#that cat banner did some things to me...

[leycorice]

kitty butler zayne

sylus x cat!zayne // hybrid au // fluff // 4k words

sylus saved a cat and he got a butler in return.

the rain came down like silver needles on the black hood of sylus’s custom-engineered car. the city lights blurred in his windshield, refracted through the downpour. his hands rested lazily on the steering wheel, one ringed thumb tapping the leather in rhythm with the jazz record playing softly through his speakers.

he hated driving himself. it was boring.

but it was one of those nights where even a man like him didn’t want to go home just yet. not to silence. not to marble and shadows.

then he saw it.

a dark shape slumped on the sidewalk just ahead, nearly blending into the wet concrete. at first, sylus thought it was trash—or roadkill. but then the headlights caught the glint of greenish-gold eyes. bleeding. breathing.

a cat.

sylus should’ve kept driving. he didn’t like being interrupted. especially not by strays. but something in the way it looked at him—like it knew something—made him slow down.

minutes later, the injured maine coon was nestled in a blanket in the backseat, and sylus was already muttering about how ridiculous this was.

/ᐠ-˕-マⳊ

a week went by, sylus didn’t expect to keep the thing. he called a private vet the next morning, had it checked over, stitched, cleaned, and dosed with enough sedatives to knock out a horse. then he set up a small bed by the fireplace. he even left out fancy gourmet cat food from the organic pet boutique down the street.

but the cat didn’t touch it.

instead, it waited until sylus left the room and raided his fridge. half his tiramisu vanished one night. another evening, a delicate rose-shaped tart he’d imported from the old district in france had mysteriously disappeared.

it wasn’t just that. the cat watched him. it would sit near the study and observe him reading reports. it followed him into the piano room. and once—just once—sylus woke up to find it curled up on the far corner of his bed, tail flicking, half-lidded eyes glowing in the dark.

then one morning, the cat was gone.

no broken windows. no doors left open. it had simply vanished.

sylus stood at the foot of the empty fireplace, one hand in his pocket, the other nursing a cup of bitter black coffee. the house felt...silent again. not peaceful. just hollow.

“figures,” he muttered.

₍^. .^₎⟆

the sound of movement outside his bedroom jolted sylus from sleep.

he never had unannounced visitors. not in this house. security was airtight. his hand reached for the nearest object—a butter knife resting on the tray of leftover midnight snacks. he crept toward the door, barefoot but deadly quiet.

then he opened it.

and froze.

there, standing at the top of the grand staircase, was a man.

tall. black hair neatly combed. silver-framed glasses. wearing a crisp black butler’s suit like he belonged in a gothic manor, not in the home of a man who didn’t even like guests.

but that wasn’t the strangest part.

perched atop the man’s head were a pair of twitching feline ears—dark furred, just like the cat’s. and behind him, calm and swaying like a metronome, was a long, thick tail.

sylus’s hand went slack. the butter knife clattered to the floor.

the man turned. his face was unreadable—neutral, calm, and frankly a little judgmental.

“good morning, master,” he said, voice deep and disturbingly composed. “i’ve prepared breakfast downstairs. it’s best you eat it while it’s still hot.”

“...what.”

sylus blinked. then scowled, crossing his arms. “no, wait. hold on. who the hell are you and how did you even get in here?”

the man’s ears flicked.

“you don’t recognize me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “i suppose this form is rather new to you.”

and then, without warning, a small puff of smoke erupted around him.

when it cleared, standing where the man had been, was the same maine coon—groomed, sitting neatly, tail flicking in subtle amusement.

sylus stared.

“…what the fuck,” he whispered.

₍^. .^₎Ⳋ

the breakfast table was lavish, though sylus hadn’t touched a thing. crisp white porcelain, an artfully arranged spread—fruits sliced with surgeon-level precision, scrambled eggs the perfect consistency, buttery croissants still steaming.

and a full pot of jasmine tea, its aroma soft and floral.

zayne stood by the table, silver-framed glasses now perched on his nose, looking every bit the refined butler. except for the ears—those velvety black tufts atop his head that flicked subtly every time sylus moved.

sylus sat, arms crossed. his red eyes locked onto zayne like crosshairs.

"talk."

zayne nodded once and poured the tea with steady hands.

“my name is zayne. i’m… well, i suppose the word ‘hybrid’ applies. some would say shapeshifter. i was part of a long-term bioengineering experiment. escaped six days ago.”

his voice was calm, disturbingly so for someone explaining how they were engineered.

“i don’t know who ran the facility. i was taken very young. i was trained to behave, to observe, to survive.” he set the teapot down gently. “i almost died at that curb. you saved me.”

sylus didn’t flinch. but he didn’t touch the tea.

“i owe you my life,” zayne continued, “so i will serve you as repayment. as your loyal servant. since you… don’t really have staff around here to take care of you.”

sylus’s brow twitched. his voice dropped into an icy flatness.

"i don’t need it. i don’t trust anyone to be here."

zayne tilted his head just slightly, ears flicking. curious. concerned, maybe. sylus didn’t like that look.

“i’ve had staff,” sylus said. “had. some tried to kill me. some tried to steal. some were spies. the only reason you’re alive right now is because you turned into a goddamn cat and didn’t stab me in my sleep.”

he stood, chair sliding back.

“there’s no debt. no owing. i helped because i wanted to. that’s all.”

he turned and started walking away.

"leave."

zayne didn't move. not immediately.

he stood still by the table, hands folded neatly in front of him. his ears drooped just slightly, and his tail stilled. his face remained neutral, but sylus—damn it—noticed the difference.

it was the smallest shift. but it gnawed at him.

ฅᨐฅ

three days later, zayne didn’t leave. technically.

he didn’t press boundaries either. he just… stayed. sometimes on the bench in the garden, watching the wind ripple through the ivy. sometimes curled under the overhang at the back of the mansion, resting like a stray that refused to go but had too much pride to beg.

sylus caught sight of him once on the security monitor.

again at 2 a.m. through the library window.

it was starting to feel like guilt.

and sylus hated feeling guilty.

so he compromised. after almost a week.

“you’re still here.”

sylus’s voice broke the silence like glass.

zayne looked up from the grass. he was in his humanoid form, kneeling to rewrap his injured hand. he stood quickly, brushing his pants off. “yes, master.”

sylus gave him a long look, then exhaled sharply through his nose. “fine. you can stay.”

zayne blinked.

“but,” sylus said, lifting a finger like a loaded gun, “ground rules.”

he stepped closer.

“you are not to enter the third floor. that includes the west hallway and especially my study. off limits.”

“yes, master.”

“you do not cook for me. i don’t eat food made by others.”

“yes, master.”

“you can make your own food. you can clean if you want to. but if you get close to any private zones—or if i suspect you’re up to anything—i will throw you out. no talking. no warning.”

zayne didn’t seem offended. he nodded with a gentle, accepting grace. “understood.”

sylus narrowed his eyes. “why are you so calm about this?”

zayne only blinked. “because i was trained to serve. and because you let me live.”

sylus’s eye twitch.

“right... and don’t call me that.” he waved his hand. "master."

“…yes,” zayne corrected softly. “ma- sylus.”

sylus muttered something under his breath—half insult, half frustration—and turned to walk back inside.

as the door clicked open, zayne quietly followed behind.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

later that night, sylus found the linen closets perfectly reorganized. the glass in the east wing was cleaned to a polish. the plants—neglected for months—had been watered and rotated to proper sunlight angles. a simple note was left on his bedroom door:

your robe had loose stitching on the sleeve. i repaired it. — zayne

sylus stared at the note, then at the sleeve of the robe he hadn’t even noticed was damaged.

he crushed the note in his hand and sighed.

maybe having one person in the house wouldn’t be that bad.

maybe.

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

the estate was, as always, immaculate.

not because sylus cared about dust or decor—he’d long grown indifferent to the echo of empty halls—but because zayne had taken to his “duties.” floors gleamed. curtains were brushed free of lint. even the antique gramophone in the corner, long forgotten, looked like it belonged in a museum.

sylus sat in his usual chair in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, absently wiping his watch with a cloth. the room smelled faintly of polish and lavender—zayne's choice, apparently. the fireplace crackled low behind him.

he wasn’t watching zayne. not really.

just... occasionally glancing in his direction as the hybrid dusted the velvet curtains, long tail swaying with absent rhythm. he'd long given up correcting zayne calling him master.

zayne worked quietly. always quietly. and efficiently. sylus had noticed that when it came to insects or vermin, zayne was instantaneous in his response—like a predator on a hair-trigger. once, sylus had turned his head to a subtle scratching sound, and before he could say a word, zayne had already pinned the rat by the tail with a fireplace poker, calm as ever.

it was amusing. strange.

and sometimes—sylus hated to admit it—entertaining.

sylus turned his wrist slightly. the glass face of his watch caught the light and sent a brief flicker of sunbeam onto the far wall.

he didn’t expect what happened next.

zayne stopped mid-motion. his hand hovered over the curtain. the cloth fluttered in his grip, forgotten.

his ears twitched.

his pupils—normally narrow and controlled—expanded suddenly into full, wide circles, sharp green irises nearly vanishing. his gaze snapped to the spot of light on the wall with a focus sylus had only ever seen in combat.

then—

the light shifted again as sylus adjusted slightly, and zayne’s head moved with it. his ears perked up, tail twitching once, twice, and—

he took a cautious step toward the light.

sylus narrowed his eyes, lips twitching. “...are you seriously about to pounce on a sunbeam?”

zayne blinked, as if waking up from a trance. he looked at sylus. then at the floor. then cleared his throat. his ears quickly flattened back to composure, and he resumed wiping the curtain.

“i was simply...monitoring a potential source of reflection damage on the wall paint,” he said evenly.

sylus raised a brow, unimpressed. “you were about to chase a dot like a housecat.”

“no, master.”

“yes, you were.”

“i was not.”

“you were tracking it with your eyes like a sniper.”

a pause.

“...my instincts may have been momentarily engaged,” zayne admitted, tone as flat as ever. “it won’t happen again.”

sylus leaned back in the chair, folding his arms.

"shame. that was the most expression i’ve seen on your face since you moved in.”

zayne didn’t reply, but sylus didn’t miss the tail that flicked a little faster now.

after a beat, sylus tilted his wrist again, subtly sending another flicker of light dancing across the wall.

zayne’s head snapped toward it.

caught.

sylus smirked. “so much for instincts.”

zayne sighed, setting the duster down on the windowsill. “...permission to chase it properly, master?”

sylus blinked.

he wasn’t sure what was funnier—zayne actually asking permission, or the stone-faced delivery.

he leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand. “granted.”

what followed was absurd. a blur of limbs and grace and precision as zayne leapt lightly to the couch, then twisted mid-air to tag the light across the floor, tail lashing in perfect balance. his sleeves rolled up just slightly, glasses discarded neatly on the side table.

it lasted no more than ten seconds.

but sylus laughed. actually laughed. quietly, under his breath—but genuinely.

then zayne landed, smoothed his vest, adjusted his collar, and walked back to the curtain like nothing happened.

sylus sipped his tea, eyes glinting.

this odd creature was growing on him.

and that—

that was dangerous.

^. .^₎⟆

sylus had a strict routine: breakfast by 7, morning meetings at 9, calls until noon. every hour of his day was accounted for, calculated, and sharp. his estate reflected that precision—quiet, cold, immaculate.

but lately, some of that rigidity had...softened.

just slightly.

he noticed it on warmer days, when the sun filtered through the east-facing windows and the halls were wrapped in a golden hush. he’d do a full sweep of the mansion—habit, mostly—only to realize zayne was nowhere in sight.

not in the kitchen.

not in the garden.

not even loitering near the foyer like he usually did after cleaning.

until sylus finally walked past the library.

and saw him.

zayne, in his hybrid cat form, curled like a comma on the leather armchair by the bookshelves. limbs tucked in, tail wrapped around himself, ears twitching gently with every creak of the mansion. fast asleep. softly breathing. practically melting into the upholstery like he owned it.

sylus would stand in the doorway for a long moment, arms crossed, watching him with something between confusion and reluctant amusement.

“you’ve got the entire estate and you pick my chair?” he muttered one day.

the cat twitched but didn’t stir.

sylus rolled his eyes and walked off. but he didn’t reclaim the chair for the rest of the week. not even once.

but when winter came, zayne would be in a different spot.

the cold hit early that year. snow layered the rooftop like icing, and frost webbed across the windows overnight. the mansion’s heating worked perfectly, but the air still bit in the corners of the hallways.

sylus came downstairs one morning after loading fresh laundry into the dryer the night before. he was expecting silence. maybe the faint hum of the boiler.

instead, he paused just outside the laundry room, hearing a faint rustling.

when he opened the door, he stared.

in the center of the laundry basket, nestled like royalty, was a large maine coon.

zayne, in his feline form, had buried himself deep into the mountain of freshly dried bedsheets and blankets, barely peeking out. only his ears and one wide eye were visible above the warm cotton.

the sight was so absurdly domestic that sylus actually blinked.

zayne blinked back.

they stared at each other.

“you are not sleeping in my sheets,” sylus said flatly.

a soft, lazy chirp came from zayne’s throat, muffled by fluff.

“i just cleaned those.”

another blink. a tail flick.

sylus pinched the bridge of his nose. “you’re lucky i have no guests. or shame.”

he left the room.

he came back with a heated pad ten minutes later. no explanation.

/ᐠ. .ᐟ\ Ⳋ

sylus didn’t say it aloud. he never would. but it happened slowly, like water wearing down stone.

he started ordering extra blankets.

replaced the reading chair in the library with one that had a deeper cushion.

adjusted the mansion’s thermostat when he noticed zayne tucked his tail tighter at night.

and zayne never said thank you.

never called attention to it.

just quietly adapted.

sometimes sylus would glance up from his reports and catch zayne in human form, his tail swaying as he wiped down the windowpane. the reflection of snow behind him. his profile lit softly by morning sun.

or find him curled up in a patch of warmth, dead to the world, his breathing slow and steady, ears twitching as if chasing something in his dreams.

it was ridiculous.

he was a powerful man. someone feared, respected, untouchable.

and yet, somehow—

he found himself making excuses to pass by the library.

or to start laundry earlier in the week.

he told himself it was routine.

he didn’t call it care.

not yet.

but deep down, in the quiet hours of the mansion, he was beginning to realize—

zayne didn’t just live here now.

he belonged here.

/ᐠ｡‸｡ᐟ\

the afternoon light stretched long shadows across the marble floors of the estate. sylus stepped through the front door with the usual chill of control in his stride, the quiet click of his shoes echoing across the entry hall.

he paused.

no sound.

no soft clink of porcelain from the kitchen.

no gentle sweeping noises.

no footsteps approaching to greet him.

no zayne.

odd.

zayne always knew his schedule. hell, the cat probably memorized it down to the minute. on normal days, he’d be standing a few paces from the door, hands folded behind his back, ears perked, offering a stiff but polite, “welcome home, master.”

today?

nothing.

sylus loosened his tie with a growing knot in his chest and walked briskly to the library.

empty.

he tried the kitchen.

the sunroom. (which sylus didn't even know exists until zayne cleaned it up because he takes offense at how dark the house was.)

even the laundry room.

still nothing.

he stood at the bottom of the staircase, tension prickling in his jaw. his mansion was large—but it was never hard to find zayne. the hybrid moved like a shadow, but he never truly hid.

something was off.

sylus ascended the stairs two steps at a time.

then, rounding the second-floor corridor—he stopped cold.

there, slumped on the floor just outside the linen closet, was zayne.

his long limbs were tangled awkwardly, his back against the wall, one gloved hand gripping weakly at the hem of his vest. his glasses were slightly askew, cheeks flushed deep pink, and his breath came in shallow, uneven pants. even in his unconscious state, his ears twitched faintly, tail limp and curled near his legs.

“zayne.”

the word came out sharper than intended.

sylus dropped to his knees in front of him and reached out without thinking, pulling zayne upright by the shoulders, slow and steady. the moment his hand touched fabric, heat slammed into his palm.

“shit.”

sylus rarely cursed.

he pressed the back of his hand to zayne’s cheek—burning.

his fingers tightened slightly as he felt the way zayne leaned into the touch unconsciously, a soft, muffled sound leaving his lips.

fever.

severe.

sylus’s mind clicked into cold, efficient gear. no use calling doctors—zayne wouldn’t react well to strangers. hospital? not happening. he’d likely bolt in panic or shift into a cat and disappear into the snow.

he needed warmth. hydration. bed.

and the most secure, private, well-equipped room in the entire house... was on the third floor.

sylus hesitated for a second.

then exhaled.

“to hell with the rules.”

zayne barely stirred as sylus lifted him—he was light, deceptively so—and carried him up the staircase. his body was radiating heat, his breath ragged against sylus’s neck.

the third floor was a fortress of solitude. no one had entered it since sylus built the estate. it was where he worked, rested, lived when the rest of the world became too suffocating.

and now, it was where zayne would recover.

sylus kicked open the door to the master bedroom, carried him to the bed, and laid him down against the silken sheets. he stripped off zayne’s gloves and vest, careful not to jostle him too much. then he grabbed a cool cloth from the bathroom and pressed it to zayne’s forehead.

for a moment, he just stood there.

watching.

zayne, usually so composed and stoic, looked... small. vulnerable. his black ears twitched weakly in his sleep, and his tail curled closer like a child trying to hold himself together.

sylus clenched his jaw. “you idiot,” he muttered. “you kept working yourself stupid again, didn’t you?”

there was no answer—just a soft, hoarse exhale.

sylus turned and left the room. fifteen minutes later, he came back with a tray: water, warm broth, and fever meds crushed into honey for easier swallowing. he sat on the edge of the bed and carefully helped zayne sit up, half-conscious and blinking slowly.

“...master…?”

zayne’s voice was little more than a rasp.

“you passed out in the hallway.” sylus kept his tone neutral, but his grip didn’t leave zayne’s back. “don’t talk. just drink.”

zayne obeyed, sipping slowly. his body trembled under the weight of fever, but he didn’t resist.

when sylus moved to adjust the blankets, zayne’s gloved fingers caught weakly at his sleeve.

“...sorry,” he murmured, barely audible. “didn’t mean to—break protocol.”

sylus paused.

for once, he didn’t have a cold retort.

didn’t have a lecture ready.

he looked at the flushed face, the sweat-dampened hair, the ears twitching in half-conscious guilt.

“rest. that’s an order.”

≽^- ˕ -^≼

zayne recovered fast. unnaturally fast.

the fever had burned hot for a day and a half, but by the end of the third day, he was already back on his feet, dressed and polished like the collapse in the hallway had never happened.

“hybrid biology,” he’d explained quietly, as he changed the sheets of sylus’s bed, already resetting the space with practiced ease. “fever burns fast, heals faster.”

sylus hadn’t said much. he’d stood in the doorway watching him, arms crossed, trying to justify the fact that zayne hadn’t been banished back downstairs.

and then never did.

because he didn’t want to.

the third floor was no longer off-limits. there was no talk of boundaries. no new rules, no updated contract—hell, zayne had signed the last one with a paw print, and sylus hadn’t even laughed at it. now the whole damn thing might as well be shredded.

letting zayne into this space—his private floors, his world, his routines—wasn’t just about territory.

it was letting him in.

into the stillness. the silence. the real pieces of sylus’s life no one else had ever seen.

and it should’ve set off every warning bell in his head.

but it didn’t.

it felt right.

it was his mornings that changed first.

sylus used to wake to cold light filtering through blinds, the soft ping of updates from his tablet, and silence. now, he woke to the low clink of ceramic, the faint smell of jasmine or dark roast, and the quiet rustle of someone moving through his space.

and when he opened his eyes, it was zayne’s face he saw.

neatly dressed, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, ears twitching at the smallest sounds. sometimes human. sometimes feline, curled up near the pillow, blinking at him with those wide, calm green eyes.

sylus would grumble something incoherent and roll over. zayne never commented.

but internally, sylus was—unsettlingly—pleased.

waking up alone was normal. waking up to zayne?

that was contentment.

then, it was the study room.

zayne never spoke unless necessary in the study. he moved in silence, a ghost in tailored black and silver, setting down a cup of coffee or a tray of pastries with an elegance sylus hadn’t realized he liked so much.

sometimes, zayne would sort the bookshelves, tail swaying idly. other times he’d be perched on the second ladder tier, dusting the upper spines, ears perked and alert. sylus would pretend not to watch him.

but on days where business bled into irritation—when reports came in botched, when meetings dragged, or when one of his men made a move without his say-so—sylus would glance up from his desk…

…and there zayne would be. adjusting a frame. rearranging the cups. tasting a pastry as if testing for poison.

one look at those ears twitching ever so slightly or the way zayne flicked dust off the shelves like it offended him personally—and sylus could feel the tension in his spine loosen, bit by bit.

the stress didn’t melt. it evaporated.

this is dangerous, he thought, once more. comfort is dangerous.

but the truth was—he liked it.

he liked it too much.

/ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

sylus sat back in his chair, rubbing his temple, the firelight painting long shadows across the dark wooden shelves. zayne entered silently with a fresh pot of tea, and sylus glanced up, eyes shadowed with fatigue.

“you’re supposed to be off-duty,” sylus said. his tone lacked bite.

“i noticed your tea was cold.”

zayne set the tray down, his motions precise. as he turned to leave, sylus surprised himself by saying, “stay.”

zayne paused. blinked. tilted his head.

“just… stay.”

zayne didn’t speak.

he simply pulled the second chair closer, sat down, and began calmly flipping through the latest books sylus had left scattered on the coffee table.

the room was silent. but not empty.

sylus leaned back and looked at the faint reflection of the two of them in the window.

one cold, sharp man in a pressed suit.

and a hybrid—cat ears twitching, tail curled near the leg of the chair, eyes gently focused on a book he’d probably already read a dozen times.

it was stupid.

it was healing.

and sylus, powerful and feared as he was, finally understood something mundane.

this is why people keep cats, he thought. they don’t do much. but they make it better just by being there.

he didn’t say thank you.

but the next morning, zayne found a new blanket folded on the library chair.

tailored. heated. monogrammed.

with a single stitched letter in the corner.

z.

≽^-˕ -^≼

the door creaked shut behind him with a dull thud that echoed too loud in the stillness of the estate.

sylus exhaled. or maybe groaned. it was hard to tell.

he didn’t even make it two full steps before his polished shoes tangled with each other and he collapsed, graceless, against the cool marble wall. his back hit the surface with a quiet thud, and he slowly slid down, the buttons of his blazer pressing into his ribs.

his vision spun just slightly. his head felt heavy. his body, sluggish.

he’d lost track of how many glasses they poured after the second hour. he’d intended to leave early—he always did—but every time he turned, someone was refilling his drink with forced laughter and an insistence he couldn’t be rude. company loyalty, they said. toast after toast.

for someone who rarely drank, he held his own longer than he should’ve.

but now, it caught up to him.

footsteps padded softly across the foyer, light and quick. sylus knew who it was before the voice even came.

“master?”

zayne’s tone was even, but tinged with concern. “you’re home quite late.”

sylus tilted his head lazily, looking up. his eyes met zayne’s—sharp green, framed by silver-framed glasses and topped with two very twitchy black cat ears.

right. no phone. zayne didn’t own one. all their communication at home relied on scribbled notes on the kitchen counter.

sylus frowned faintly. something about that fact settled wrong in his chest.

“i’ll get you a phone,” he mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “you should have one. in case.”

zayne blinked once. “...you smell like alcohol.”

sylus grinned lopsidedly. “tell your nose to mind its own business.”

zayne scrunched his nose. just slightly. a minuscule expression. but it was there. sylus caught it and chuckled low in his throat.

“i was out drinking with the company,” he admitted, head tipping back against the wall. “they were persistent. didn’t let my glass stay empty. bunch of bastards.”

“you’re drunk.”

“obviously. that’s what happens when people drink.”

zayne sighed—not annoyed, but resigned—and crouched down beside him. “let’s get you upstairs.”

sylus allowed himself to be hauled upright with the kind of reluctant compliance only the intoxicated could pull off. he was taller than zayne, heavier too, but zayne was surprisingly strong. he moved with purpose, hand braced under sylus’s arm as they made their slow, careful way toward the stairs.

each step up the marble staircase felt like it took an eternity. the walls pulsed with shadows. the mansion was quiet enough to hear every breath, every shift of fabric, every soft tap of zayne’s shoes on the floor.

and at this proximity…

sylus noticed.

zayne’s hair was soft at the ends, brushing against his cheek. his posture was strong, but his ears—those cat ears perched on his head—twitched nervously every time sylus so much as exhaled near them.

up this close, they really were expressive. the kind of thing sylus could read if he paid attention long enough.

he smiled to himself.

“such a good kitten you are…” he murmured, voice low, just above a whisper—deep, lazy, husky from both alcohol and sleepiness.

zayne froze.

sylus felt it instantly—the way the hybrid’s body tensed under his grip, how his ears twitched violently and folded flat against his head in a sudden, instinctual movement. his tail, usually calm and slow, flicked with quick, defensive agitation.

zayne cleared his throat, ears still down. “...please watch your step.”

sylus laughed again, quieter this time. “sensitive to sound?”

zayne didn’t respond.

but sylus could feel the way zayne’s heart rate had subtly increased. he wasn’t embarrassed. he was rattled. or flustered. something between the two.

they reached the third floor landing. zayne moved with extra care now, keeping sylus upright with an even firmer grip. not a word passed between them as they entered the master bedroom.

zayne helped him out of his blazer, steady and methodical, unbuttoning the cuffs and sliding it from his arms. he draped it over the chair by the fireplace, straightened it, and only then said:

“i’ll bring water.”

but as he turned, sylus reached out.

fingers caught zayne’s wrist gently.

“you don’t have to act like this is just duty, zayne.”

zayne blinked. his tail twitched.

“...i don’t understand what you mean.”

sylus’s gaze softened, the drunken fog in his eyes briefly parting. “you get flustered. you worry. you stay even when i don’t ask you to. don’t pretend you’re just here to work.”

zayne looked down, unreadable.

then he smiled. barely there. a slight curve of the lips. “...you’re very drunk,” he whispered, "sylus."

sylus released his wrist. “you’re dodging.”

“i’m making sure you don’t choke in your sleep,” zayne said, voice flat again, though his ears remained suspiciously twitchy. “i’ll be back with the water.”

he turned and left.

sylus collapsed onto the bed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “good kitten,” he whispered again to himself.

from the hallway, he swore he heard the faintest exasperated sigh.

[deathofacupid]

—ME AND CAT MAMA ROLLED INTO THE DISTANT FOG!

LITTLE DID SHE KNOW, I'M A NASTY DOG! — jujutsu-kaisen men/woman as overused pórn tropes.

★ satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, ieiri shoko.

warnings — pórn without a plot, kind of crack. afab!reader. cheating, óverstimulatión, light degrading (slút-shaming), age gaps (teacher/student). both unprotected/protected séx. dumbífícatíon, squírtíng. dom!characters, slightly out-of-character. óral (female/male recieving), fingéring, chóking. 4.6k+ words!

(呪術廻戦) : note — inspired by @fushitoru's work. banner credits to @cuntpress. yes, i was lazy and reposted the toji one from my side-blog... shh, don't tell. also, how do people write long fics? i've passed away from just this one <33

★ SATORU GOJO — GORGEOUS BRIDE RETHINKS MARRIAGE AFTER GETTING THE BEST SEX OF HER LIFE!

"i'm just," you breathe, "i'm just really nervous. i mean, what if he's not the right guy for me?" your fingers fumble with the delicate lace of your veil, your gaze stubbornly fixed anywhere but on him.

"isn't that a question you should've asked before you said yes?" he asks, half-teasing, as his brows raise. satoru licks his lips, fuck, you look breathtaking in that virginal white. it's not fair that you'll be sent off to a man that's not him.

you let out a frustrated whine, tipping your head back against the wall. "don't say that! you're supposed to be reassuring me!"

"well, maybe, you're right," he shrugs, leaning against the wall, satoru's gaze lingering on the curve of your breasts beneath the satin, the swell of your hips.

"what?" you blurt, astounded. if this was his way of making you feel better, it wasn't working very well.

"you're the one about to be bound, legally, to this ass— i mean, man. are you ready for that? can you deal with that douche— shit, guy?" he asks, though the suggestive glint in his eyes doesn't waver.

you give him a look, pointed. he continues, undeterred, leaning in close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your ear. "like, how good does he fuck you?"

"'toru!" you gasp, heat flooding your cheeks and lower.

"what?" satoru asks, as if that was a totally precedented question. "i'm serious? you really wanna condemn yourself to a lifetime of missionary with a limp-dick?"

you click your tongue, "no. wait, that's not important. it's his personality, okay? that's what matters in the long-run."

he snorts. "personality? babe, he's drier than the sahara desert. how'd you even end up with him?"

"oh, my god," you groan, burying your face in your hands. "i'm actually going to be stuck in a sexless marriage with a personality-deficient bore."

"he's also a grade-a asshole," satoru adds, his arms crossed over his chest. his commentary doesn't help your pre-wedding jitters.

"if I were you," he says, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive murmur, "i'd ditch the stiff and run off with someone who'll worship every inch of you. in bed and out."

"like, who?" you scoff, sinking further into the chair you're sitting on. satoru pushes himself off the wall.

"oh, y'know," a lazy shrug, but there's a flicker of something that crosses his features, "me." your eyes go wide, and your thighs clench — almost like it's some perverted instinct.

and, then? then, he's showing you proof, pulling your wedding gown up, with your panty-clad ass facing him. the fabric bunches around your waist, and his hands slide under the hem of your pristine white gown.

for him, you're already soaked. but, like the real gentleman here, he slides two fingers beneath the elastic, parting your folds and thrusting them deep inside. he scissors them rhythmically, stretching you open for his pleasure.

you cry out, chanting his name like it's the only thing you know. well, in this moment, it's the only thing you remember. "oh, sato— shit," you moan, your body instinctively arching, hands gripping the edge of the antique dresser for dear life as you bend over it.

"are you close? are you gonna cum for me, huh?" he groans, relishing in the feeling of your tight pussy, warm and wet. all for himself.

"yesyesyesyesyes," you whimper, your body convulsing, the word a broken string of syllables.

the second you're squirting all over his digits, he wastes no time. with a guttural groan, he yanks down his zipper and guides his thick, throbbing cock to your slick opening. god, the stretch, the fullness —you can feel every ridge, every vein pressing against your swollen, desperate walls.

