pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

soooooo… obey me! fic when? 👀🫶 specifically making a pillow fort with barbatos, turned pillow fight of course. mammon tries to butt in and make it into a sleepover, levi brings his controllers because he wants to play mario kart

Obey me now and forever babes, those are my boys right there. Here's my attempt at fluff with them...

--

Homesickness.

It was only a matter of time until it came for you. Staying in the devildom was fun and all, never a moment of boredom in the halls, but you missed the human world.

Specifically, you missed going about your normal life without the threat of being eaten. This had to be close to the hundredth time you overheard another demon at school joking about it. You had thought it was a joke, at least. And you were practically immune to those jokes.

But they had followed you after class. Mammon, that asshole, had abandoned you to go catch some limited time items at some fancy pop-up store. You thought you would be able to lose the two demons in the never-ending halls, but apparently, you couldn't. And soon, you found yourself at a dead-end.

You held your textbook up and swung around, prepared to fight off whoever was pursing you. You couldn't afford to be gentle; you didn't want to die yet. All bite, you yelled as loud as you could. "Back the fuck up!"

The demons, however, were expecting that. One easily snatched the textbook and threw it onto the ground, and the two kept you cornered so you couldn't run.

"Look at the little human, so scary," the one on the left mocked.

The other laughed. "Not so scary now that the brothers have abandoned her. No fair that they get all the fun."

You weren't about to go down at the hands of these douche bags. "I am a guest of Lord Diavolo, and you can't threaten me like this." You were fumbling, desperately trying to remember the words you had rehearsed with Lucifer the last time this had happened. "It's an act of treason to lay your hands upon a guest of the Prince."

"Aw, what a fuckin' shame." One mocked. "Too bad your little bodyguards can't come to save you, can they?"

You had spent so much time around the brothers that you forgot what demons truly were. The malice was not unlike a human's, entitled and targeted.

So, you did the first thing you could think of. You held out your hands, positioning them just as Solomon had instructed, and repeated one of the few spells you had memorized.

The two demons were knocked back by the spell, already turning to stone, if you had recited the words correctly. You didn't bother checking. You were too busy running across the campus, past Leviathan's bedroom, and straight into yours. You made sure to lock the door behind you.

Trying to catch your breath, you fell to the ground and curled up, pushing yourself up against the wall, between your bed and the nightstand. A stray pillow that had fallen to the floor was the perfect item to hug to your chest as you tried to take count of what happened.

The feeling of helplessness weighed heavy on your chest. You had felt it almost constantly since coming to RAD. You were surrounded by people who could kill you in the blink of an eye, both angel, demon, and sorcerer. Sure, Solomon had taught you a few spells, but that wasn't enough. You were hanging by a thread, so close to dying in this place, every day.

It made you sick. You wanted to go home, you wanted to be safe again without having a 'bodyguard' with you.

But you weren't going to cry. You couldn't, you had been doing that far too much. You didn't want to be the weak human everybody saw you as.

You buried your face in your pillow, the scent of fresh laundry detergent filling your nose. It distracted you enough that you didn't notice the green-haired demon who had appeared before you, somehow bypassing your locks.

Slowly, you brought your eyes to his. In his silence, you could hear everything. You never needed to tell him what was wrong, somehow, he just knew. The overpowered bastard seemed to have a six sense, appearing by your side whenever you needed him. Or, according to him, it was simply a butler's duty to take care of his master's guests.

Barbatos crouched down to your height, tilting his head to the side in thought. You couldn't tell if he was judging you or not.

But that question seemed to answer itself.

He threw a blanket over your head, tucking the fabric into your mattress on one side and the nightstand on the other. A makeshift canopy for you to hide under.

When you finally worked up the courage to speak, all you could ask was, "What's this for?"

"Comfort," he answered, attempting to soft his blunt words. "It's much better than sitting on the hard floor, isn't it? Now, up."

He held out his gloved hand and you took it without hesitation. Barbatos sat you on the bed as he got to work, expertly layering the blankets and pillows on the floor as if he had done this a thousand times. Serving Diavolo, he probably had. The Prince certainly seemed like the type to enjoy childish things like this.

You couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach as he made sure every part of the makeshift fort was perfectly plush, not a sharp edge in sight.

Everything in place, everything soft for you. Out of all the Demons in the Devildom, you had to admit, you felt most at home with Barbatos. He wasn't the most talkative, or the most energetic, but he was there. A stationary comfort, one free from impulsiveness, that would stay beside you no matter what, pact mark or not. You knew his loyalty was to Diavolo, but a small, selfish part of you wished that it extended to you, as well. That even after you finally returned home, he would still appear whenever you needed him.

"My lady," he said, gesturing toward the finished fort. "I hope my work is satisfactory."

A childish grin spread over your face as tears threatened to spill. Barbatos may not be great at giving you comfort, but he was trying. The fort was giving you the softness he couldn't. "Yes, Barbatos. It's perfect."

"Of course." He held the blanket flaps open for you to crawl in. "And, if I may be so bold to ask, may I join you?"

Polite as always. "Obviously, come on!"

It was hilarious, watching Barbatos crawl into a fort. But it was just as amazing. He seemed so out of place, his uniform scrunched up in an unprofessional manner. Surely, he had to return to Diavolo soon. But you would take any moment with him you could steal away

"You know what we need to do now?" You grabbed a pillow behind your back.

But of course, Barbatos caught the movement. "You want to challenge me to a pillow fight?" he asked, eyebrow quirked. "I'm sorry, my lady, but that is a fight you will surely lose."

You scoffed. "We'll see about that."

You threw the first pillow, but Barbatos easily caught it. "You can do better than that."

He tossed it back to you lightly. You took the pillow back, readying yourself. "Fine, but you're asking for it."

You swung the pillow harder this time, and Barbatos fell back. There was a feeling in your gut telling you that he was letting you win, but you didn't mind. It was fun to play around with him, as much as he could.

While he was distracted, you tackled him onto the bed of pillows. He was letting you take control, and somehow, that was exactly what you needed.

"Might I call upon my lady for mercy?" he said, speech eloquent despite being pinned by a human he could easily push off. "I would like a rematch."

"Hmmm," you pretended to think, tapping your chin. "I suppose."

You started to move off him, his gloved hands lingering on your hip as he guided you to sit beside him.

Just in time, too, because Mammon burst into the room. His white hair was sticking straight up, his breath coming out in forced puffs.

He called your name before falling to his knees in front of you, effectively hugging you and pulling you away from Barbatos at the same time, before rambling. "Shit, I heard what happened, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone." His grip was tight. "But don't worry, I'm never leaving your side again. I'll stay all night if I have to."

A pillow went flying straight for his head, the impact sending him flying back.

Barbatos turned back to the fort, fluffing the back pillows before Mammon could blame him for the attack.

The butler started, "Would you like me to show Mammon out, my lad--"

Wham.

Barbatos didn't so much as flinch as Mammon launched a pillow back at him, far harder than you had earlier. But as he stared at Mammon, his eye twitched.

Oh, it was so on.

Either for self-defense or to continue his annoyance, Mammon dove for a pillow, shoving you behind him as Barbatos did the same. "Get behind me, I'll protect you!"

Before either demon could throw a pillow, you took yours and swung it, landing a blow on Mammon's head.

"That's for leaving me," you stuck out your tongue as he gasped.

Barbatos chuckled as you returned to his side across the fort.

Mammon held out his hand. "Come on guys, let's not do anything rash."

"Hmm, what do you think we should do, my lady?" Barbatos asked you in his soothing voice. "Would you like to join forces?"

You nodded, and Barbatos handed you his pillow.

"Hey, hey, wait, we can talk about this!" Mammon tried to reason.

But it was too late, the fort turning into a mess as the air filled with flying pillows and muffled screeching. Your earlier troubles were all but forgotten as the play-fight continued, reminding you, that at least here, you were safe.

Leviathan came in moments later, console clutched to his chest, along with some snacks clearly marked 'Beel.'

Mammon was the first to notice, untangling himself from the mess of a pillow fort. "What are you doing here, Levi? I thought you were busy binging your animes to hang out with us normies."

"I was, but then I saw ____ running down the hall, and I assumed you did something to upset her."

"I did not--"

You grabbed Levi by the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him into the pillowfort with you. "Did you bring mario kart?"

"Obviously," he scoffed, not pulling away from your grip on his sleeve.

Mammon lunged forward, the conversation forgotten. "I call first round!"

Levi barely managed to pull his controllers away in time. "No way. I brought the game. I choose who plays first.

He handed you one controller, and kept the other for himself. All the while, Mammon was pouting in the corner. Barbatos, who had been quiet as always, still had his eye on the brother, not yet having forgiven him for abandoning you earlier.

"Come on, Barbatos," you said with a smile. "We can teach you to play so you can play next round."

You could have sworn he smiled back. "I'll have to take you up on that offer, my lady."

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

Star - A Barbatos Birthday Fic

Warnings: hurt/comfort; established relationship; my own lil’ worldbuilding headcanons disguised in a romantic trench coat.

WC: 5575

*~*~*~*~

The room was dark, the last embers clinging to life in the hearth of the large, stone fireplace.  The atmosphere weighed warm and heavy on both of you, an invisible blanket made of lovemaking.

Your head was tucked into the crook of Barbatos’s neck, your arm and leg draped over him as your fingers lightly traced patterns against his bare chest. It was an aimless bliss, a peaceful affection.  His arm was wrapped around you, his fingers reciprocating their own feathery dance against your bare shoulder, your arm.  The sound of the slow movements was barely audible, a whisper of love spoken through touch rather than words.

Happy birthday, indeed.  A rather perfect ending to what you had insisted was a very important day.

But for all of the warmth and love that hummed between the joining of your naked bodies, Barbatos could not fight the unease that lurked beneath his skin.

It was heavy.  Not in the way the residual warmth of lovemaking was heavy - no, that warmth was a comfort, a rejuvenation.  But this... this heaviness that sat within him was something else entirely. A stone, cold and hard, cutting through the dark water’s surface and sinking down, down, down... 

It was an unease of his own making, the slow, rising awareness of the depths of his love for you, the fortitude of his trust.  After all, the stone would not sink so easily if the ice within himself had not been given time to thaw.

It wasn’t so much that the unease was because he loved you. No, he’d known how he felt for quite some time, and he could have hardened himself against it, rejected it. He was no stranger to love and the risks that came with it.  But even knowing that, he had made his choice to love you, and he stood by it without regret or doubt.

But that singular choice, that commitment, brought change on a deeper scale.  It caused a lifetime of barriers, built by the harsh ravages of time, to crumble and fall.  The first surrender led to the next, and the next, a cascading effect that he no longer wished to stop.  With acceptance, came love, and with love came trust.  And with trust, came the slow unfurling of secrets.  Vulnerable, private secrets.

