Hi,” you croak, voice rough.

“Good?”

“Very.” 

“Want to stop?”

“No. Unless you want to.”

His gaze darkens. “I don’t.” 

“I want more. I can take more.” 

He lifts his head and presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect for me. Do you know that?” 

Reverent hands help you lay back against the pillows. Vernon touches you like you’re something delicate - not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because you’re something important to him. Valuable. You see it in the way he looks down at you, taking a moment to drink you in. 

There’s something else there too. Something edged with a knife, a little wild. Covetous. There is something in the way Vernon grips your leg briefly, a language he’s trying to communicate to you with touch. 

Mine, it says. Mine and no one else's.

With hooded eyes, you watch him peel his briefs off. Your eyes shoot to where his cock hangs heavy, beads of precum dripping at his tip. You reach a hand up toward him but he shakes his head, careful as he shuffles toward you.

“Later,” he promises. “I like touching you.” 

“I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Seeing you unravel makes me feel good. I like seeing how much you enjoy me touching you.”

You can tell he means it. His lips are swollen and soft when he kisses you. You open your legs open for him, letting him settle between the softness of your thighs. Vernon runs the head of his cock through your messy fluids, earning a whine for you.

“Sensitive?” he asks against your lips, nose nudging yours. You nod and you feel him smile. “Sorry.”

“Feels good,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Want more.” 

“Greedy thing.” 

“I’m Your greedy thing.”

Your words have the desired effect. You feel a shiver ripple through him, Vernon’s grip on your leg turning to iron as he opens you up wider. He presses his cock into your entrance slowly, pausing just as the tip pops in. You throb around him, whispering his name - begging him to keep going. 

Vernon’s grin is sharp as he sinks in further, the slide tortuous and wonderful and so much as he finally finds home, hips pressed as far as he can go. He stays like that, tangling your tongue in a messy kiss as he sits there, fully seated in your heat. Your pussy spasms around him, pressed open to the max. 

“Feels so good,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.”

“So do it.” You wrap a leg around his waist, your hips tilting upward. Both of you moan at the angle change, so close to breaking. “I wanna see it.” 

Instead of answering, he nods. He drags his hips backward slowly before slamming back in. He punches the breath out of your lungs with each slide home, the stroke slow but deep. Your head falls to the side, breaths rasping as he sets a steady, slow pace. 

It feels good, your legs curling around him to keep you close, hands tangle in his hair to keep him tethered to you. His hair is damp with sweat, your fingers curled in the strands, tugging a little. He seems to like it, making a needy sound in his throat that has you grinning. 

“Mine,” Vernon whispers to you, words muffled by your neck. “You are only mine, darling. You will only ever be mine. You were made for me. No one else.”

“No one else,” you agree. 

His hips move faster, a little messier. You egg him on, legs squeeze, cunt spasming around him. He lets out a feral sound, driving himself further to his orgasm. He drags you with him, another swell reaching you. Vernon can tell, chasing it like a predator, pinning you down and slamming his cock into you until you’re melting around him again, vision blotted out. 

Vernon comes to the sound of his name on your lips. His movements become sloppy until he can’t go anymore, holding himself above you, trembling. Carefully, he drops next to you, pulling his cock free. You feel your joint fluids run down your leg, but you’re too tired to care. 

Reaching for him, your hand finds his chest. He wraps his fingers around yours, holding your palm to him, his heart thudding wildly under your touch.

“For you,” he mutters. “Only for you, darling.” 

You fall asleep like that, hand pressed to his chest.

-

Waking up in Vernon’s bed is not new to you. You’ve fallen asleep numerous times at his apartment or stayed the night after going out, but you’ve always had the bed to yourself, Vernon opting to take the couch. 

The bed is empty now, but still warm. You stretch as you roll over in his sheets, groaning as you feel the soreness between your legs and mostly everywhere else. Pressing your hand to your chest and shoulders, you feel all the tender places Vernon mapped his affection with tongue and teeth. It makes you smile fondly as you lay in bed alone for a minute, breathing in the scent of his room.

Slowly, you peel yourself from his bed. With an awkward waddle, you make it to the bathroom, flicking on the light. You shield your eyes at first, going about your morning routine and washing your face to try and feel human again. 