"do i fuck you better than he does?" satoru mutters into your ear, his breath a ragged caress. he's not just your goofy best friend anymore, not really. you don't know what he is, but you'd like him to stay this way.

the way you cum three times on his length, before he even gets one in, it answers the question for satoru.

well, it's not like you can go out there with your makeup smeared like this, anyways.

★ SUGURU GETO — KINKY MASSEUR HELPS STRESSED CLIENT RELAX!

"how's that feel?" geto murmurs, his voice a low rumble as his fingers dig into the knotted muscles of your hips. you groan, a deep, involuntary sound that vibrates against the plush massage table beneath your stomach.

"mm, feels so fucking good," you manage, the words thick with sensation. you can practically feel the answering twitch in his own body through the slight pressure of his touch against your lower back.

"yeah? and, here?" geto coos, his hands sliding lower, settling on the rounded curves of your ass, the thin white sheet doing little to conceal their shape. it's a blatant caress, and a thrill shoots through you.

the stress of endless office hours had been a constant, dull ache in your shoulders and back. but under geto's knowing hands, the knots were surrendering, melting away as if they'd never existed. he slips his hands beneath the edge of the towel, pulling it down to expose your bare skin.

"just for the best experience," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, and you're in no state to argue. he’s the expert here, his touch already weaving a potent spell. his hands roam freely, shamelessly exploring the contours of your body, kneading, rubbing, feeling. he pauses at the juncture of your thighs, his fingertips tracing the delicate folds of your vulva through the slickness of your own arousal. a shiver rips through you. "oh, shit," you whimper, instinctively pressing your hips down, wanting more of that electric touch.

he smears the slick heat, mingling it with the fragrant massage oil, his thumb now directly pressing against your swollen clit. he lifts your hips slightly, a subtle adjustment he claims is for a "better angle," and your face is pressed into the headrest, your ass now presented to him. two firm hands settle on your lower back, anchoring you, though you have no intention of moving away. not now.

geto's nose nudges against your wet folds, the warmth of his breath mingling with the heady scent of your own arousal. a low groan escapes your lips as his warm, moist breath washes over your most sensitive spot. "fuck," you cry out, a thread of drool escaping your parted lips, your eyes squeezed shut against the mounting pleasure.

his tongue darts out, a wet, insistent stroke tracing the engorged length of your clit before dipping lower, lapping at the slick entrance to your core. he slips in one finger, then another, the gentle stretching sending another wave of heat through you.

geto's fingers begin to pump inside you, a steady, rhythmic thrust that mirrors the relentless assault of his tongue on your clit. the dual sensation is overwhelming, a messy, wet symphony of friction that sends shockwaves of pure, unadulterated pleasure through your body.

it isn't long before the tremors start, building into the unmistakable crescendo of your orgasm. geto’s mouth is still latched onto you, greedily licking up every drop of your release, a possessive sound rumbling in his chest.

he finally pulls back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. a sly smile plays on his lips. "would you mind rating us five stars, then?"

★ KENTO NANAMI — COLLEGE SLUT SUCKS OFF PROFESSOR FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

you were prepared for this. you'd picked out the tiniest skirt, a low-cut blouse to match. you were going to seduce the hell out of your finance professor. seriously. professor nanami was about to get a lesson he hadn't signed up for.

he wouldn't see it coming. well, you know, except that he did.

nanami's eyes were fixed on yours, refusing to wander anywhere else. it threw you for a second, a tiny snag in your carefully laid plans. okay, new tactic, you thought, a little thrill of challenge sparking within you. because, if there's anything you're good at, it's making them ache.

"you should know i worked really hard this semester, sir," you purr, nodding your head. you lean over his wooden desk, just slightly. you make sure he gets the full view this time, the subtle swell of your breasts just visible above the fabric.

a beat. you saw it — the almost imperceptible dip of his gaze, the faintest flush creeping up his neck. score. he cleared his throat, a little rougher than usual. "y/n, the grades are finalized. there's always next year, if you need to retake the course."

you pouted, dragging a nail slowly down a strand of your hair, your eyes wide and falsely innocent. "but next year? that's ages away. surely there's… something i can do?"

he sighs, momentarily considering it. "you're aware of my policy, are you not? i don't do extra credit. it's the end of the grading period, and there's not enough time to—"

"sir," you interrupted, a soft giggle bubbling up. "the extra credit i have in mind, it won't take too long."

"i— i'm sorry?" he stammers, awkwardly shifting his position in his seat. "i'm not sure if i understand."

you coo, a gleaming look on your face, "well, i could show you what i mean." rounding the table, you spin his rolling chair, so that it's facing you. gently, you part his legs, and the restraint on his face is all but gone.

"if you wouldn't mind," you add, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. his pupils are blown, and he hesitates.

"look, i appreciate the, er, enthusiasm, but this isn't appro—"

you're cutting him off, already, dropping onto your knees, between his thighs.

"i bet that hard-on isn't exactly appropriate, either," you pipe in, unbuttoning his slacks. his protests die down, fading into a soft groan. you hands palm his crotch, as you peer innocently above.

"damnit," nanami hisses, his eyes falling shut. messing with his belt, you loosen it, pulling his weeping cock out. you swear, you almost moan at the sight. (actually, you might have.)

"fuck," you breathe, "y'so big." it's mostly to yourself, than him, but he finds himself (anatomically possible, or not) hardening even more. his hands tangle themselves in your hair, tugging softly, the movement needy.

you drag your tongue along the underside of his dick, stopping to swirl at the tip, and smear his pre-cum.

your lips tighten around him, cheeks hollowing with each downward stroke. you can feel the frantic pulse beneath your tongue, the way he strains against your mouth.

your hands are busy too, one stroking the length of him, the other cupping his heavy sack, the weight of it a potent reminder of what you're doing.

breath hitching, his thick-rimmed glasses slide down his down. "shit, shit, d— don't stop. ah, just like that." the back of your throat aches as he thrusts deeper, a strangled sound escaping you. you don't get a warning, save for a slight tremor in his hands, as his heavy balls tighten, and he releases strands of gooey seed.

and, to really make sure you've earned those extra percentages, you swallow, choking down everything you can. it tastes musky, bitter, and utterly his.

a slow, satisfied grin spreads across your face. mission fucking accomplished.

★ CHOSO KAMO — TATTOO ARTIST FINGERS PRETTY CUSTOMER RELAX!

"you need to stop squirming," choso says, his voice flat, utterly devoid of amusement.

"huh?" you mumble, your body instinctively twitching as the needle buzzes against your skin.

"if you don't want this to look like abstract roadkill," he repeats, his gaze never leaving your thigh, "you need to stay still."

a wave of sheepish heat floods your cheeks. "oh. right. sorry. it's just… um… i thought it would hurt less." you cringe inwardly, hating how whiny you sound. jesus, why did you ever think getting inked would some cool, edgy experience? this feels like torture.

he blinks slowly, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching a fraction. "…right."

it would be nice if he's bothered to distract you, with even just a little small talk. but, this space-bun-haired guy, no matter how sexy, is the driest person you've ever met.

"so…" you shift your gaze from the intricate lines blooming on your skin to his intensely focused face. the proximity is doing nothing to calm your nerves, or your involuntary fidgeting.

okay, yeah, you know he's just doing his job, but the way his dark lashes frame his serious eyes, the slight furrow in his brow… it's distracting in a whole other way. "so, uh, nice weather today, huh?"

"it's raining," he responds bluntly, not looking up from his work.

"yeah. yeah, i mean, rain's good. rain is… good. for the plants. yeah." you wince, making a face at your word choice.

no response. you click your tongue, "not a fan of small talk?"

"nope."

you laugh, nervous, "…right. sorry. just, uh, trying to take my mind off this." your leg throbs, a dull ache that is steadily intensifying.

he finally sighs, his gaze sweeping around the sparsely decorated studio. it's just the two of you in here. you watch as he deliberately sets the buzzing tattoo machine down on the clean side table.

"you wanted a distraction, yeah?" he asks, his dark eyes finally meeting yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. he then reaches out and casually nudges your knees further apart.

"well, i—" your breath hitches.

"fine, then." his hand slides beneath the hem of your shorts, fingers pressing against the fabric covering your most sensitive spot. you flinch, a jolt of surprised heat shooting through you. your eyes widen.

"what're you—?" you gasp, shivering at his touch.

"distracting you," choso shrugs, as if this is a standard part of the tattooing process. wait, does he? you aren't really thinking, too caught up in the sudden thrill, to protest, as he tugs your shorts down.

a flicker of genuine amusement dances in his eyes — the first real emotion you've witnessed all day — as he takes in your damp lace panties. with a swift, efficient movement, he pulls those down too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

choso picks up the tattoo machine again, the buzzing a stark contrast to the sudden quiet intimacy, and goes back to meticulously working on your leg.

but his other hand… his free hand is now kneading your clit through the thin veil of moisture, his thumb circling with a lazy expertise that sends a jolt of pure sensation through you.

"cho…" you whimper, your head falling back against the cushioned table. you bite down hard on your lower lip to stifle a moan.

then, two fingers, slick with your own wetness, slide inside you, stretching you open with a slow, deliberate pressure. he curls them, hooking and pulling, each movement sending a wave of intense pleasure that almost eclipses the stinging of the needle.

the pain of the ink is rapidly being drowned out by the insistent throb between your legs. his movements are fluid, almost absentminded, yet devastatingly effective. seriously, how is this seemingly aloof guy — who is putting in less obvious effort than anyone you've been with before — making you feel better than… well, anyone you've ever been with?

even more unbelievably, he is a multitasking god. his brow remains furrowed in concentration as he expertly guides the needle, while his other hand turns you into a quivering, moaning mess.

he knows exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply, not frantically, but with a calculated precision that keeps you just on the edge, just still enough.

"oh— wait, god," you cry out, your body arching involuntarily, your fingers clenching into the padded table.

"what? you close?" he asks, his voice still calm, as he leans back to assess his artwork from a different angle. "me too, i think."

his name becomes a broken mantra, the only sound escaping your lips as your inner muscles clench around his fingers, your body tightening with the force of your orgasm.

"you do that for all of 'em?" you manage to gasp out, your voice still shaky, as he finally sets the tattoo machine aside, the intricate design on your thigh now complete.

he takes a moment to admire his handiwork, a hint of a satisfied smile playing on his lips before he finally answers, his gaze lingering on your flushed face.

"nah. just the pretty ones."

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO — BORED HOUSEWIFE INVITES SEXY PLUMBER OVER FOR HELP!

you'd like to preface this by saying; it wasn't your fault. it wasn't your fault that your boring, workaholic husband was always at work. what were you to do? a pretty, bored housewife — one left all alone at home.

"it's the pipes," you say, soft and breathy. as if you aren't dreaming up the nastiest things that could ever come to mind, eyes roving his fit body. pipes, ones that you'd messed with. there wasn't that much leakage, at least not that you could see.

you think. to be honest, you're hardly aware of how much harm you've inflicted onto them.

you're just a little lady, so, what do you know about these things? instead, you lead him to the cabinets underneath the kitchen sink, leaning back against the counter, pretending to be concerned, as he takes a look.

it takes him less than two minutes to realize the damage was dealt on purpose, to which he responds with a roll of his eyes. "if you wanted to fuck, should've just said somethin'."

and, well, that's how you end up with toji's hips snapping brutally against your ass, the cool slab digging into your skin. your palms are damp with the slick of your sweat, desperately trying to ground yourself, as he rams into you relentlessly.

"this — oh, fuck — is want you wanted, yeah? f— fuckin' better take it." the empty house is filled with the lewd sound of squelching, accompanied by a plap, plap, plap!

he groans, dark hair sticking to his brow. "damn husband of yours, he doesn't fuck you good, huh? you're wrecked already, and we just started."

you can't muster a response, whimpering instead. it spurs him on, his cruel pace only increasing. one of his hands are tangled in your hair, yanking back. the other is digging into your hip, sure to leave bruises in the morning.

his cock stretches you out wholly, forcing yourself to mold to the shape of his thick length. your cunt clenches around his, the fluttering hole doing the best it can. you hardly even last long, body tensing.

"shit, ma, you gonna cum, already? cum on my cock, like some slut?" he sneers, right by your ear. he fucks you hard and greedy, driving into you repeatedly.

"mm—! t— toji," you cry, velvety walls squeezing him tight. your body seizes, and you tremble violently, gushing onto his dick. his stamina? it lasted far longer than yours, and he didn't let up, not until he was shooting ropes into your pussy. overstimulated and fucked-out, you'd lost count of how many times he'd pulled orgasms out of you, waiting for his own to come.

and, when he finally leaves (hours, upon hours, later), you realize he never quite fixed the pipes. oh, well. at least, you had a reason to call him back over, right?

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA — HOT TENANT FUCKS HER WAY OUT OF PAYING LANDLORD'S RENT!

"i just need, like, two more weeks," you plead, your voice laced with desperation. sukuna gives you an unimpressed look, arms crossed.

"it's been seven," he informs you, as if this wasn't information you didn't already know. so, yes, you'd been behind on monthly dues, but it wasn't your fault! blame capitalism. or, um, inflation.

"i know, i know. i swear, though, this is the last time!" you insist, wringing your hands.

he pulls out a cigarette, from his back pocket, the foil crinkling. he places it between his lips, "can't keep making exceptions, sweetheart." it's condescending, tied with a hidden threat, you think.

you blow out a breath, running a hand through your, already messy, hair. watching him light it, your eyes go wide with an idea. shameful, for sure.

but, dignity wasn't going to keep the rain off your head when you were sleeping in a cardboard box.

"not even," you tilt your head, looking at him with innocent eyes, lashes batting, "for me?" the way you're leaning closer, over the desk, it doesn't take him long to figure out what you're insinuating. your chest almost brushing his forearms, sukuna pauses, mid-smoke.

"for fuck's sake," he groans, rolling his eyes. "you're doing the work." he doesn't need to say it twice. sukuna leans back in his chair, his hands now resting loosely on his thighs, a silent invitation.

paying him a favor? bullshit. If anyone was benefiting here, it was you. who in their right mind wouldn't jump at the chance to get their brains fucked out by their ridiculously built landlord?

you didn't hesitate, settling onto his lap with a soft thud, straddling his hard thighs.

"hi," you grin, albeit slightly nervous, rolling your hips on his crotch.

"go on," he tsks, gripping your waist, holding you in place. your lips brush against his, hesitantly at first, then... not so much. his tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, and you moan, grinding against his growing erection.

your fingers fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans, the rough denim scratching against your skin. when you finally got them open, his thick, red-tipped cock sprang free, slapping against his lower stomach with a fleshy sound. a surprised gasp escaped you, and you're too shocked to be embarrassed.

"it'll fit, brat," he mutters, as if reading your mind. not wanting to test his patience, you lift your hips, guiding yourself to the slick head. slowly, agonizingly, you sink down, a sharp intake of breath escaping as you stretched around his impressive girth.

"fuck, you're tight," he groans, breath hitching. it took a moment of awkward squirming, but when you were finally seated fully, a whimper of discomfort and a burgeoning pleasure escaped you.

his large hand clamped onto your breast, his thumb teasing your hardening nipple through your thin top. you threw your head back, a guttural sound rising in your throat.

"s— sukuna... shit, you—!" whatever you'd planning to say, it dies out on your tongue, replaced with quiet whimpers of his name.

"mhm, keep... damnit, just like that." his voice is thick with lust, eyes fixed on you.

your movements lost their initial awkwardness, becoming more frantic as the pressure built in your core. your hands tangled in the short, spiky strands of his hair, gripping tightly as you rode him. sukuna's jaw clenched, his other hand now sliding down to cup your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"'kuna, 'm close," you whine, syllables drawn out.

"i know, mm— me, too," he grunts, his hips starting to buck against yours.

you came in a rush, a series of intense contractions that squeezed him tightly. sukuna followed just seconds after, a deep, guttural groan from his throat.

exhausted and slick with sweat, you collapsed against his chest, your head falling into the crook of his neck, his scent of smoke and pinewood filling your senses.

"if i keep fucking you," you ask, shaky and panting, "do i get to live here for free?"

★ IEIRI SHOKO — GYNECOLOGIST HELPS OUT NEEDY PATIENT WHO CAN'T SEEM TO CLIMAX!

"are you feeling any pain?" she asks, flipping through her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration.

you brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. "no."

"are you on birth control?"

"yes," you answer, fiddling with the thin hem of your paper hospital gown. you clear your throat, a nervous flutter in your chest. "yeah."

shoko clicks her pen, a small, decisive sound, and nods. "how long?"

"three— three years," you stammer, a warmth creeping up your neck. you're not entirely sure why you're so flustered. maybe it's the sterile environment, or maybe it's the fact that your doctor is so unbelievably gorgeous it's hard to focus on anything she's saying.

your gaze keeps drifting to the way her scrubs fit her chest, and you have to actively drag your attention back to her face. oh, thank god you're not a man, you think, a little mortified.

"uh-huh. and, to be sure, you've orgasmed before, right?"

you're also not sure why your face feels like it's on fire. this is her job. this is why you're here — for her to do her job and figure out what the hell is wrong with you.

"um, yeah. myself. i mean, i did it myself." the words tumble out, awkward and rushed.

her eyes flicker to yours, a brief, assessing glance, and you immediately drop your gaze, suddenly intensely interested in the wrinkles in your gown. shoko holds back a small laugh; you're kind of adorable in your embarrassment.

"alright," she says, taking a breath and shifting in her rolling chair. the movement causes a subtle jiggle of her breasts beneath her scrubs, and your thighs involuntarily clench.

pervert, you scold yourself internally. "well, based on your history, it doesn't look like there's any physiological reason for what you're describing."

"really? but, i can't, like, y'know…" you trail off, frowning, the frustration evident in your voice.

"cum?" shoko questions, filling in the blank with a bluntness that makes your cheeks heat — they never really did cool down — at her casual vulgarity.

"well, yeah. i mean, what about that?"

"don't fuck asses," she shrugs, her expression nonchalant. oh, god. was it hot in here? that wasn't just you, right? "but, i'm gonna do a pelvic exam anyway, yeah? just to rule everything out."

you nod, your eyes following her as she pulls out the cold metal stirrups. gently but efficiently, she guides your legs into them, her gaze surprisingly steady and focused on you.

"pulling this up now," she informs you, tugging on the front of your gown. shoko moves it higher, and you instinctively lift your hips to accommodate.

you fidget with your hands, acutely aware of the slickness blooming between your legs. you just know she'll see it. her eyes, no matter how professional she tries to keep them, widen almost imperceptibly as she takes in your pretty, wet folds. you can see the internal battle she's waging not to say something suggestive.

"won't need lube," she mumbles, mostly to herself, but you catch it, your ears burning red. the cool touch of a latex-gloved hand brushes against your swollen clit, and a involuntary shiver courses through you. you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to make any and all embarrassing noises.

then, her middle finger slips inside you, and a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. "sorry," you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand.

"no need to apologize," she says, her voice softening slightly. "it's just us in here, y'know."

"ri— right."

her finger probes the tight walls of your cunt, and you instinctively squeeze around it. another finger slides in, and by this point, she can probably confirm you're perfectly healthy.

but she doesn't stop. not yet.

then, she thrusts them deeper, and your hips jerk up off the table. "ngh, fuck," you murmur, your eyes falling shut against the sudden, intense sensation.

her other thumb comes to rest on your puffy clit, rubbing gently, then pinching with deliberate pressure. shoko's pace quickens, her digits fucking you harder and deeper.

"how's that, baby? feel nice?" her voice is a low, husky purr.

"god, yeah. keep going, please!" you plead, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"close already? haven't even been going for long," she laughs, a soft, breathy sound that vibrates between your legs. "ah, that's alright. go on, prove me right."

your inner muscles clench rhythmically around her fingers, and you moan, the familiar knot of your impending climax tightening in your stomach. it intensifies, coiling tighter and tighter, and with one final, deliberate flick of her wrist, it breaks.

"see? told you, you were just fucking the wrong people."

"and, the right people?" you ask, your body still trembling, your head lolling back against the headrest.

shoko chuckles, a low, knowing sound. "me."

❛ all works belong to deathofacupid, do not steal/plagiarize/repost. ❜

[mafiadad5]

cyber sex || Lee haechan

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ now playing- cyber sex: doja cat

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Audioguy!haechan x fem!reader

ִ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Genre/ warnings: smut, college au, 18+ mdni!, needy sub haechan/ soft dom reader, cyber sex, unprotected sex, praising, auralism, creampie ig?, oral (fem receiving), marking (if you squint), begging. Kinda nerdy looking haechan… Lmk if I miss anything.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Wc- 8.2k

authors note- omg… lmk what you think guys. Part 2 maybe I have some ideas…👀. No proof read cus lol. I hope you enjoy! <3

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One day your friend joked to you and told you about these corny little audio guys that were on sound cloud. You were captivated to say the least, and curiosity filled your brain so that night you found yourself on sound cloud searching. Most of them were very laughable like your friend suggested, but then you came across this one profile. 

"hcillusion119." You muttered out loud, biting your lip in curiosity as you clicked on the profile. 

The first thing you noticed was instead of one of those anime boy banner things, it was just black with his username splat in the center. Ok, so far so good. The next thing that you noticed was how the profile description were just the words: "just listen, you won't regret ;)" 

You giggled to yourself from how full of himself this guy was, so you decided to listen to an audio, expecting to laugh just like the other times, but this one was different. His voice wasn't what you had expected, it was whiny, but not in a high-pitched, irritating way. There was something desperate in the way he guided the listener through every step, an intensity that hooked you in. You had to admit, this was nothing like what you heard previously.

After the first audio you thought you would be done with it, but it kept creeping on your mind, causing you to go back to the one you were most familiar with, but after a while you started exploring his other audios and soon found yourself subscribed. No one knew you were into this, and you were too embarrassed to even play his audios if anyone was in the same proximity as you, this was your little secret— he was your little secret.

"Hey guys. We're gonna be doing something a bit different today, so just sit back and listen to me, okay?"

You sat there quietly, your body relaxing as his smooth voice seeped into your ears. It felt like he was speaking directly to you, and you couldn't help but nod along as if he could see you.

"I just want to start off by saying that we've reached 20k followers up here. I'm very grateful for all of you guys and I'll make sure to put out great content. That being said, to show my gratitude I will be hosting a little giveaway, or I guess it's like that. I want to pick one of you to have a private call with me on insta. Crazy huh? Only the best for you guys. To enter, all you have to do is comment on this post what you like about my content...and please, don't be weird... joking haha. The winner will get a private message tomorrow at 8pm. Good luck."

An embarrassing smile painted your smile as you typed out your comment on the post. You knew you probably weren't gonna win, and honestly you weren't even sure you could handle it if you did win, but something in you burned at the thought of what could happen—what it would be like to hear his voice in real time, just for you.

It was impossible to focus on anything else the next day, you even made an anonymous insta account just incase you won. The time went agonizingly slow, you honestly thought you couldn't wait any longer, but finally it was time. 

You sat on your bed after a long day of class and work, checking your notification center obsessively, heart racing with both hope and dread.

8:05 came, then 8:10, and still nothing. By 8:15 you were ready to give up, the little spark of  hope you had starting to flicker out. Just as you were about to close the app, your phone buzzed, a bright orange message appearing at the top of your screen.

hcillusion119- hey, sorry for the late text, I'll make it up to you when we call, but I want to let you know that you won.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the notification, your heart leaping into your throat. No way. It had to be too good to be true. You fumbled with your phone, nearly dropping it as you jumped up in shock. After pacing around your room for a solid five minutes, trying to wrap your mind around it, you finally opened the message.

unknown825: omg tysm TT

hcillusion119: no, thank you :) 

hcillusion119: will you plz choose a date and time?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you considered your options, a thousand scenarios racing through your mind. You could cancel, let someone else, someone braver, take the opportunity. Instead, you found yourself typing.

unknown825: umm, well are you available tonight at 10?

There. You've done it, now there was no turning back.

hcillusion119: yea im available tonight. you're not very patient are you lol? what's your insta so I can call?

unknown825: I just like to get things done. my insta's the same as my user on here.

hcillusion119: ok, did you get my dm?

unknown825: yes, I'll talk to you then.

You barely registered your response before throwing your phone onto the bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it. This was real. It was actually happening. You had less than two hours before the call, and the weight of it started to settle on you. What if you said something dumb? What if your voice shook? What if you just... froze?

The minutes went by slowly, agonizingly. You checked the time over and over, becoming more and more nervous with each glance.

9:45... almost time. You laid down in bed, trying to calm your racing thoughts, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. 

9:59.

You took a deep breath, staring at the screen as you scrolled through Instagram, pretending to distract yourself, but your heart was in your throat.Any moment now, your phone would light up, and you'd hear his voice—this time just for you.

Incoming call from hcillusion119

You took a deep breath, letting it ring for a moment before picking up, the silence so intense you could almost hear a pin drop.

Then his voice broke through.

"Hey."

A chill ran down your spine, sharper than you'd expected. Hearing his voice in your ears felt different this time—more personal, more intimate.

"Hi."

Your voice came out low, almost shy. You sat the phone on your stomach, unsure of what to do with your hands. The awkward smile on your face wasn't helping you feel any less flustered.

"How are you doing today?" he asked, his tone casual but warm.

"I'm good, exhausted. What about you?"

"I'm good too," he replied. "tired as well."

"Why are you tired?" You responded. 

"Well, I just moved... like yesterday, so."

"Oh, cool. Where did you move to?"

"I can't tell you that." he said with a teasing edge to his voice.

"Oh, right... I guess I understand."

The conversation wasn't flowing like you'd imagined. It was awkward. You questioned why you were so nervous in the first place. 

"What's your name?" His voice dropped lower and softer, catching you off guard.

"I can't tell you." you mimicked, trying to match his playful tone.

"Ahh, I see what you're doing. Well unknown825, why are you so tired?"

"I had school and work, so I'm pretty worn down."

"School?" He sounded curious, his tone lighter.

"Yeah, I'm in college. You're not like... an old man right?"

He laughed, the sound soft and genuine.

"No, I'm in college too."

"Oh cool."

Silence fell between you again, the awkward kind that made your heart race for no reason. You didn't want to keep bombarding him with boring questions, but you also didn't want the conversation to just end. Still, you felt that sinking feeling that maybe you should've canceled after all.

"So, what's your favorite audio?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Stress Relief."

"Ah, who would've thought?" He chuckled, his voice dropping an octave. "So you like to be talked through it, huh?"

You hummed in response, turning onto your stomach as you clutched the phone. 

"Do you like being talked through it?" You asked, your tone slightly teasing.

The line went quiet, and for a second, you wondered if you pushed too far, but then you heard him lick his lips, a small noise you wouldn't have caught if you hadn't been listening so intently. 

"Yeah, I do." he admitted, voice deeper now. "Can't help it when I hear a pretty voice like yours."

Your cheeks flushed as a smile crept across your face. "So what are you saying? You want me to talk you through it?"

"I never said that." he interrupted quickly. "Besides, you wouldn't be able to handle it, Miss Stress Relief."

He laughed softly.

"No, you're the one who wouldn't be able to handle it." You shot back, your voice in a mocking tone.

"Are you trying to challenge me?" His tone shifted, there was an edge to it now.

You hummed again, licking your lips before replying. "I never said that,"

You could feel the tension building, the invisible line between the two of you tightening with each word exchanged. You were both teasing each other.

"but I know you want me to." you continued, voice low. "If you asked nicely... maybe I would."

Silence. 

The only thing you could hear was his breathing—slow, but heavy. Even that sounded beautiful, like every part of him was designed to captivate you. You waited, the pressure coiling tighter in the pit of your stomach. Then his voice came again, softer this time.

"Talk me through it."

But there was a command in his tone.

"I said nicely."

There was a pause, and you could almost picture him struggling with the request before he spoke again.

"Ca—Can you please talk me through it?"

"That's more like it." You whispered, smirking. "See what happens when you listen? Now... are your pants down? If they aren't, pull them down."

You waited, hearing the soft rustle of fabric on the other end. He was listening, and the thought made your pulse quicken. Thrill ran through your body, you had never done anything like this before.

"What do you want me to do next?" His voice was quieter now, the assertiveness from before completely gone.

"I want you to touch yourself, but not too fast, okay?"

You paused, waiting for his breathing to change—waiting for him to obey.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yeah." he breathed out, almost as if the word escaped him unintentionally.

"Good. Now, I want you to keep going, but don't finish until I tell you to. Can you handle that?"

There was a pause, his breath quickening. 

"I can handle it." he replied, though his voice wavered just a bit.

"We'll see."

You could feel the heat radiating through the connection, charging the atmosphere around you. His breathing was heavier now, more ragged, each inhalation betraying just how hard he was trying to please you. 

"Tell me how it feels." you encouraged, your voice silky and low. 

"It feels... so good." he stammered, his words interrupted by tiny gasps. "I want you. I want to feel you. I want you here with me." He spoke again.

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulnerability in his tone. The yearning in his voice made you only think about  him—how he sounded, how he felt.

"Touch yourself harder, let me hear you." You whispered. 

He followed your command, his voice becoming strained and desperate Each moan a mix of pleasure with restraint, and you could practically visualize—lost in passion, chasing the edge of that sweet release.

"Are you going faster?" You asked, your heart pounding with anticipation.

"No...  I- I won't until you tell me to." he responded, voice trembling, you could hear the struggle in his words.

"You're such a good boy. You can go faster." You could feel a rush of satisfaction at how he gave himself over to you.

"Fuck." He let out in a breathy moan. You could hear his hand moving faster, driving you to insanity knowing how desperate he was for you.

"Just like that." you murmured. "You want it, don't you?"

He gasped softly, almost pleadingly. "Yes, I want it so bad."

Before you could speak again, he interrupted. "I don't know how much longer I can hold back." His voice full with need.

"You can handle it, right? Well.. that's what you told me." You reminded him, your tone teasing. "Were you lying to me?

"No, but—"  You could hear the struggle in his voice, the way his breaths quickened as he fought against the sensation. 

"Please." A groan reached your ears, confirming your suspicion. "Please, I need—" His voice was whiny, but it was obvious he was trying to keep it in.

"Need what?" you interrupted, a smile on your face. "Permission?" 

"Yes." He responded immediately, his breath rigid. 

"You're close, aren't you?" you teased. "Beg for it. Use that voice and tell me how much you want it."

His breathing became frantic as he pleaded. "I want to cum so badly, please. I can't hold back anymore. I'll do anything you want... just please, let me finish."

You hummed softly, his voice seeping into your ears. His voice was a mix of desperation, coming out in broken gasps. 

"Please... I'm begging you." The urgency in his tone echoed through your mind making you give in.