And there was no secret more secluded in his memory than the one he was about to share with you tonight.  He knew it would be tonight because he could sense it, could feel it in like an invisible tug, the way migrating birds knew when to fly, or when flowers knew when to open.  He knew this moment would come eventually, and finally, finally it was here.

“There is something I want to show you,” he whispered.

You lifted your head and looked at him with curious eyes. “Oh?”  You glanced at the clock, then out the tall, arched windows at the pitch-black sky, faintly littered with distant stars.  The large moon had set long ago and wouldn’t rise again for many hours.  “Now?”

Barbatos’s eyes glanced sidelong at you.  “Yes.”

The measured evenness of his tone washed away your languidness.  You sat up, extricating yourself from his embrace.  Barbatos quietly  loathed the cold empty air that replaced the warmth of you.

“What is it?” you asked.

Barbatos sat up as well. “It will require us to get dressed.”

Normally, he would receive a dramatic sigh or a playful remark.  But you’d grown perceptive of the nuances in his behavior throughout your many years together.  Now you simply nodded, your eyes still curious but wary.

“Okay,” you replied.

Quietly, you began to find your clothing strewn across the floor and started to dress yourself.  Barbatos followed suit.  He finished before you, and stood waiting, his hands clasped behind his back as his eyes stared into the remnants of his fireplace.  A speck of ember faded to black, and another, and another.  A series of little deaths.  Memories surfaced and fell away, his mind wandering to an age long ago, a beginning long forgotten.  Red to black.  Light to dark.  Confusion, pain, hunger—

“I’m ready.”

Your voice cut through like sunshine, a gold tether pulling him back from the deep abyss.

Barbatos looked at you for a moment, simple and unassuming in your RAD uniform, albeit now a bit more wrinkled than earlier.  You self-consciously shifted under his gaze and tugged at the fabric.

“...should I change?” you asked.

Barbatos shook his head and allowed a small smile to paint his lips.  “No,” he replied softly.

He turned toward his bedroom door and offered his arm which you took comfortably, as if you’d always belonged there.  It was a gesture he had done countless times with you, but this time was different.  The feel of your warm hand through the fabric of his sleeve brought a sense of impending completion that he could scarcely believe was real.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Not where,” Barbatos replied as he traced his fingers in the air along the doorframe, “but when.”

The frame began to glow that familiar green that was unique to Barbatos’s magic and your eyes widened.  “Does Diavolo know?”

Barbatos raised an eyebrow at you, and you knew you’d offended him. You bit your lip sheepishly.

“Of course,” he replied. “ I would not do this without his permission.” He looked back towards the glowing door. “I had requested this single allowance to be his birthday gift to me.”

Your hand tightened a fraction on his arm, and his gloveless hand covered yours.  He looked down at you questioningly, and you returned his gaze with warm acceptance.

“I trust you,” you said.

Barbatos’s smile deepened and his eyes returned to the door.  With you securely attached to his arm, he opened the door, and the two of you stepped through.

~*~*~*~

Darkness. A darkness so deep, it was nearly impossible to see. And cold. So cold. A damp chill that made your body immediately begin to shiver.

You held tightly to Barbatos with both hands wrapped around his forearm, and his free hand covered yours. There was something about this darkness, about the wild thrum of ancient magic around you that made every animalistic instinct within you ready to run.

“Barbatos...” you whispered, your voice catching and cutting on the concern that was beginning to choke you.

“It’s all right,” he soothed.  “Allow yourself but a moment.  Your human eyes will adjust.”

You inhaled deeply through the nose, a calming breath. The air carried the rich scent of damp earth.  You breathed out slowly through your parted lips.  Gradually, shapes began to form in the darkness - tall, winding shapes from the ground and reaching up, up...

Trees.  Immensely large, their boughs nearly blocking out the night sky, with barely a drip of starlight getting through.  A soft breeze passed overhead, a breeze you couldn’t feel hundreds of feet down on the forest floor.  But you could hear it, could hear the way it made the trees whisper, ancient giants sharing their secrets in a language not made for human ears.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“In the Devildom,” Barbatos replied.

“When are we?”

“The beginning.”

“The beginning?”

“Well, my beginning, at least.”

You looked in the direction of his voice, where you knew he stood, the faintest outline of him visible.

“Your beginning?” you echoed.

He didn’t respond, and you could tell that he was sending his keen demon senses out, seeking for something.

“It’s so dark I can barely see you,” you confessed. “What if we get separated?”

A soft chuckle.  “I will not allow it.”

A gentle glow began to emanate from him, starting with his veridian eyes, the irises glowing like the bobbles of an angler fish.  As he allowed more of his magic to permeate himself, the glowing spread along his cheeks, the turquoise strands of his hair, his tail.

“There, is that better?” he asked. 

There was the smallest hint of playfulness in his voice that began to ease your nerves.  But then there was the sound of leaves rustling on another stronger gust, followed by the snapping of a twig. Your head spun towards the sound.

“What was that?”

“Nothing of consequence, I assure you.  There is nothing alive in this forest.  Not yet, at least.  And there won’t be for a very, very long time.”  Barbatos tightened the pressure of his hand against yours and leaned in just the slightest bit more so you could feel the presence of his body against your side.  “I would not have brought you here if it would put you in danger.”

He was right.  His reassurance cooled the last remnants of fear within your veins, and you nodded.  Besides, it wasn’t as if you didn’t have magic of your own.

As if in response to your awareness, the Ring of Light on your finger began to glow a soft, white light. It illuminated the dense forest around you, chasing away shadows in favor of dark grey bark, knotted hollows, large twisting roots digging into soil and rock.  The trunks were smaller than the ones you’d seen in present time, younger. But their height remained unmatched, drawing the eye up, up, until vanishing beyond the light.

Barbatos eyed the ring warily.  “Be careful, dear Star.  There may not be creatures yet, but there is still magic.  And we are in the past, where the slightest change can cause ripples far beyond your understanding.  We must proceed with the utmost caution.”

You nodded, taking his words to heart.  This was a great risk he was taking, which only made the significance of it more palpable.

His gaze flitted ahead, the glow of his eyes brightening a fraction as the sharpness of them gave way to something distant, something outside of your own vision.

“Come,” he said. “We mustn’t be late.”

You swallowed your growing questions and followed him silently over root and rock.  He was lithe and agile, without a single error in his step.  You, however, were not, and Barbatos was patient as he helped you over the difficult terrain, pausing to hold your hand periodically.

As you walked, a growing sense of unease began to burrow beneath your skin.

“Something’s... off...” you muttered.

Barbatos didn’t respond, but he glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he walked.

The wind continued through the boughs, but now there was more. A vibration beneath your feet, a moving of magic, the tightening of an invisible coil...

Then the wind stopped, the air still.  You halted, your eyes wide and alert.  There was an ebb, a pull, like standing upon wet sand as the ocean sucks back its waves, pulling the tiny grains from beneath your heels.  Sinking, sinking, but not actually moving—

An eruption of light ahead of you, behind trees, followed immediately by a loud ‘CRACK!’ that you felt deep in your bones.  Your ears popped as the air pressure changed, a blast of immense magical power rushing past you.

The light vanished, plunging your blinded eyes back into darkness. The breeze returned.  The low hum of magic returned to its lazy flow beneath your feet, grounding you.  The breaking of a dam, followed by the calming of waters.

A roar echoed through the forest, a wild, agonizing sound that cut like a sword through your bravery. You pushed yourself against Barbatos’s arm, burying your face into his sleeve.  He adjusted his hold on you, his arm around your shoulders as you hugged his torso.

“What the hell was that??” you whispered, your voice muffled by his waistcoat.

“Ah, I forgot about that part,” he mused.

You looked up at him, bewildered. 

You frowned at him, a gentle scolding.  “Is this your idea of a good time?”

He gave a soft chuckle and kissed the top of your head. 

“Come,” he chided, leading you forward.

The glow from earlier, you realized, hadn’t entirely faded.  Now there was a faint light illuminating the silhouettes of the trees ahead of you.  As you walked, the light grew brighter, the trees grew thinner, younger.  Something sparkled back at you through the gaps, glittering with gentle movement... water, you realized.  Likely moonlight reflecting off its surface.

Another pained cry, a faltering moan.

You and Barbatos finally broke through the tree line to find yourselves standing at the edge of a calm body of water.  In the center was an island, and on the island sat the largest tree you had ever seen.  So large it nearly defied logic, defied imagination. The bark was pitch black, the boughs stretching and winding high into the sky, well above the surrounding forest.  The leaves were silver wrapped in iridescence, playing tricks on the eyes as the wind coaxed them into a silent dance.  The magic was potent here, rich and palpable.  The soft hum of power that had permeated the inner forest was now exponentially stronger, vibrating sharply against your senses like a thousand stinging needles.   The immense tree glowed like moonlight, eating the shadows, pushing back the never-ending dark. There was something almost volatile about it, its gnarled boughs rising and dipping like a beast protecting something precious.

And perhaps it was.  For beneath it lay a creature, humanoid, curled up amongst the grand roots at the water’s edge.

You recognized him instantly. The curve of his long tail, gleaming black to turquoise, the pale skin, the deep, green hair, illuminated by the light of the tree above him.  But there were differences, too. The wings upon his head were more than just bones, a soft membrane of turquoise translucency woven between the sharp points.  His spine was a raised, black ridge, dotted with small spikes that glowed like gems of aquamarine.  And the marks of lightning that you’d only ever seen on his tail... they covered his entire body, like a map of exposed veins.

He was glistening from head to toe, wet with whatever afterbirth he’d been born from. But there was no other creatures present, no maternal monster to claim him.  Confused, your eyes looked up, up into the high branches above.  Finally, you saw it.  A strange black pod, broken open and dripping like ripe fruit.  The strange alienness of it made goosebumps prickle on your arms, your neck.

Movement in your lower periphery brought your gaze back down to the roots where he still lay.  His body trembled, jagged lines of electricity leaping and fizzing off his skin, and another agonized moan echoed across the still, lifeless water, followed by a rattling sob.

He was alone. Utterly and entirely alone.

And clearly in pain. So much pain...

On instinct, you stepped forward, your shoe breaking the surface of the water’s edge at which you stood.  The ripple of your single step stretched out slowly, slowly, across to the opposite bank, before caressing along his shivering form.

His name fell gently from your lips.  “Barbatos...”

It wasn’t a shout, and yet he heard from across the distance, his head snapping up and his eyes locking onto you. You froze.