On your way out, something catches your eye. You frown, walking back toward his laundry hamper where you see brass glinting in the light. You reach for it, pulling the bell from the tangle of his clothes. It has an old wooden handle with cracks, a little hand bell used for-

Well. Used the night of halloween. You have no idea why Vernon still has it, the memory of that night like poison in your mouth. You toss it back into the hamper on top of another shirt that catches your eye. It’s one of his dark green t-shirts, but the collar is stained dark brown.

Curious, you pull it out, shaking the shirt out in front of you. It’s mostly unmarked, save for the spatter of something dark brown and dried. You run your finger around the edge of it, puzzled. It looks like dried blood, but you can’t recall any injuries he’s suffered recently. 

You take the shirt with you into his room, tossing it on his bed as you get dressed, stealing sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing the shirt again, you trail out toward the kitchen where Vernon is making breakfast, the smell of bacon crackling in the pan.

You grin, leaning against the doorframe for a second to watch him. He looks so at ease, flipping pieces of bacon while he sings to some seventies song you don’t know the name of. 

Pushing off the wall, you head toward him. He catches you in his peripheral, turning his head and smiling at you. “Hello, Darling.” 

The nickname gives you pause. You slow as you come around the corner of the counter, stopping completely as the endearment pricks you sharply on the back of your neck. Vernon goes back to flipping bacon, singing along a song you vaguely know, but don’t know why Vernon does. He’s never liked music from the 1970s, and-

Your ears start to ring. Several things occur to you at once. 

The memory of Vernon screaming and banging his fists against the door, begging for help. You’d been so afraid that you ripped the door open, crashing through the line of salt. 

Vernon, sharp and confident, the new edge to him as he interacts with people, a little harsher. A little darker.

Nah need to cut back on the sodium had said when you asked about the lack of salt on his fries.

The way he’d called you darling the night before, whispering it against your skin. 

70s music that Vernon has never listened to since you’ve known him.  

The bell sitting in the hamper used to call a spirit on Halloween. 

In the house that belonged to the Hello Darling Murderer.

Brown stains - like blood - on his shirt. 

Carefully, you learn toward the middle of the counter, watching Vernon like a prey skirts a predator. With trembling hands, you gently grab the salt from where it sits next to the pepper. You hold your breath, trying not to draw his attention as you unscrew the top of it, placing the metal lid on the shirt to keep it quiet. 

With as silent steps as you can manage, you cross to the other side of the kitchen where you’re out of his line of sight. Tipping the salt over, you pour it across the tile from counter to fridge, eyes darting between the barrier of white and the man standing in the kitchen humming. 

Your heart hammers. 

Your hands shake. 

Salt shaker empty, you set it on the counter and take a few steps back. It’s an unbroken line of salt, and though it doesn’t trap him in the kitchen, at least it’s there. 

Vernon turns around with the pan of bacon. He sees you and his humming stops, cocking his head to the side. He notices the empty salt shaker. Frowns. Looks at you. Looks at the ground where you’ve drawn a line of salt. 

For a second, he just stares at it. His eyes flick back up to you, warm and brown but narrowed. 

“Why is there salt all over my floor?” 

“Cross it.” 

“Huh?”

“Step over the line of salt.” 

Silence stretches between you. He remains standing in the kitchen, pan in hand, music playing in the background.

When Vernon doesn’t move, you can see everything so clearly. 

Vernon hadn’t been joking when he slammed his hands on the door begging for help on Halloween. A sick feeling roils in your stomach as you remember the panicked screams, the way his fists hammered the door. 

Your next words come out as a hiss. “Cross the line of salt, Vernon.”

He looks at the salt and purses his lips before sighing and setting the pan down on the stove. He tosses the rag from his shoulder and shakes his head, striding over to the white line you made against his tile. He stops in front of it, looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say really?

“Well, do it.”

Vernon looks down at the salt. Looks back up to you. Down at the salt. 

And then he laughs. 

“Fuck, you really are the smartest person in school.” He sighs heavily, a gaze darker than anything you’ve ever seen on his face as he stares at you. “You know I can’t cross that line of salt, darling.” 

-

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