"Finish for me." You said softly. 

The sound that escaped him was pure ecstasy. His voice melting into a series of gasps and whimpers— loud and desperate, sent shivers through you. 

You wanted to be there, to feel him come undone against you. 

"You did so well." 

"Thank you." he murmured softly, trying to catch his breath, coming down from his high. 

"Well... it's pretty late, I should get going." You spoke. 

"Yeah cool, I understand. Have a good night." He responded, still sounding a bit winded. 

"You too."

And with that you hung up, turning off your phone completely before closing your eyes, drifting to sleep as you thought about what just happened. 

══════════════════════════

A week had passed and you still couldn't shake that night. You didn't know whether to feel disappointed or proud of the night you had with a complete stranger on the internet. It was truly something you had never done before.

Walking into class you noticed an unfamiliar face talking to your professor as you walked to your seat. He was cute, you can admit that, but his sudden appearance already irritated you. You groaned as you saw your professor point your way, and the stranger started walking toward you. Currently you're working on a project that requires a partner. Luckily, you ended up working alone due to the odd number of students, but you could tell that was going to change as he walked towards you.

 Your eyes immediately dropped to your phone, hoping if you pretended not to see him, maybe he would just walk past, but of course you're not that lucky. 

"Hey, I'm Haechan." His voice pulled you from your thoughts. "The professor told me to partner with you for the project."

Your heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. His voice—it was familiar, uncomfortably familiar. You felt a strange chill creep up your spine, but you quickly brushed it off. It couldn't be him, right?

"Hi, I'm Y/n." You replied, your voice coming out more clipped than you intended.

His eyes squinted ever so slightly as he looked at you in silence for a moment.

"Do you know what you're doing, or am I gonna have to teach you?" You didn't mean to speak harshly, but your words came out sharper than expected.

"I know what I'm doing." He answered, his voice low as he took a seat beside you.

You swear your blood ran cold every time you heard him speak. You listened to your fav audio guys voice a lot, you couldn't lie and say that it wasn't almost the same. It made you feel a little weirded out, only making you think of the night even more every time he spoke, but you just tried to ignore it and focus.

"So, we need to do a few things by the end of next week." You spoke. 

He nodded but remained silent, his eyes locked on you in a way that made you feel exposed. His lips parted slightly as he continued to stare. 

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the tension. "I don't like strangers coming in my house, can I come over yours to work when we don't have class?"

"Yes, that works. Can I have your phone so I can give you my number? You know, to keep in touch." He asked.

You nodded in agreement, taking your phone and opening the phone app, handing it to him.

You looked away for one second, expecting him to quickly type in his number, but instead, you saw him swipe across the screen, heading straight for your Instagram.

"What are you doing?" You asked, irritation in your voice as you snatched your phone from him. 

"I was tryna give you my insta like I said." He answered defensively, voice cracking slightly as he stared at you offensively.

"You said number." You replied, narrowing your eyes.

"Well I meant insta." He responded hastily, putting out his hand demandingly. 

"Who do you think you are?" You snapped. "You're going to give me your number, it's way more practical." You handed him the phone again, this time watching him like a hawk as he slowly typed in his number, his eyes darting up at you now and then with that same suspicious glint. 

"See how easy it is when you listen." You grinned, Haechan looking at you with glistening, suspicious eyes as you started typing on your computer.

"Why do you have SoundCloud and Spotify?" He asked suddenly, staring at your phone screen.

"What?" You hummed, not breaking contact from your computer. 

"Why do you have SoundCloud AND Spotify. You only need one music app, right?" He asked, emphasizing his words sassily.

You turned to him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. "Why are YOU so noisy." 

At this point you were clearly irritated and just wanted to get your work done, alone.

"Do you have something to hide?" He asked, leaning a bit closer, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he stared up at you.

You looked into his annoyed before sighing and turning back to your computer.

"I just listen to unreleased music up there, happy?"  He hummed in response, not entirely convinced, but he let it go, turning his attention back to his phone.

"Are you busy tonight? I need to come over so we can discuss a new plan and get started." You didn't break any contact from your computer, typing steadily.

"You're not very patient are you?" He chuckled, scrolling through his phone. 

"I just like to get things done." You responded. 

He looked up from his phone, eyebrow raised as he stared at you suspiciously, as if he heard that line before.

"Yeah, that's fine. Come over at 6pm, I'll text you the address." He answered, looking down at his phone again.

"Ok, now get off your phone and give me your email so we can start working." You said.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes but complied, turning off his phone as he rattled off his email address.

══════════════════════════

You stood at his apartment door, annoyed as no one came to let you in. You turned around, getting ready to leave. The day had already been stressful, and now you were almost at boiling anger.

"Where are you going?"

His voice stopped you in your tracks. You didn't want to turn around, didn't want to acknowledge him—everything in you screamed to leave, but something about his voice pulled you back.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your gaze locking onto his. Haechan stood in the doorway, his frame leaning casually against the doorframe, eyebrows raised as if he hadn't just kept you waiting. 

"What took you so long?" You walked toward him, your tone sharp as you fought to keep your composure.

"I was jerking off." He said sarcastically, a cocky smirk landing on his face as you looked at him with annoyance and disgust.

"Ah!" He yelped suddenly, launching himself toward you in mock attack, his hands making an exaggerated gesture as if he was going to grab you.

"Stop that was disgusting Haechan, what the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?" You asked, voice in obvious irritation. 

He rolled his eyes, moving out the way so you could walk in. "Learn to take a joke." 

Even though you had just got there he was already getting on your nerves. 

You walked into his studio apartment, even though it was small, he made it look quite spacious and comfortable. His room was quite dark, purple and blue led lights surrounding his desk that sat next to his messily made bed, the atmosphere felt almost... intimate.

"It's so dark and scary in here." You joked trying to shake off your earlier discomfort, setting down your belongings and taking a seat on his bed.

Haechan said nothing, his face unreadable as he sat down in his desk chair, spinning it slightly to face you.

"So, why do you have a big microphone and a gaming headset?" you asked, pointing to the equipment scattered across his desk.

He looked at you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tightening. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... why the big setup?  You recording something? Streaming? Or... something else?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze darting to the microphone and then to the floor. "I just like good audio." He muttered defensively.

"Good audio for what?"

For a moment, he said nothing, only licking his lips as if buying time. 

"Huh?" You spoke in a mocking tone, raising your eyebrows as you looked at him. "You can't answer?"

"God, why are you so noisy geez." He spoke defensively,  getting up from his chair and snatching the cord from the computer, grabbing the microphone, throwing it in a drawer with more force than necessary.

"Oh, so when you ask questions I'm supposed to just answer, but when I ask you it's different?" You stood up, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

"Yes." He crossed his arms too, mimicking you with a smug expression.

"Do you have something to hide Haechan?" You asked softly, inching closer to him, his sparkling eyes looking into yours as you moved closer.

"Ha, no." He chuckled lightly, though it came out shaky, his shoulders stiffening as he backed up against the desk, knocking into it with a soft thud.

 "Shit." He whispered, turning around quickly, scrambling to pick up all the items that fell, growing startled as he turned back around to see you standing in front of him.

"Why are you so nervous Haechan?" You murmured faintly, your voice drifting into his ears, making his mind race.

"I'm- I'm not" His voice cracked, betraying him as he forced out a chuckle, but it died quickly.

"You sure about that?" you whispered, leaning in just a bit more, your eyes locked on his. You could practically feel his pulse as it quickened at the base of his neck.

His eyes flickered down to your lips before darting back up.

"You act like you're so tough, like you got everything figured out, but here you are, all jumpy and flustered." You teased.

Haechan let out a slow breath, his hands grabbing the edge of his desk, trying to hold himself up. "You think you know me?" His voice was low, barely more than a growl as he tried to regain control of the situation.

You smirked, backing up just a little, giving him space to breathe. "I'm starting to get the picture."

He stood there, silent for a moment, watching you with wary eyes. The tension between you was heavy, but before either of you could say anything more, his phone buzzed on the desk.

He glanced at the screen, then back at you, something unreadable passing over his face. "You gonna stay and work, or you leaving?"

"Let's just get this done." You said, taking a deep breath, breaking eye contact as you turned toward the bed.  

The room felt different now, charged with something unsaid. You settled back onto the bed, pulling your laptop onto your lap, feeling Haechan's gaze on you. 

"Hurry up and pull out your laptop. I don't wanna be here all night." You spoke, turning to him.

His tongue grazed the inside of his mouth as he looked at you with irritated eyes. "Ok." 

══════════════════════════

It had been over a month since you and Haechan have become friends, and you could say that he was bearable now— ok, you were kinda in love with him. How could you not be? His witty personalty, his face, his voice it was hard to not fall for him, especially when you saw him everyday. You and him were always together, hanging out mostly everyday, even after the project, so it wasn't a surprise when you got a text from him. 

hey, can you come over im boreddd? 

yeah 

doors unlocked, just come in.

ok

"Welcome home." He joked as you walked in. 

You smiled, setting down your stuff at the door, removing your shoes to join him on the bed. He was wearing his signature outfit, a black shirt and gray sweatpants—thick frames sitting on his face, his black hair messily in a middle part.

"So what do you want to do?" He asked, turning to you.

"I don't know Haechan you invited me over." You responded, scrolling on your phone. 

"Let's just watch a movie." He said.

You nodded in response, prompting him to get up to grab some snacks. 

Your eyes scanned the room, stopping at his computer. Soundcloud was wide open, the screen pretty much screaming for your attention, and there you saw a familiar banner. 

"What chips do you want." He asked, looking over to you, noticing you staring at the computer. You broke contact with the computer, looking at him, still a little taken aback. 

"Uh, it- it doesn't matter." You said, looking back at the computer subconsciously. His eyes joined yours, staring at the computer screen then back into yours. 

"Oh oops, is it too bright?" He asked, walking over to his desk and exiting out of the tab, turning down the computer brightness. 

"Yea thanks." You giggled, turning back to look at your phone. 

Your head flooded a thousand thoughts. 

Ok, you could be overreacting and he could just be a pervert like you and you both happened to listen to the same guy, or it could be something he just stumbled across, but everything lined up so perfectly. 

You turned the phone away from him, turning down your brightness as you opened Soundcloud. You went straight to his profile and the banner was obviously the same, no denying that, but you looked around the account for more hints. You couldn't find anything else, it's not like you could ask him anyways, right? 

You were about to give up, but you took another good look at the profile, his banner catching your attention. You sat examining the username that was in the center 'hcillusion119." What could that mean? 

"Hey Haechan."

"What?" He turned to look at you. 

"If you had to choose a number what would it be? Make it in the hundreds." 

"I don't know, maybe one hundred and nineteen."

Your eyes widened as you stared at your phone. No way...

"What are your initials again?" You asked, looking at your phone.

"LDH, Why?" He asked.

"Huh, where did the D come from?" You turned to him with questioning eyes. 

"That's my real name Y/n. My other initials are LHC, Why are you asking?" He answered with a snarky tone. 

You sat staring at him for a second, the user name replaying over and over again in your mind. That was it— the hc stood for Haechan. Of course he would choose a name like that: 'Haechan Illusion 119', it was right in front of your face. 

"I have to go to the bathroom, take a second to get back normal because you're acting weird." He said, interrupting your thoughts.

You turned to him nodding, going back on your phone like there wasn't a care in the world. You sat there waiting patiently for the bathroom door to shut and lock, waiting a few seconds before sprinting up, taking a seat in his computer chair. 

Thankfully, he didn't lock the computer, so you could easily access everything. You turned the brightness up and quickly typed in the website, before you even typed in the whole word it came up. You clicked on it, and there it was— that banner, those audios, and a 'edit' button. 

Your eyes widened, you always had a feeling that it was him, especially when you heard his voice, but something was telling you that it was too good to be true— this explained everything. 

The microphone, why he was persistently trying to get into your insta, why he asked about Soundcloud on your phone, everything was piecing together. You quickly typed instagram on the search bar, praying that it was logged in, and thank goodness it was. You went straight to his dms, a whole bunch of randoms of course, but then you saw it: 'unknown825'. You sat still for a second, staring at your username, clicking on it. You laughed to yourself quietly, you didn't know whether to feel relived, nervous, or...

"It's you, isn't it?" he said from behind you, startling you. 

You turned around, heart racing. "I- um-" You stuttered, locking eyes with him, still sitting in the chair as he drifted towards you.

"You know, the first day we met in class I had a feeling it was you, but I didn't wanna jump to conclusions— goodness you looked like you were about to fall apart every time I spoke though, how could I not get suspicious?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about Haechan." Your response came out a little less convincing than you thought. 

"I tried to get into your insta, but there was nothing. I looked on your computer, nothing as well. Soundcloud? logged out. God you're good at hiding this." He inched closer and closer to you, your breathing getting heavier with every step. 

"I couldn't just ask, expose what I do if it wasn't you. You thought the same thing too right, wanted to ask, but you couldn't? You had nothing to lose regardless, but I took you for one of those kind of girls— the kind that acts all innocent in front of everyone, but has a deeper, dirtier secret that you're hiding." His voice was seductive, yet mocking as well, you cant say that it didn't hurt your ego a little to spoken to like a little slut who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. 

"What, the cat got your tongue? What happened to you being so dominant?" He teased, sitting on his bed next to the chair, grabbing the arm rest and turning you to face him. 

"You know, if you're wrong then you look like a fucking idiot." You scoffed.

You tried to make yourself sound as convincing and possible, tried to make the situation seem like it didn't bother you, but honestly you were a little uptight about it. It's all fun and games when it's on the phone and you could just block each other and not talk ever again, but in person it was so much more.

"There she is, the Y/n I know and love. You know, I've waited for this moment. The moment where you would finally be so fucking desperate to know if it was me, been waiting for you to go through my stuff. You wouldn't do it though, surprisingly, so I just gave you a little push." He smiled, placing his hand on your knee. 

You shoved his hand off of you. "What are you talking about, gave me a little push?" You asked, giving him questioning eyes.

"You think I would just keep Soundcloud wide open on my computer Y/n, be serious? I thought you were smarter than that." He smiled cockily, titling his head as you looked deeply into his eyes.

It was a setup. He set this whole thing up to catch you on purpose, and you fell right into his fucking trap. 

"You're despicable. You did it, you caught me... now what?" You asked, leaning back in the chair, crossing your arms.

He took a look at the computer that was behind you, pointing to it, prompting you to look. You can't lie and say that you and hcillusion119, well, Haechan didn't do this call thing often, and that's exactly what he was hinting at— the call that took place two days ago. 

"Remember what you said we would do if we were together, what you would do to me?" He asked, his sweet, desperate voice melting your brain like ice cream on a hot summer day. 

"No Haechan, I don't remember."

Of course, you remembered. How could you forget? Every late night conversation was carved into your mind. Each call felt like an escape, an intimate secret between just the two of you, leaving you aching for more. Now, the weight of his presence made it impossible to deny your own desires. You were curious...no, desperate to know if what you shared over the phone would be even more intoxicating in person.

"Let me remind you... please?" he whined, his voice tugging at something deep within you. He leaned down, his hand trembling slightly as he grabbed yours, guiding it to his cheek. The warmth of his skin sent shivers through your body, and without thinking, your thumb began to gently stroke his face.

His eyes closed as he leaned into your touch, his breath coming out in shaky sighs. "I'll be your good boy." he whispered, barely audible.

Your heart raced, the thrill of finally having him in front of you, not just a voice through a phone but real, and within reach. You could see the way his lips parted slightly, the rise and fall of his chest. It felt good to finally be close, to finally have him like this.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly withdrew your hand from his cheek. His eyes snapping open, filled with need, searching your face as you got up from your seat. His gaze followed you, not wanting to  even be an inch away from you.

"Go to the headboard." You murmured softly.

Haechan reacted instantly, rushing to the head of the bed, pressing his back firmly against the headboard. He adjusted his glasses, his lips slightly parted, eyes locked onto yours.

You crawled onto the bed, your movements slow. His breath hitched as you came wanting more, needing you. You reached him, your body hovering just above his, your fingers grazing the side of his face again.

"Tell me," you whispered, leaning in close enough for your breath to ghost over his lips. "what did I say I was gonna do?"

His eyes sparkled, you could see him unraveling, caught in the web of everything you had both imagined during those late nights. You both knew that you imagined each other's faces on those calls after you met in person for the first time, and now it was all a reality. 

“You said... you'd make me beg." His voice was a trembling whisper

"So beg me." You whispered, your voice soft, lips brushing against his ear, sending a wave of heat through him.

You felt him tense under your fingertips. His eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto yours with a desperation that made your heart pound. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, voice small, almost a whimper.

You smiled at the sight of him completely undone in front of you. You slowly lifted his glasses up onto his forehead, pushing the messy strands of his hair away from his face. Your fingers lightly grazed his skin, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

"That's not how you ask." You teased, your voice low as you leaned in closer, just enough for your lips to brush his, but not meet fully.

He let out a shaky breath, his body trembling with need. "Please... Can I please kiss you Y/n? I need you," he breathed, his voice barely holding together. "I want your lips on mine so bad."

Your smile deepened as you leaned in, teasingly grazing your lips against his again, just barely. His lips parted, waiting for you to close the gap, but you pulled back, watching as frustration and longing flooded his expression. He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Please." He whispered.

You finally gave in, pressing your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss. The moment your lips met, it was like something electric passed between you both. The kiss deepened as his lips moved urgently against yours, tongues tangling together as if you were both trying to consume each other, neither wanting to pull away. You melted into him, your body pressing closer.

The kiss broke only when you both needed air, both of you gasping as you parted. Haechan's lips were swollen, his breath shallow, his chest heaving as he stared at you, his eyes filled with lust.

"Can I touch you?" He whispered, his voice needy.

You nodded, your heart racing even faster as he shifted you higher in his lap, his hands trailing slowly, up your sides. His fingers caressed your skin through your clothes and you felt his breath hitch as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin softly at first, then harder.

His lips moved down, sucking and biting gently at your skin, leaving marks. His hands explored your body, grabbing, squeezing, and pulling you closer, his touch growing more possessive with every second. His hips moved beneath you, the friction of his lap against you sending waves of heat pooling in your stomach. You gasped as he rocked you back and forth, grinding you against him.

Small, breathy moans escaped your lips as his mouth moved from your neck, traveling down to your collarbone, where he kissed and nipped at your skin, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips firmly and guiding your movements against him.

"Fuck... feels so good." He whimpered, his voice strained as he broke away from your skin, his head falling back against the headboard. His eyes were half lidded as he watched you move.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned, his body reacting to every touch, every movement. His grip on your waist tightened, and you felt him twitch beneath you as he pulled you even closer, his hips bucking up against you.

"God Y/n." He whispered breathlessly, lips finding yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn't get enough of you.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I wanna taste you." He desperately spoke, looking at you with begging eyes.

Your fingers slid through his hair as you watched him, his breath quickening, his hands resting on your hips. He was desperate for your permission.

"I wanna taste you." He repeated. He was looking up at you, his lips parted, pleading. "Please Y/n... I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

You let out a soft hum, your fingers tracing along his jaw, watching as his body visibly tensed, waiting for your response. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He was completely under your control, willing to do anything you asked.

"You'll do exactly what I want?" You whispered, your thumb grazing over his cheek as you leaned closer, teasing him with the lightest touch. He swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

"Yes—yes." He breathed, his voice barely holding together. His eyes were wide, shimmering with anticipation, his grip on your hips tightening, almost as if he were afraid you'd pull away. "Please, just let me. I'll make you feel so good Y/n, I swear."

Your lips curved into a small smile as you stroked the side of his head, leaning in just enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath. "Then go ahead baby. Make me feel good."

The moment the words left your mouth, his eyes lit up. Without wasting another second, he gently pushed you onto your back, his hands moving with urgency as he pulled down your pants and underwear in one motion.

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto you with awe, like he was seeing something he had dreamed about for far too long. His hands traced along your thighs, and you could feel the faint trembling in his fingers as he spread your legs, positioning himself between them. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly as he let out a soft exhale, his breath warm against your skin.

"You're... perfect." He murmured, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, his lips brushing your inner thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You could feel his desire, his need to please you.

Slowly, he began kissing his way up your thighs, his lips trailing delicately. Every kiss sent a spark of heat through your body, and you could feel your pulse quicken as he got closer and closer to where you wanted him most. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his breath fanned over your core.

"Fuck..." he groaned, his voice low. You could feel the restraint in his body as he tried to hold himself back. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you saw nothing but hunger in them.

"You're so beautiful Y/n." He whispered before lowering his head between your legs, finally giving you what you'd been waiting for.

The first touch of his tongue against you was slow, he was savoring the taste of you. He let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands held your thighs apart, his grip possessive but gentle as he worked his tongue in slow, sensual strokes.

"Oh my god." You moaned out, your hands tangling in his hair as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue moving with more urgency now. He flicked his tongue against your clit, earning a gasped out of you, your back arching off the bed as he sucked lightly, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Haechan groaned against you, the vibrations from his voice adding to the sensation, and you could feel his desperation growing with every second. He was completely lost in you, every lick, every suck more intense than the last. His hands slid up your thighs, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue moving faster, more eagerly.

Your breaths came out in shallow gasps, your body trembling beneath his touch, and you could feel the heat building in your core, your stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue.

"Haechan... fuck." You whimpered, your grip tightening in his hair as he continued to work his mouth against you.

"Please Y/n, I want you to come for me." He groaned against your skin, his voice filled with desire. His tongue moved faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "I need you."

You cried out, your entire body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you, your grip tightening in his hair as you rode out your high, legs shaking. Haechan didn't stop, his mouth still working against you, drawing out your orgasm. 

Finally, he pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes filled with satisfaction as he looked up at you.

"Did I do good?" He asked softly, his voice still breathless, his eyes searching yours. 

"Mhm." You hummed, your fingers gently stroking his cheek brushing away a few strands of hair. "You did so good for me." 

He smiled in response, leaning in to take your lips into a kiss.

Somehow, it was more passionate than the last. You two devoured each other, tongues tangling, your body heating up as you felt Haechan grind against you, trying to feel some type of friction.

"Fuck, I need to feel you... can I please feel you Y/n?" He whispered, his breath tickling your earlobe.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his. "Do you think you deserve it?" You asked teasingly.

His eyes locked onto yours. "I do... please, let me feel you." He pleaded.

You couldn't resist the sincerity in his eyes. With a playful smirk, you gestured for him to adjust, his back pressing against the headboard as anticipation swirled between you.

"If you think you deserve it, then take off your pants." you instructed, your voice firm yet inviting.

His eyes widened like he was in a dream.  Without hesitation, he slid down his pants, exposing his readiness to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Of course you're not wearing underwear." You laughed, crawling into his lap, his eyes filled with  excitement and shyness. 

"You're so fucking dirty." You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair, drawing a soft moan from him as you gave a gentle tug.

His glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose, but he seemed unconcerned, his attention solely on you. Any other time he would've voiced a rebuttal to your comment, but he needed you so bad he couldn't even find the words.

"Please." He murmured desperately.

Slowly, you adjusted yourself, guiding him to your entrance. Both of you moaned as you took him in, inch by inch, until he was fully in you.

He threw his head back against the headboard, overwhelmed by the sensation of your warmth surrounding him as you moved. "Fuck." he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening.

"What, can you not handle it?" You teased.

"I—" He tried to speak before it was cut off by a small moan escaping as you pulled him deeper. "Can I move you?" He asked.

A soft nod was all he needed. His hands found your hips, guiding you, lifting you in a rhythm that soon had him whimpering your name, his movements becoming more desperate as your heat wrapped around him.

He had dreamed of this moment—the chance to feel you, and it was everything he'd imagined and more. "Fuck, feels so good." He whimpered.

His pace quickened, driven by your shared need, each whimper and sigh from you encouraging him to go deeper, faster.

"Fuck Haechan, you're so big." You moaned out, the words shooting straight to his pelvis. 

"Are you gonna be good for me and cum?" you whispered into his ear, your words sending a shiver of pleasure through his body.

"Yes, fuck, I'll be good for you." He moaned out, overwhelmed by the sensations pushing him closer to the edge. His glasses fogged with each heated breath.

His movements grew messy, each thrust sending him closer to the edge, you tightening around him.

"Fuck, gonna—cum.” He gasped, his body trembling beneath you.

"Cum for me, I'm almost there." You said, your stomach tightening as he hit your g-spot.

"Feels so good." He whimpered, the feeling of you clenching around him making him go almost insane. 

"Fuck— gotta pull out." He could barely get the words out, eyes squeezed shut, he felt dizzy. Even though his mouth said one thing, his hands kept moving you, keeping himself deep inside you.

"It's okay baby, fill me up." You moaned, the permission tipping him over the edge.

"Fuck I'm coming." He let out a choked whimper, finding his release, filling you full of his seed. His hands covered his mouth as he tried to hold in the cries that wanted to be let out. 

"Uncover your mouth."  You spoke, wanting to hear every precious sound he made, reaching your high shortly after. 

His hands fell away, gripping the sheets to ground himself. His moans turned into cries of pleasure as he twitched beneath you, riding out the last waves of pleasure together. 

"Shit." You said breathless, exhausted and satisfied, your head resting in the crook of his neck, your shared breath slowing to a gentle rhythm.

"Look at what you do to me." He muttered, obviously still winded.

"Look at what you do to me"  You said, gently cupping his face, smiling as you took in the mess you both became—his glasses fogged beyond use. 

He smiled lazily, resting his head on the head board as he let out a satisfied sigh, closing his eyes.

[dakusan]

H O W S K Z T E X T W H E N … T H E Y ’ R E D R U N K

stray kids ot8 x reader | drunk texting, emotional whiplash, chaotic flirtation, love at 2AM

🌙 synopsis: They said they wouldn’t get that drunk. They got that drunk. Somewhere between the third shot and their thumb hovering over your name, they forgot how to act normal. They text like it’s a confession booth. They voice memo like it’s their last voicemail. Some of them send “u up?” with a smile. Some send “i miss u” with a death grip on denial. And some…? Just wanna draw you asleep and call it art. This isn’t just drunk texting. It’s SKZ being hopelessly, tipsily, embarrassingly into you. Soft boys. Unfiltered feelings. Typos that say too much. Welcome to the inbox you dream about getting.

💌 a/n: hi. yes. it’s me. Sunday softdrops baby. i blacked out and woke up in a google doc full of emotionally unstable drunk men with fluffy hair and no texting filter. did i write han’s entire section from personal experience? maybe. did jeongin flirt with me through my own writing? also maybe. am i okay? no. but it’s fine. 🫠 thank u for reading my little brainrot. u deserve a drunk text from your bias tonight. or at least a meme and a forehead selfie. p.s. reblogs = aftercare 🥺 p.p.s. if you read this and didn’t feel something, check your pulse babe. p.p.p.s. omg it took me longer to make that fucking banner than it did to write this entire post i’m losing my mind 💀 pls validate me it’s cute right

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the dividers

🎶 Now Playing: "Love Scenario" — IKON

Bang Chan // 방찬 ✨ The “Accidental Soulmate Confessor” Emotional | Heartfelt | Always just one beer away from writing you a wedding vow | Thinks he’s texting normally — he’s absolutely not.

[2:04AM] u kno ur the best thing that ever happened to me right [2:05AM] like not just in a 😚❤️ way but in a 🌎☁️🌟💍 way [2:07AM] am i spelling good? is this good spelling? [2:08AM] imma write u a song rn brb need to find my mic. love u. (You later receive a 32-second voice memo of him singing about your eyelashes before snoring kicks in.)

📱 Text style: Long heartfelt paragraphs cut into chaotic line breaks. One (1) existential crisis per text chain.

🥂 Drunk vibe: A soft ball of love. Tears up mid-sentence. Thinks about forever while holding his water bottle like it’s a mic.

💿 Aesthetic: Hoodie sleeves over his hands, star projector spinning, acoustic lo-fi playing, and the word “love” typed and retyped 12 times.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Two whiskey highballs and half a glass of wine he didn’t mean to drink that fast.

Lee Know // 리노 😤 The “Angry-That-He-Misses-You” Drunk Tsundere | Bluntly Flirty | Lowkey Clingy | Mad that you make his heart soft

[1:47AM] don t get used to this i m n ot cute i jst miss ur dumb face [1:48AM] ur the only person i wldnt throw a slipper at. tha means smthing [1:49AM] “come over so i can insult u in person 🐱🖤 (Follows with a blurry selfie in your hoodie: “it doesn t smell like u anymore fix it”)

📱 Text style: Aggressively incorrect spelling + love disguised as threats.

🥂 Drunk vibe: Angry at feelings. Loudly defensive. Will call you annoying then stare at your contact photo for 10 minutes.

💿 Aesthetic: One earbud in, black hoodie pulled tight, cat curled on his lap, 2 unread messages from you he pretends not to obsess over.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Soju bombs and a shot he claimed he didn’t like but still asked for another.

Changbin // 창빈 💪 The “Buff Romantic” Loudly Affectionate | Jealous in a Healthy Way™ | Protective Softie | Wants to fight your sadness and win

[12:33AM] LISTEN i don’t say it enough but UR 🔥 and funny and i wanna squish ur cheeks [12:35AM] also i think i saw a guy look at u once and i didn’t like it i think i’m jealous?? [12:37AM] but like in a healthy communicative way😤💕 (Sends 12 progressively zoomed selfies of his forehead.)

📱 Text style: Caps lock + muscle emojis + randomly tender confessions

🥂 Drunk vibe: 50% flirt, 50% hype man. Will body slam your insecurities if given the chance.

💿 Aesthetic: Heavy chain necklace, Spotify on sad R&B, heart-shaped Post-its on his gym mirror, three selfies in your messages before you even respond.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Tequila shots and one suspicious pink drink the bartender dared him to finish.

Hyunjin // 현진 🎭 The “Poetic and Probably Crying” Drunk Hopeless Romantic | Art Boy Delusions | Will write you a sonnet and cry while doing it | Thinks your hand is a masterpiece

[1:11AM] i saw a moon tonight and thought it was u [1:12AM] no wait it was a streetlamp but i still meant it [1:13AM] ur hands r my fav shape [1:15AM] can i draw u asleep? not in a creepy way. ok maybe in a little way. (Sends a blurry sketchbook page that just says “pretty” written over and over.)

📱 Text style: All lowercase. No punctuation. A poem in disguise.

🥂 Drunk vibe: Gazes out the window with a single tear. Dramatically clutches his chest while texting you you’re “divine.”