Demon. Raw, wild.  His face was oddly expressive in a way you’d never seen before, the confusion and pain contorting his smooth features.  He was more creature than man, his posture growing defensive as he clawed himself to a crouch.  His eyes glowed bright, his teeth bared, exposing jagged fangs.  The pale skin of his fingers darkened to black, razor-sharp claws, ready to shred.

A low growl, deep and guttural.

Barbatos – your Barbatos – tightened his grip on your hand as he stepped forward to join you at the water’s edge, his gaze on you.

“He doesn’t know you,” he said softly. “Not yet.” He looked at his newborn self.  “He won’t for a very, very long time.”

You looked at Barbatos as he watched himself struggling to rise, his new body weak and foreign to him.  There was a distance in his eyes as he stared, a deep hollowness that if you followed it down would surely lead to a place you couldn’t climb out of.  A place dark, ancient, and alone.

Barbatos. Your partner. Your friend.  Your lover.

What it must mean to him to share this with you.  What it must have cost him to relive this painful moment.  The impact of it made your chest ache with love, with gratitude... but you couldn’t understand why.  Why did he bring you here?

The light in Barbatos’s eyes returned and he looked at you.  “You have questions.  Come.  Let us return.”

You looked back at his younger self, who still eyed you both warily, although the deep growls in his throat had subsided.

“What about... Are we just going to...?”

The gentle resistance of your unmoving hand made your Barbatos half turn towards you.  He was silent for a moment, his expression like smooth stone, before finally speaking. “What would you do in this moment?” he asked.  “Would you go to him?”

“I... I don’t know...”

“He would kill you.”

You stared at the creature across the water. 

“I know,”  you whispered.  “It’s just... sad.”

Your Barbatos fell quiet as he looked back at himself.

“Yes,” he finally said.  “I suppose it is.”

This time a more determined tug on your hand.  “Come,” he ordered more firmly.  “We have lingered long enough.”

You forced your eyes away and let yourself be led back into the thick darkness of the forest.  You risked one last glance before the gaps in the trees closed, your eyes locking one last time with the demon.

Even from this distance, you could sense it, feel the tendrils of his soul, his power, reach out to you.  It brushed against your own, and for the briefest moment, you felt it.

Longing.

You broke your gaze from him and did not look back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once you were safely back in Barbatos’s room, you sat on his elegant couch in front of the fireplace, newly kindled.  The warmth did little to chase the cold from your bones, your mind still caught on the memory of that place, that time.

A cup of tea on a delicate saucer appeared in front of you, and you quietly took it from Barbatos’s hand.  You looped your finger through the handle and lifted as if to drink. But the cup never made it to your lips, halting halfway before lowering slowly back onto the porcelain.

There was a stillness next to you, Barbatos’s movements frozen as he observed your change in behavior.  Then you felt the cushions next to you bow beneath his weight as he sat, his own cup in his hand.  He sipped it quietly as he stared into the dancing flames.

It was a long time before you spoke.  When you did, your voice was soft.

“Why did you show me?”

His voice reciprocated your own quietness. “Because it was time.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him. You looked at him and watched, waiting, seeing.

You could feel it in this moment... the way his eyes stared into the fire, the far-away look of memories being relived in his mind, the soft rolling magic within him that you’d grown so accustomed to sensing, like a fan that you keep in your room for the comfort of white noise.

“You knew this would happen?” you asked, already knowing his answer.  But you wanted to hear it from him. You wanted him to explain it to you.

Barbatos set down his teacup on the coffee table in front of him.  “Yes.”

You followed his action and set yours next to his, then curled your legs up onto the couch as you turned your body to face him.  He glanced at you before staring at his abandoned cup, as if the words he sought could be found there. You’d never seen Barbatos so uncomfortable before.  So...  vulnerable.

When he finally spoke, his voice was scarcely above a whisper. 

“It is my first memory.”

Your eyes widened but said you said nothing.

“I didn’t know who or what you were,” he continued.  “I didn’t even know myself.  One moment I wasn’t, and the next moment I was.  And then you were there, glowing from across the water...” his eyes fell to your ring, and he took your finger into his own, brushing his thumb across the band.

“Did you recognize your future self?” you asked curiously.

“No,” he replied.  “How could I? I’d never seen myself before, born only minutes prior.  But later... later, I understood.”

A heavy pause, a weighing of knowledge and questions.  Your brow furrowed with worry.

“You always speak of the dangers of changing the past.  You even said as such when we arrived in the forest.  And yet, you let him see us. Why?”

A small, distant smile as his fidgeting stopped. “Because if I didn’t, then this future and all of its variations would cease to exist.”

The impact of his statement, the severity of its meaning, forced an audible inhale.

“What... what do you mean?” you sputtered.  “Like... fate?”

A small, dry laugh skipped past his lips.  “Fate, destiny... neither word fully grasps the complexity of time and the choices we make within it.”

“I... I don’t understand.”

Barbatos’s his posture straightened slightly.  He adjusted fingers until he was fully holding your hand in his.

“I apologize. I am being cryptic.  Let me explain.  I took you there tonight because I chose to.  Making that choice will ensure that the past, present, and future, as it currently is, are protected.  Alternatively, I could have chosen not to, a decision which would have had catastrophic consequences.”

“So you had to choose between taking me and protecting the current timeline, or not taking me and losing it? That doesn’t sound like much of a choice.”

“Indeed.  But it was a choice nonetheless. I knew it was the choice I would make because the memory remains.  So,” he mused, “you could call it fate if you’d like, in that the choice is already chosen for me.  However, it was chosen for me, by me.”

Your head spun and you pinched at the bridge of your nose.  “Yeah.  That’s not confusing at all.”

A pensive pause before Barbatos continued.  “Fate is not some outside force that moves us like pawns on a chess board.  Instead, it is more like a record, a documentation of an entire lifetime of decisions. To trust in fate is to trust in yourself, in the choices you choose to make in life.”

“But we make infinite choices.”

“Yes.”

“So there are infinite fates.”

“Yes.”

“So somewhere out there is a Barbatos who chose not to take me to the past.”

A small shrug of his shoulder, a tilt of his head.  “Perhaps.  Who is to say?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.  “You’re being cryptic again.”

A light chuckle, neither confirm nor deny.

The amusement in the moment waned into a long silence that grew heavier with each passing minute.

When you spoke again, your voice was quieter, your expression laced with concern.  “What happened to you? After we left?”

Barbatos’s brow furrowed, a thin line creasing above the bridge of his nose.  The swirling green shifted into something stormier, his mouth pressed into a thin, hard line.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Another passing moment, a soft sigh.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he finally said, busying himself with the knuckles of your fingers, swiping from one to the next.  “It is just... difficult to speak of.  In fact, I have never spoken of it, until now.” Another sigh, this one longer, filled with fatigue.  “My beginning was a long and arduous one. Putting words to such experiences brings forth... memories in a way that I have not experienced in some time.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. “You don’t have to.”

A small, sad smile.  “Ah, but I do,” he replied.  “Because that moment I showed you was a pivotal one, and you must truly understand why.”

Your brow furrowed at his insistence.  “What do you need me to understand?”

“What you mean to me, the significance that you hold.”

Your throat tightened with emotion, and your eyes began to sting.  “Barbatos... I’ve never doubted what I mean to you.”

He smiled; not the restrained, small smile held tight by painful memories or secrets, but something fuller, warmer.  His hand reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing.

“I know. But even so, I have waited a very, very long time for this moment.  Just because it is difficult to say, does not mean I don’t want to share it.”

You swallowed and then nodded, a silent acquiescence.  Barbatos gave a small dip of his head in gratitude.

“You asked what happened after...” he began.

But memories were hard to relive, and he hesitated.  You squeezed his hand with a gentle firmness.  It reassured him, the tension in his body dropping the slightest fraction.

“To be honest, it is hard to remember.  Those first days, those early centuries... they were so long ago, that they’ve nearly turned to dust in my memory.  I remember pain.  Cold.  Loneliness... and hunger. Such hunger...

“I did not understand who or what I was.  I did not understand the place I was born into, or how I came to be.  And my powers...” a hard pause.  “I was a demon, fully grown, and so my powers were fully manifested.  But they were uncontrolled, wild like myself.  I was swept away in them, falling out of time and into darkness.  Words cannot describe...”

Barbatos faltered.  Another squeeze of your hand, grounding him.  You were here, you were here.  Finally, he moved past the words he couldn’t say, the pain he couldn’t articulate.

“I wandered, lost in both mind and spirit.  I don’t know for how long.  It may have been millennia, it may have been longer.  The timelines are infinite, my powers were chaotic.  I would find myself in one place and time, and then stumble into another, entirely different. But throughout those lost years, when my sanity was broken and my mind was scattered, I still remembered you.  I remembered your face, bathed in pure light, your soul so achingly beautiful...”

He fell silent for a moment, lost in memory. He swallowed. The action made tears sting your eyes. Barbatos never showed emotion. Not like this.

“I remembered the word you spoke,” he continued.  “The name.  My name. I knew it was my name, because you had called out to me.  It was the only bit of identity I had, and I clung to it, anchored myself with it. I may not have known myself or what I was, but at least there was someone out there who did. Or” - a wry smile, a meeting of the eyes - “someone who would.  Eventually.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you began to feel light-headed. “Your name...”

Barbatos’s ancient eyes stared at you.  “Yes.  You gave it to me.” He looked back at the fire.  “I have had many names throughout my long life.  But ‘Barbatos’ was my first, and it shall be my last.”

The finality of his words left an empty ache in your chest that you fought to subdue.  A long silence stretched before both of you as you sifted through his words, piecing the tapestry together as even more questions arose, new threads to be woven in.

You selected one thread from many and pulled.

“Did you ever question it?”

His gaze refocused on you.  “Hm?”

“Did you ever question it,” you repeated.  “What you saw that night.  Did you ever doubt it was real?”

A hollow smile.  “Yes, for a time.  I tried to find you at first, once I had adequate control of my powers.  I knew you were from the future, because I saw you with myself.  But the timelines were too infinite, the crossing of our paths too distant. And my skills... it would be a very long time before I fully mastered how to navigate the infinite threads.  Eventually I stopped looking, and a part of me stopped believing. 

“But I never forgot you.  I couldn’t.  I would see your face in my dreams, spot your likeness in a stranger on a foreign street.  Whenever I had thought I’d finally freed myself of your calling, something would make me remember again.  I was... haunted.”

Haunted.  The word hollowed you out, leaving an aching pit in its wake.  How tortured he must have been.  A face he couldn’t name but couldn’t forget, a person he couldn’t find; a person he didn’t even know what real or imagined.

You dipped your head and caught his downcast eyes with your own.  “You searched for me in the future... but did you ever go back to the past? To the beginning?”