💿 Aesthetic: Scented candles, sketchbook covered in flowers, red wine stains on notebook paper, whispered voice notes that make your heart ache.

🍷 What he got drunk on: One bottle of red wine, a playlist titled “tragically yours,” and exactly one bite of cheese.

Han // 한 🌀 The “Unhinged Meme Lord with Accidental Feelings” Chaotic Neutral | Otter Memes + Unplanned Confessions | Panic Texts | Actually Madly in Love

[2:55AM] i just rememebred u like otters. here’s an otter. also me when u smile 🦦🫠🫶 [2:58AM] how do i send a pizza to ur house without knowing ur address?? wait nvm i do know it. im smart. genius. [3:00AM] ok but like... i love u. oh no i pressed send wait nO (Follows up with: “jk unless??? 😳”)

📱 Text style: Meme. Confession. Apology. Repeat.

🥂 Drunk vibe: Flirting through chaos. Will quote SpongeBob and then cry because “you’re the only one who gets him.”

💿 Aesthetic: Hoodie up, random snacks around his desk, YouTube playing a conspiracy video in the background, one hand hovering over the delete button.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Soju + cider mix, three jello shots, and something called “angry peach tornado” from a sketchy bar.

Felix // 필릭스 🌻 The “Sunshine Becomes Liquid Gold” Drunk Emotionally Soft | Hug Dispenser™ | Cries Because He Loves You Too Much | Wants to tuck you in spiritually

[11:45PM] hiii 💛 just want u 2 kno ur like my fav person ever like ever ever ever [11:46PM] u ever seen a star and been like wow that’s them?? bc that’s me rn with u [11:48PM] sending hugs via telepathy did u get it?? 🫂☁️💫 (Includes a 3-second voice note: “hiiiiiii... ur cute. ok bye.” followed by a giggle.)

📱 Text style: Stream of consciousness kindness + giggles in voice memos

🥂 Drunk vibe: Becomes 100x more affectionate. Holds your hand tighter. Cries over how lucky he is to know you.

💿 Aesthetic: Lavender candle burning, soft knit sweater, arms wrapped around a pillow, 7 open tabs of photos he wants to send but thinks “are too much.”

🍷 What he got drunk on: Sparkling rosé and one (1) baby bottle of peach soju. He got tipsy halfway through dessert.

Seungmin // 승민 😐 The “Denial But Obsessed” Drunk Pretends He’s Sober | Insults You Lovingly | Texts Like He’s Not in Love (But He Is) | Regrets Everything the Next Day

[12:12AM] i’m not even drunk lol u just looked really nice in that one outfit from last week [12:13AM] don’t let it go to ur head. average. 6/10. ok fine 11/10. whatever. [12:15AM] if i die tonight tell my dog i loved u more (Next day: “that wasn’t me. i was hacked.”)

📱 Text style: Passive-aggressive flirts + “idc but here’s my heart” energy

🥂 Drunk vibe: Thinks he’s subtle. Is actually fully feral. Will send “you up?” but claim it was a typo.

💿 Aesthetic: Glass of wine untouched, sarcasm layered over panic, piano keys he’ll pretend he doesn’t play when thinking of you.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Expensive red wine he “hates” but keeps sipping like it’s vengeance. Also maybe a whisky cola he didn’t finish.

I.n // 아이엔 🍓 The “Too-Sober-to-Be-This-Flirty” Drunk Composed | Mischievous | Knows EXACTLY What He’s Doing | Flirts with a smirk you can feel through the screen

[10:44PM] not drunk just thinkin. bout u. in that outfit from last week lol [10:46PM] r u free rn or should i keep pretending i don’t wanna kiss u [10:49PM] missed my stop btw. not bc of u. but also yes. entirely bc of u. (Sends a photo of his shoes and says: “u could be in front of these rn just say the word”)

📱 Text style: Quiet confidence + emotional landmines disguised as jokes

🥂 Drunk vibe: Barely tipsy. Still 100% in control. Uses texting as a weapon and you never see it coming.

💿 Aesthetic: Glossy lips, streetlight reflecting on his rings, late train ride, voice memo he replayed twice before hitting send.

🍷 What he got drunk on: Soju + soda with ice and a lemon wedge. He’s classy. He’s dangerous. He drank it slow just to mess with you.

[kajibunny]

✶⋆.˚꩜ it's not what it looks like, i swear!˙⋆✶ w/ the wind breaker boys

✿ featuring: haruka sakura, ren kaji, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, toma hiragi (first time writing for hiragi! yipeee) ✿ contains: suggestive dialogues, crack, mutual pining, some established relationship, a lil bit of fluff ✿ a/n: heads up, please do not read this while drinking coffee because you’ll probably end up like sakura in the banner ( ≧ᗜ≦)  ✿ wc: 2.4k

— what happens when perfectly innocent scenarios with them turn suggestive once they are taken out of context? well, you're about to find out one way or another. 

ʚɞ kaji -

how did you two end up in this position?

kaji was sprawled on top of you, his hands braced on either side of your head with his knees straddling your legs. his face was so close that you could feel his breath against your skin, your cheeks burning pink as his eyes locked with yours.

"kaji, you were supposed to be chasing the cat, not me!" you exclaimed, feeling the heat rise up your cheeks. 

"you were in the way." kaji responded, with a frustrated sigh.

"you were the one who knocked me over!" you shot back at him.

he tried to move aside, but the way your breath hitched, your lips parted and your cute face so flushed left him momentarily frozen.

when you offered to help kaji find risa-chan, you had no idea how things would spiral. chasing the cat with the pink ribbon felt like trying to catch a bolt of lightning. 

as you both darted around in pursuit, kaji eventually found her on a bush and made a desperate lunge to grab the elusive feline. instead, he ended up accidentally colliding into you, sending you both tumbling into an unexpectedly intimate position.

"kaji! that’s not the cat you’rrre supposed to be chasing! arrre you two fooling arrround with each otherrr now?" enomoto’s voice rang out, breaking the spell. beside him was kusumi who covered his eyes with his hands—though the gap between his fingers betrayed his curiosity.

"we weren't—"

"this isn't—"

neither you nor kaji could find the words to explain how you two ended up like this, tangled up and breathless, both of you too flustered to speak. 

finally, kaji regained composure and got up, dusting off his clothes before offering you a hand, still refusing to meet your gaze as you took his outstretched hand to pull yourself up. you two continued your search without uttering a word to one another. 

although, the way kaji fiddled with his lollipop and hurriedly put on his headphones while turning his blushing face away everytime he saw you spoke volumes. why did you have to look so adorable in that vulnerable position? 

kaji did end up catching something else that day, and it was feelings of undeniable romantic attraction for you.

ʚɞ umemiya -

"there, there, let me put it in, i'll a be a bit more gentle this time, okay?" umemiya said, his voice calm and reassuring. "oh no, it won't go in." you exhaled in frustration. 

"ah, it's because your hole is too tight." he said with a slight grin. "what? i-i thought maybe it was just too big to fit in my hole." you replied, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. 

"don't worry, i've got you. i'll help you ease it in - there we go, nice and deep, just like that." umemiya groaned softly as he helped you lift and position the pots in their rightful place. 

"you're so good at this, ume!" you praised him, giving umemiya a pat on the back, your eyes lighting up in admiration as he gave you a wide, proud smile.

gardening together with umemiya was definitely hot. literally. the sun beaming down on you both, with little shade to protect your skin from the heat. 

as you wiped the sweat from your forehead, you wondered how he managed to convince you to be his gardening assistant for the day. maybe it was his irresistable charm, or that infectious smile. 

either way, you were here now, knee-deep in dirt, struggling to transport seedlings - a task that was proving to be far more challenging than you anticipated.

meanwhile, the tamon squad had gathered outside the rooftop garden, their faces flustered as they listened in on your conversation.

"are they-?" nirei whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. 

"but...on the rooftop of all places?" kiryu added, equally shocked. 

"what are they doing, it sounds so-" sakura began, but hiragi cut him off. "okay, that's enough. everybody back to patrol-" hiragi declared, but then the weight of everyone leaning on the rooftop door caused it to whip open.

they all accidentally burst into the garden, only to be met by the sight of you and umemiya...calmly arranging pots. nothing more, nothing less. 

oh, so that's what it's about. the tightness, and the holes, and the depth. it all made sense now.

suo bent forward and whispered to both of you: "sorry, we kind of misunderstood and thought you two were doing something else up here." 

you and umemiya exchanged confused glances with flushed faces, completely oblivious to what they were insinuating. 

upon looking back and gaining realization of what you and umemiya might have sounded like to them, your only wish was to be a transported seedling buried beneath the soil of umemiya's garden.

ʚɞ sakura -

you pressed the back of your hand against sakura’s forehead, feeling the unmistakable heat radiating from his skin. "you’re burning up, sakura." you murmured, in a concerned tone.

he tried to brush it off, his cheeks faintly flushed. "what are you talking about!? i’m fine...!" he protested, but his hoarse voice betrayed him.

you shook your head, a determined look in your eyes. "take off your top."

sakura’s eyes shot wide open. "w-what? no! why are you trying to undress me?!"

you stifled a laugh, and tried to ease him. "to give you a sponge bath, silly. don't worry, i'm used to taking care of sick people. it'll help lower your temperature."

despite his protests, he eventually allowed you to help, his face burning brighter as you carefully sponged his fevered skin, your touch both soothing and embarrassing him.

when dinner time rolled around, you placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. "here, umemiya gave me the recipe. it's his special soup!"

sakura, still flustered from earlier, reached for the bowl with shaky hands, but you gently stopped him.

"say ah." you instructed, holding a spoonful of soup close to his lips.

his eyes widened again, his voice shaky. "w-what are you trying to do this time?"

you tilted your head. "you’re too weak to hold the spoon, sakura. let me take care of you." you smiled gently at him.

"i’m...i’m fine!" he insisted, his face a mix of embarrassment and defiance.

you leaned in closer. "sakura, let me do this for you. i’m not taking no for an answer." 

he eventually reluctantly opened his mouth, allowing you to feed him. this feeling was all so foreign to him, as no one ever tried to care of him like this. 

however, the real challenge came when it was time for him to take his medicine. sakura outright refused, turning his head away with a stubborn glare.

"be a good boy and take it." you insisted, holding the medicine out to him.

"no way." he muttered, crossing his arms defiantly.

a sigh escaped your lips. "sakura, don’t make me give it to you by force."

his eyes widened for a moment at your insinuation, but he still refused to budge. so, with a determined look, you gently pushed him back onto the bed, pinning him down.

"open your mouth." you commanded, in a firm voice.

sakura’s blush deepened as he squirmed beneath you. he hesitantly opened his mouth, allowing you to administer the medicine, his cheeks burning with both the fever and the flurry of emotions he couldn’t quite name along with the intrusive thoughts running in his mind.

as he finally swallowed, you wiped a stray drop from his lips and smiled softly. "see? that wasn’t so bad."

but instead of cooling down, you noticed sakura’s face was only getting redder, his body temperature seemingly rising even higher. you frowned, pressing your hand against his forehead again.

"hm, strange. this medicine is supposed to lower your temperature...why are you heating up even more?" you murmured.

sakura turned his head away, hiding his flushed face in the pillow, his voice barely above a whisper. "i-i don’t know either..."

you couldn’t help but wonder what was really causing his temperature to spike. maybe the medicine just needed more time...or maybe it had nothing to do with the fever at all.

ʚɞ togame -

you had asked togame to teach you self-defense, and who better to learn from than togame himself, shishitoren's second-in-command, whose fighting style was totally unpredictable, and could knock a dozen opponents to the ground.

it took a lot of convincing, but eventually, he agreed once you promised him you'll buy him a whole crate of ramune. it also didn't help that you threw him puppy eyes and a pleading face that even the togame jo himself is not immune to.

during your sparring sessions, togame tried his best to go easy on you, since he didn't want to hurt you, but you told him you wanted him to go full-force. 

"is that all you’ve got?" you teased, dodging another swipe from togame.

"nah, i’m just getting started." he shot back, as he lunged at you. you barely had time to react before togame grabbed your wrist, pulling you down onto the floor. you twisted away, but togame was quicker, pinning you beneath him.

"got you now." togame says, his voice low, leaning in close as you struggled under him, his weight pressing down just enough to keep you in place, the warmth of his body making your breath hitch.

"not yet, you don’t." you countered, managing to free one of your arms. with a swift motion, you flipped togame onto his back, your faces being inches apart, as you could see the evident blush on his face from being too close to you. 

his hands found your waist, holding you in place as you both caught your breath.

anyone who caught you two in that position would have thought you were fighting for dominance in a different sense.  

"okay, you win." he chuckled, togame's eyes looking directly into yours. "but only because i let you."

"oh, really?" you replied, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. "i think you just like being in this position."

he blinked, the room and your faces suddenly feeling warmer as your words sunk in. before he could respond, you leaned in slightly, bringing his face even closer to yours, the air between you thick with tension. he was close enough to kiss, and it certainly didn't help that he wasn't trying to make any attempt to stop you.

togame told you he wanted a round two with you, saying he wasn't going to let you off easy this time. 

ʚɞ suo -

you had agreed to help suo and sakura bake a cake for nirei's birthday, as you three were nirei's closest friends, and you wanted to make it a special celebration for him.

suo, who was quite skilled in baking, took charge and offered to teach you, while sakura assisted from the sidelines, helping the both of you in preparing the ingredients. 

it was going well at first, the kitchen filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate, but as you and suo began working closely together on the cake, things turned into a bit of a spiced up situation.

first, you and suo mixed the batter.

"oh, you’ve really got a knack for handling the sticky stuff, huh?" suo watched you pour in the ingredients, with a playful smile on his face.

"do i? maybe it's because you help me out all the time." you say to him.

"i'm glad. here let's help you out with this, too." suo approaches you and helps you steady the mixer from behind. "thank you, suo. it's quite big so i might have a hard time doing it alone."

when sakura glanced over, from his angle it looked like suo was pressing you up against the counter, and a furious blush crept up on his cheeks as he swatted away his unwanted thoughts.

"oh, dear. it might be too wet." you turned to suo to ask for his advice.

"it looks good to me, but here, stick this in." suo says, handing you a stick of butter, which sakura had to do a double take on to make sure it was just butter and not some other kind of stick.

then you helped prepare the frosting. 

"it tastes amazing, suo!" you exclaimed, sampling the frosting.

"mind if i have a taste too?" suo said, leaning in closer. "of course, here, try it." you smiled and offered up the spoon to him. 

"ah, you have some on you, here." he pointed at your hand, which had splashes of frosting on it which escaped the piping bag. "oh no, it squirted out. i'll just lick it off, then." you replied, smiling and darting out your tongue to taste the sweet frosting.

sakura was close to absolutely losing it because of you and suo's interactions.

lastly was assembling the cake. 

"are you ready for this? it might get a bit messy." he asked you, as he brought the baking pan closer. 

"it's alright. i know you will help me clean up the mess after!"   

sakura's face turned as hot as the pre-heated oven as he listened in from the sidelines, feeling his face flush as he heard what sounded like a heated flirtatious exchange between you and suo. 

sakura silently vowed never to help you two bake a cake ever again.

ʚɞ hiragi -

hiragi was always juggling so many responsibilities as one of the four kings of bofurin, that stress had become a constant companion, often forcing him to rely on his stomach medications just to get through the day. 

so when you offered to give him a quick massage to ease his aching joints, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief.

you were very skilled with your fingers, expertly working out the tension in his shoulders, digging into every tight spot with just the right amount of pressure.

"ah, that feels so good." hiragi murmured, his voice heavy with relaxation.

"yeah? you like it there, 'ragi?" you teased, your fingers finding a particularly tight knot.

"mhm. that’s the spot..." he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the pleasure. 

"you’re so stiff." you giggled, leaning in closer. "you really need to relax more often."

as the two of you were chilling in the cozy corner of pothos café, completely absorbed in the moment, across from you sat umemiya, who looked like he was about to choke on his food.

umemiya shot you both an incredulous look. "please, not in front of my salad!" he quipped, his tone half-joking, half-bewildered.

you glanced over at his plate, unable to suppress a laugh. "umemiya, your food isn’t even a salad!"

"yeah, well, it’s hard to focus on what i’m eating when you two are…whatever this is!" he shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his amused smile.

hiragi opened one eye, as he shifted in his seat. "you seem tense. maybe you could use a massage too, umemiya."

umemiya quickly held up his hands in mock surrender. "nope, i’m good! you two just keep that over there, and leave my...omurice in peace! thank you!"

if only you could see what kind of face hiragi was making while you massaged him, his eyes fluttered closed while his brows knitted together in a moment of pure bliss, then maybe you would have choked on your omurice too. 

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #14

It all started with a ghost. A very loud, very neon, very annoying ghost that thought it was a great idea to haunt Stark Tower. Danny Fenton—part-time student, full-time accidental hero, and perpetually exhausted teen—was just trying to track the damn thing through the Manhattan skyline when his portal malfunctioned (again), exploded in his face (again), and slingshotted him across the sky, straight through a window that turned out to be reinforced vibranium glass.

It should’ve stopped him. It didn’t.

Cue the alarms. Cue the dozens of defense drones locking onto his energy signature. Cue a 19-year-old Danny dangling upside down in the penthouse, surrounded by billion-dollar murder bots, trying to explain to a very confused AI that he was not, in fact, an alien invader.

But before FRIDAY could blast him into oblivion, a small voice piped up from behind a couch. “Are you a fairy?”

Danny blinked. Dangling upside down. Singed suit. Ectoplasm dripping from his hair. “Uh. Sure.”

The voice belonged to a tiny, curly-haired gremlin wearing a tutu, light-up sneakers, and what looked like Tony Stark’s old Iron Man helmet—three sizes too big and twice as chaotic. This was Morgan Stark. Age: five. Chaos level: eldritch god. She approached him like a cat approaches a new toy: equal parts curiosity and threat assessment.

“Can you do sparkles?” she asked.

Danny shot a tiny beam of ecto-energy at the ceiling light, which exploded into fireworks.

Morgan gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A FAIRY.”

And that was how Danny Fenton became Morgan Stark’s official babysitter.

It wasn’t like he volunteered. Or got paid. Or even agreed. Tony Stark had been out of the country—something about a diplomatic mess in Wakanda and a golf game with T’Challa. Pepper had begged Steve Rogers to watch Morgan, but Steve’s idea of babysitting was forcing a child to recite the Constitution. So Pepper, desperate and very, very sleep-deprived, walked into her penthouse to find a teenage boy hovering in midair while her daughter screamed “FAIRY GODBRO” at him and decided, “Yeah. Sure. This’ll do.”

“Can you keep her alive?” Pepper asked, not even blinking at the glowing green eyes.

Danny shrugged. “Uh. I guess?”

“You get dental.”

Danny had no idea what that meant but was too scared to argue.

By Day Three, he was in hell. Not the Ghost Zone. Not some apocalyptic alternate timeline. Actual hell. Or what felt like it. Morgan had no concept of mortality. She once duct-taped kitchen knives to her arms and yelled “I’M WOLVERINE NOW.” Another time, she tried to feed their Roomba peanut butter and sobbed when it wouldn’t eat.

Danny tried to keep up. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was also being hunted by an interdimensional ghost warlord named Balthazar the Undying who decided Stark Tower was a great place to stage his declaration of conquest. So in between coloring pages and singing “Let It Go” for the 57th time (because Morgan said if he didn’t, she’d tell everyone he “pees ectoplasm”), Danny was banishing ancient horrors to the Shadow Realm.

“Why does the air taste like sadness?” Morgan asked one morning, sipping chocolate milk while a spectral hand clawed its way out of the floor behind her.

Danny shot it with a laser without looking. “That’s just the trauma, kid.”

She nodded like that made sense.

By Day Five, things got weirder.

Bruce Banner came over to “assess the babysitter.” What he found was a 19-year-old ghost hybrid making chicken nuggets with one hand while performing an exorcism on a sentient blender with the other. Bruce blinked. “You’re multitasking.”

Danny, dead-eyed and covered in slime: “You’re not my real dad.”

Bruce left after Morgan bit him.

Then Peter Parker dropped by. He took one look at Danny—haggard, twitching, wearing a tiara—and whispered, “Oh my god, he is a hot mess.”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, using his foot to hold down a haunted Roomba. “Help me tie up the possessed dolls.”

Peter did not help. He just filmed everything for TikTok. The video went viral under the title “Me when I leave a random ghost fairy babysitter with Tony Stark’s child and come back to find him summoning the underworld during snack time.”

Nick Fury saw the video and sent a S.W.O.R.D. strike team to investigate.

Morgan beat them with a plastic lightsaber.

On Day Seven, Danny woke up to find Morgan riding a flying toaster around the living room like it was a dragon.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?”

“I summoned it,” she said proudly.

“HOW.”

“I made a deal with your ghost friends.”

Danny’s left eye twitched so hard he saw the Ghost Zone.

Pepper walked in on him mid-breakdown. “You’ve been great with her,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We haven’t seen her this happy since… well, ever.”

Danny, clinging to the ceiling like a feral raccoon, wheezed, “I think she opened a portal to the Necroplane. There’s a demon named Craig living in the fridge.”

Pepper patted his arm. “All babysitters say that.”

Craig opened the fridge and waved. “Sup.”

By Week Two, Danny had stopped pretending to be normal. He phased through walls, levitated toys, vaporized anything that smelled like danger, and occasionally screamed “I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS” into the void.

Tony finally came home. He blinked at the scene: Danny napping upside down like a bat while Morgan built a nuclear reactor out of old toaster parts and a Roomba named Kevin.

“Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “My fairy godbrother. He banished an evil frog ghost and helped me build an orbital laser.”

Tony stared. “Huh. Alright.”

And just like that, Danny Fenton became part of the Avengers.

He didn’t sign anything. He didn’t train. He didn’t even get a uniform. But every time something exploded or a portal opened or some ancient deity said “BEHOLD MY TRUE FORM,” Danny just floated into the air, cracked his back like an old man, and said, “Not in front of the child, you drama bitch.”

Morgan, from her juice box throne: “YEET HIM INTO THE VOID, DANNY.”

And he did.

It only got worse when the other Avengers got involved.

Natasha tried to teach Morgan how to do spy stuff. Morgan used the techniques to sneak into Tony’s wine cellar and replace the labels with glitter glue and threats.

Thor visited once. Morgan asked if she could ride his hammer. He said no. She cried. The hammer floated toward her on its own. Danny had to wrestle it away.

Clint brought over a bow and arrow set. Morgan hit Peter in the ass with a suction cup dart. Danny laughed so hard he choked on ectoplasm.

Wanda stared at Danny for a full ten minutes before whispering, “You’re not from this plane.”

Danny, deadpan: “Neither is your eyeliner.”

They became friends.

One night, Danny woke up to find Morgan drawing summoning circles on the walls in glitter glue.

“Whatcha doing, champ?”

“Trying to summon a unicorn for Auntie Yelena.”

Danny blinked. “Go back to bed.”

She glared. “You don’t support women in STEM.”

By Month One, SHIELD had officially labeled Danny as a “Class 7 Unexplainable Being with Babysitting Potential.” He had a badge. He had clearance. He had no idea what was happening anymore.

All he knew was that if Morgan Stark said “Danny, I wanna adopt a ghost puppy,” then by God, he was going to march into the Ghost Zone and wrestle a spectral hellhound into a leash.

And he did.

Its name is Toast.

Danny Fenton—ghost boy, half-dead teenager, babysitter of the year—accidentally became the most powerful figure in the universe. Not because of his powers. Not because of his knowledge. Not even because of his tragic backstory.

But because Morgan Stark liked him. And if you hurt Morgan Stark, you would be introduced to Craig, the fridge demon, and Kevin, the haunted Roomba, and Toast, the ghost puppy, and then, finally, the very angry, very tired, very over-it Danny Phantom who could—and would—yeet you into another dimension for interrupting nap time.

The Avengers knew better than to interfere.

Even Thanos came back to life once, took one look at Danny and Morgan, and said, “No thanks.”

He snapped himself back out of existence.

Danny didn’t even flinch.

Morgan dabbed.

And somewhere, in the vast multiverse of chaos and consequence, Tony Stark looked at his daughter, his haunted apartment, his glowing ghost babysitter eating fruit snacks while levitating a possessed microwave, and muttered to himself—

“Yeah. That tracks.”

[eevees-hobbies]

Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time!

This is a response to this anon request: Hii can i request wind breaker boys : bofurin and shishitoren with a reader that love to flirt and hard to flustered although they tried to do it back? Thank you

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for being my first Wind Breaker request! I feel like we were on the same wavelength because I was planning on doing a flirt fic/headcanon, but you beat me to it! Unshy and bold is how I like to write my readers, too!

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Characters. Not smut but highly suggestive in some parts. Use of the word slut in the beginning background piece, a brief examination of the word and scenarios in which it’s weaponized. If you’re not into that, feel free to skip that part. But I’ve seen what some of you all are into and seen some of those reblogs—you know who you are, so spare me. You’re also a major flirt. Like, you’re at a 10 on the flirt scale. Go, you! Nothing too explicit, but here’s what we’re working with: mention of panties in Sakura’s. Kaji needs to learn to keep items inside of his mouth…unless? Suo intends to punish you so pick a god and pray. Hiragi needs you to chill out…but say more, please. Umemiya is too shy to ask you to call him Daddy (please call him Daddy). Togame tells you what you’ll be sitting on by the end of the night (also mention of alcohol in his). Nirei is a cute little bean <3. Minors Don’t Interact.

As always, I appreciate comments, reblogs, and likes. Requests are as open as my legs are for Haruka Sakura’s dick.

Word Count: 2.8K

Dividers by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Background: How You Got Here

You’ve always hated the word ‘slut’

It’s not that you wouldn’t personally consider yourself one. Depending on your ideologies, reclaiming the word can feel liberating and you find that to be true for yourself. 

You consider yourself to be naturally flirty, sexy, bold, and charismatic. You can also be a bit of a tease and have slut-like-tendancies in the bedroom, so, sure, a slut. And for the right person or people, if you’re feelin’ nasty, you’re willing to be whatever they want you to be. 

You’ve just grown to hate the word because slut is often used to mischaracterize a woman that men often can’t understand. 

They can’t, or choose not to, understand a woman who is vocal about who she wants and how she wants it. 

They call women sluts who do the chasing.

They call women sluts who fuck on the first date. 

They call women sluts who don’t fuck on the first date. 

The word slut has lost all meaning.

Patriarchy issues aside, this wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t also have a mouth on you. So when some low-life-loser cat calls you from across the street, asking if you got a man and then calling you a slut because you chose not to answer in front of his five loser friends, you turn around and yell, “Sorry, buddy! Experiencing disappointing sexual experiences isn’t on my bingo card for tonight!”

“What the FUCK did you just say to me?”

And contrary to what some may say, you aren’t fucking stupid. You know what happens to women when a man hates them and decides that you’re the object of their rage.

So, you often find yourself running in situations like this. Running until your lungs are about to explode and the only thing keeping you going is adrenaline and the fear that that word—and your mouth—might get you snuffed out. 

You’re looking over your shoulder as your assailants close the distance, painfully aware that this can’t go on for too much longer when you collide with someone’s chest. Strong hands grip your arms, anchoring you in place. 

You look up, expecting to see one of the men from the group but you’re instead taken aback by the stranger in front of you. He seems like the kind of boy you’d let call you a slut—-his close-mouthed smile disarms you, and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you’re almost certain he’s someone you can trust. You don’t have too many options right now, anyway!

His tassel earrings swing as he raises his head from looking down at you, and his eyes follow the sound of running feet emerging from the alley. 

“Oh? You look like you could use some help. Stand over there for me?” He tilts his head when asking you the question, but part of you feels like he’s not really asking, so you nod and watch with bated breath as the young man methodically mows down every one of the men. 

Afterward, he turns to you, pristine and perfect, “I can’t let you walk home alone after that.”

“Sure,” you say, taking his outstretched hand. What’s your name? I have to know the name of the person who just saved me.”

“Oh, I guess that’s a fair point. My name is Hayato Suo. It’s nice to meet you despite the circumstances.”

It’s not long after that event that you fall into the protection of the Bofurin & Shishitoren men; your natural charisma quickly gets you in their good graces and earns you a special spot among their ranks. You give off mascot vibes—if mascots were cute and didn’t have gigantic, scary bodies!

Hanging out with them means being yourself without experiencing judgment or retribution. Your laid-back persona and flirting are met with laughs, blushes, and even sometimes flirtation in return. You’ve never felt more at home than with them. 

Haruka Sakura

Flirting with Haruka Sakura is like flirting with a brick wall; either he notices and chooses to ignore the situation as his face turns a crimson red, or he’ll yell at you for being a pervert in public. And both of those reactions are equally cute, so when one day you’re sitting at a booth at Cafe Pothos—-with Sakura, Suo & Nirei—-you decide that this is the perfect environment to get him riled up.

You gently knock your shoe against Sakura’s, which earns you an eyebrow twitch as he continues to shovel food into his mouth. Oblivious as always. 

You do it again to prove that it wasn’t an accidental nudge. Sakura’s eyes shoot up to yours, frantic because this is something you would do. His eyes are met with your innocent smile and subtle shoulder shrug.

As you all continue eating (excluding Suo, who enjoys a cup of tea), you gradually move your foot up his leg until it rests between his thighs. Sakura is trembling like a leaf, eyes darting between the faces of your friends, who could very well notice that you’re trying to get him to play footsie under the table. What if they notice? 

The meal concludes; Suo and Nirei exit the restaurant, and you and Sakura linger for a bit. Part of you hopes that he’ll call out your behavior, but he’s doing his best eye-avoidant routine. As you rise to leave, Sakura stops you, grabbing you by the hem of your sleeve and pushing you into the last booth at the back of the restaurant, where the line of sight is blocked.

Sakura climbs on top of you, your bodies crammed into the leather booths in a way that feels deliciously intimate. His hands are holding your arms at your sides, and his knee settles in between your thighs—and you are now more than ever painfully aware of how high your skirt has bunched up as his knee is dangerously close to brushing up against the seat of your panties. 

“Y-you can’t control yourself in public, can you!?” Sakura practically spits out. He’d sound angry to anyone else, but that’s not what you see in his eyes. 

You look up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability and the proximity of his well-placed knee. "Do you want me to stop, Haruka?”

He again avoids eye contact with you, but the way he bites his lip gives him away, “No, I-i didn’t say that.”

Akihiko Nirei 

“Have you added anyone else to that book of yours, Nirei?”

Nirei beams at you. You’re one of the few people who takes an interest in the compendium of facts and stats he’s collected about the others. He flips through the pages and starts pointing out information he’s added since you’ve last spoken.