The planes of his face hardened, and he looked away.  “Not at first.  Not for a very long time.  I had no desire to go back to that place.” A deep rise of his chest, the slow release of air.  “But I did return, eventually. I needed to know.  I saw you there with me – the future me.  A me I had not yet become.  A me who... loved you.  It had to be love. There was no other explanation for why I would bring you to my darkest memory.”

A chill tickled down your spine.  “You were there...”

“Yes.”

“I... I didn’t sense you at all.”

A soft stroke of his thumb across your knuckles again.  “I know.  By then I knew how to conceal myself, to subdue my power and hide in the shadows.” The gentle swipe of his thumb stilled, slowed by remembrance.  “Seeing you there, holding hands with myself, brought a reassurance that I had desperately needed in a time where I had felt endlessly lost.  I knew that you were real. And that eventually, in the future, I would find you.”

A wry smile tugged at your lips.  “I thought you said you don’t believe in fate?”

Your teasing softened his features, easing the worry lines and curving the corners of his mouth.  “I do not.  I knew by then that finding you was a near-impossible feat. Countless choices lay between myself and that future, and the slightest misstep would take me off course.  But at least there was the possibility, the chance, no matter how infinitesimal.” He raised your fingers to his lips and adorned them with a gentle kiss.  “That small possibility was what helped me find my way.”

Tears stung your eyes, your chest heavy.  “How? How did you find me?”

A pause, a gathering of his words, carefully selected.

“It wasn’t easy,” he said.  “And it wasn’t without failure.  Many, many failures. But each failure I made was turned back, each wrong choice was replaced with a different, better choice.”

His fingers reached forward and brushed along the fabric of your collar.  

“This uniform... I searched for it constantly.  I finally saw it when I had crossed paths with the young prince and peeked into his future.   And I knew that I would eventually find you if I followed.  It was like a beacon, guiding me to the correct path.”

“You joined Diavolo... to find me?”

The light in Barbatos’s eyes dimmed briefly, a ghost of sadness crossing his features before vanishing.  “At first.  Selfish, isn’t it?  But something changed in me when I looked into the young Prince’s futures.”

You swallowed the pounding of your heart.  “How so?”

His eyes softened into sadness as if he could see the futures in the empty space between you.  “So many variations,” he whispered.  “so many of them ending in pain and bloodshed.  But there was also hope.  A timeline where there was peace amongst the realms, where there was love and joy and friendship... and you.”

His eyes focused on you, sparkling, a green forest full of life and light. 

“Seeing that possibility helped me realize the man I wanted to be, the future I wanted to help make.  In my search for you, I found myself.”

Your eyes burned hotter, your vision blurring. Now, Barbatos smiled lovingly at you and cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs already wiping the tears from your cheeks as they fell.

“So you see my dear, when I call you my Star, it is more than just a term of affection. It is the truth.  My truth.  You have been my light in the dark long before I knew your name.”  More tears slipped down your cheeks, and he pressed his forehead to yours. “You guided me home.  I will always be grateful for that.”

He kissed you then, capturing the sob from your lips with tender worship. You leaned into it, into him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt, embracing the warmth and realness of his body beneath it.

With his hands still framing your face, Barbatos pulled back just enough to look deep into your eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

Another sob spilled from your lips, and even though the words felt far too small for an emotion so big, you said them back.  “I love you too.”

He smiled and kissed you again. And again.

And he wouldn’t stop kissing you for a very, very long time.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

NSFW Alphabet (Barbatos Edition)

Anon Requested: "Hey... could you write an nsfw alphabet of Barbatos, please?"

Series: Obey Me!

Genre: Smut/Headcanon

Word Count: 2.2k words (why lol?)

Pairing(s): Barbatos x Female MC

Original Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye

(dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/dollywons)

CW: small mentions of blood, sadism, and knifeplay

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Proper care is Barb’s forte. The brutal sex the two of you had is a complete 180 from his soft hands and reassuring voice. His precise movements massage your fresh bruises as he gently cleans your body. You wouldn't have to lift a finger for him to get a bath prepared and a soft bed to sleep in.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Not necessarily a body part; he more or less likes his attentiveness, and through that, his body moves on its own. With his slimy tail, he can pull you in tightly and slide it down your body while you squirm. He’d do anything to give you the best and most comfortable experience. His favorite body part on you depends on your preference. If you prefer asphyxiation, he’s fixated on your neck. If your breasts are sensitive, he gives them extra care. Whichever gives you the most pleasure, he will gladly focus his attention on.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

A rather strange flavor, not too salty, but it’s mildly sweet. It’s more akin to a salty snack covered in honey; you’d want to swallow it as if your life depended on it. Its consistency is thick, like the slimy ooze from his tail; it’s no wonder he likes to slather it all over your body, leaving it a nice shiny mess. It’s got a bit of a numbing effect, and it even glows in dim lighting like the most vibrant lube you’ve ever seen. It makes it easier to slide inside you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Barbatos lives to please his Masters. Hardly anything goes out of line when he fucks you senselessly, but even a demon like himself has sinful desires that break those rules. He may defy you and have you edging at the end of his cock, and he won't give it to you unless you follow his orders. He can even bind you up so you’d be merciless before him. This behavior is rare, but it’s only brought out when you’ve really driven him to the edge. Following orders can be sexy, but he can surprise you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Barb keeps his past experiences a secret. It’s hard to tell whether he’s just that good at sex or if he’d had a lover in the past who was into the same things you were into. It’s perhaps just his nature as a royal butler to ensure everything meets and exceeds your expectations.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He likes the ones that leave you immobilized. Whether you’re pounded against the bedsheets or hanging from some rope from the ceiling, those positions get his heart racing. Of course, those are the ones he prefers, but he can put them aside and go with your preferences. He wouldn't want to leave you uncomfortable or past your limit. Barb would like to keep you safe, as that is Lord Diavolo’s command.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

His teasing starts off humorous. It's just sweet lovemaking banter, like something out of your honeymoon phase. It could be a little goofy if he’s roleplaying as your faithful butler, ready to please his mistress. As the night draws on, that more sensual side starts to peek through. You would be at the edge of his cock, moaning his name while he spreads you open and strokes your clit.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

For Barb, there is no excuse to be messy-looking. You can tell he keeps himself well-groomed for every occasion, like he’s ready to do his job. His carpet is dark green with neon green tips, and he shaves it whenever he gets the chance.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Barb keeps you locked between his body; you can feel his boner poking at your skin as he fondles your tits or makes out with you. He’d constantly ask you if you were close or if you wanted him to keep going at the pace you were most comfortable with. His sickly, sweet voice makes it all the more pleasurable.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

With his busy schedule, it almost seemed impossible for Barb to find the time to masturbate in peace. He eventually retires to his room once all tasks are completed, but if he’s that desperate, he will retreat to the nearest bathroom for some temporary relief. He removes his gloves and strokes his erect cock. He’s quiet about it, hoping no one hears his whimpering. He could send you videos of himself jerking his cock while he moans your name. It’s a huge risk for him, but he likes to imagine you giving him orders to go fast or edge himself. He’ll clean it all up and leave his space neat, as if nothing had happened.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Barb is quite the gentleman; you'd never suspect any form of lust from such a serious demon, yet he’d tease you at every chance he could get. Discipline is in order; he’d have you down on your knees giving him a blowjob, or he’d have you sprawled on the kitchen counter as his cock slides in and out of you. You could hope and pray that no one walks in, but Barb knows damn well when to quit it before disaster strikes. It’s hard to act natural when he was balls deep inside you a few seconds ago…Barb can worship your body and give love to your most sensitive spots while his warm breath dances across your skin. His slim fingers are often buried in your pussy while you moan for him; that slimy tail of his can also go into your more intimate areas. Your glistening body in any position is his weakness. His hands slide down your body, and his throbbing cock will slide in with ease. If you are bound in any way, that makes it even more exciting. Of course, he will only do these things with your approval. It can be interesting. If he spots a candle on his side, he pours small amounts of wax to make you jolt. Object insertion is on the table; he just needs your approval to do so.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere in the castle, as long as you can get away with it. Barb’s foresight is quite powerful, and he knows how to act like nothing happened when he’s in front of Lord Diavolo. He can find an empty classroom for some secretive foreplay, but it’s risky to go beyond that. He may or may not have his own secret quarters in the Castle, but that’s only for him and you to know.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Usually, it’s all just hidden desire that wants to burst out and claim you. After a long day of attending to his Young Master, he wants to unwind and have you by his side. He couldn’t ask for a better lover, mainly since you help him with his tasks throughout the day. He can give you a good time when you're stressed out. It can start with something innocent, like giving you a nice oil massage before it becomes something more.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Barb only works within your boundaries; he rarely crosses a line since his ultimate goal is always to give you the best possible experience. Your turn-offs are noted; he will never question them unless you bring them up. He didn’t always like his tail to be touched, but he’s gotten used to your delicate hands; it’s no wonder he started using it on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Barb has a skillful tongue; he knows how to curl and lick your folds so he can leave your body squirming. He laps up your sensitive nub and sucks on it hard when he wants to hear you squeal. He squeezes your folds to let your savory juices drip onto the bedsheets. When you're on your knees sucking his needy cock, he can try keeping a straight face, but it gets him so weak. Even though he prefers giving it to you, it’s not every day he gets to experience your cock sucking abilities. He doesn't want you to choke on it, but hearing you gag on it does make his heart skip several beats.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually slow and sensual, that rough pace can unleash itself when his cock is already inside you. He loves taking his sweet time. He admires your body and loves feeling each ridge of your insides at his slow pace. He pins you down and runs his hands down your body, groping every sensitive spot. You give him the sweet signal, a gasp, a sigh, or a faint touch; he can leave you wanting more at his fastest pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

In a bustling setting like RAD or the Castle, then it's usually inevitable. Barb knows how to time it well when moving on to his next task. In other words, he’s an expert at it. Of course, they are not ideal for Barb to have. He prefers taking his sweet time with you rather than making you cum in a few minutes.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

If quickies are on the table, he’s down for experimenting. With your desires in his mind, he’s making sure that the things he wants to try are within your bounds. He’s just risky enough, to the point he can handle his horny mind when the two of you are alone together.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

There is always enough stamina in his system at any given time. You almost feel sorry for him since it seems that Barb can never catch a break. He doesn't mind it, though; he loves to please you and wouldn't mind if you ordered him to relax while you do all the dirty work for him. Rest assured, he’s got plenty of stamina; he can go fast for you ;)

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

His leading contenders are the rope he ties you up with or his wax candles for waxplay. Often, Barb just uses whatever is at his disposal. If there is a blindfold near your bed, he uses it on you. If he has a piece of cloth, he uses it as a gag. If there’s a phallic object nearby, who knows what fun might be waiting? He could even become a bit risky when the knives are nearby. Letting it run up for skin could be pretty exhilarating.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Quite the tease, but he’s so cheeky about it. He’d constantly ask you if your self-control is dwindling because of his fingers or throbbing cock. He chuckles beautifully like he’s wanted to weaken you for a while now. Of course, you can always catch him off guard and tease him back. He likes that ^_^

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The occasional grunts and groans when his cock gets squeezed by your tight pussy. The more you tease the shit out of him, the more his proper demeanor will fade and be replaced with the moans of a needy demon. Even so, he would always keep his voice low.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Barbatos is obsessive; some yandere tenancies may spark your love-making into brutality. It could just be a bit of foreplay, where the sharp edge of his knife grazes against your skin. After lapping up the drops of red, he’d be happy to patch those precious wounds when it’s all over.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It is an average length, not too big, but its size is still impressive and thick enough to make you gasp. It curves up slightly, and it's definitely uncut. Keep in mind that it is pretty sensitive. There is even a slight scaly texture to it. You could sense every ridge of his length at any moment.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He can keep it under wraps. It's a special skill he has. He knows how to maintain a professional demeanor in every situation, but in every way, he really wants you and yearns for your lust to overcome him.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

His exceptional aftercare is calming and relaxing, so it’ll put you to sleep as the minutes go by. He hugs you from behind and falls asleep next to you, hoping you never leave his side.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

Facing your smile is so disarming ♡

[ DRABBLE ] [ Obey me! One master to rule them all ]

> Established relasionship, avoiding eye contact to don't show how flustered you actually are

Diavolo

He noticed right away that you are avoiding to look at him and just as quick he is worried that he may have made you uncomfortable, he take a moment to try to think on it but quickly decides that the best is to properly apologize (even if he doesn't fully get it) so he end up making you finally look up at him when being already with an apologetic expression but as he realize that you are flustered and not upset he is a bit shocked, it takes for Diavolo a moment to register what it is going on before bursting in laugh, suddently remembering why he loves you so much

Barbatos

He knows what it is going on, he just knows you too well but he chooses to be kind for this one and leave you have a moment to calm down, keeping an eye on you with a knowing smile (even if you even can't look at him that doesn't matter), but he gives you only one moment because soon he is gently calling for you again, feeling more and more amused the more you avoid looking up until he decides to gently hold your chin and guiding you to make you finally look at him, although if you end up looking away again he won't complain, he already saw what he wanted to see

Simeon

He is imediatly worried if you avoid looking at him, whatever you two were talking about is temporary forgotten while Simeon debates with himself if he should say something or give you some space but the reality is that he doesn't want to leave you so he stays, and he insist on making you look at him because he is worried, and the moment he finally realize that you are just flustered and embarrased for being so flustered he feels silly, laughing softly at himself while enjoying the fact that he have made you flustered (and he may or may not push you a little to look at him)

Solomon

He is imediatly curious, he doesn't even worry about you being upset (or, well, just a little) and the thought that you may be flustered does crossed his mind, wich only lead him to be even more curious, of course Solomon will not leave you alone after this and will try to even get in your sight just to force you to look at him, he is having way too much fun with this and when he finally manage to make you look at him and get to see you how flustered you are he laughs, you really are adorable, you know that?

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

birthday?

nb!Satan x reader

wc : 0.3k

warnings : set in Nightbringer (no spoilers as I’m just following the main plot aka we’re in the past just after the celestial war)

synopsis+a/n : so I have this hc that, in the beginning, Satan’s birthday wasn’t celebrated, much less acknowledged since it was the day of the celestial war’s peak and the day Lilith ‘died’

Satan stared unblinking at the cupcake you’d placed in his open palm, eyeing the design of it as you settled down beside him. 

He said nothing about the black cat that adorned his treat, deciding you weren’t making fun of him in any way since yours was also a cat, just white (and he was admiring the glimmer accent that was added to the eyes— green for his and blue for yours). 

“What is this?” Satan finally spoke, tilting his head ever so slightly when you brought out two candles. The green one was plopped onto his cupcake while you placed the teal one on your own. 

You smiled— the same soft smile you always gave him, even when he was throwing one of his fits. “It is your birthday, isn’t it?” Lighting the candles with a small wave of your hand, you giggled at his [rare] dumbfounded expression.

“How did you-“ he was cut off by your soft singing, eyes widening at the pure fondness it carried. Satan had never had anyone say ‘happy birthday’ to him, much less sing it. 

“Happy Birthday to you~” giggling, you gesture to your cupcakes, “Blow out the candle and make a wish, Tannie!” 

The nickname made his cheeks darken, and much to his surprise, it was a pleasant feeling instead of the rage he was so familiar with. He watches you close your eyes and blow out your flame, following your lead after a moment. 

You opened your eyes just in time to see his close, smile widening at how peaceful he looked. “Did you make a wish?”

Satan nodded hesitantly, darting his gaze around before looking at you, “Why did you blow out a candle with me?” 

“Well, we do share the same birthday, you know.” Your tone has a teasing tilt to it, but he was more focused on the fact that you had sung to him even though it was your birthday too. 

“What?” avoiding your amused stare, he let you take the candle from his cupcake and peel the paper back for him. “…Happy..Birthday?” 

Though it came off as a question, it was clear he was trying and it made your heart flutter, “Thank you, Tannie. Let’s eat them before Beel sniffs us out!” 

He actually chuckled, “Yeah.”

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

ANOTEHR PART OF HR LOKIS BROTHER X BUCKY OLEALLSPE I LAV U 😭😭😣😣☺️

He's Cute Pt. 3

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: ongoing series because people like this, which is weird cause I never thought this would go off, but I don't hate it, loki makes an appearance, bucky is protective over reader, having the 'talk', even bad guys have people they love

Bucky’s hands still shook with lingering excitement whenever he recalled your last date. The two of you had been going out for a while now—casual walks through the city, late-night movie marathons in the Avengers Compound, even that weekend trip to a cozy little café upstate—and with every new memory you made, Bucky found himself falling deeper in love.

He’d never expected life to feel this…comforting. Even the nightmares that sometimes plagued him at night dulled around you. You had a knack for gently coaxing him out of his shell, whether through quiet conversation or a playful nudge toward some new, exciting Midgardian treat you wanted him to try.

Yet, despite this whirlwind of affection, Bucky still couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. I love you. They stuck in his throat every time he tried, leaving him feeling both frustrated and a little guilty. It seemed too soon, too fast, too much. What if you weren’t ready? What if it scared you off?

So he kept that admission locked away, consoling himself with the fact that you hadn’t pressed him for big declarations yet—though you often looked at him with such tender warmth that he thought, maybe you already know.

The following morning, you greeted Bucky with your usual bright smile, eyes shining like you’d never seen a single hardship in your life. He knew that wasn’t true—you’d told him your share of Asgardian struggles and complicated family drama—but somehow, you still managed to see the world with a hopeful gaze.

“Good morning, Bucky!” you chirped, bounding into the common area. “Did you sleep well?”

He offered a small, affectionate smile. “Yeah,” he fibbed—well, half-fibbed, because seeing you now made every lost hour of rest worth it. “Ready for training?”

“Absolutely.” You picked up a spare towel. “But how about we grab coffee after? There’s this new flavor—mint mocha, I think? Wanda says it’s oddly refreshing.”

Bucky’s heart did that little flip it always did around you. “Sure,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”

You never made it to the gym—or to the coffee shop. Halfway to the training room, the shrill wail of the Compound’s alarm cut through the corridors. Overhead lights flickered ominously, and Tony’s voice crackled through the intercom: “All hands on deck—Loki’s back, and he’s making a huge mess downtown. We need everyone. Now.”

Your face fell, a complicated mix of worry and anger. The last time Loki caused chaos, it ended poorly for Earth and for your family. “I’m sorry,” you murmured to Bucky, already moving to join the others. “I know you’ve had enough of these battles…”

He shook his head, grabbing his gear. “Not your fault.”

Together, you raced to the Quinjet, where Thor and the rest of the team were quickly assembling. Thor’s jaw was set, eyes stormy with concern. He muttered something about Loki “never learning,” while Tony, Sam, and Natasha readied themselves for battle. Bucky checked his weapon, heart thudding. He threw you a sidelong glance—he hated seeing the anxious tension in your posture. I’ll keep you safe, he vowed silently, one way or another.

New York’s skyline was tinged green in patches—every illusion Loki summoned seemed designed to confuse both civilians and the team. Tony soared overhead, blasting illusions and trying to pinpoint the real Loki, while Bruce (in Hulk form) tore through illusions that tried to tangle him. Thor, you, and Wanda worked together to dispel the biggest illusions, your combined powers punching holes in Loki’s illusions wherever you could.

Bucky fired round after round at illusory beasts, his sharpened instincts helping him sense the flicker of what was real and what wasn’t. He kept an eye on you, too—whenever you paused to catch your breath, or pressed a hand to your temple from overusing your Asgardian abilities, he felt the urge to run to your side.

He didn’t see the sudden swirl of green magic until it was too late. A shimmering barrier snapped into place around him, cutting him off from the rest of the fight. Bucky spun around, rifle at the ready, but the illusions outside the barrier went oddly silent. The world beyond turned hazy, muffled, leaving him alone in a translucent dome of Loki’s making.

“Sergeant Barnes,” came a sardonic voice behind him. Bucky spun, rifle raised, to find Loki standing there, tall and regal in his horned headpiece, green robes swaying. His gaze was cold, but there was a particular glint in those eyes—like a predator toying with its prey.

“Loki,” Bucky growled, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Oh, please,” Loki drawled, waving a dismissive hand. “Drop your useless weapon. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so long ago.”

Bucky hesitated, jaw set tight. He didn’t lower his rifle, but he didn’t fire either. Around them, the city echoed with chaos—screams, blasts of magic, and the roar of rampaging illusions. Yet here they stood in a strange, still corner, as if Loki’s mere presence had carved out a pocket of calm in the madness.

“What do you want?” Bucky demanded, striving to keep the tremor from his voice. He’d been in fights far worse than this—yet something about Loki’s eerie composure sparked a sense of dread.

“What I want…” Loki repeated, tipping his head in mock consideration. “Hardly matters. I’m only here because it has come to my attention that you’ve taken an interest in my dear brother.”

Bucky blinked, confusion warring with anger. “Thor? I’m not—”

Loki let out a theatrical sigh. “Not that lughead, no.” He narrowed his eyes, smirk twisting. “I speak of my younger brother. The gentler one—(Y/N). The one you’ve been courting.”

At those words, Bucky’s grip on his rifle loosened involuntarily, surprise flickering across his features. “That’s between me and him. Stay out of it.”