You nod along, taking a genuine interest in what he says; you barely notice your hand moving up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. His cheeks tinge pink, and he stutters as he continues to read to you.

After he’s done hyper-fixating, a comfortable silence sits between you.

“What do you have about me?” you say, leaning closer to him. You’re teasing him; you don’t exchange blows like the subjects in his journals, so there’s no practical reason for him to collect information on you. That’s what you think until he reaches into his back pocket and brandishes a small notebook with your name on the front. 

“I-i uh have the basic demographics, but uh…still need the more personal things like your favorite color and food.”

“What about my bra size?”

“B-bra….” The pencil in his hand snaps, and he looks everywhere but at you. “I uh… s-sure! I’ll take that if you’d like me to!”

You laugh; you genuinely find him endearing. “I’m kidding! We haven’t even had our first date yet, Nirei!”

He looks at you, pulling out a new pencil from seemingly nowhere. “Well, once I find out what food you like, I’ll add the anniversary date of our first date here, too.”

Ren Kaji

Flirting with Kaji feels dangerous, but you do you, friend. You, as an individual, and the way compliments flow easily from your lips makes Kaji uncomfortable, and he admittedly doesn’t understand why someone as gorgeous as you gives him the time of day. It isn’t until you somehow become closer that the absence of your flirting with him sets off blaring alarm bells. 

Are you ok? 

Who did this to you?  

Who does he have to kill?!

As you thumb through the vinyl at your local record store, you feel a bump against your shoulder. You look up and see your favorite platinum blond guard dog; his headphones are settled around his neck, heavy metal pouring from the earphones. His piercing gaze is a clear indication that you might be in trouble. Oops. 

“You mad at me or somethin’?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Mad? Why do you think that?”

“You haven’t been pestering me lately, and it feels…odd.”

You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, even with the round sucker placed snugly in his mouth. 

“Ohhhhhh, no, Kaji! I was giving you a break, but if you insist on flirting, how about-”

“Shut up,” he pulls the sucker out of his mouth and presses it against your lips, watching as you purse your glossed lips and kiss the candy. Neither of you breaks eye contact; an unspoken threat between you dares the other to yield first. His eyes narrow as you poke your tongue out and stroke the sides with intentional, slow licks.

“Tch!” he turns quickly, marching away from you. Despite his back being turned, you can tell by the way his arm raises that he’s now placing that saliva-soaked sucker in his mouth. 

Hayato Suo 

Suo might be one of two people on this list who might be a worthy opponent for you. How do you flirt with someone who is perpetually unbothered? Good question! I see your flirting as back-and-forth quips, playful jabs at one another that get increasingly sexual and oddly specific throughout the day.

If you meet up with the group and one strand of your hair is out of place, Suo chirps, “Bedhead, huh? What were YOU doing last night?”

If you see Suo break a sweat after an intense fight, “Wow, Suo! You really need to work on your stamina. I can imagine a few ways to help with that.”

Sure, it’s all in good fun, but there’s a sexual undertone to it all; between the smiles and sarcastic comments, you’re both participating in your special version of foreplay, and you have never been more turned on. 

Everyone around you thinks you should get a room, and as sunset approaches, you two do exactly that.

“Ready to work on that stamina, Suo?” you chide as you push him against the wall in your apartment. You know you’ll pay for man-handling him later, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

His earrings sway back and forth from the force, but he gazes down at you with smoldering ruby-toned eyes. Every smart-mouthed remark you’ve said that day replays in his head, contributing to his desire to make you atone for your brattiness.

“Yes, Y/N and I promise I won’t let you out of bed with your hair a mess like I did this morning.”

Hajime Umemiya

The complexity of Hajime Umemiya should be a case study. You’ve witnessed his laid-back nature as he jokes with friends, and you’ve seen the scary side of him that bubbles over when anyone threatens those he’s closest to. 

You’re truly attracted to both sides, but when it comes to you and the way you tease him, running manicured nails through his gelled hair and scratching gently at his scalp, he’s putty in your hands.

One of your favorite ways to experience Umemiya is meeting him in his element: his garden. It allows you to bond with him, and he often shares information about his life. Somewhere, Sugishita is biting his fist. 

“Big brother,” you whine as you plant okra, “am I doing this right?”

Umemiya’s eyes widen, and he looks at you across the garden. In what feels like seconds, he’s kneeling in front of you, your hands cupped in his own. “Y-you can’t call me that!”

You blink, confused, “you tell everyone to call you that.”

“I don’t want YOU to call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird when someone you…like…calls you big brother. It’s worse than being called a friend!”

You snort, but when you meet his eyes, you quickly straighten. Oh! He’s serious! 

“So, not into me calling you big brother even during our ‘private moments?’ What about ‘Daddy?’ How do you feel about that?”

He laughs loudly—not because he thinks that was especially hilarious—but because you just make him nervous. 

“You can call me Hajime or…’my boyfriend?’ Yeah, let's stick with my boyfriend!”

“Not Daddy?”

“I won’t stop you! Now, how about that okra???”

Toma Hiragi

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Hiragi’s simultaneously rubbing a knot out of his neck while chastising you. You found yourself in an all too familiar situation, running errands when a drunken man approached you and began to hurl “that word” in your direction when he didn’t find your reaction to his advances to be appropriate: same shit, different day.

As you were looking for an escape route, Hiragi rounded the corner and snatched the man by the collar—it was almost comical to see the drunkard's feet dangle feverishly off the ground. With a scowl and a threat from Hiragi, he was stumbling off.

You sigh, “I don’t mean to be a burden, Hiragi. But something on my forehead must read, ‘fuck with me’ because this is becoming a common occurrence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles, “I just find myself worrying about you too much. Might give you my jacket to keep these creeps at bay.” 

Before the last syllable leaves his lips, he’s stuttering and trying to walk the statement back, “I mean uh…or any Bofurin jacket! We have boxes of these somewhere! Not mine, per se.”

You smile, placing a hand on his toned bicep. “I’d love to wear my protector's jacket.”

You need not say more. He removes his oversized jacket and places it over your shoulders. The smell of him and the warmth he left behind makes your heart flutter. You give him your best grin, “you know you’re never getting this back, right?”

“See? A pain in my ass. With a mouth like that, I’m goin’ to have to teach you how to fight.” 

You lean into his arm, “With a mouth like this, you might have to teach me more than how to fight.”

“Jesus.”

Jo Togame 

Jo Togame is the other person on this list who’ll give you a run for your money when trying to flirt. He may seem turtle-adjacent, but his rebuttals to your flirtation attempts are quick. 

You’ve been shooting Togame smoldering glances for the entirety of the night, and even though Shishitoren men surround him, he’ll catch you looking, give you a lopsided grin, and then turn his attention back to the group,

You lick your lips. The draw of his signature sweatpants, black, loose-fitting tee, and Shishitoren jacket is doing something to you. 

And maybe it’s because you’re on your fifth shot of mystery concoction, and the music they’re playing at the house party makes you feel bold and think that what you’re about to do is a good idea. 

With all the courage you can muster, you walk up to Togame. He tilts his head in your direction, but you can see amusement in his jade-colored eyes.

“Took you long enough. Thought you were never gonna get tired of starin’ at me.”

“Dance with me!” you yell over the music. You can feel everyone in the group sizing you up and waiting to hear how Togame responds. 

He puts his beer down and takes your hand. You pull him to the center of the room, where a makeshift dance floor has been constructed. You allow the music to move you before you can talk yourself out of whatever is happening. Togame puts his hand on your waist and allows you to grind against him and to the beat. 

“You like the idea of making me nervous, huh?”

You stand on the tips of your toes to get as close to his ear as possible, “You caught me! Is it working?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No because I know exactly how this night is going to end.”

Your heart picks up a bit as his hands slide down from your waist and rest above your ass.

“How?” You squeak.

“With you grinding just like this on my dick.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses his lips against yours, his kiss hot and hungry. 

Your eyes flutter closed, and you agree that this night will likely end how he prophesized.

[brunchable]

It's not a Meet-𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆, it's a Meet-𝗨𝗴𝗹𝘆. 《 Chapter 1: Alpine the Traitor. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: It's not a meet-cute, it's a meet ugly, Grumpy Meets ✨️Sunshine✨️, Opposites Attract, Sassy Pet Matchmaker, Enemies-to-Lovers (Lite), Destined to meet again, Bucky is a hidden softie. Summary: Breaking into a stranger’s apartment wasn’t on your weekend agenda, but neither was meeting the grumpy-yet-irresistible guy who owns the couch—and the cat—that you somehow claimed as your own. A/N: This story will be OUTSIDE of MCU but Bucky's traits will be mixed comics/mcu. I'm starting to feel sorry for this fanfic just sitting at the bottom of my files.🥲 Credits to me for the Banner lmfao. credits to @khaer for the divider.

tags: @winchestert101 @lomlbuckybarnes @lveegsoi @itsshellzy @almosttoopizza

@aami98 @hextech-bros @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

Bucky had just finished hauling up the last of his bags from the car—bags that totally did not contain guns and knives—when he remembered his phone. Cursing under his breath, he jogged back down to grab it, leaving the door ajar. He barely noticed you—leaning heavily against the hallway wall, guiding yourself as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. 

You squinted at the numbers on his door, murmuring, “Close enough,” and stumbled inside, fully convinced you’d found your friend’s place.

Inside, you called out, “Sarah?” and squinted around the room. No answer. Instead, a small, white cat trotted up, eyeing you with a mix of caution and curiosity.

“Oh,” you cooed, crouching down with all the coordination of a newborn giraffe. “Sarah… Did you turn into a cat?” You narrowed your eyes, trying to decipher the situation. “Blink twice if you did.”

Alpine regarded you with a slow, deliberate blink—just one. But that was enough for you in your current state.

“Good enough,” you muttered, and, relieved to find some familiar “face,” you scooped her up and flopped onto the couch, pulling her onto your chest, where she curled up in a perfect loaf position. Alpine settled comfortably, purring like a tiny motor. Within moments, you’d passed out, leaving Alpine to stand guard.

When Bucky returned, he slammed the door shut, grumbling about the freezing cold. He shrugged off his coat and turned toward the kitchen, not noticing anything unusual—until he caught sight of a figure—clearly not his—was sprawled on his couch, hair fanned out over their face, Alpine loafed comfortably on their chest like this was some kind of routine.

He froze mid-step, staring in confusion. “What… the fuck?” 

Today, of all days, he’d planned to finally try that yoga routine his therapist had been nudging him about. Some deep breathing, a little stretching—it was supposed to help calm him down, give him a “reset” for the week. He’d even managed to get Sam off his ass about it, promising he’d “channel his inner Zen” or whatever the hell Sam had been calling it. But no, apparently not. He couldn’t even have a boring day without someone or something interrupting it. Why was that too much to ask?

Approaching cautiously, with a slight kick to your feet, he muttered, “Hey. Hey.”

Bucky then crouched down, pushing your hair back to get a look at your face. 

“Are you serious right now?” he muttered, folding his arms, staring at his cat as if this were somehow her fault.

Alpine responded with another blink, clearly unimpressed by Bucky’s lack of decorum. She even seemed to settle more firmly into her loaf position on top of you, as if claiming this random drunk intruder as her new, favored territory.

Bucky huffed, waving a hand at Alpine. “So you’re just… okay with this?”

Another blink. Obviously Bucky.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Unbelievable. I’m out here, feeding you, scooping your litter box, and the first stranger who walks in, you act like we’re running some kind of Airbnb for drunks?”

Alpine gave him a barely noticeable shrug and started grooming a paw as if she couldn’t be less bothered then once she’s satisfied she began kneading your wool jacket over your chest.

You mumbled something incoherent, and Alpine lifted her head, giving Bucky an irritated blink, as though he’d just disrupted her personal masseuse session. You need to be quiet.

“Oh, she’s real cozy, huh?” he muttered at Alpine, who merely blinked at him, still looking protective. Bucky scoffed, not quite believing the attitude his own cat was giving him. 

“Unbelievable. You’re supposed to be a guard cat,” he grumbled under his breath. “I leave for two minutes…”

Bucky tapped your shoulder with growing impatience. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You wanna explain why you’re passed out on my couch?”

You groaned, one eye cracking open just barely. The light was harsh, and everything was blurry. You squinted up at him, your drunk mind trying to process the face hovering over you, looking both rugged and annoyed.

“Sarah?” you mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “You… You look taller.”

Bucky snorted. “Do I look like a Sarah to you?”

You blinked, vision focusing on his piercing blue eyes and grumpy expression as he glared at you like an unsolvable puzzle. You turned to Alpine, who remained loafed on your chest, staring up at Bucky with the same serenity. You whispered to the cat with drunken seriousness, “Sarah, is this your boyfriend?”

Alpine let out a soft, approving purr, which only made Bucky’s scowl deepen.

“Oh, great, now I’ve been promoted to boyfriend status?” he muttered, looking at Alpine.

Turning back to Bucky, you hiccuped and gave him a pointed look. 

“Listen, Sarah…” you said, gesturing clumsily to Alpine, “your boyfriend has a really grumpy face. Like, so grumpy. He should smile more.”

Bucky fought back a laugh, his irritation softening slightly. “Listen, whoever you are, this isn’t your friend’s place. You broke into my apartment. Drunk. And now my cat apparently likes you. You need to leave.”

You thought hard, eyes crossing slightly as you tried to remember where you were going. 

“I was… Sarah’s… Or, uh… close enough,” you mumbled with a shrug. “Your cat’s nice, though. Real polite.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky deadpanned. “She’s a real gem. Five-star host, obviously.”

Deciding he’d had enough, Bucky reached down to lift Alpine off your chest, carefully sliding his hands under her. But as soon as he started to pull her away, Alpine let out a loud, drawn-out, angry growl—a sound that was surprisingly menacing for such a small cat, vibrating through the room with an unmistakable warning. Alpine's eyes snapped open, and with surprising speed, she swatted his hand—claws barely out, but enough to make her point.

“Hey!” he hissed, jerking his hand back, staring down at the cat in shock. Alpine blinked up at him, her expression one of supreme, unbothered defiance, as if to say, Move me again, and you’ll lose more than just a little dignity.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“Wow. Really?” He shook his head, folding his arms, clearly offended. “You’re seriously gonna take her side? My own cat, my loyal companion, defending some random drunk who stumbled in here like it’s her couch?”

Alpine blinked once, slow and smug, then proceeded to loaf herself more securely on your chest, her purr rumbling louder as if she were demonstrating just how much she preferred this arrangement.

Bucky muttered under his breath, 

“Unbelievable.” He took a step back, eyeing Alpine like she’d betrayed him. “All the kibble I’ve fed you, and this is what I get? You’re practically giving her a welcome package. Should I grab her some slippers and a robe too?”

He leaned down, whispering conspiratorially to Alpine. “You do realize she’s drunk, right? Probably smells like tequila.” Alpine’s response was a pointed yawn, entirely uninterested in Bucky’s objections.

Bucky sighed, casting one more disgruntled look at Alpine. 

“Alright, fine. Guess I’ll just let Miss New Best Friend crash here. Enjoy your girls’ night,” he added with an exaggerated huff, trudging toward the kitchen, throwing his hands up as he muttered, “Unbelievable. Me? Pushed over by a cat.”

× × × ×

You blinked awake as something soft flicked against your nose. Groaning, you swatted at it, only to realize it was a fluffy white tail waving in front of your face. The tail flicked again, tickling your cheek, and you opened your eyes to see a cat—definitely not Sarah’s cat—perched on the back of the couch, watching you with a bemused expression. 

Sitting up slowly, you rubbed your eyes, glancing around the unfamiliar apartment, your stomach sinking as your surroundings started to come into focus. This was… not Sarah’s place. You caught the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, and that clinched it—Sarah hated coffee. She was this tiny blonde British girl who would only ever be caught sipping tea.

You slowly turned, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on a figure leaning casually against the kitchen counter. He was tall, rugged, handsome, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. His white t-shirt clung to his frame in a way that hinted at the strength underneath, and his grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, making him look both comfortable and effortlessly put together.

“Good morning,” he said, raising his mug slightly in greeting.

You stared at him, your heart racing, immediately bracing for the worst. Your mind raced through the most terrifying scenarios—where am I? Who is he? And how exactly had I ended up on a stranger’s couch?

The man’s smirk widened, clearly seeing the panic flash across your face. He raised a hand, shaking his head. 

“Relax,” he said, a chuckle slipping into his voice. “Whatever you’re thinking, none of that happened. You broke into my apartment drunk, thinking it was your friend’s place.”

You swallowed, piecing it together, though your cheeks were still burning.

He took another sip, clearly amused. “I should’ve called the cops,” he added, eyeing you with a raised brow. “But my cat kinda likes you, so… we’re good.”

Your eyes flicked to Alpine, who was still perched on the couch, blinking at you like she was saying, Nice meeting you, bestie.

“I… I should go. I am so, so sorry! And thank you,” you blurted, scrambling to your feet, cheeks flaming. You tried to make a quick exit, but in your panic, you tripped over your own foot, your arms flailing as you tried to keep from crashing to the floor.

Bucky moved fast, grabbing you by the shoulders to steady you. “Still asleep?” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and concern as he looked down at you.

“Oh, yeah… kind of,” you mumbled, cheeks still red as you immediately pulled away, trying—and failing—to fix the cowlicks in your hair. Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly holding back a laugh, which just made you more determined to escape. Without another word, you darted out the door, his words about “forgetting something” barely reaching your ears as his doors clicked closed.

You practically crashed into the apartment across the hall, banging on the door until it opened. Sarah’s familiar face, complete with wide, panicked eyes, greeted you. 

“Oh my god, Where were you?!” she shrieked. “I was worried sick! I almost reported you as a missing person!”

“Oh, crap,” you said, cheeks somehow getting even redder. “My bag!”

Meanwhile, back in his apartment, Bucky was shaking his head with a smirk, looking down at Alpine, who had just strutted over to rub herself against his legs as if she hadn’t just completely turned on him.

“Oh, now you’re giving me love?” he muttered, scratching her head as she purred. “Unbelievable. All it took was one random drunk person breaking in, and you were ready to switch sides.”

Just then, he heard a tentative knock at the door again. Bucky opened it to see you standing there, looking like you wished the floor would swallow you whole.

“My bag,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but his face.

“Your bag,” he said at the same time, fighting a grin.

He strolled over to the coffee table, picking up the bag and handing it over. “Try not to break into any more random apartments, yeah?” he teased.

You clutched your bag, stammering out a mortified. 

“Thanks,” then bolted down the hall like your life depended on it, leaving Bucky chuckling in the doorway as he watched you practically trip over your own feet again in your getaway.

× × × ×

You sat on Sarah’s couch, head throbbing, as she handed you a couple of painkillers and a glass of water. 

“Did you and Rhys fight again?” she asked, her voice edged with impatience. “Girl, just break up with him already. He might have an uncanny resemblance to freakin Alexander Skarsgård, but the man’s a walking red flag. Who goes clubbing when they have a girlfriend?”

You groaned, eyes still shut, leaning your head back against the couch, the memory of last night’s fight replaying in painful detail. It had started as a small gathering with friends. You’d dressed up, hoping for a nice evening out with Rhys, just the two of you, maybe a dance or two. But halfway through the night, he’d disappeared, leaving you wandering through a packed club. When you finally found him at the bar, he was leaning in close to some girl, laughing in that charming way he had, as if he didn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him.

When you confronted him, his expression softened instantly, and he tilted his head, giving you that familiar, reassuring smile. 

Rhys cut an imposing figure, his broad shoulders and lean, muscled frame commanding attention even in the crowd. His hair, a shade of sandy blonde that fell just to his shoulders, framed his sharp jawline, giving him an untamed look. He had the kind of intense blue eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of light, their color only deepening as he’d looked down at you.

"Hey, don’t look at me like that. We were just chatting," he’d said gently, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you trust me?”

The words, so soft and warm, had made you hesitate. Even as your frustration lingered, the way he looked at you, the way his hand rested gently on your shoulder, all felt carefully designed to melt away any resistance. 

“Come on,” he’d murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You know you mean the world to me. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

He’d turned back to the bar then, smiling as he resumed his conversation, leaving you feeling like maybe you had overreacted, like maybe your frustration had been misplaced. And yet, as you watched him easily slip back into the crowd, that familiar sting of doubt remained. Eventually, you’d ordered a drink, then another, drowning your frustration until the room started to blur, and you’d finally stumbled out, too tipsy and weary to care about anything but leaving… only to end up on Bucky’s couch instead.

“It’s not that easy. I love him, my parents love him…” You trailed off, knowing she’d heard this all before. Your parents and his parents were practically inseparable—best friends for years, even business partners in some way. Rhys De Armande’s family ran a chain of luxury hotels, and you were set to inherit your family’s shopping mall empire. “You know how it is. Everyone expects us to work out.”

Sarah made a frustrated gesture, squeezing the air in front of her like she was trying to strangle it. She dropped her hands the second you opened your eyes, but the exasperation in her face was hard to miss.

“Well, clearly, he doesn’t love you back,” she said flatly, crossing her arms.

You winced, the truth landing harder than you’d expected. 

“Ouch,” you muttered, looking down, unsure if the ache in your chest or your pounding headache was worse.

You sighed, swallowing the painkillers and rubbing your temples. “Can you cut me some slack, please? I just embarrassed myself in front of your hot neighbor.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, her frustration giving way to curiosity. “My hot neighbor?” she asked, smirking. “Oh, this I have to hear. What did you do?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I thought his apartment was yours… so I kind of broke in, passed out on his couch, and, oh yeah—made friends with his cat.”

Sarah burst out laughing, her exasperation melting into full-on amusement. “So, let me get this straight… you broke into Bucky’s apartment, passed out, and had a bonding session with Alpine?”

Your ears perked up at the name. Bucky. That name was way too cute for a guy who looked like that. You peeked out from behind your hands, curiosity piqued. “Bucky? Are you guys… close?”

Sarah smirked, clearly seeing through you. “Why? Are you interested?”

“What? No!” You quickly protested, cheeks heating up. “Just curious. You know, making conversation…”

She raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across her face. “Right. Well, he’s single if you want to ‘make conversation’ with him too.”

You groaned, grabbing a pillow and smacking Sarah with it. “Stop it! I’m not interested!” you protested, but your cheeks were still burning.

Sarah just laughed, holding her hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright! Whatever.”

Before you could throw another retort her way, your phone rang, buzzing loudly from the table. You grabbed it, and the second you answered, your dad’s voice boomed through the speaker, nearly blowing out your eardrum.

“Where are you?!” he barked. “The meeting started fifteen minutes ago! Do you have any idea how unprofessional this looks?”

You winced, holding the phone slightly away from your ear as you muttered, “Sorry, Dad… rough morning.”

“Well, get here now,” he snapped. “You’re soon going to be the CEO here in New York. Start acting like it.”

The call ended abruptly, You let out a long sigh, muttering, “Crap.” Then you turned to Sarah. “I have to go.”

She eyed you up and down, barely hiding her amusement. “What, like that?” she asked, gesturing to your tousled hair, wrinkled clothes, and less-than-polished look.

Grabbing your bag and hopping as you attempted to shove one foot into a high heel, you shot her a determined look. 

“I’ll make it work.”

You bolted out the door, heels clicking down the hallway as you frantically tried to compose yourself. Just as you reached the elevator and started jabbing the down button repeatedly, you saw him—the hot neighbor himself—coming out of his apartment, Alpine perched comfortably on his shoulders like some kind of royal cat.

“Come on, come on!” you muttered at the elevator, jabbing the button with increasing impatience, as if sheer willpower could make it descend faster. You could already hear your father’s voice echoing in your mind, and he would never let you live this down. Not a chance. It didn’t matter that this was the first time you’d been late for anything in your entire life. Nope—he’d latch onto this one time like it was a pattern, probably bringing it up every chance he got, even at family dinners. “Remember that time you couldn’t be bothered to show up on time?” you imagined him saying. “Such a fine example of leadership.”

You groaned to yourself, muttering under your breath about stubborn elevators and high-strung fathers.

Just then, Bucky strolled up beside you, eyeing your frantic button-mashing with lowkey amusement. 

“You know,” he said casually, voice smooth and annoyingly calm, “that’s not going to make it come any faster.”

You barely spared him a glance, shooting back with a quick retort. “Well, it makes me feel better, so kindly mind your business, Bucky.”

He tilted his head, smirking as he watched you fidget, clearly entertained by your frustration. 

“Mind my business?” he replied, eyebrow raised. “Hard to mind my business when someone broke into my apartment and decided my couch was a free bed.”

You pressed your lips together at the reminder, but he wasn’t done. He nodded toward the button you were still jabbing. “And at this rate, you’re gonna break it.”

You gave him a sharp look, though you couldn’t keep a smirk from tugging at the corner of your mouth, still pressing the button. 

“Fine, if I break it, I’ll pay for it.”

Just then, the elevator doors slid open, and Bucky stepped aside, gesturing for you to go in first with a slight, amused bow. You rolled your eyes but stepped inside, pressing the ground floor button as he followed you in, Alpine still lounging contentedly on his shoulders.

Both of you watched the digital numbers light up above the door as the elevator started its descent, the silence thick in the small space. Every second felt drawn out, and you found yourself fidgeting slightly—until Bucky’s voice broke the quiet.

“Hang on,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at you, “I never actually told you my name.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning a bored expression as you responded with dry sarcasm. “Right. I just happened to guess it was Bucky.” You looked back at the numbers, pretending you weren’t the least bit fazed.

He chuckled, clearly entertained. “Good guess,” he replied, his tone teasing. “Or maybe Sarah’s been talking about me.”

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you bolted out like you were escaping a hostage situation, heels clicking rapidly against the floor as you made a beeline for the lobby exit.

Behind you, Bucky strolled out casually, watching your hurried pace. “In a rush to break into someone else’s apartment?” he called after you.

You spun around, walking backward as you shot him a parting smirk. “Only if they’ve got a cat that likes me better than them.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, hands slipping into his pockets as he stopped just a few feet away. “Good luck with that. Alpine has high standards.”

“Clearly,” you quipped, nodding toward him with a playful glint in your eye. “She chose me.”

With a final grin, you turned and hurried out the door, leaving Bucky chuckling to himself in the lobby.

× × × ×

You burst through the lobby doors of your family’s corporate building, the adrenaline still pumping as you navigated the familiar halls. Just outside the large meeting room, two of your loyal assistants, Maddie and Rachel, were waiting, eyes widening when they saw the state you were in.

“Oh, boy, you’re cutting it close,” Maddie whispered, quickly reaching up to smooth down your slightly disheveled hair while Rachel adjusted the collar of your blouse. Their hands worked in quick, practiced movements, fixing stray strands, smoothing wrinkles, and making sure you looked like the composed heir they all expected.

“Lincoln’s inside, waiting to give you the rundown,” Rachel muttered under her breath, straightening the hem of your blazer. “And, fair warning—your dad’s pissed.”

“Of course he is,” you muttered, barely holding back a sigh.

Lincoln, your efficient and ever-loyal secretary, materialized at your side, tablet in hand. He gave you a quick once-over, his eyes critical but sympathetic. 

“Your father has been asking for you every five minutes,” he said, voice low as he handed you a prepared file. “You know how he is about timeliness, especially with these quarterly planning meetings. He’s expecting a full report on the upcoming seasonal marketing strategies and wants to discuss new potential store locations.”

You took a deep breath, pulling yourself together as best as you could, letting the details sink in. Your role here wasn’t just about looking the part; you were expected to lead the department, spearhead initiatives, and show the board that you were more than just your family’s name. Today’s meeting would cover everything from quarterly revenue projections to upcoming promotional events designed to boost foot traffic and online sales—a lot to cover, and all under your father’s sharp eye.

Lincoln leaned in, voice calm and steady. “Just stick to the report we prepped last week, and mention the new partnerships. Show them you’re already thinking ahead to next quarter.”

You gave him a quick nod, grateful for the support. “Thanks, Lincoln.”

He patted your arm reassuringly, then gestured to the door with a slight smile. “Now go in there and remind them why you’re going to be the new boss for the biggest branch in New York.”

With one last steadying breath, you opened the door, stepping confidently into the large conference room, your father’s expectant gaze immediately landing on you as you took your seat at the head of the table, ready to tackle the day.

× × × ×

As the meeting wrapped up, you exhaled in relief, seeing nods of approval and satisfied smiles around the table. Despite your rushed start, you’d managed to present the quarterly strategy with confidence, outlining new initiatives that had the board talking excitedly about the future. More than one member voiced their high hopes for you officially stepping in as CEO, and the weight of their approval felt both thrilling and daunting.

One by one, the board members filed out, each giving you a nod or a polite word of encouragement. Soon, it was just you and your father, Richard, who lingered behind, his expression carefully unreadable as he adjusted his cufflinks and regarded you with that familiar, assessing gaze.

After a pause, he finally spoke, his tone mild but pointed. “How old are you?”

You straightened slightly, eyes meeting his. “Twenty-six.”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding as if in thought. 

“Twenty-six,” he repeated. “And yet, you’re acting like a teenager sneaking in after curfew.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the weight of his disappointment was clear. “You’re going to be the CEO of this company, Y/N. The board expects more from you—and so do I.”

You held your ground, forcing yourself to stay calm under his scrutiny. “I understand, Dad, and I’m sorry for being late. But I delivered the report, and the board was impressed.”

He inclined his head slightly. “This time, yes. But if you want to lead this company, you need to take this seriously, every single day. There won’t always be room for excuses.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing back the urge to say something defensive. “Understood.”

Richard sighed, his expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t just want you to be capable, Y/N. I want you to be the best. You’re representing the family, our legacy.” He glanced at the empty room, then back at you. “Don’t let anything get in the way of that.”

You gave a small nod, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “I won’t.”

With that, he gave a brisk nod, signaling that the conversation was over, and strode out, leaving you standing in the quiet room, feeling both motivated and under pressure to prove yourself all over again.

As the door closed behind your father, you let out a long breath, allowing yourself a brief moment to unwind. But before you could gather your thoughts, the door opened again, and in filed your loyal team—Maddie, Rachel, and Lincoln—all of them looking at you with a mixture of pride and relief.

“Good job, boss,” Maddie said with a grin, giving you a thumbs-up. “You handled that like a pro.”

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. “Seriously, you were amazing. You had the whole room nodding along.”

Lincoln, ever the composed one, offered a rare smile of approval. 