Loki’s predatory grin only widened. “Oh, how adorable. A mortal telling me where I can and cannot interfere.” Magic crackled around his fingertips, illuminating the sinister shape of his horns. “Let’s make something clear, Sergeant Barnes: I may indulge in chaos, but I do not tolerate anyone trifling with my brother’s heart.”

Bucky felt a surge of protectiveness over you, matching Loki’s venom in a different way. “I’d never hurt him. Don’t act like you know me.”

“But I do know you,” Loki countered, taking a step forward, voice dropping to a chilling hush. “You’re a man of ghosts, of nightmares. You wear your sins on that metal arm for the world to see. Don’t assume I haven’t researched your past. The Winter Soldier…” He let the words linger. “You have a trail of blood behind you, mortal.”

Bucky’s pulse pounded in his ears. He refused to look away. “That’s over. He sees me for who I am now, and I’d do anything to protect him.”

A pause, and Loki’s lips curled in something close to a sneer—though a flicker of surprise glinted in his eyes. “Oh, I believe you think that,” he said. “But let me be perfectly clear: I might make sport of realms; I might sow chaos when it amuses me. However, if you ever harm my brother—if you break his heart or drag him into your darkness—I will ensure your suffering is something legends are written about.”

A chill coursed down Bucky’s spine, but he refused to flinch. “I—care about him,” he said softly, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I’d never do anything to hurt him.”

“Good,” Loki whispered, eyes glinting dangerously. “Then we understand each other.” He paused, scanning Bucky’s features as though searching for lies. “He has always been different. Too kind for Asgard. My father often overlooked him, but I—” Loki’s lips curled in faint distaste, “I won’t.”

Bucky shifted, uneasy at this glimpse of Loki’s protective side. “If you really care,” he said carefully, “then let this go. Stop this chaos you’re creating.”

Loki rolled his eyes, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m not here to debate my plans with you, mortal. I’m here to warn you. Do right by him, or face consequences far worse than any Hydra program.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around his weapon. He hated being cornered like this, but a flicker of understanding—of pity, even—touched him. Loki’s brand of protectiveness was twisted, but it was rooted in genuine concern for his younger brother. “Message received,” Bucky said, voice gruff. Loki’s eyes narrowed one last time, as if to emphasize his threat. Then, with a theatrical swirl of his cape, he vanished in a burst of green light. Instantly, the barrier separating Bucky from the rest of the fight melted away, sound and motion crashing back in.

He stumbled slightly, adrenaline hammering in his veins. Looking up, he saw you rushing toward him over the rubble-strewn street, worry etched in your features. Behind you, illusions flickered and dissipated as Thor and Wanda worked together to dismantle Loki’s hold on the city. “Bucky!” you shouted, reaching him in a few quick strides. “Are you okay? Loki’s illusions—what happened?”

Bucky exhaled a shaky breath, lowering his rifle all the way. “He just wanted to talk. Threatened me if I ever—” He hesitated, mind flicking to the exact words Loki used. “If I ever hurt you.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “He trapped you in the middle of a battle to warn you about me?”

Bucky nodded, swallowing a knot in his throat. He forced a small, wry smile. “Yeah. Guess big brothers come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Gods,” you muttered, pressing a hand to your temple. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky said quietly. He reached out, resting a tentative hand on your shoulder. “I told him I wouldn’t hurt you. And I meant it.”

Something in your gaze softened. Around you, the remaining illusions fell away with shattering bursts of green energy. The Avengers closed in, readying for Loki’s next move—but for a moment, it was just you and Bucky standing there amid the debris, an unspoken promise shining between you. “Come on,” you said softly, covering his hand with yours. “We should help the others.”

Bucky squeezed your shoulder, nodding. “Right behind you.” And as the two of you headed off to rejoin the fray, Bucky felt a fierce protectiveness surge within him—one that matched Loki’s, if not in cruelty, then in devotion. Because no trickster god, no illusions, and no ghosts of his past would stop him from doing right by you.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

PART 2 OF THE BUCKYxLOKI’S BROTHER PLEASE!! (And thank you)

He's Cute Pt. 2

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: date night, cute moments between bucky and reader, protective bucky, reader having eyes only for his man, couldn't help myself so we have some jealous bucky

The morning sun cast a warm glow on the bustling New York street as you and Bucky left the Avengers Tower, side by side, for your much-anticipated coffee date. You could practically feel Bucky’s heartbeat thrumming—his energy was a mix of nerves and excitement, hidden behind a carefully maintained cool exterior.

Still, you caught the way he’d sneak glances at you, how he kept a polite but protective distance between you and the street, and how his hand hovered near the small of your back whenever you paused to look in a shop window. If there was one thing you’d learned about James “Bucky” Barnes, it was that beneath the stoic shell, he was a sweet, attentive soul.

When you reached the little coffee shop a few blocks away, the sweet aroma of espresso and baked goods made you inhale appreciatively. Bucky let you step in first, his eyes still straying to you while you gawked at the menu board.

“Wow,” you murmured, half to yourself. “So many options. Mocha latte, flat white, salted caramel… Are these incantations?”

Bucky suppressed a grin, remembering the first time you’d asked that. “No magic, promise,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently. “What are you in the mood for?”

Before you could answer, the barista—a cheerful guy in his mid-twenties with a neat man-bun and bright green apron—leaned over the counter, practically beaming at you. “Hey there! First time, huh? Don’t worry, I can help you pick the perfect drink,” he offered, sliding an elbow onto the counter in a move that was definitely meant to come off as suave.

You blinked, oblivious to the barista’s flirty smile. “That’s kind of you,” you said politely. “I’ve only tried a couple coffees so far.”

“Awesome,” the barista replied, eyes dancing with interest. “You should let me whip up a custom latte just for you. Something sweet, with a little extra foam on top, maybe a heart design…”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping forward so that his broad shoulder was just enough in the barista’s line of sight to cut off the direct gaze. “He’ll have a caramel macchiato,” Bucky said firmly, voice low in a way that suggested the barista hurry it up. “And I’ll take a black coffee.”

The barista’s smile faltered, eyeing Bucky with a mix of confusion and polite fear. “Sure thing.”

As the barista fiddled with the espresso machine, you turned to Bucky, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t realize there were so many specialized drinks. Custom lattes?”

Bucky’s jaw unclenched, and he mustered a small, reassuring smile for you. “Yeah, they get creative. But trust me, you’ll like the macchiato.”

Once you two collected your drinks, you picked out a cozy table near the window. The morning light bathed you in a soft glow that made your hair look…well, downright ethereal, if Bucky were being honest. And from the corner of his eye, he noticed more than one patron shooting glances your way.

You sipped your caramel macchiato, eyes lighting up at the sweet, creamy flavor. “This is wonderful!”

Bucky felt a surge of pride, as if he’d personally crafted the drink. “Glad you like it,” he said, resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers across your knuckles. Before the conversation could deepen, another interruption arrived—this time a fellow customer who lingered by the pastry display, giving you a once-over before sauntering over.

“Good morning,” she said, flipping her hair with a practiced flourish. “I haven't seen you here before."

You, perpetually polite, offered a friendly nod. “Yes, I’m new to Midg—New York. It’s very different from home.”

She giggled, eyes trailing over your features. “Well, if you need a local guide, I live right around the corner.” She lowered her voice, leaning in conspiratorially, “And I know all the best spots.”

Your eyebrows lifted in genuine curiosity. “Really? That sounds interesting.”

Bucky’s grip on his coffee cup tightened until his knuckles turned white. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t budge—she seemed more than happy to ignore him entirely, focusing on you like a hawk. “Yeah,” she continued. “I could show you a real good time. How about—”

“He’s good,” Bucky cut in, voice dangerously soft. He stared her down, his intense blue eyes flicking to her face with a distinct warning.

She blinked, finally noticing the murderously protective glint in his gaze. “Oh—are you two…?”

“Yes,” Bucky said bluntly, not even letting the question hang.

You, still oblivious, looked between them. “We’re on a date,” you added helpfully, as though trying to clarify.

The woman looked between you, Bucky, and his metal arm resting on the table. An awkward laugh escaped her. “My mistake. Enjoy your coffee.” She walked off, adjusting her purse with forced nonchalance.

As soon as she was gone, you turned back to Bucky, your expression perplexed. “She was hitting on me, right? Is that like a phrase, ‘hitting on someone?’ Because you said—”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, irritation still simmering just behind his calm veneer. “She was.”

“Oh,” you murmured, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, that’s not a problem, is it? I mean, people here are friendly…”

Bucky exhaled heavily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He reached across the table, lightly brushing the back of your hand. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he said softly. “Just...it gets on my nerves when strangers try to pick you up right in front of me.”

Understanding dawned on you, and your eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head, giving a dismissive little shrug. “Not your fault at all. I just…might have a jealous streak, I guess.”

A warm smile curved your lips. “That’s kind of sweet. In a protective way.”

Your words made him relax, and he actually managed a genuine, sheepish grin. “Glad you think so.”

With the interlopers gone, you and Bucky finally got some quieter moments. You asked him about the differences between the 1940s and modern times—he gave you quick anecdotes about old radio shows, dime coffees, and awkward attempts to use smartphones now. In return, you regaled him with tales of Asgard—though you stuck to the less epic parts, not wanting to overshadow the mundane joy of a simple coffee date.

Sometimes Bucky would reach out and tap the rim of your cup with his vibranium fingers, almost like he wanted an excuse to brush against your hand. More than once, your gentle laughter made him forget the rest of the café altogether. That is, until your phone chimed with a text—a reminder from Tony about some meeting in a couple of hours.

“Guess we need to head back soon?” Bucky asked, trying and failing to hide his disappointment.

You nodded regretfully, finishing the last sweet sip of your drink. “Seems so. We can’t exactly ditch the meeting, can we? Tony would… he’d probably show up here with an Iron Man suit,” you joked.

Bucky gave a small smirk. “He’s petty like that.”

With some reluctance, you both stood, disposing of your cups and stepping out into the warm late-morning air. The short walk back to Avengers Tower was surprisingly pleasant, even with the occasional sideways glances from passersby who recognized one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Bucky kept close to you, occasionally brushing his shoulder against yours, as if to remind everyone this is my date.

The moment you stepped through the Tower doors, though, you found yourselves ambushed by the rest of the team loitering in the lobby—clearly waiting. Tony, arms crossed over his chest, grinned like a cat who caught the canary. Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha stood behind him in a loose huddle, each wearing various degrees of curiosity and mischief.

“Would you look at that,” Tony drawled, “our resident star-crossed duo has returned.”

Sam smirked. “Didn’t think a simple coffee run would take this long. Or is that code for something else?”