“Smooth presentation, just what they wanted to hear.” Then, without missing a beat, he pulled out his tablet, ready to spell out your schedule for the rest of the day. “Alright, here’s what you have lined up…”

He scrolled for a moment, then continued, “You have a quick check-in with the marketing team at noon to review the upcoming promotional rollouts. After that, lunch with a representative from Luxx Retail—an initial discussion on the new partnership. Then, at three, a meeting with the creative team to discuss branding updates for next quarter. And finally, a call with our international partners at five.”

You blinked, taking in the jam-packed lineup. “Wow… it’s going to be one of those days, huh?”

Lincoln smirked, tucking the tablet under his arm. “Welcome to CEO life.”

Maddie and Rachel chuckled, Maddie reaching over to give your shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back. You nailed the hard part; the rest is just the victory lap.”

You smiled, feeling a little more ready to tackle the day ahead with their support. “Thanks, guys. Let’s make it happen.”

× × × × 

Bucky adjusted his stance, loading another round as he and Steve stood side by side at the shooting range. The low hum of the ventilation system and the muffled sound of distant shots created a steady background noise, setting the tone for another session. Steve glanced over, eyebrow raised as he watched Bucky with a hint of curiosity.

“So, you’re telling me some random drunk girl broke into your apartment last night and just… passed out on your couch?” Steve asked, trying to keep a straight face but failing.

Bucky rolled his eyes, lining up his aim as he replied, “Yep. Walked right in, curled up on my couch, and Alpine decided she was her new best friend.” He took a shot, the loud bang reverberating through the range. “I left for two minutes to grab my phone from the car, and there she was when I came back.”

Steve couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he reloaded his own gun, shaking his head. “And let me guess, Alpine was all for it?”

“Of course,” Bucky muttered, setting up for another shot. “The little traitor acted like she’d known her for years. The girl even thought Alpine was her friend ‘Sarah,’ or something like that.” He paused, lowering his gun and glancing at Steve, still in mild disbelief. 

Steve laughed, raising his weapon and aiming down the range. “Man, only you would have a meet-cute that involves a breaking and entering.”

Bucky snorted, firing off another round. “Yeah, if you call that a meet-cute. Girl’s got sass, I’ll give her that. Told me off for ‘minding her business.’”

Steve lowered his gun, giving Bucky a pointed look. “And you didn’t call the cops?”

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’t have the heart to. Plus, Alpine seemed pretty happy with her there.” He paused, smirking slightly. “Besides, it was kind of… entertaining.”

Steve shook his head, grinning as he took another shot. “Only you, Buck. Only you.”

After a few more rounds, the air around them settled, and Bucky took a breath, lowering his gun and glancing over at Steve with a thoughtful expression.

“So,” he started, reloading his weapon more slowly this time, “are they asking you to go back? Back to duty, I mean. Avengers stuff.”

Steve paused, his own gun lowered as he considered Bucky’s question. 

“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment, nodding. “Got a call last week. They’re pushing for me to come back, but I haven’t given them an answer yet.” He glanced over at Bucky. “What about you?”

Bucky shrugged, his expression neutral, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes. 

“They’ve reached out a few times, nothing urgent. Mostly checking in.” He looked down, absently running a finger along the barrel of his gun. “Guess I’m still on the roster if they need me.”

Steve studied him, picking up on the unspoken hesitation. “You miss it?”

Bucky exhaled, glancing down the range before answering. “Some days, yeah. But… sometimes, it’s nice not to have everything be about missions and orders. Almost feels like I could have something close to normal.” He smirked a bit, adding, “Well, if my version of normal includes strange women breaking into my apartment, anyway.”

Steve chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Guess we’ll see where things go. But for what it’s worth, you’ve earned a break, Buck. Normal or not.”

Bucky nodded, and they both lined up to fire another round, the familiar weight of duty lingering between them.

[sahisan]

★ summary: arlecchino nsfw hcs since her banner is almost out.

☆ cw: nsfw. wlw (fem terms like cunt and pussy used). choking. dirty talk. cunnilingus. strap-on. a bit of belly bulge. arle's hands appreciation.

☾ a/n: this is a repost of the same work bc the first one didn't get any attention at all. also, this is like, the most smut i could write for now so yeah.

— arlecchino loves loves loves holding eye contact with you during sex, especially if it's missionary. her stare is intense, like she'll stab your heart right here and now, but she knows you're only getting more turned on by it. even if it's doggy, she'd bend your back and press it to her chest and she would make you look into her eyes while fucking her strap up into you. her other hand would also slide to your lower belly to feel the bulge of the strap in it.

“don't take your eyes off me. look away once and you aren't cumming tonight.”

— arlecchino knows damn well you get off from just looking at her hands. and she also knows that you love having her hands wrapped around that pretty little neck of yours, so she uses this knowledge every single time. every time she begins with foreplay, her hand sneaks its way to your neck, squeezing it experimentally until she feels your knees weaken or hears a choked whimper leaving your mouth. arlecchino just knows that simply using her hands would be enough to make you cum over three times already.

“you have a very nice neck there, you know. i'm sure that if i'd squeeze a little bit harder, it'd make you squeal nice and loud.”

— is a master at dirty talk, prove me wrong. arle uses her hands and mouth just perfectly. always the low voice, whispering some very hot and dirty things right in your ear. when she's in the mood, she may even use some pet names to flatter you. but usually, she doesn't use anything other than 'dear', 'darling' and 'princess' — the last one is used especially a lot when she wants to pamper you like the princess you are.

“let me guess... you were having so many wet dreams about this, were you not? daydreaming about this for days on end. i bet that now this cunt is soaked already.”

and then:

“what's wrong, dear? cat got your tongue, hm?”

— when arlecchino comes back from work either overworked or mad, she knows she doesn't even have to explain herself to you as she buries her face into your cunt the moment she sees you. i wouldn't call it "taking her stress out on you" though, i think she does it more to calm herself. she eats you out like she's been starving for days even if she did it just yesterday. holding your hips down so you will stop squirming so much after she just gave you your third orgasm. you're becoming too sensitive, but arle doesn't look like she gives a damn, because she knows that if she was hurting you, you'd already say the safe word that you two have.

“shut up and take it. you know i can't help myself."

[jazeswhbhaven]

A Lazy Man's Body Pillow | Belphegor Attacker | Summary | SPOILERS

Hey y'all! Like the fancy thing I did with the above banner? Ngl the hardest part was compressing the damn thing because I apparently made it way to fucking large lol But anyways, it seems this time around a lot of y'all were able to get his card which shows some promise that the gacha rates have changed? Maybe?? We'll seeeeeeee

Usually I do the entire "summary then screenshot" thing but I realized that format works better for exclusive cards than ones we're gonna see in 3 months. So we're back to my, "screenshots with commentary" format. Let's hope I can do this with only 29 screenshots 😭

Let's kick it off with

So it seems that MC has won some kind of "lottery", but there's no foolin' MC when it's very blantantly written on the back of the ticket that the host Kingdom is Niflheim and it didn't take much for Beleth to admit that he did some slick shit just so he could go on....

checks notes

v a c a t i o n .

Now, I love Beleth. Love me some him. But I'll be damned if he sets me up randomly to babysit his lazy ass King/Husband (I don't make the rules). But oh well we're fucking here, would of been nice if you, idk just asked me, Beleth 💀

So we get some lore about how Niflheim's palace works! We were told that it was militaristic, cutthroat and what not. Turns out it's ran like a huge office, everyone pushing paperwork, moving around boxes, they even have departments and they have to get Belphie's approval of things.

It has me wondering honestly why they're so busy? Like in each country I've noticed there's paperwork to file or sign and I'm just like please don't let Hell be like this if it exists because I'd cry like wtf I died to leave this shit on Earth not relive it again??? lol

But what I really noticed is that Niflheim has these cute demon cats similar to Harumon running around and earning their keep. I wish my cats could get a job and help with these bills they rack up.

there goes my baby......

AHEM

I mean...hi, hello here to work part-time because I can't be bothered to work full-time because idk unless you want me to work full-time where I'm your secretary 😏😏😏

So after Belphie pretty much half-assed explained where the breakroom and offices are in the palace, here's Vassago! Though he seems like he's pretty chill, I can sense he's actually annoyed that he has to monitor MC and "train" them. It reminds me of starting a new job and the mentor they set you up with is either overly excited or basically acts as if they don't want to be there. Or you get that rare one who's happy as fuck to mentor you because that means they don't have to do what they were normally doing.

Also, it seems that tension between Agares/Vassago and the Niflheim crew is evident. He respects Beleth and Belphegor's titles but when it comes to loyalty it's always gonna be to Agares.

FOR NOW THO

And during this little interaction, Belphie gets tired of them talking so much so he pretty much yeets MC's clothes off. No one cares though because they're too busy working.

Here is the first instance of Belphie not caring about MC's feelings or comfort. I imagine most folks would not just wanna be striped naked in a epicenter of busy office workers. All because....we were talking too much? 😭 P L E A S E

I won't lie though, separating myself from MC-

if that man wanted to shut me up, this is way to do it 💀

Vassago tellin' it like it is. "Ain't nobody said nothin' 'bout y'all bein' treated like guests" had me cackling because he basically said "Bitch you thought...."

Vassago got the time. Don't mess with him.

So now we're back to MC being naked, and ofc they hate it so they ask for clothes. The only thing available to fit them is a maid uniform (I'll showcase both fits for fem and masc mc in another post) because that's what Belphie likes.

freak

I know somethin' else that will fit real nice too, *sips tea*

with his smug ass lookin' face.

And it's funnier because if you remember in Levi's maid card...he's the one that gave him the maid hentai book in the first place so we already know why he likes that maid outfit....

also....notice how no one else has to wear it?

this is on purposssseeeeeeeeeeee

And now we get to the part where Belphie leans on MC asking for them to carry him. I always wondered if we could carry him??? I imagine devils are way heavier and the gravity works differently in Hell, like maybe a lot of things are heavier than usual? Or maybe lighter? In this universe Hell seems to be in a completely different realm/planet than Earth instead of that "underground" theory.

With that being said, I'm pretty sure we're able to carry him, but he's still fucking heavy since the description says MC was five times slower than Vassago. And on top of that he's telling MC where to go...which is the least he can do considering they can't keep up with Vassago lol

I also like the little attitude he gets if you get mouthy with him. But the thing about it, is that once again MC yields to it 😭 like I wanna know what happens if you just dropped him on the floor 💀

Now we've made it to where MC has reached a dining room. Vassago in so little words said that MC was going to be feeding Belphie, and how to be a perfect subordinate. We even get a cameo from Agares, and Vassago immediately goes into servant mode showing MC how it's done.

And then-

I'm sorry y'all but I lost it when he started doing this....

First....feeding him, making sure his glass is full and then he pretty much starts fingering me during????? AND SAYS ITS WARM AND PERFECT TO TAKE A NAP BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS HELLO???

I fear I would crumble

A funny part though is that MC tried to protest, and Vassago was like don't you fucking dare >__> because he instructed them to only speak when spoken to lol

I'm enjoying Vassago rn because he really is that guy. Like don't make his job harder than it needs to be and he doesn't have to chide as much.

And this really shows when MC is told to strip naked and clean the stairs, no underwear either????

Vassago literally says that's MC's job as a maid, and Belphie was no help, basically only stating to take off their clothes and clean the stairs.

damn we strict here ain't we?

I'd like to pause and talk about MC's dynamic with Belphie real quick. Clearly, Belphie's way of interacting with MC is that they are simply just someone to clean, cater, and do what he says just like the rest of his subordinates around him. There's no special treatment, no favor, no anything. For once we get to see a different perspective of how Belphie treats them versus any one else. Satan, Mammon, Lucifer, not even Leviathan would make MC clean their palace naked. Asmo? Well...the only reason they'd be naked is...lol I believe Belphie is actually the only King that doesn't show MC any special bias. I mean even Beleth pretty much skiddadled the fuck outta there once it was clear that MC couldn't leave and he was officially on vacay. And I can understand exactly why....this is how things run in Niflheim and in the event the devils of this region were even thrilled to get a day off if Belphie won the contest. NOW compared to how he acted toward MC when he wins the contest versus now, could very much have to do with the circumstance, and tbh it could of happened before or after or this is a completely different timeline altogether. If y'all remember Beel's selfie card, he treated MC very poorly as if he had no idea who they were and even belittled them for a "lack of experience". Certainly though, that was probably a "clone" of his or it was the real Beel and he just hadn't met MC yet prior to.

Going back to Belphie's card though...and MC cleaning the stairs naked....we get another cameo....

DRE IN THE HOUSEEEEE

So yeah ofc he didn't care MC was there naked, he literally can't see them. But I'm pretty sure he's aware they are there on the stairs since he walked past them no problem.

I laughed here because MC's thigh sweat or pre-cum whatever the hell it was dripped on the floor and Dre was like 🤨🤨🤷‍♀️ and just left. He does NAWT careeeeee lmao

If we're being honest he probably smelled them too. But as per usual he's got his mind on other things. No time for whatever foolishness is goin' on here.

Also, to mention that MC says that they felt putting on the maid outfit rewired something in their brain to where even though they are embarrassedthey still wanted to do whatever Belphie ordered them to do.

imma be honest, for me it would be because i'm tryna get that dick so yeah i'll listen....he already stuck his fingers in the coochie so let's gooooooooooo

And Belphie does more shit that I like....because he play around too much.

-While getting him dressed, he had a hard on just out and about -MC was being told be focused and silent while serving tea and he just comes up and grabs them in their chest to get them to make a noise

LIEK STOP PLAYIN' WITH ME BRO I WILL LITERALLY just do nothing and let you do it I'm weak just please keep touching me.

Bathin was concerned about MC being there, and Gusion clocked MC's ass and was like "Yeah you like this shit don't you?"

He claims it's because there's always patterns he can read where can tell immediately if someone is "that type" that claims they hate something but they really like it.

he would have clocked me on a lot things then because damn

"Ha, caught yo ass." 💀💀💀💀💀💀

But then both he and Bathin realize quickly that this is all a roleplay to Belphie based off the maid hentai series he owns. So remember what I said earlier? Yup it's confirmed...he's really just doin' this shit on purpose to fulfill the fantasies of one of his favorite series.

It has me wondering.....how many other series he would play out and how many cosplay outfits he has for that playtime....

Belphie a freak and I like it.

Hol' up, how we get here???

Glad to tell y'all.

Vassago came up in the hallway, to much of Gusion and Bathin's distaste...and told MC the rules of putting Belphie to sleep. Bathin and Gusion in so little words told MC that Beleth is really the only one who can deal with Belphie's horrible sleeping habits and "good luck with that". At 10 pm exactly, everyone locked their doors in the entire palace.....

literally me if I were MC because what the hell is going on.....

So there is MC, taking out their notebook to write down what Belphie does in his sleep, only to then doze off because they're rightfully tired...and then bam there's Belphie jackin' it in front of them.

NOW ME y'all already know what time it would be.

locked in, mouth wide open, ready to serve customer service. *plays cupcakke songs in the background*

So our boy is a leaker, and for this part here, MC is basically sitting there in the dim light watching him stroke himself and he's like half-awake. The way that it's described that the room is hot, smells like him, and MC is sweating has me being like "damn probs humid as fuck in that room but aight"

And then...Belphie suddenly realizes that MC is in the room with him. And because of that now all hell has broke loose.

Okay well you ain't gotta ask me twice, I'll spread whatever hole I have available sir.

YESSIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

cumhole, cumslut, cumdumpster, whatever you need I'm available 24 hours for ya.

He even tells MC to swallow it....like????? he even threatened to get Vassago to come in if MC kept hesitating and I'm just imagining a pissed off Vassago coming in being like "Look bitch if you don't get this shit right, it's bad enough I have to come in here...." 💀💀💀💀

This was right after he said he would make sure MC had something to put down in that journal.......

He starts pushing MC outside the room, in his half-dazed state....which I'm like wait this is like a sleepwalking wet dream omg or....a play on sonophilia where you're fucking but still asleep. (which I've written beforeeeeeee with Amon! and for a different fandom, Nanami actually from JJK)

But anyways, we get some lore with how Belphie usually is at night time. He wanders around the halls of the palace ranting like he's drunk, or thinking there's an angel going around, just basically causing trouble and everyone locks themselves up during his bad sleep habits. I imagine he does this every goddamn night so that's why everyone is shut in their offices at 10pm.

Gusion is concerned about working overtime and getting off early, Bathin is planning to use Harumon to move MC somewhere else if it gets bad, and then there's Vassago.....thinking about how he's going to give Agares ripe oranges in the morning😭

Bless him.

MC asked how far they were going, Belphie stops and starts making out with them....love me a man who doesn't care that his spunk is all in your mouth and tongues you down like he did.

f u c k

Now this is him suckin' on some titties....and I'm just like MISSED OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE HIM AN EATER RIGHT NOW LIKE???? MOVE YA HEAD LOWER???????

He'd be such a lazy ass with eating you out or giving head but at least he'd do it because he's half asleep and horny as fuck.

Tellin' MC they can't clean right, they can't smile right or doing anything correct but got them bent over and losing their mind.

these backshots about to go crazy

And like??? I'm not even mad at how he's doing this....dude has a warped idea of what a maid is based on his favorite series and he's playing that out foreal.

And here, his philia came into play. He says that MC tryin' hard to work givin' it their all and going above and beyond turns him on more than anything else in the world. And I'm just like oh....so that's what this is like...

ooooo weeeee

Yes'm. I know, lemme show youuuuuuuuu 💖💕🥴🥴😌

he's so hot I can't stand him y'all

I levitated.....

this was after MC begging him to put his dick in, and him asking why they were begging....and hfuankjxnf,ajnxfkanlf

DAMN HIM

HELP

And then he told MC to stable themselves cause they were movin' too much. After, MC grounds themselves and he starts fucking them FASTER and deeper

Like.....

He even starts smackin' their ass and telling them to talk cause he likes it, but he wouldn't be listening. (shit, like I'll ramble and moan all day if he's drillin' how he was...)

And BITCH

he told them to stop ordering him around, pulled that thang out said that HE was the master and slipped it right back in. WHEN I TELL YOU SOMETHIN'

that shit was hot as fuck and I need him

GAWD THAT FUCKING FACE FUCK

AND he was that focused and thrusting with effort? PHEW I just know those backshots were astronomical

After that he has MC fuck themselves on him...and then when MC was losing themselves he started smacking their ass again, going faster, and when I tell you he rode that orgasm out to the end of time?

he wore himself and mc out

I'm tellin' y'all I needed a cigarette, I need a drink, I needed an edible SOMETHING after reading that because phew.

I don't really bother to self-insert in most otomes and stories, but during this spice? I had to and it was an experience.

Now going to the climaxxxx

Belphie is all cute bein' like "carry me darlin'" and just falls asleep on top of MC and MC just falls asleep naked on the floor with him. They end up in Belphie's room in his bed and Beleth is there just smilin' and shit.

He explains that he knows Belphie's sleep schedule right down to the days and that last night happened to be one of his "relief" nights meaning that he has a cycle. And usually Beleth just knocks him out, which sounds like he punches him?

Now, I've noticed here that PB doesn't really do the whole "confirming cxc content" but I'm gonna go a whim and assume that Beleth does in fact fuck Belphegor sometimes during these relief nights. Beleth also has special conditions when it comes to sex so the punching Belphie to sleep method also makes sense.

Then, Belphie does a cute thing and pulls MC in like a pillow and says he knows they aren't a pillow because none of them are as nice as MC's body so there was no need to explain nothin' to him.

He's super adorable when he's not being a little shit, huh?

AND THAT'S THE END FOLKS!

Overall Score (unbiased): 9.5/10!

This score is because the smut writing really has gotten a little better since the beginning of this game. Now others will have different opinions on this, but I at least noticed some improvements on that front. Also, because I just didn't really care for MC having to be run ragged like they were and Beleth just yeeting them to the void like that. But oh well, it just shows that not every devil or fallen angel we meet is gonna be biased to treating MC a certain way and that within itself is refreshing.

Now when it comes to self-insert purposes, I suspect that the majority would not like like Belphie treats MC at all. This is understandable, but this is also part of his character that I like. Pretty much everyone is on the same level to him in terms of usefulness and that's that. You gotta work hard to earn his favor, and clearly that seems to work out toward the end when he's snuggling up to MC like he is.

Also when you think about it, a niche roleplay based off your fave series can only be used with someone you particularly like, which means he felt that MC would fit this role instead of one of his subordinates, and he puts MC on the same level as Beleth because I'm very certain he has Beleth do some cosplay shit with him.

Plus Beleth would look bangin' in a maid costume.

Now if y'all want my BIASED opinion, this card is 100+/10 because I liked Belphie doing his weird shit during the maid thing, him barking orders that were half-assed or sometimes direct, and then the fingering under the table thing....

i'm sorry that just does something to me.

plus...all of this...the theme and the superiority thing reminds me of Sukuna from JJK and he would definitely humiliate you too just like this for amusement.....and idk I'm a Sukuna stan so...😩

The next post will be about his likability chats, a link to peek at his adore mode, and I'll be talking about his date story! So stay tuned. Again thank y'all for any interactions, reading my rambles and summaries and I hope you enjoyed his card like I did ^^ -yourlovelyadmin Jaze(✿◡‿◡)

[olsenmyolsen]

Request from anon: Wanda and y/n have been in a relationship for some months and both of them have a crush on Natasha so they decide to invite her for a threesome and she accepts. Y/n and Natasha are g!p

You Both Huh? (18+)

maroon master list . dark master list . request marvel master list . short n’ sweet master list

Post Age of Ultron: (Wanda Maximoff X G!P Reader X G!P Natasha Romanoff)

Summary: You, Wanda, and Natasha discover and learn about each other's bodies.

Word Count: 2.6K

Content: Fluff, Comfort, Feelings, wlw, sex, threesome, oral, porn with plot

This was my first time writing G!P, and I hope I did it justice! Please let me know if I did anything wrong ❤️

Natasha was exhausted.

After a month of being deep undercover and alone with her thoughts in another country, she was finally back home.

Back at the compound.

Back to be with her found family and friends.

Yet only you and Wanda seemed to be home.

As the elevator doors opened, Natasha found the two of you curled up on the couch in the living room. What Natasha doesn't know is how the two of you were waiting for your favorite redhead to come back home. So, as she steps out from the elevator and her boots hit the floor, Wanda lifts her head up and looks back.

A huge smile breaks out on the younger brunette as she turns to you and shakes you awake from your cat nap.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes as Wanda grabs your hand, and the two of you fly off the couch to Natasha. "Oh my gosh, Wanda! Y/n!" Natasha exclaims as she sees you two quickly make your way over. Her bags hitting the ground as she wraps her arms around her friends.

Her friends that just so happen to be a couple that have a crush on her.

But that's for in a little bit!

Natasha's had her suspicions, but she's a spy, so being on guard 24/7 is like her thing.

As you breathe in the dry shampoo from Natasha's hair, you hear Wanda communicate to you. "Tonight can be perfect." You can't help but smirk and turn your head to eye Wanda. "If Natasha is up for it." You communicate back, making Wanda playfully roll her eyes—something Natasha catches.

"Already? I just got back and you two are already having secret conversations?"

"Sorry, babes!" You comment as you let go of Natasha. "Just about our plans for later." Natasha shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Okay, sure, whatever." Wanda can't help but laugh as Natasha pretends not to believe you.

"So, where's everyone else?" Natasha asks as she picks up her bags, but Wanda's magic stops her as red tendrils pick them up. "Still need to get used to that," Natasha remarks, even if Sokovia was a year ago. Wanda smiles wide.

"Thor is off-world. Tony and Pepper are doing stuff with M.I.T. Cap and Sam are busy with their missing friend. The toaster is still on sleep mode." Natasha laughs at the last dig you throw in while Wanda rolls her eyes as the three of you arrive at Natasha's door.

"And Banner?" She questions before Wanda can make a comment about her robotic friend. You shake your head. "Nothing to report." Natasha hums and nods her head as she opens her door. "Well, maybe that's best."

"Yeah, it's not like you need him," Wanda says, surprising all three of you. You turn to your girlfriend of the last six months, shocked as she drops her mouth. "Oh my gosh! Natasha, I'm so sorry that was supposed to be an inside thought!"

Natasha looks shocked and looks from you to Wanda. Her surprised face slowly morphs into a quizzical look as she tilts her head and leans against her open door. "An inside thought, huh? What did you mean by it?"

Wanda opens and closes her mouth. "Umm." She looks to you, but you don't know how to help Wanda other than telepathically telling her: "Maybe now's the time."

Wanda closes her mouth, and she decides to go for it.

She looks from you to the redhead, still waiting for an answer. "I meant what I said. You don't need him. You don't him for a release o-or for someone to.. connect with... when... when you have us." When Wanda finally gets through her sentence, she peeks into Natasha's green eyes and does her best not to tap into Natasha's mind.

"When I have you both?" Natasha softly questions as you stand next to Wanda and grab her hand. Letting her know you fully appreciate her for speaking up for the both of you.

You nod to the older woman in front of you. "We like you, Tasha."

"A lot," Wanda adds on.

Suddenly, Natasha's suspicions and nagging feelings made a lot more sense. She was right. The two of you had a crush on the Black Widow. Natasha's body relaxed against the door frame as her neutral face turned into a light smile.

"You both, huh?" She questioned as her smile turned more into a smirk. This made the ever-growing feeling in your stomach flip and turn as Wanda squeezed your hand tighter. "Yes," Wanda spoke for the two of you.

"How long?" Natasha asked as her eyes danced from you to your girlfriend and back. "Since... always?" You said as Wanda nodded. "You're kind of impossible not to develop feelings for," Wanda replied, making Natasha laugh before she took a step closer.

"Well, it's a good thing I like to keep an open mind about these types of situations," Natasha said, confusing you slightly. "What type of situations?" You asked as Natasha turned around and kicked open her door wider as she walked into her room.

Wanda's green eyes and your own followed the figure of the redhead. Her back to you as she lifted up her shirt, revealing her black bra straps underneath. She then turned her head halfway towards you and your girlfriend. "These types... Now, are you two going to join me or not?"

Your girlfriend and you had waited for this moment, so it was no surprise when the door closed behind the two of you and locked in record speed due to Wanda's powers. Natasha smiled and loved it as the two of you continued to watch the show she put on. She smirked and kept her back to you both as she slowly unclipped her bra and unbuttoned her black jeans after kicking off her boots.

The sight of Natasha's creamy ass hidden beneath a pair of black boxers made you want to bite your fist. It was hot and slow and left you wanting more as she turned around to you two.

And that's when you saw it.

Your eyes went wide as Wanda's stomach officially blew up with butterflies. The bulge in Natasha's skin-tight boxers was astounding and, best of all... real.

You and Wanda had no idea.

Natasha who had been nervous and otherwise embarrassed with her reveal in the past could see the look in you and your girlfriends eyes and knew she had nothing to worry about.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Natasha smirked as you and Wanda stepped closer and closer. "That's not the word I would use," Wanda spoke shakily before she looked at you.

You swallowed and wasted no time. You slowly undressed and lifted your eyes to Natasha's green orbs. Wanda followed along as her sundress quickly slipped off and pooled around her feet.

A sight Natasha lightly gasped at as the only thing Wanda wore underneath was a pair of red cotton panties.

"I guess this is one more thing we have in common." You spoke to Natasha as she turned her eyes to you as you slipped off your black pants.

Now it was Natasha's turn for her eyes to go wide as she drank you and your sizable middle section. "Holy shit." She whispered into the room as you threw your shirt off and grabbed Wanda's hand.

All three of you standing in your underwear. Your eyes dance from one person to the other.

Natasha took the lead after a moment and closed the distance between you and Wanda. She dropped her hand to where you and Wanda held each other and grabbed it. "I have to say you two continue to surprise me." Natasha turned her head to the brunette. "Especially you, Wanda."

"Me?" Your girlfriend questioned, making Natasha nod as she led you to her king-sized bed.

Leave it to Natasha to never be at the compound but have a king-sized bed.

Natasha's legs hit the bed before she swung her legs around and started moving back toward her headboard. You and Wanda followed as you crawled onto the bed on your knees. "Well, I never would've thought that Sokovian girl in my red jacket would be up for such... activities."

Wanda blushed as she turned her head away. Natasha looks to you. "But now I see why." Natasha looks you up and down and moves her hands to brush along your sides as Wanda looks back at you both.  You shiver and feel your body jolt at the contact. "Kiss me," Natasha speaks to you as her hands form a grip on your hips as she moves her legs out from under her.

"Do it."

You listen to Wanda's voice in your head, and Natasha commands and moves forward, crashing your lips into Natasha, making the older woman fall back with shock before she closes her eyes and savors the taste of you.

With hunger, your rushed kiss turns into a heated make-out session that leaves Wanda feeling more and more aroused as she watches your body fall into Natasha's. Wanda can't help but dart her green eyes down to see how you and Natasha have grown larger.

The feeling of desire darkens Wanda's eyes as a quiet moan escapes her lips—something Natsha's jewelry-covered ears pick up and makes her slow the taste of your tongue.

Natasha opens her eyes and slowly pushes you by your shoulders just a tad as she looks from Wanda back to you. Natasha can't help but smile at the look Wanda wears. "Now, now, we can't forget about a special someone," Natasha says to you, making you shake your head. "No, we can't." Your words come out almost breathless as you lift off Natasha, grab Wanda by her hand, and pull her close. "Come here, baby."

Wanda obeys and moves to the postion you were just in, pleasing you and Natasha.

"Oh, hi there, beautiful," Natasha says as Wanda looks down at the redhead. "Hi." Wanda shyly smiles and giggles before Natasha runs her hand through Wanda's hair and places her hand on the back of Wanda's skull. "Come here." Natasha softly whispers as she gently lowers Wanda onto her and kisses the witch's pink lips.

You watch from behind as the two move with slow passion. Dear lord, and just when you think the night couldn't get better, your eyes and hand start to trail down Wanda's backside past her scars and moles. 

Down to her underwear, you find a growing wet spot and smile.

Wanda gasps into Natasha's lips as you start to pull down the red cotton panties. Natasha notices and moves her hand from Wanda's side and across her hips.

Wanda does her best to close her legs as Natasha touches her, but Natasha pushes them open and looks up to the brunette with a smile. "It's okay. Let us take care of you." Natasha lifts her left hand up to cup Wanda's face as her right-hand skims the top of Wanda's clit. "And then you can take care of me," Natasha smirks before her tongue enters Wanda's mouth.

The younger woman accepts it and moans into Natasha's mouth as she feels you shift on the bed, and Natasha's fingers circle her wet clit.