Clint raised an eyebrow suggestively. “‘Coffee run?’ That’s a new one.”

Bucky glowered at them, ears turning pink. “It was just coffee. And we walked.”

“Walked,” Tony echoed, lips twisting in an exaggerated pout. “Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

You, still glowing from the morning’s events, decided to speak up. “There was coffee, yes, and a few people...tried to start a conversation.”

Natasha picked up on your hint of confusion. “Tried to start a conversation? That’s a polite way of saying they were hitting on you in front of Bucky?”

You nodded earnestly, unwittingly dropping the bomb the team was waiting for. “Yes, actually! Twice, in fact. Bucky was not pleased.”

A collective gasp and a few stifled laughs rippled through the group. Sam hooted, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh man, did you go all Winter Soldier on them? Metal arm intimidation?”

Bucky shrugged off Sam’s hand, trying to maintain dignity. “I just told them to buzz off. That’s all.”

Tony snickered. “I can see it now: ‘Move along, buddy, or you’ll be meeting Mr. Vibranium.’”

Steve, at least, tried to look sympathetic. “Glad it went okay, though. The date, I mean.”

“It was nice,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting in a sincere smile. “Very…sweet.” You turned to Bucky, stepping closer. “Thank you for showing me more of Midgard’s culture.”

Before Bucky could form a reply, you leaned in and planted a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. The lobby erupted in whoops and cackles. Sam feigned swooning against Clint, who patted his forehead dramatically. Tony cupped a hand to his ear as though straining to hear wedding bells. Bucky froze, eyes going wide, heat rushing to his face. But the grin that broke out was nothing short of radiant.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Tony teased, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Looks like we’re gonna have to start calling you guys ‘Sugar and Spice.’”

Clint made an exaggerated smooching sound. “Or do we call you both ‘Buzz Off!’ and ‘He’s Mine!’”

Bucky grumbled something incoherent, but he still looked over at you with soft eyes that said he didn’t regret a thing.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

PLEASE MORE ASGARDIAN M!READER!!!

May I suggest a fic where the reader wants to bond closely to Wanda and Natasha but, is afraid because their only concept of sister relationships was Hela (reader is a little scared of Hela 😔 due to her destructive nature). Can I also add that the reader has slightly long hair (shoulder length) to braid!

Thank you for your talent and dedication!

He's Cute (Pt. 1.5)

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: wanda and natasha are the best, sibling duo, getting ready for the date, hints of WandaNat/ScarletWidow, bucky being adorably smitten, yes 1.5 cause pt. 2 is the actual date :)

You fiddled nervously with the ends of your hair, pacing the length of your borrowed bedroom in the Avengers Compound for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the day: your very first official Earth date. With none other than Bucky Barnes. Just the thought of it sent a rush of excitement (and panic) through your veins.

The problem? You had no clue how to prepare for a Midgardian date. A tunic and breeches might scream ‘medieval faire,’ and your more formal Asgardian garb would be even more intimidating. What if Bucky took one look at you and decided you were too over-the-top or—in the worst scenario—ran for the hills? Then there was your hair. Should you leave it loose? Tie it back? Attempt some elaborate braid?

What if I make a total fool of myself? you thought, tugging on your hair with a frustrated groan. You considered consulting Thor—briefly—until your imagination conjured an image of him bellowing, “Wear your finest Asgardian leathers!” and slapping you on the back so hard you’d stumble. Not exactly helpful.

You also thought about Tony or Steve, but quickly dismissed those options. Tony might tease you relentlessly, and while Steve was sweet, he was probably as clueless as you when it came to modern dating intricacies.

That left two people you admired from a (sometimes intimidated) distance: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. You’d seen how confident and stylish they both were—able to slip into a gown or tactical gear with equal flair. If anyone can help me blend Asgardian flair with Midgard style, you reasoned, it’s them.

Trouble was, the concept of “sisterly” assistance made your stomach twist. Your only sisterly figure had been Hela—and she was the embodiment of destructive chaos. Whenever you thought of “sisterly bonds,” images of shadowy blades and a mocking sneer intruded on your mind. Still, you had no one else to turn to, and time was running out.

It didn’t take long to find them. Wanda lounged on a couch, sipping tea and reading a worn paperback. Natasha reclined in an armchair nearby, scrolling through her phone. They exuded a relaxed warmth that made your nerves surge all over again—how did you even start this conversation?

Wanda glanced up first, her warm eyes creasing in a small smile. “Oh! (Y/N), did you need something?”

Natasha flicked her gaze over to you, phone still in hand. “You look like you’re either about to faint or confess a murder. Everything okay?”

Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you’re both probably busy, but I…I have a date. With Bucky,” you added softly, feeling your cheeks heat at the admission. “And I have no idea what to wear or how to do my hair, or—anything, really.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose, and a slow grin spread across her face. “A date with Bucky? That’s adorable.”

Natasha set aside her phone, crossing her arms. “So you want a bit of a makeover?”

You cleared your throat, nerves clashing with relief. “Yes. Please. I don’t know how Earth dates usually go. I’m used to, well…armor and father-gifts, and illusions if I want to ‘dress up.’ But that’s not exactly the vibe here.”

Both women chuckled at that. Natasha stood and motioned for Wanda to follow. “Come on, let’s get you set up. And don’t worry—you’re not bothering us. We’d love to help you not show up to your date in full Asgardian regalia.”

Natasha led you to what appeared to be a converted storage room. Racks of clothing lined the walls, and a couple of tall dressers stood at one end. You caught glimpses of everything from formal evening wear to casual street clothes—no doubt a stockpile from Tony’s various shopping sprees.

“Okay,” Natasha declared, scanning the racks. “We need something comfortable but sharp. You want to catch Bucky’s eye without screaming I’m a prince from another realm.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Though, honestly, you could show up in a paper bag and he’d probably swoon.”

You felt your cheeks flame. “I—um, I just don’t want to look foolish.”

Natasha brushed aside a row of jackets. “We won’t let that happen. Trust us. Let’s see…” She paused, sizing you up. “You’ve got a good build—broad shoulders, trim waist. We should highlight that. Maybe a well-fitted shirt.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked between you and Natasha. “Oooh, yes. And if we can find a color that brings out his eyes…” She rummaged through a section of button-downs.

That left you standing there, feeling slightly awkward, as they pulled items from hangers and debated the merits of each. You shifted from foot to foot, your anxiety creeping in. This is far less terrifying than dealing with Hela, right? you told yourself. And yet, your heart hammered in your chest.

Eventually, Wanda triumphantly held up a simple, fitted gray button-down. “This might do,” she said, pressing it to your torso. “It’s not flashy, but it’ll look nice with your coloring.”

Natasha grabbed a pair of dark jeans from the next rack. “Try these on. We’ll see if they fit. If they’re too baggy, we’ve got more.”

Clutching the clothes, you ducked behind a folding screen in the corner. The chatter on the other side continued quietly:

“You think Bucky’s actually ready for a date?” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I’m sure he’s ready,” Natasha replied in the same hushed tone. “Steve says he's been looking at the clock constantly and somehow managed to trip over his own feet. He's more than ready."

Their amused banter made you smile—clearly, Bucky was as worked up about this as you were. That was comforting.

You slid into the jeans and button-down, surprised at how well everything fit. They weren’t Asgardian leathers, but the fabric was soft and flexible, hugging you just right. You stepped out self-consciously. “Well? How do I look?”

Wanda gasped softly, covering her mouth. “(Y/N), you look amazing!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Yeah, that’ll do. Sleeves up—roll them a bit. Show off those forearms. Trust me.”

Blushing, you obeyed, feeling a little self-conscious and a little flattered. “You really think Bucky will like it?”

“Absolutely,” Wanda replied, beaming. “He’d have to be blind not to notice how good you look.”

Natasha pretended to examine your outfit with a critical eye, but you noticed a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. Then her gaze flicked to Wanda, and they shared a subtle look—one that made your cheeks flush a second time. You weren’t sure, but it almost seemed like there was a soft warmth passing between the two women, a private understanding that neither was voicing.

Then came the matter of your hair. It fell around your shoulders, a bit unruly from the stress of pacing your room all day. You lifted a lock, hesitating. “Normally, if this were a formal Asgardian function, I’d wear a crown braid or decorative metal clasps that sparkle with runes. But that’s probably too fancy, right?”

Wanda stepped closer, gently running her fingers through your hair in a way that felt surprisingly soothing. “Yes. Maybe we could do a simple side-braid, just enough to keep it out of your face. Or tuck it behind your ears. You have a nice jawline, so let’s show it.”

Natasha approached with a comb and some small hair ties, exchanging that same subtle smile with Wanda as they both set to work. You couldn’t help but notice the soft brush of Wanda’s hand, the way Natasha’s posture angled toward her whenever they spoke. Something about their easy familiarity and gentleness felt domestic, like they’d done this a hundred times…maybe even for each other.

“Relax,” Natasha murmured, positioning you to face a mirror. “We won’t do anything too elaborate. Just enough to keep Bucky’s eyes on you, not on how complicated your hairstyle is.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “Though he’ll definitely be looking either way.”

They worked in tandem, brushing, smoothing, and expertly twisting a small section of hair into a neat side-braid. With each gentle tug, your tension melted. It felt so normal, to be fussed over by these two formidable Avengers, whose reputations alone could strike fear into entire enemy organizations. Yet here they were, braiding your hair and chatting like older sisters might.

Every so often, you caught a flicker of something more than platonic in their glances—maybe the way Wanda’s hand lingered on Natasha’s wrist when passing a hair clip, or the private smiles they exchanged. It was fleeting, but definitely there. You wondered if you were witnessing the beginnings of something deeper between them—or perhaps it had been there all along, carefully kept behind the scenes.

Finally, Wanda tucked the last strand into place, and Natasha stepped back, admiring their work. “Alright, pretty boy. Check it out.”

You moved to the mirror, heart fluttering in anticipation. The reflection that stared back looked…well, incredible. The blazer fit perfectly, highlighting your form without overpowering your frame. The rolled sleeves revealed just enough forearm to be intriguing, and the subtle side-braid left most of your hair loose but framed your face nicely.

Your mouth fell open. “I—I look…”

“Really, really handsome,” Wanda finished, placing a gentle hand on your back.

Natasha’s smile softened. “You do. And trust me, Bucky will probably forget how to speak for a minute when he sees you.”

A mixture of pride and embarrassment bloomed in your chest. “Thank you. Honestly, I feel so confident. I’ve never had that before.”

Wanda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. You’re about to go on a date, not face a war. It should be fun.”

Natasha’s gaze turned momentarily serious. “But if he does anything to make you uncomfortable—pressures you, upsets you—” She paused, letting the threat linger, “—I will personally have words with him.”