Your hands coming in contact with her bare ass moments later.

And then Wanda feels your naked thighs brush up against the backs of hers. "Oh, baby." You moan, making Wanda and Natasha stop to turn and look at you.

"Fuck look at that," Natasha says as you hold your penis lining it up to Wanda's entrance. Wanda closes her eyes and turns her head back to collapse her body onto Natasha.

Natasha smiles as she watches and feels Wanda's breath against her chest as you slowly push forward. Wanda whimpers and moans against Natasha's skin before the redhead lifts her face and kisses her.

"It feels so good." Wanda quietly says between the two of them. Natasha nods. "I know, baby." She replies by bringing her right hand back up to Wanda. Her middle and ring fingers glistened from Wanda's wetness. Natasha looks from her hand to Wanda's face and brings it to the brunette's lips.

Without being told, Wanda opens her mouth and closes it around the two fingers before she sucks and tastes herself.

"My, my Wanda, you are a good girl." Wanda moans around Natasha's fingers and shuts her eyes as you push deeper into her. The feeling of pleasure radiates off her body and onto Natasha, who smirks and loves the sight before her.

With a smile, Natasha slowly pulls her finger out of Wanda's mouth. Wanda's lips fall against the callous skin before flipping back up once Natasha leaves her.

Wanda opens her eyes again as Natasha runs her hand up Wanda's face to her head. "You're taking her so well, aren't you?" Natasha asks, making you smile. Wanda nods without any words escaping her mouth. "Do you think you can handle more?" Natasha asks Wanda, who nods again. "Yes."

Regardless of the answer, Natasha was going to push on Wanda's head. But the brunette started moving down willingly as her lips left a trail of hot kisses down Natasha's front exposed body until she reached the band of her black boxers.

Wanda was getting more and more lost in the lust of the situation as she touched Natasha, and you fucked her doggy style, making her start to act on desire.

Not that Natasha minded the watching and feeling Wanda's hot breath and tongue work up and down the outline of her cock against the fabric. The friction and the need for it to be released made Natasha squirm just a bit, but it was not enough to make Wanda drunk with power.

Because even she wanted to taste it and feel it slide down her throat.

So she gave in and let her hot hands pull down Natasha's boxers, exposing the redhead's cock to the cool air of the room. "O-oh my gosh, Natasha." Wanda practically moaned as you thrust into her. She looked up to her friend, who wore a smirk. "Go ahead." Natasha encouraged to which Wanda nodded and wasted no time licking her lips and taking the tip into her mouth as Wanda's hand wrapped itself around the base.

As Natasha fell back, your girlfriend's head began to bob up and down.

You didn't think anything else would be hotter.

And yet, when Natasha's hand pushed down onto Wanda's head, making her gag as Natasha smirked, you found true bliss.

You found it again as Natasha moaned and moaned due to the vibrations coming from Wanda's screams of pleasure on Natasha's cock as you gripped the brunette's hips and pounded into her. 

And then again and again as you, Wanda, and Natasha explored each other and made each other feel loved, cared for, dirty, and like a bunch of sluts all night.

You cumming in Wanda never made Natasha feel so good.

But after that night, it wasn't just you and Wanda.

It was the three of you together.

It's a good thing Tasha had that king bed and that Baner, who you didn't know, swung both ways, was off-world.

What an idiot.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[alastor-simp]

Alastor X Reader - Dressing Up As Him

"Hum hum hum~♫" Alastor was walking around the hotel lobby, humming a tune to himself as his eyes scanned all of the inhabitants at the hotel. Charlie and Vaggie were putting up more banners and decor in the lobby, Nifty was sweeping, and Husk and Angel Dust were at the bar. Alastor kept looking around to spot you, but he had no luck. Heading over to the bar, he leaned over the counter, smiling his signature grin. "Ah, Husker my good friend! Having a good day?" Alastor said, as he gazed at the grumpy cat, wiping a glass with a towel. "F*** off." said Husk, as he glared at Alastor, not wanting to deal with him. "Hey smiles~ Looking sexy as always." said Angel Dust, as he leaned back slightly on the bar stool, winking at Alastor. "Please refrain from flirting with me Angel.” Alastor said, extending his mic towards Angel, trying to move him away. "Ah your no fun." said Angel as he pushed Alastor's mic away from, and crossed his arms, placing them on the bar stand. "Anywho! Have any of you seen y/n? I didn't happen to see them in the lobby." Husk just shrugged his shoulders, as he didn't really know where you were, but he also answered quickly as he just wanted Alastor to leave. Angel dust was nice enough to answer as he told Alastor that he had heard you, rummaging around your room along with music playing in the background. He was gonna bother you, wondering what was happening, but he decided not to, and left you alone. "Thank you Angel! I will go find them now!” said Alastor as he walked away from the bar, missing the wave from Angel and the middle-finger from Husk.

Heading towards your room, Alastor was hoping that you were alright. Before, Alastor didn't really care much about you when he first met you as he though of you as another simpleton staying at the hotel, but after talking and hanging out with you a few times, he slowly started to care about you as he found you to be a rather sweet soul that wasn't common to see in Hell, with the exception of Charlie. Of course, he would hide that from the others as he had a reputation to uphold as being "the radio demon", so the less the people knew he had a kind heart, the better. Arriving at your door, Alastor knocked a significant beat, calling out your name, hoping for an answer. He could hear what sounded like electric swing playing in your room, but no response from you. He wanted to barge in, but he thought that would be rude so he continued to knock until you answered.

Standing in front of the mirror, you were eyeing yourself to make sure everything was set in place, and your outfit was fitted perfectly to yourself. You were wearing a striped red coat on top of a red dress shirt with a black bow tie that matched with the dress pants and black shoes, along with the outfit, you had on a red wig with a deer ear headband on top of it. Yes, you were wearing Alastors exact outfit. You really loved Alastors look, and you actually wanted to cosplay as him, but you would never tell Alastor that, as you didn't want to weird him out if he had caught you wearing his outfit, thinking you were some type of creep. You did remember that Alastor was very close to the overlord, Rosie, who owned the big emporium, so you had confided with her if she could help with your cosplay idea. Rosie was very surprised, but found your efforts cute and she actually was able to connect you with the tailor that designed a lot of Alastors clothing. It took a while, but you were able to get the whole outfit from the tailor, and you couldn't be more excited and happy to try it out. You had everything fitted to a T, but the only thing missing was the microphone, but you could think of an idea for that later. Staring at your reflection, you stretched your mouth into a wide smile, trying to match Alastor. The smile looked great, but holding that smile all day was going to be very difficult as your cheeks started to ache. Sighing, you turned away from the mirror and headed towards the radio to turn the music down. As the music died down, the thumping beat from the door, alerted your prescence: "Yes, who is it?", you called out. "Hello, Its me, darling. Are you well? I noticed you were not with the others in the lobby, so I decided to pay you a visit!” Oh No! Alastor was here, in front of your room. You couldn't bear for him to see you, wearing his outfit. "Um, I'm okay. Just tiding a bit, don't worry." You lied, as you were hoping Al would head back to the lobby. "Ah, I see! Well you wouldn't mind if I come inside, do you? I would very much like to have a nice chat.", Alastor said, as he continued to stand at the door on the other side. Oh Satan, he was not planning on leaving. Panicking, you run towards the door, unlocking it, to signify to Al it was open, before running towards your bathroom, closing the door.

Entering inside Y/N room, Al looked around your room, but didn't spot you anywhere. "Darling? Where are you?," Alastor called out, as he made his way further into your room, standing with his hands behind his back. "I'm in the bathroom, Al. Just washing up a bit. You can sit on the bed and we can chat from here." He had heard you call out. Arching his eyebrow, Alastor found it a bit strange, but he didn't question anything further, and made his way over to the bed, and sat down. As he gazed around the room, Alastor happened to spot something on the floor. As he gazed closer, he recognized it was a bow tie that was similar to his. Reaching out and picking it up, he eyed it and questioned to himself why this was in your room. "Darling?" "Yes, Al?," you said behind the door. "I found a bow tie that is similar to mine in your room. Do you know why this is here?"

Panicking, you looked down and saw that the bow tie was no longer on your shirt. "Sh**!", you whispered to yourself, as you tried to come up with another lie to tell Alastor. "M-maybe you left it here by accident." you said, mad at yourself that you stuttered. "I would happen to remember losing something like this the last time I visited you." Alastor said, as he kept eyeing the bow tie, turning it around to eye it. You stood on the other side of the door, realizing that he didn't buy it. "T-hen umm-", you froze, stuck on what to say next. Alastor noticed your change in tone, getting up from the couch and making his way towards the bathroom door. "Darling~, is there something you are not telling me perhaps?", Alastor said, smirking to himself, as he stood in front of the bathroom door. "N-no.", you said, as you heard voice more clearly now. "Then why do I sense such nervousness in your voice?", he said, as he continued to stand in front of the door, inching closer to hear you. "I-I." Stuttering, you couldn't think of another thing to say as Alastor figured out you were acting odd. "Darling~, What are you hiding? Come on out.," Al sang behind the door, as his smile got wider, enjoying the situation you were in. "OKAY! ok. I'll come out, but could you back away from the door a bit and also close your eyes please?", you said, letting Al know you were ready to come out. Al raised an eyebrow that you wanted him to close his eyes, but he said nothing, as he walk backwards, and shut his eyes.

Opening the door, you saw Alastor standing in the middle of your room, hands folded behind his back, eyes shut, and his signature grin on his face. Standing a few feet from him, you told him to open his eyes, while you cast your eyes down to the ground. Alastor opened his eyes, and he was put back for a second as he saw you dressed to the nines in what look to be his clothes. Everything you were wearing was matching him, and the only thing that was missing was his mic staff and the bow tie, that he was holding in his hand. Looking up, you noticed Al's face was stunned, but he was still smiling. "Before you say anything, just know that I'm wearing this for cosplay reasons. I'm not a freak and these were custom-made for me, they are not from your room, I swear." you blabbed all of this out, twiddling with your fingers, and looking back down towards the floor. Silence filled the room, after you were done talking. You were afraid to look back at Al, as you were expecting to see radio dials in his eyes.

"HAHAHAHAHA! My my, how dapper you look, darling!” Alastor laughed out, along with his mic that started playing a laugh track. Looking back at him, you weren't expecting a reaction like this from him. "Y-your not upset?" you questioned Al, as you continued to twiddle your fingers. "Upset? Why no, darling! Is that why you were hiding from me? Cause you figured I would be upset?" said Alastor, as he tilted his head at you. "Well, I didn't want to disturb you if you saw me wearing your outfit." "Well, I must admit I was surprised, but I am not upset. But I do have to ask, why are you dressed up like me?", he said, as he approached you, red glowing eyes staring at you, and his award winning smile on his face. Sighing, you explained to Alastor that you really enjoyed his look and outfit, so you wanted to cosplay as him. Alastor smiled softly at you, and hooked his finger under your chin, raising your head to look at him. "You are quite adorable aren't you, my dear." he said, as he then let your chin go, and began tying the bow tie back onto you, finishing it quickly and taking a step back. "There we go, dear! All set! Now we just need a smile! Come on dear, smile!" Alastor said, as he leaned closer towards your face, smiling wide. Blushing, you looked away for a second before giving Al a smile as big as his. "Perfect! I must say you make a good me!” Alastor said, as he placed his hand on your head, giving it a rub. "Thanks Al." you said, as you blushed and looked down again. "Now, since you want to be like me, we could engage in some carnage in the city! Imagine, the radio demon and his doppelgänger causing mayhem to the denizens of the Pride ring! Quite a premise!" said Alastor, extending his hand out like he was giving a performance in a play. "Um, sorry, but no thanks. I know we are in hell and all, but I'm still not use to all the violence and carnage yet." You said, as you looked at Alastor shyly. "Aw, don't be such a wet blanket , my dear." Alastor said, as he looked at you again, still smiling, but his ears were dropped down, signifying that he was a little sad. "Sorry , Alastor. Maybe we could do something else instead, like head to a cafe or go to one of Mimzy's shows?", you said. "Hmmm. Fair enough." Alastor said, as his ears perked up after he heard you say that. Hooking your arm in his, he pulled you next to him, as he raised his fingers up, ready to use his powers to teleport: "Lets go, my dear! I feel like this is going to be very entertaining!”

[1hot-mess-express1]

Washed Away

Sylus X Reader (Caleb X reader kinda but he's icky in this)

Summary: Shaken by the events that unfolded in Skyhaven you find comfort in Sylus (WK 6.5k) A?N: I kind of gave up on this part way and I feel like the style changes drastically but I needed to finish it (it's also been way too long since I've written smut so forgive me)

Warnings: Manipulation, manipulative sex (Caleb is kind of OOC and kind of awful) hate sex, biting, blood, bike crash, injury, penetration, unprotected sex, cumming inside, nipple biting, cunnilingus (I think that's it???)

banner made by: @arlerts-angel

As soon as you touched down in Linkon, you ran for your bike, parked just outside your apartment. You didn’t even glance at the door. There was no time. No room for hesitation. You needed to move. Now.

The engine roared beneath you, vibrating through your bones, grounding you just enough to keep your mind from shattering under the weight of everything you’d seen in Skyhaven. You were ready to take off toward the N109 zone when a bitter thought cut through the noise—Sylus would lose his mind if you showed up without a helmet.

A groan tore from your throat. Not from frustration, but from exhaustion. You didn’t have it in you to deal with his anger too. With a jolt you whipped your back in the direction of your apartment before ascending the stairs, with heavy steps, you ran inside, snatching the ridiculous helmet off the end table. Your jacket, too.

The helmet was a joke. A full-visor model with corny cat ears—a gift from the man of the hour, meant to tease you. And yet, as you shoved it over your head, you didn’t laugh. You didn’t even feel the usual flicker of fondness. Just a hollow ache.

You tore down the stairs and onto the bike, praying the ride would clear your head.

You were wrong.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, but your mind was still trapped in Skyhaven.

Caleb wasn’t dead. Worse—he was alive, but he wasn’t yours anymore. Cold. Distant. A liar. One moment whispering childhood memories, the next, drugging you. He had expected you to welcome him back like nothing had happened, like the years of grief had never existed. Like you had never existed without him.

And Ever.

You knew he was working with them. You knew. Yet when confronted, he couldn’t even give you a straight answer.

Your grip on the handlebars tightened. The rain slicked the desolate N109 zone, but you didn’t slow down. Anger, frustration, and something rawer twisted inside you. You’d had so many chances—to fight back, to force answers out of him, to end this before it could unravel further. You could’ve tied him down, threatened him, even killed him if you had to.

But when those steely eyes softened into the familiar violet that once adored you, you hesitated.

He had looked so genuine. Like maybe—just maybe—every horrible thing he had done had been to protect you in some sick way.

Tears burned hot down your face.

The hidden road came up too fast.

Your tires skidded. Gravel bit into your skin as you crashed down, pain ripping through your body as the bike pinned you beneath its weight. Your head hit the ground—hard—and for a moment, the world was nothing but blackness.

Dizzy. Nauseous.

A sound wrenched from your throat—half sob, half scream—as you shoved the bike off your leg. Adrenaline drowned the pain, or maybe fury did. You didn’t care. You got back on, forcing the bike forward. You refused to look at your leg. You refused to stop.

By the time you reached Sylus’s mansion, your whole body felt like fire. You barely killed the engine before shoving the bike down, letting it crash onto the gravel like an afterthought. You stumbled up the stairs, biting back cries of pain.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the blood soaking through your torn jeans.

“Boss man isn’t here, Miss Hunter,” the twins chimed from the couch.

Kieran peeked over, his sharp inhale betraying him. He and Luke exchanged a glance.

You forced yourself to breathe. “That’s okay. Just gonna lie down. Wait for him.”

Their stares burned into your back as you dragged yourself upstairs. Every step sent fresh spikes of pain through you. Gravel was embedded in your thighs, each movement forcing sharp little daggers deeper into your skin.

Inside Sylus’s bedroom, you ripped the helmet off and let it fall to the floor with a hollow thud. Scuffs and dents lined the side. Good call grabbing it.

You stumbled to the closet, pulling out a plain white dress shirt before peeling off your soaked clothes. The jacket was salvageable. Your jeans? Not so much. Bloodstained, shredded, and riddled with embedded pebbles.

And then, finally, you looked.

The pain, dulled by adrenaline, came crashing back in full force. Your body throbbed, fresh tears welling in your eyes.

Boots off. Shirt and bra discarded.

Now, the jeans.

You hesitated.

Your hands trembled as you braced yourself, then yanked them down in one go. The fabric clung where the blood had dried, tearing skin as it peeled away. Loose pebbles clattered to the floor like discarded buttons.

You hissed, vision blurring.

Barely standing, you stumbled into the bathroom, pressing gauze against the worst of the wounds. A half-hearted attempt at first aid. You wiped yourself down as best you could, then gritted your teeth as you straightened.

Pain coiled up your spine, white-hot and unrelenting.

God, you hated Sylus and his damn oversized bedroom.

With sheer effort, you made it to the bed, pulling the dress shirt around yourself before sinking into the mattress. Maybe… maybe his taste wasn’t so bad.

You stared at the ceiling, letting yourself slip back into the memory you had tried so hard to outrun.

You’d been so confident. So sure of yourself. You hadn’t told a single person what had happened. Not even Sylus. You just left, your only explanation being a vague mention of extended leave from the association.

How could you have crumbled under the weight of a stare?

You thought of the way Caleb had looked at you during the interrogation. Cold. Foreign. The warmth was gone, stripped away like you were nothing more than a stranger to him. His voice was sharp, jagged—nothing like the one that had whispered you to sleep as a child.

But then, afterward. When the doors had shut, and he had pulled you into that second room.

For a brief, fleeting moment, you had wanted to believe in him. Wanted to believe that he was still your Caleb, that he had some elaborate explanation, that he would pull you into his arms and whisper comfort into your hairline. That he wasn’t a stranger in his own skin.

But the second he smiled—really smiled—you knew.

The warmth never reached his eyes.

The leather of his gloves felt foreign on your skin as he traced slow, lazy circles into your back. His voice, honeyed and coaxing, whispered into your neck.

"It’s okay, it’s really me." A kiss against your racing pulse. "Don’t be scared, please."

There was something off in his voice. Too smooth. Too deliberate. It made your stomach churn.

And you had cried. Not because you believed him, but because you didn’t.

Slowly at first, tears slipping down your cheek as he kissed along your throat, his touch sending ice down your spine. When he reached for the fleet jacket draped over your shoulders, his fingers curled around the fabric like it offended him. Then, with more force than necessary, he shoved it off of you.

Your breath hitched. A warning sign.

Wrong. This is wrong.

But you hadn’t stopped him. Not yet.

A growl tore from your throat as you yanked him down onto the exam table, straddling his hips. For the first time that night, shock crossed his face.

"Wha—what are you doin’, Pipsqueak?"

Despite his surprise, his hands found your hips. A subconscious reaction. Pulling you into him.

That’s when you kissed him—hard. A kiss that wasn’t meant to comfort or forgive. A kiss meant to hurt. I hate you. How dare you let me think you were dead. How dare you expect me to fall in line the second you call. How dare you expect me to love you after this.

You bit down, tasting iron as you licked lightly at the bruised flesh.

He groaned, hands tightening on your hips, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. Wrong response.

"Fuck—Pips, that hurt," he exhaled, but his eyes gleamed. Not with pain. Not even with anger. He liked it. He was baiting you.

It was a challenge, not an apology. No hint of regret, no flicker of sincerity.

It was like he wanted you to fight back—just so he could tear you down all over again.

His gloved hand cupped your face too softly, as if mocking tenderness, while his other gripped your waist with growing fervor.

"Missed you," he murmured against your skin. A kiss. "So much." A lick. "So, so much." And then—teeth, sharp, sinking into your shoulder.

Pain flashed white-hot through you.

Your body jerked in response. Hand fisting in his hair, you yanked him back—hard—forcing his gaze to yours.

And there it was. That look.

No regret. No shame.

Just triumph.

A slow, creeping smile spread across his face.

"That’s my girl."

Something inside you snapped.

Something inside you snapped.

Your hand found his throat before you could think, fingers pressing against the rapid thrum of his pulse. Your heart clenched at the sensation—warm and alive.

Caleb was alive.

And he was right here.

The realization flooded through you, sharp and overwhelming, knocking the air from your lungs. You didn’t know whether to scream, to sob, to push him away or pull him closer. The only thing grounding you was the way his breath hitched ever so slightly beneath your grip.

Then you kissed him again. Desperate. Reckless.

His response was immediate—his hands roamed your back, deft fingers slipping beneath your shirt before he flicked the clasp of your bra open. Cold leather traced your spine as he yanked the fabric away, his grip rougher now, more demanding.

And then he flipped you over.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as your back hit the table. Before you could react, Caleb hovered over you, his eyes searching yours.

And for the first time tonight, you saw it.

That look.

The one he always gave you when you cried.

Your breath caught.

"Pips," his voice was low, a breath of hesitation laced with something unsteady. He reached out, his gloved fingers tracing the wet streaks on your cheek. "You don’t have to do this."

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, then—so softly it almost hurt—he kissed your forehead.

You felt him start to pull away.

And you panicked.

Your ankles locked behind his back, pulling him closer before he could escape. Your fingers fisted in his jacket, grip unsteady, voice even shakier.

"Don’t you dare run away from me again."

Something dark flickered across his face.

And then his restraint snapped.

Caleb’s lips crashed against yours, his movements rough, frantic. His hands ran down your sides before his mouth latched onto your breast. A gasp ripped from you, arching into his touch as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin.

He chuckled, the vibrations sending a jolt down your spine.

"Fuck—keep that up, sweetheart, and I might start thinking you missed me too."

Your stomach twisted, bile rising in your throat.

You had missed him. For years.

You missed the Caleb who had stayed up late with you on the rooftops of Linkon, tracing the constellations with his fingertips. The one who had held you when you cried, who had promised that no matter what happened, he’d never leave you.

That Caleb was dead.

And the thing wearing his face was trying to devour you.

That smirk—that same infuriating, arrogant smirk—made something burn in you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking hard, pressing him further against you, smothering him.

A muffled laugh rumbled against your skin before he bit down again, his grip bruising on your waist.

“Don’t worry Pips, I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight, ever again.” 

A sharp noise outside the bedroom wrenched you back to reality.

Your pulse spiked.

You just needed to sleep.

Yeah. That would fix this.

On the other side of the door, the twins sat in silence.

"I’m calling Boss Man," Kieran muttered, already pulling out his phone.

Luke didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned closer to the door.

Just in case.

With a lingering sense of unease, you reached for the gun in the nightstand, fingers curling around the grip before tucking it beneath your pillow. Your gaze stayed locked on the door, your breath uneven, heart beating just a little too fast.

You didn’t understand why you were doing this.

You were safe.

The safest place in the world.

No one dared to cross Sylus—no one was stupid enough to show up at his home uninvited. And yet, the weight of Skyhaven still pressed against your chest, wrapping around your ribs like like a snake. The fear, the helplessness—it clung to you like a second skin, sinking deep into the marrow of your bones.

A fresh wave of tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

God, you were so sick of crying.

You wanted this to be over.

To wake up and realize this was all some twisted dream. That none of it was real. That Caleb hadn’t tormented you. That you hadn’t shattered under the pressure.

But no matter how hard you wished, reality didn’t bend to your will.

With a ragged breath, you curled in on yourself, gripping the pillow tighter as exhaustion finally took hold.

Sleep came in waves—slow, heavy, and mercifully dreamless.

When Sylus arrived home, he was pissed.

Why had you been so reckless? Running off to Skyhaven—of all places—without telling him. You knew he couldn’t monitor you there, not right now at least. Couldn’t risk being seen with the chaos unraveling between Ever and the Fleet. And yet, you had still gone.

He had wanted to trust you, to believe that you could handle yourself the way you always insisted. But what did he get in return?

You, bleeding all over his floors.

His jaw locked so tight it felt like his teeth might crack, his brows furrowed as his ruby eyes burned with barely restrained fury. His coat was still half-unbuttoned, rain clinging to his skin as he stalked inside, tension radiating off him in waves.

The twins flinched the moment his gaze landed on them—sharp, cutting. Without a word, they scrambled out of his way, pressing themselves against the walls as if they could vanish into the shadows.

He didn’t slow his stride.

His fingers curled around the door handle, knuckles whitening before he ripped it open. The force sent the door slamming into the wall with a deafening crash.

The sound jolted you awake.

Your breath hitched—panic, adrenaline, muscle memory kicking in faster than thought.

Your fingers closed around the gun beneath your pillow, your heartbeat a violent drum in your ears as you swung it up and—

Pulled the trigger.

The gunshot cracked through the room, deafening.

But Sylus didn’t flinch.

Before you could even register what had happened, his hand flicked up—red and black energy twisting through the air like smoke. The bullet stopped mid-flight, hanging in place for a split second before he let it drop to the floor with a hollow clink.

A breath punched from your lungs.

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose, slow and controlled, but the heat in his eyes burned furious.

"First, you run off without telling me," he murmured, his voice low, eerily calm.

He took a step forward.

"Then, you wreck the bike I got you." Another step, heavier this time.

The mattress dipped as he reached down and ripped the covers off your lower half, exposing torn fabric and poorly dressed wounds to the cold air. You sucked in a breath, hands instinctively twitching toward your lap.

"And now you shoot me for walking into my own bedroom?"

His ruby gaze pinned you down, unwavering.

You felt small beneath it, stripped bare, your mind scrambling for words, for something—an explanation, an excuse. Your lips parted, but nothing came out except a pathetic breath.

It didn’t matter.

Sylus had already turned away.

His boots were heavy against the floor as he strode toward the bedroom door. The twins had lingered, watching with wide, terrified eyes—but at his approach, they bolted, disappearing down the hall like shadows before he reached them.

Then—slam.

The door shut with finality, rattling in its frame.

Your stomach twisted.

This is it.

He’s going to tell you to leave.

To never come back.

To never speak to him again.

You bowed your head, bracing for the inevitable blow. Your fingers picked at each other absentmindedly, trying to slow your racing pulse, to hold back the sting in your eyes.

But the words never came.

Instead—

Your head snapped up at the distant sound of running water.

The bathtub.

The tension in your chest tightened, confusion washing over you like a second wave of adrenaline.

Sylus was in the master bathroom.

Running a bath.

For you.

"Sylus?" Your voice came out pitifully quiet, but he heard you. He always did.

"Just wait there, darling. I don’t want you hurting yourself walking around."

You watched as he wiped his hands on his slacks, then let his coat slip from his shoulders onto the bathroom floor. The air around him was heavy—controlled rage simmering just beneath his skin—but when he stepped toward you, there was only restraint.

"I’m fine," you muttered, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, testing your balance. The moment you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg like fire, the world tilting violently—

Except you never hit the floor.

A red mist coiled around your body, weightless yet firm, suspending you just above the ground as Sylus sighed heavily.

You swallowed, heart hammering.

He stepped closer, the mist dissipating as he caught you effortlessly with one arm, his grip firm but careful. His nose brushed against your hair as he inhaled deeply, voice dropping into something dangerously fond.

"What am I going to do with you, kitten?"

He carried you easily, crossing the room in long strides before setting you down on the cool bathroom counter. His hands spread your legs slightly, making space for himself between them as he leaned in, his eyes flickering over the mess you had made of yourself.

Another sigh.

Slowly, he reached under the cabinet, pulling out a first aid kit and setting it down beside you with careful precision. But his other hand—his free one—remained on your thigh, tracing absentminded circles into your skin.

A chill crawled up your spine.

You felt gross.

The need to tell him everything—about Skyhaven, about Caleb—itched under your skin like poison, but you couldn’t handle his anger right now. Not when you were already teetering on the edge of breaking.

You chewed your lip, lost in thought, before you felt him shift.

Sylus tilted his head down, his gaze softening just enough as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I’m gonna have to tear these off," he murmured. "Don’t look, sweetie."

Before you could brace yourself, he pressed your head into the crook of his neck, his fingers threading through your hair, rubbing soothing circles against your scalp.

And then—rip.

A sharp sting shot through you as he tore the first bandage away. You flinched, instinctively moving to swat his hand—but he was faster.

He caught your wrist with ease, guiding both your arms around his shoulders.

"Hold on to me." His voice was low, patient. "Ground yourself, kitten."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping onto him as he continued.

You felt so unworthy of his tenderness.

Unworthy of his care. Of his anger, even.

You had let yourself get so tangled up in Caleb, the Fleet—Ever—that you had nearly forgotten about him. But it seemed Sylus had never forgotten about you.

He was here.

Waiting.

"All right," he finally exhaled, stepping back just enough to get a better look at your legs. His fingers instinctively reached for your swollen knee, pressing lightly.

Pain shot up your leg like a live wire, a choked cry ripping from your throat before you could stop it.

Sylus froze.

His jaw tensed, his expression darkening as he pulled back slightly.

"I’m calling the doctor."

He moved to turn away, but your fingers caught the fabric of his shirt, gripping it weakly.

"No, please... just want—you."

His breath hitched.

For a moment, something flickered across his face—widened eyes, a split-second hesitation.

Then it was gone, replaced by a quiet, lingering concern.

"Sweetie..." His voice was softer now, but firm. "I can’t leave you like this."

Despite his words, he stepped closer, letting you bury yourself against him, his hand cradling the back of your head.

You clung to him, trembling.

Sylus let out a heavy sigh, his hand smoothing over your back.

"Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "But first thing tomorrow morning, I’m calling your doctor. For now, however—"

He reached down, sliding his hands beneath you as he carefully lifted you from the counter, mindful of your injured knee. His fingers grazed your shoulders as he pushed his shirt off you, letting it slip to the floor.

"You need to get in the bath. You look like a stray cat."

There was a small, teasing lilt to his voice, but the chuckle that followed was quiet, almost unsure.

You didn’t laugh.

Instead, your fingers curled into his shirt again, tugging softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Will you get in with me? Don’t want to be alone right now."

He stilled.

His grip on you tightened, just slightly, before his ruby eyes flickered down to meet yours. You could feel the hesitation in his body, the way his muscles tensed beneath you.

For a long moment, he just looked at you.

Then, slowly, he set you back down on the counter.

"Are you sure?" His voice was quieter now, measured. "I can just sit next to the tub if you don’t want to be alone."

His hand found your face, thumb grazing along your cheek, and you instinctively nuzzled into the warmth of his palm.

"Mm, sure," you murmured. "I wanna be close to you."

The way his eyes softened at your words made your stomach twist.

It was that look—the one that said he could never refuse you, not even if he wanted to.

A quiet exhale left him before he moved swiftly, stripping out of his clothes. He didn’t make a show of it, didn’t tease—just moved with purpose, carefully picking you up again before stepping into the warm water, lowering both of you in.

The heat of the bath wrapped around you, soothing the ache in your limbs as Sylus adjusted you against him, keeping you secure in his hold.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—you felt safe.

"So," Sylus muttered, head resting in the crook of your neck. "Are you gonna tell me what has my kitten so flustered, or do I need to guess?"

The words were teasing, but his voice was anything but.

It was broken.

Worried.

You let out a bitter laugh. "I don’t even know where to start."

His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against your hip, grounding you. "Would it help if I asked questions and you answered them?"

You nodded softly.

A breath. "Okay… where were you?"

"Skyhaven."

He already knew that. But it was a start.

"What were you doing there?"

"Retrieving an aether core."

Fuck. He knew it. His stomach twisted, thinking of all the bullshit you might have gotten wrapped up in.

"Were you able to retrieve it?"

You shook your head. No.

"I see…"

His gaze flickered down, and his fingers paused against your skin. That bite mark on your throat—dark, unmistakable. A twinge of jealousy curled in his stomach.

He shouldn’t feel jealous.

You weren’t his—not officially, not in any way that mattered. An unlabeled, unspoken bond tethered you two together, but it wasn’t enough to claim you.

And yet.

He placed a gentle kiss against the mark, his lips lingering just a second too long.

"Unforeseen complications?"

You inhaled deeply before shaking your head. Slowly.

The air around you felt heavier.

"Caleb’s alive."

Sylus stiffened.

His arms around you tensed, grip unconsciously tightening.

He had known of Caleb. Knew more than he had ever let on. And as he felt your body begin to tremble, the anger—the jealousy—inside him warred with something deeper.

"He’s alive," you repeated, voice barely above a whisper. "And working with Ever."

His hold on you stayed firm, unwavering, as if keeping you anchored.

"I don’t understand all of it, but he…" Your throat tightened, the words catching like glass shards. But you forced them out anyway. "He locked me in his house… and drugged me."

Sylus inhaled sharply.

Your breath hitched. "I—I couldn’t save that little boy because of him."

Your voice broke at the end, and you hated it.

"And, and we…" You squeezed your eyes shut, hands balling into fists against his thighs.

This was it.

Now or never.

"I fucked him."

Silence.

You let out a bitter chuckle, self-loathing creeping into your voice. "I don’t even know why. I was just—so consumed when I found him alive. I didn’t know what to do with myself."

Your gaze dropped to your hands, shame thick in your throat as tears spilled again.

"I felt so small. So out of control. I don’t ever want to feel like that again."

You braced for it.

For him to push you away. To hate you. To call you a traitor, a liar, a whore.

To tell you that you had tainted yourself.

But it never came.

His arms didn’t loosen.

Instead, his grip tightened.

And when he spoke, his voice was far away, as if lost in a memory.

"I understand what that’s like."

A silence sat between you, thick and heavy, before he continued.

"When I first saw you again," he murmured, "I was so consumed by my anger. My jealousy. I would have done anything to make you understand how you had hurt me."

A small chuckle left him—low, almost bitter.

"I wanted you to feel what I had felt. And I did things I’m ashamed of."

You swallowed, your voice timid. "How did you get over it?"

He hummed, as if considering the question carefully.

"You brought that dying dove over."

You blinked.

"I was a monster, the terrifying leader of Onychinus, the man who had been so cruel to you. But when you looked at me…" He exhaled, his voice nearly a whisper now, "that’s not what I saw reflected in your eyes."

Your breath caught.

"Instead, I saw a man who loves birds. Taming horses. A man who can’t fish to save his life."

That startled a small laugh out of you, despite everything.

His lips curled slightly. "Instead, I saw a man worthy of forgiveness. Of understanding."

A pause.

Then—he kissed just beneath your ear, voice thick with something sickly sweet, something that might just consume you whole.

"I can’t promise Caleb’s eyes will ever reflect that for you."

Your chest ached.

"But, darling…" He let out a breath, gently pulling your face up to meet his.

His skin was flushed a soft pink from the warmth of the bath, but his eyes—his eyes—they were impossibly soft. Drowning in unspoken words, in something so devastatingly real.

"If you need it, you’ll find it in mine."

Your breath hitched.

Your hand lifted instinctively, fingers brushing over his.

"If you look in my eyes, love, you’ll see a strong, capable woman." His voice was so steady, like an oath, a promise that couldn’t be broken.

"A woman who overcomes any and every obstacle sent her way."

"A woman obsessed with plushies and cute animals."

"A woman who loves my family as if it were her own."

"A woman whose kindness knows no bounds."

His lips ghosted over your forehead, pressing a featherlight kiss there as he murmured:

"A woman I’ll love until the last star in the sky fades out."

Another kiss—your cheek this time, softer, reverent.

"A woman I’ll chase through every lifetime, in every universe."

Your throat tightened, eyes burning, as he cradled your face like something precious.

"So if you ever need to know what you really are," he whispered, "please… just look into my eyes."

Your body betrayed you, drawn to him with a force beyond control. Before reason could intervene, your lips crashed into his—a kiss meant to steal the very breath from his lungs. It began softly, a whisper of longing, but passion flared too quickly, too violently, consuming you both. Your hand, trembling yet desperate, slid up to the bare line of his undercut, fingertips gliding over heated skin. A low, throaty groan escaped him, the sound vibrating against your lips, sending a wildfire racing through your veins.

The kiss deepened, urgency overtaking restraint. Your lips moved against his with a silent plea, your body urging him to surrender, to lose himself as you had already lost yourself in him. As if hearing your unspoken demand, he parted his mouth, allowing you to drink him in, to taste the hunger in the way his tongue tangled with yours. A shudder rippled through him, his control teetering on the edge of ruin. Had he always been this raw? This undone?

You shifted, pressing closer, your smaller hand venturing boldly downward. The instant your fingers grazed his hardness, his entire body jolted, a sharp hiss escaping through gritted teeth. Yet before you could chase after him, his hand caught your mouth, silencing you with an authority that sent a shiver down your spine.

His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unsteady. A flush crept down his heaving chest, his parted lips wet with stolen breath, his pupils blown wide. The sight of him like this, caught between restraint and abandon, made your thighs press together in need. His panting breath stuttered as you gripped him again, refusing to let go, your touch both a demand and a prayer.

"Sweetie… you're hurt," he rasped, his fingers wrapping around your hand, trying to pry you away. But you only held tighter, his name a breathy sigh on your lips.

"Don't be stubborn," you whispered, stroking him with slow, hypnotic precision. A guttural groan tore from his throat, his head falling back, surrendering for just a moment to the pleasure you gave. "You can be gentle with me, right, Sy?" Your voice was a sultry murmur, your lips ghosting over the sharp line of his jaw, trailing lower to taste the sweat-dampened skin of his throat.

His restraint snapped.

With a possessive growl, he lifted you both from the tub, water sloshing wildly onto the floor. His strength made you gasp, but he carried you effortlessly, depositing you onto the bed with a tenderness that contradicted the fire in his eyes. One large hand anchored himself next to your head, the other drawing your wrist to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your pulse. His fingers curled over your hand, bringing it to his mouth where his teeth grazed your palm before sinking in just enough to make you gasp.

"You just can't listen, can you?" His voice was low, edged with frustration and raw desire. His lips trailed up your arm, lingering at the mark on your neck—his mark. He exhaled sharply, brows knitting together as longing and concern warred within him. Sensing his hesitation, you tilted your head, offering it to him once more.

"Want you, Sylus. Only you."

Your voice was a whisper, but it shattered the last of his resolve. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal igniting within him. The sight of you, breathless and waiting, was his undoing.

A deep growl rumbled from his chest before his teeth sank into your neck, hard and unrelenting. A sharp cry escaped your lips, your hands instinctively flying to his hair. Were you pulling him closer? Or daring him to take more? The pain mingled with pleasure, a dizzying storm that left you gasping, writhing beneath him. His tongue soothed the bite with slow, deliberate strokes, his hands roaming your trembling form, mapping out every inch of heated skin.

The warmth of his touch lingered even as he reluctantly pulled away, hovering above you, his gaze drinking in the sight of your flushed, needy body, the deep blooming bruise overpowering the previous mark. His lips, so brutal just moments ago, now pressed reverent kisses down your chest, each touch unraveling you further. You felt the world blur, your mind reduced to nothing but the sensations he left in his wake.

"Missed you so much, sweetie," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He locked eyes with you, a silent promise passing between you before he dipped lower, his lips pressing reverently over the softest, most intimate part of you.

Your back arched, a gasping moan slipping from your lips, but his hands steadied you, anchoring you to the bed. "Relax, honey, or I'll have to stop," he warned, his tone stern, leaving no room for argument. You barely managed a nod before pleasure surged through you, reducing you to a trembling, pleading mess beneath him.

His tongue worked you over with agonizing precision, teasing, coaxing, pushing you toward madness. Each flick, each slow drag sent you spiraling higher. His grip on your hips tightened, his groan vibrating against your sensitive flesh. You whimpered his name, each syllable dripping with need, and that was all it took for him to lose himself completely.

He growled against you, intoxicated by your sounds, your taste, your scent. His fingers joined his tongue, thrusting deep, stretching, claiming. Your body clenched around him, your hands grasping at anything—his hair, the sheets, your own skin—desperate for something to tether you to reality.

"Sy, I—it's too much," you gasped, pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves. But he wasn’t done. His tongue, his lips, his hands—he consumed you entirely, pulling you deeper into a pleasure so intense it threatened to break you.

He groaned against you, hips rocking against the mattress in desperate search oc relief as he devoured every moan, every plea. His hunger was insatiable, his need just as desperate as yours. And when your body finally shattered, trembling beneath him, he didn’t let go. Not yet. He let out a guttural moan that vibrated through you, strengthening your orgasm to the point you felt a wet gush flow from between your legs but Sylus wasn't done with you yet.

Because Sylus was a man who never left anything unfinished.

Finally, he leaned back on his heels, his impressive length leaking onto the sheets. Had he? You didn’t have a second to question before he rushed forward, sealing your lips in a kiss so full of hunger and restraint it stole your breath. "You make everything so difficult, my kitten," he whispered, his large hand cradling your face before pressing his fingers to your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself as you helplessly drooled around him.

"Listen to me," he murmured, forcing your gaze to meet his own. Despite the haze of lust, his eyes held a seriousness that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're going to tell me if it hurts, okay? I can't be hurting you more, or that pompous doctor of yours is going to accuse me of something awful…" Sylus chuckled darkly before leaning in, his breath warm against your ear. "Little does he know, his sweet, sweet patient is just a needy, spoiled little princess."

He pressed a chaste kiss to the mark on your neck before shifting, gently pushing your good leg aside, making room for himself between your thighs. His movements were unhurried now, measured, as he loomed over you with something both reverent and utterly ravenous in his gaze.

He pushes into you slowly, hand smoothing down the hair on your head, eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted him to stop, any sign that this hurt you. Instead, he saw nothing but love swirling in those great big eyes of yours. He kisses you, gently this time, “was so worried about you sweetie,” he kisses you again a little deeper this time, “wanted to see you so bad,” he’s slipped in all the way now, every inch of him filling you up perfectly causing you to moan softly into his mouth, “wanted to take care of you,” he kisses your temple as your arms wrap around his large back to ground yourself through his skin. He starts at a deep, slow pace, allowing you to feel all of him, savoring every moment of you under him. “Wanted to cook you dinner, help wash your hair,” he lets out a staggered breath as his pace picks up slightly, “wanted to fuck you, to hear you scream for me, to make you feel good,” he goes back to biting at your neck, leaving new marks in his wake. “Fuck--sorry sweetie, ‘m not gonna last like this”, he creeps a hand between your bodies and begins to rub precise circles around your still sensitive clit. Your body arches into his touch clenching harshly around him as you feel yourself beginning to cum. Your brain is nothing but a pile of mush in the wake of his love for you, you love him. You love him so much. You love the way he loves you. In the mundane, in the way he cooks your favorite and shrugs it off, the way you never have to open a door, the way his fingers reverently card through your hair, the way his touch makes you feel so safe, so seen. 

Fuck you weren’t going to last either, with the last part of your fading sanity you pull him into you, whispering into his ear, your breath hot on his skin, “I-I love you Sylus, I want you, I-I want to see myself in your eyes…always,” He swears his brain stops functioning at your sweet confession, his hand grows erratic, quickly rubbing circles into your clit, trying desperately to make you cum as he feels his own release ready to crash over him. And you do, you squeeze him so tightly his vision goes white for a moment as his pace stutters and empties himself into you. He came so hard he can feel it leaking out of you and onto the sheets but he just stays there. Holding you close to him, placing his head in your neck trying to hide his flustered face from you. He loved you. 

EXTRA: Zayne had made his way to the N109 zone with a quickness the following morning. You had fractured part of your knee, he was sure of it and you would need to go to the hospital for X-rays, so you lounged on the couch, flipping through a novel while Sylus packed some things for you to take with you. While searching for your more comfortable shoes his eyes land on a necklace on the nightstand. He eyes it suspiciously before covering it with his evol to try and detect an electric signal, and sure enough, in the charm was the tiniest tracker, able to tell the location and listen to everything. Sylus smirks to himself before placing it back onto the nightstand. Serves that bastard right.

[bongbongbangi]

YELENA BELOVA’s birthday with the THUNDERBOLTS headcannons .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ϟ ⚡︎

(or the new avengerz)

all photos are from Pinterest !!

i wrote this during class 😀😀

before Yelena joined the thunderbolts, she spent her most of her birthdays probably drinking

might get herself a cupcake and then call Natasha ☹️

BUT THEN SHE JOINED THE THUNDERBOLTSSSSSSSS

Ava, bob and Alexei wanted to do something special

Alexei seems like the type of guy to go all out on birthdays

he decroated the entire living room with balloons and banners

[ BEST GOALIE OF THE WEST CHESAPEAKE VALLEY THUNDERBOLTS]

he stormed into her room singing at 7am with breakfast he made in hand

“LENA ITS YOUR BIRTHDAY WHY ARE YOU STILL IN BED”

“dad im gonna kill you”

the breakfast was ok tho, not the most delicious but it’s the thought that counts

Yelena couldn’t stop smiling the entire time (awhhhshdhhsshsjsj 🥺🥺🥺)

yes this was in fact another time Alexei set three towels on fire

Ava had the idea of surprising her with everyone wearing Yelena’s signature eyeliner

Bob and Alexei thought it was a great idea

John and Bucky were harder to convince tho

I think Bucky would agree to it if they beg long enough

would still sigh and grunt the entire time (possibly add an eye roll in there)

no but like imagine applying eyeliner on Bucky while sitting on his lap and his arms are wrapped around your waist with his greyish blue eyes looking into yours and he’s slightly smirking up at you-

ANYWAYS 😁😁😁😁 (I volunteer as tribute 🙋‍♀️)

Ava ended up applying it on John while he was taking a nap on the couch, newspaper on his lap and everything

she may or may not have also drawn a cartoon penis on his cheek

and possibly cat whiskers as well

midday however they got called on a mission

this was when thunderbolts started trending on twitter for looking like they either just walked out of an Avril Lavigne music video or haven’t slept in 4 months

YELENA LOVED IT THO(that’s the only important part)

everyone knows yelena loves mac’n cheese

John had an idea to make a Mac’n cheese cake with bob’s help (cuz i firmly believe that bob can cook amazing Mac’n cheese 🤞)

Bob kept telling him it won’t work

but of course John wouldn’t listen

“walker it’s just gonna come out like sludge”

“no bobby you gotta trust me if you bake it it’ll come together i swear”

it came out like Mac’n cheese pie

but the kitchen smelled like Yelena’s heaven

which she greatly, greatly appreciated

“what is thiss😋” AND HER LIL YELENA SMILE AWHHHH

they did end up getting her an actual cake tho

a confetti cake 🥰

however the best part of her birthday didn’t come until later

Yelena was told they had another mission

but when Bob came on the jet too she was like 🤨

“why are you coming with us Bob 🤨”

“well i uh-“ “emotional support😁”- ava

guess where they went

OHIO BECAUSE THATS WHERE THE WEST CHESAPEAKE VALLEY THUNDERBOLTS TRAINEDDD

there were already kids playing there

but they new avengerz being the cheeky lil bitches they are joined 🥰

they totally cheated btw

some kids were on Bucky and John’s back screaming

Alexei was yelling out instructions but no one listened 😔

“NO BOB MY LEFT NOT YOUR LEFT”

Bob was trying his best ok ☹️ we love you for that Bob <3

ava started phasing around to scare the kids

it actually worked and some kid ended up crying

and Yelena was on the ground cackling the entire time

when they went back to the tower they were covered in dirt and mud

convinced that Yelena drew a happy face on John’s back with the mud and everyone was laughing while John’s all like “what are you guys laughing about 🤨😔”

damn idk why people keep drawing things on John in this post

that night when it was time to cut the cake

and everyone was singing happy birthday

John was trying to sing in tune , Bucky looked so done (but he was enjoyed the moment :), Bob was singing along shyly, Ava was clapping while singing and Alexei was the loudest one

after they finished alexei threw yelena up in his air and did the cliche “MY BABY DAUGHTERS ALL GROWN UP☹️🥺”

before they went to bed Alexei told stories of Yelena’s childhood

stuff like her at football training and lil moments with Nat 🥰

she was constantly trying to stop him but the others were laughing so hard

Bob actually fell off his chair

“I didn’t expect you were the type to actually throw a rock at the other teams coach”-walker

“I WAS LIKE 5”

and when yelena went to bed that night

even though she was exhausted and slightly annoyed,

she finally felt like she was home

[enhastolemyheart]

enha + boyfriend moments ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing non idol!enha x fem!reader warnings none genre fluff est. relationship nets @k-films @kflixnet

a/n I wanted to try something different this time. sorry i went mia for so long :(( i decided to do something for all of enha boys and i hope u enjoy!! also i totally forgot abt jungwon's allergies while writing his part so less jus pretend he is not allergic to cats :((

banners by @cafekitsune

LEE HEESEUNG ツ

i feel like heeseung would always and i mean ALWAYS trap you between himself and whatever other object is there near you. I honestly feel he loves to see you flustered and ears all burning red just from a mere touch as he very smoothly traps you between his arms, nowhere to escape. like, the look on your face is such a ego booster and this little "moment" has to happen at least once a day. It is just a heeseung coded move and it gets you worked up every single time.

"hee, I just had to go get groceries real quick, can you let me go?" You try to excuse yourself from his hold as you were trapped between the counter and his arms. "no baby," he bends to meet your eye level, "you left without giving me a kiss." he moves in so close you think you'll combust. "cmon baby, make it up to me."

more under the cut!

PARK JONGSEONG ツ

we all know Jay's love language is acts of service and maybe even gift giving. cmon, its obvious that jay is the kind of person to always buckle your seatbelt for you, open any kind of door for you, cook meals that remind you of your culture and hometown, likee he is literally the sweetest boyfriend ever. he's perfect. he is also the type to always have a belonging of your in his bag whenever you both are outside. like that is so jay coded.

your day started with a quick breakfast at a cafe, and then your extravaganza at the amusement park. You and jay went through it all, the amazing food, the thrilling rides. he even held your hand the whole through the roller coaster to help you conquer your fear. he was there every step of the way and you both had so much fun. the sun had started setting and so you both get seated at a highly reviewed restaurant in the park for dinner. Just as the food came, you wanted to tie your hair up, feeling scorching due the humid air and all that walking you did. noticing you were having trouble finding your tie, Jay casually puts his wrist closer to you where a hair tie was sitting. "here, i kept an extra."

SIM JAEYUN ツ

jake is definitely the type of boyfriend to take you out on night drives. windows rolled down, music blasting in the air, one hand on the wheel and the other intertwined with yours. you couldn't have spent your night with jake in any other way. he loves you with all his heart and i feel like one way of showing it is through songs, so what's better than listening to playlist he made for when he thought of you, while riding around the city at its most quiet hour?

"baby, i just added some new songs to the playlist." he confesses, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss before bringing it back onto your lap. "yeah? lemme hear it jakey." he giggles as he presses play "i love you, my girl." he looks at you the whole time you were listening, together on a blanket as you indulge the beautiful night sky.

PARK SUNGHOON ツ

one thing that sunghoon loves but doesn't want to admit is waking up in your arms. quite literally, he loves falling asleep on your chest with your hand massaging his back and hair. ugh, he'd just melt to sleep then and there itself. don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves seeing you under his arms first thing in the morning. but, something about being in your embrace where he can be vulnerable and himself is just far much better. he absolutely love your sweet and hoarse voice as you greet him a good morning and then proceed to pepper his precious face with kisses to start of the day right. he feel so much better with you and your presence.

the little kisses being left on the top of sunghoon's hair wakes him up. he looks up at you from his place, hair all strewn, arms wrapped around your midriff while head tucked inside the crook of your neck. you giggle softly at his sleepy smile before running a hand through his hair, "good morning, sleeping beauty." he huff as you see the evident pink on his cheeks. "good morning" comes out muffles due to how close his mouth is to your skin, placing gentle kisses and squeezing your waist. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, giving you a full, sweet good morning kiss and murmuring that he wants to stay five more minutes in bed.

KIM SUNOO ツ

this is such a sunoo coded thing. but, he absolutely LOVES doing masks and manicures with you. like, imagine just sitting on your bed, face masks on and gossiping about anything and everything while painting each others' nails. sunoo is the type of boyfriend in whom you'll find a best friend. like, he is always the first you would go to share news and stuff and vice versa.

"and so because of niki, we got the rest of the day off!" sunoo exclaimed finishing the mini story of a recently occurred event. you couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the story. minutes pass, and now he is painting your nails this time, both of you rocking a baby pink color. you both end up binging 2000s rom-coms before dozing off sleeping soundly in each others' arms.

YANG JUNGWON ツ

ugh. jungwon is such a soft boyfie. he is always by your side helping/accompanying you to anything and everything. jungwon is very kind and caring and takes care with so much love, he loves you more than himself. he is the type to always greet you with warm hugs and cheek kisses. hand holding when going on a stroll outside no matter the time of day. he is also very BIG on words of affirmation. he is always telling he loves you and he makes sure you know.

"omg! won, look!" you point at the stray cat that was situated under a tree near the trail of the pretty park you both are at. he looks at it with wide eyes before slowly moving towards the cat, wanting to greet it. once the ginger cat understands that you both mean no harm, it starts to get close with jungwon rubbing up against his leg. "it is so cute won, it looks just like you!" you exclaim resulting in a chuckle from your boyfriend. he slowly picks up the cat, bringing its face close to his before turning to you. "see baby, you can't tell the difference between me and the cat, can you?" you chuckle softly kissing his cheek. you both decide to take the cat to a vet and then give it some food and shelter for the night.

NISHIMURA RIKI ツ

this kid. as much as playful he is, he is as equal in being sincere and true to himself and your relationship. he loves to tease you. i think quality time is one of his ways of loving you, so i can def see you both out on adventurous dates together. whether it be basketball dates, going to an amusement park together, spending time with each other at 4 am having ice cream, anything and everything you do, it's always filled with love and laughter that make up wonderful memories.

"come on baby, try and take it from me." niki exclaimes as yet again steals the basketball from your hold dribbling slowly towards the basket. "ugh, you and your damn long legs." you mumur. he laugh at your comment before stopping in front of you. he is so close that you know you are going to turn red soon if he doesn't back up. "here." he puts the ball in front of you, and you have to declare yourself stupid because inches before you can get the ball, he raises his arms, putting the ball way out of your hold. "riki! not fair." you out as you try and jump to get the ball. Niki simply laughs at your silly attempts. "you are so cute, you know that?" he bends to meet your eye level, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "i love you" knowing the effect you had on him, you managed to snatch the ball before running away and yelling, "i love you too dork!" niki smirks at your escape before chasing after you.

a/n. tysm for reading!! i hope u liked it! this was not proofread!!

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[rileyglas]

Hello! Can I request Alastor x Fem!Trust Issues!Reader? I've seen quite a few fanfictions and requests where Readers were wary of Alastor, but strangely quickly began to trust him. Therefore, it seemed to me that it would be funny to see a Reader who is so distrustful of people in principle that with Alastor’s reputation this distrust reaches the point of absurdity. And when Alastor really sincerely wants to gain the Reader's trust (romantically or platonically, it doesn't matter), then it becomes a really difficult task. For example, he offers help with some little thing and the Reader immediately “what do you want from me.” Or when Alastor brings the Reader tea/coffee, she waits for him to drink first (she would probably insist that he pour it from the same ?teapot?). The other residents of the Hotel find this hilarious.

This is such a fun prompt, especially under the assumption Alastor loves nothing more than a good chase during a hunt. 😉

Like Glass (Alastor x Fem!TrustIssues!Reader)

Four months. That’s how long it took for you to finally take Charlie up on her offer of the possibility of redemption. The chance to get to Heaven seemed like a pipe dream but after a few very long talks and persuasions, you now held a key to your own room in the hotel. 

You try to keep to yourself and most seem to respect that. You’re left alone unless something is needed for one of Charlie’s exercises. You even specifically requested that Nifty didn’t bother coming to your room to clean. The less people in your space the better. 

Charlie has such a big heart but that leads to her choosing to trust even the most despicable characters. She has even trusted and allowed the Radio Demon to live under the same roof. You’ve heard all the stories, all the theories of why he was really there under the ruse of “helping” her. You didn’t buy it one bit. 

Just the other day you were trying to hang some banners the crew had made during an activity. Your ladder was rickety but unfortunately it was the only way to reach the beams. Pained grunts filled the room from you trying to stand on your tiptoes while maintaining some sense of balance. “Allow me to help, dear. Would hate to see you fall.” A staticky voice called from below you. “No thank you - I….am almost…done - shit!” the ladder shifted and almost threw you off. Alastor stabilized it with ease. “See, it is a good thing I’m here!” he yelled smugly. At this point you would rather fall than allow him to hold your life in his hands. “You’re a busy man Alastor. Hey Husk? Mind helping -”

“Nope, looks like Al has it covered.” he teased from behind the bar, relishing in your uneasy tone. You shot daggers, both angry and begging for the cat to just help you instead of Alastor. You made the last tie in the banner and swiftly came down to more solid ground. “Thanks I guess. I had it though.” you said through gritted teeth, avoiding making eye contact and rushing out of the room. Had you looked back you would have seen Husk laughing at how irate Alastor suddenly became.

Now tonight, Nifty was kind enough to serve everyone one of her more popular dinners. It was a simple dish yet as usual, you waited for everyone to nearly clear their plates before digging into it yourself. You might have been starving but you could never be too careful. We are all in Hell for a reason. Could anyone be truly trusted?

“My dear, dig in! Before it gets cold!” Alastor’s voice chirped from across the table. You glare at the toothy grinned demon, “I just like to ensure everyone is enjoying before digging in myself. Appreciate the concern though.” You try to seem pleasant but your voice always seems to drip with disdain when speaking to him, “Why are you so worried? Did you help in preparing the meal?” 

He chuckles, “I try to keep out of the kitchen when Nifty cooks but she did require a few extra hands -” You involuntarily choke and spit out the bite you had just taken. Angel and Husk also choke though it’s to hold back laughter. You sneer at their amusement. Alastor’s face twists with confusion, “Is everything alright?” “Oh uhm I’m suddenly not that hungry. Must be coming down with something. Excuse me.” You excuse yourself from the table and make your way to the library. Reading was always something that could busy your mind and right now you needed a distraction from both your growling stomach and Alastor’s attempt to help once again. He’d been making an uncomfortable effort to help you in any way he could and in your mind, that could only mean he wanted something from you.

Not many residents used the hotel library which was great for you. But of course, there was always someone who enjoyed breaking your solitude. The sound of footsteps pulls your eyes off your current page, “What do I owe the visit?” you snap over your book. 

Alastor strides over with a serving tray carrying a tea set. “Well I saw just how horrible you looked at dinner and figured some peppermint tea might help whatever ailment you’re suffering from.” He sets the tray on the table in front of you but you don’t move a muscle. “Since when do you care if someone isn’t feeling well?” you cock an eyebrow at him. 

He hums as he pours two cups of tea, taking one for himself and offering you the other, “What? Can I not offer a fellow resident a nice cup of tea?” “Nope. What do you want?” you continue to stare at the cup in his hand. His eye twitches, trying to hold back his annoyance, “Why do you insist on rejecting any of my pleasantries?”

You slam your book closed, “You’re wondering why I do not want help of any sort from one of Hell’s most vile Overlords?” He sets down your cup and sits across from you. You didn’t want company but it's too late now. “Ms. Morningstar trusts me with ensuring the safety of this hotel yet you cannot even take a cup of tea you’ve watched me both pour and drink myself. Other than what stories you’ve heard, what have I done to you to make you so cold towards me?” His eyes burn into you, eager for an answer. Although with his tone, you could only assume he knew exactly why you didn’t trust him. 

You sigh as you pick up the cup he offered. You swirl it in an attempt to examine if it looks or smells odd before hesitantly taking a small sip for yourself. “Have you ever been betrayed Alastor? By a friend? By someone you loved? Because I have. It’s how I died and how I ended up here.” 

His smile falters slightly, corners curving down before returning to their usual wide grin, “Trust is like glass, once broken it isn’t easy to fix nor will ever be the same. I admire how guarded you try to be.”

You scoff, “If it is so admirable then why bother trying so hard to earn my trust? Unless it just kills your ego that someone can see you for who you truly are -” The cup he holds suddenly shatters under his tightening grip, “Watch your tone, dear. I’ve been nothing but amicable with you. I expect the same in return.” his voice drops with static filling the air. You can’t help but smirk at how quickly you’ve managed to get under his skin. “Ooooh so it is an ego thing? Duly noted.” you bite and finish off your cup. As you stand you see Alastor’s eyes shift to black dials, his mind clearly spiraling. On your way to the door you brush a teasing hand across his shoulder, “Tea was wonderful by the way. I’m feeling better already!” Your coy laughter echoes through the library as you leave but the sounds of Alastor’s demon form drown it out. He snarls over his shoulder to you, “Don’t act so smug darling. I’ll get you to trust me one day.”

“Good luck!” You chirp walking out the door, unaware of the challenge you just put into place for the Radio Demon.  He was going to have you one way or another. It was only a matter of time and patience, two things he had plenty of when it came to getting what he wanted. You.