“And by ‘words,’ she means possibly an entire display of violence,” Wanda teased, but her eyes held a protective glint.

You laughed nervously, appreciating the concern. “I—I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Bucky’s so gentle. But...thank you, just the same.”

Natasha nodded firmly. “We look out for our own. And that includes you.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment—so this was what a supportive sisterly bond could be, untainted by destruction and usurpation. After some final adjustments (Natasha insisted on adjusting your collar just so, and Wanda fussed with a stray hair you couldn’t see), the two women gave you a double thumbs-up.

“Go knock him dead—figuratively,” Wanda teased. “This is Earth, after all.” Halfway to the front entrance, you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Wanda and Natasha standing side by side, exchanging soft smiles. Wanda murmured something, and Natasha’s cheeks tinted the faintest pink before she turned away.

Maybe I’m not the only one with a new romance on the horizon, you mused, feeling a rush of fondness for both of them.

When you finally reached the main entrance, there was Bucky—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. The moment his eyes landed on you, all that tension melted. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face, and you swore you saw a slight flush creep up his neck.

“Wow,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed, but this time it was with genuine confidence. “Thanks. Wanda and Nat helped.”

He nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. “Remind me to, uh…thank them later.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll let them know.”

The two of you exchanged a few shy glances, the air charged with a thrilling sense of possibility. Bucky offered his arm in that old-fashioned way you found so endearing, and you slipped yours through it, feeling a jolt of warmth as your elbow linked with his. “You ready?” he asked, voice tinged with nervous excitement.

You smiled. “I am.”

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

He's Cute

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: you're Loki's brother, but actually nice and come in peace, bucky finds you adorable, humor, asking out a prince from another planet is hard, just ask bucky, part 2 can be done

Tony tapped his fingers on the conference table, wearing his best ‘well, here we go again’ scowl. In front of him, the Avengers were assembled, all shooting wary glances at Thor. “So,” Tony drawled, making sure to emphasize his skepticism, “we’re hosting another Asgardian prince. Is your father just collecting them at this point?”

Thor, doing his best not to look offended, cleared his throat. “I know you hold distrust after what Loki did, but (Y/N) is our younger brother. He’s quite the opposite from Loki.”

Clint quirked a brow, exchanging a glance with Sam. “‘Opposite’ how? Less shape-shifting and more interpretive dance, or…?”

Sam snorted. “I’d pay to see that, actually.”

Thor, for his part, stood straight-backed, looking earnest—and maybe just a little bit offended. “I assure you, (Y/N) is not here to conquer anything,” he reiterated. “My brother is gentle. He's nothing like our brother Loki."

Tony drummed his fingers on the table one more time. “Yeah, we’ll see. Might I suggest we have a ‘No Asgardian Shenanigans’ sign at the front door? We can hang it right under the ‘No Solicitors’ sign.”

“That might be a tad welcoming, don’t you think?” Clint drawled, lips curling in a wry grin.

Sam chuckled. “No illusions allowed, no staff-wielding illusions, no illusions about illusions.”

Bucky glanced around. They were all bantering, but he could sense the undercurrent of nervous energy. Finally, Steve caught his eye and nodded, inviting him to speak up if he wanted. But Bucky just gave a small shrug—he didn’t really have an opinion yet, beyond thinking that maybe it would be nice to have another level-headed god around. He’d heard Loki was a piece of work, but Thor—despite his bombast—had proven a decent ally.

“Well, guess we’ll know soon enough,” Nat said, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. She tapped her phone, checking the time. “Thor? When’s your supposed to show up?”

Thor’s chest swelled with pride, as though merely announcing your name was akin to proclaiming victory over the Nine Realms. “He will arrive today—shortly, in fact. Heimdall has secured him safe passage. I ask for your patience, my friends. He is not…accustomed to Earth.”

“Oh, this ought to be fun,” Tony said, pushing back from the table. “Alright. Everyone, let’s roll out the welcome mat. And by ‘welcome mat,’ I obviously mean ‘a healthy dose of skepticism laced with potential backup plans A through Z.’ Clint, let’s find a vantage point—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted, sounding exasperated. “He’s Thor’s brother, not a Hydra spy.”

Tony shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Or have we collectively forgotten the Chitauri fiasco?”

Thor let out a deep, put-upon sigh, and Bucky caught the flicker of guilt in the god’s eyes. Clearly, Thor was sensitive about all that had happened with Loki. Which in turn made Bucky feel a little guilty for automatically being wary.

About an hour later, the Avengers had dispersed, though most lingered in the main atrium of the Compound. Bucky hung back near a wall, arms folded, scanning his surroundings with a soldier’s vigilance. He had no idea what to expect. A second Loki? Another six-foot-something, muscle-bound, hammer-wielding Asgardian?

The air crackled with energy, and suddenly, a swirl of rainbow light appeared at the center of the room—a mini Bifrost. Out of it stepped you.

Your entrance was about as dramatic as one could expect from a swirling cosmic rainbow, but you looked anything but menacing. Clad in simple Asgardian attire (far less extravagant than Thor’s usual gear), you blinked, adjusting to the Earthly surroundings and then you bowed—actually bowed—deeply and respectfully.

“Good day,” you greeted softly, your voice gentler than any of them expected. “I am (Y/N) of Asgard. It's an honor to meet the team that has accepted my brother Thor with open arms. I know you might be wary of me with all that has transpired with Loki, but know that I deeply apologize for any problems he...” You paused, searching for a polite way to phrase it, eventually settling with, “…might have caused.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “‘Might have caused?’ Yeah, that’s one way to put an alien invasion.” He exchanged a look with Clint, who shrugged.

“(Y/N) is different,” Thor explained, laying a large hand on your shoulder with a brotherly sort of pride. “He will not attempt subterfuge or illusions.”

Bucky, observing quietly from his corner, noticed how you half-cringed at the mention of illusions, as if even the word brought you guilt by association. You glanced around at the assembled heroes: Tony with his pointed skepticism, Nat’s arms folded in careful assessment, Steve’s polite-but-guarded kindness. Even Sam gave you a sidelong look that said he wasn’t entirely sure he believed in second Asgardian princes yet. Only Thor, unwavering in his faith, and Bruce, gently curious, seemed at ease.

Clearing your throat, you continued, “I truly want to learn of your customs and help in any way I can.” Your voice quieted further. “I understand if my presence here makes you uncomfortable. You have already faced so much.”

Natasha eyed you, the corners of her mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. “Well, you’re certainly more polite than your brothers,” she said, glancing at Thor pointedly.

“That’s not difficult,” Clint muttered, earning a huff from Thor.

Bucky only half-listened to the exchange; he was more focused on the shy curve of your posture—how you carried yourself with a subtle humility that was so unlike Thor’s boisterous confidence or Loki’s cunning. He realized then he was staring, so he forced himself to look away, crossing his arms over his chest to maintain some semblance of aloofness.

Steve, ever the one to break awkward silences, stepped forward to shake your hand. “We appreciate your honesty, (Y/N). I’m Steve Rogers. I promise no one here means you harm,” he said in a reassuring tone.

You took his hand carefully, as if unaccustomed to the formality. “Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers.” A flicker of surprise crossed your face as you felt the firmness of his handshake. “Your grip could rival Thor’s,” you murmured, almost impressed. Thor puffed up, beaming that you’d complimented one of his comrades.

Sam spoke up next, his voice colored with curiosity. “So, no illusions, no plans of world domination…I’m guessing you’re the ‘normal’ one in the family?”

You seemed flustered, but your lips quirked in an embarrassed smile. “I—I wouldn’t quite say that. But I have always strived for peace.”

Tony waved a hand. “Alright, Peace Prince, welcome aboard. We’ll see how it goes. Just don’t conjure up any giant space whales or open any more cosmic portals in the middle of Manhattan, deal?”

Thor looked positively mortified that Tony would even imply such a thing, but you only nodded politely. “Yes, sir. No space whales. I can assure you of that.”

At the “sir,” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I like you. Please continue to address me as ‘sir’ in front of the others.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

Thor cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to calmer waters. “(Y/N) will be staying with us for a time—learning Earth’s ways. Please, treat him as you would me.”

“So we haze him with endless pop culture references and toss him in the deep end?” Sam joked.

Bucky saw you swallow hard, and something about your shy, uncertain expression tugged at his chest. Without meaning to, he spoke up for the first time in the meeting. “I’ll help,” he said bluntly.

Everyone turned to look at him, surprise etched on their faces—especially Steve, who arched an eyebrow as if to say, Didn’t know you were volunteering, pal. You brightened, relief shining in your eyes. “That is very kind of you. Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Just…Bucky,” he mumbled, cheeks warming the tiniest bit.

Natasha’s keen eyes flickered between the two of you, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Great,” she said lightly. “Now that we’re all introduced, who wants lunch?”

Over the next few days, you integrated yourself into Avengers life with unexpected ease. You asked Tony endless questions about Earth technology, took great care to help Bruce reorganize his lab (after you discovered you had a knack for meticulously alphabetizing everything from chemicals to coffee mugs), and politely sparred with Natasha, who grudgingly admitted you were surprisingly tough yet considerate.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly observed you. He watched you cheerfully fix up the lounge furniture after Thor accidentally broke a coffee table. He saw you carefully water the potted plants in the hallway, eager to ensure none of Earth’s “fragile vegetation” withered on your watch. Little by little, Bucky found himself drawn to your presence—drawn to your soft laughter, your bright curiosity.

But one thing stood out above all else: you never once bragged about your title. You never boasted about your Asgardian heritage or demanded special treatment. You even seemed embarrassed whenever anyone called you ‘Prince (Y/N).’ Instead, you were humble—sometimes painfully so. And that humility, combined with that sweet, open-minded wonder, made Bucky’s heart do somersaults he hadn’t felt in years.

Bucky sat in the compound’s lounge one afternoon, pretending to read a newspaper while sneaking glances your way. You were studying a half-eaten bag of potato chips like they were the eighth wonder of the world.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, beckoning his friend closer.

Steve, doing his best to hide an amused smile, leaned in. “What’s up?”

Bucky tilted the newspaper so Steve could see you turning the potato-chip bag upside down, letting crumbs tumble out onto your hand. “He’s cute,” Bucky muttered under his breath, so quietly it nearly dissolved into air.

“…Should I act surprised? It was obvious from the moment you volunteered to show him around the tower,” Steve finished, his voice just as low. He flicked his gaze from Bucky to you and back again, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide the hint of pink that dusted his cheeks. “I’m trying to be subtle, all right?”

Steve snorted. “That’s rich coming from the guy who’s sneaking glances every ten seconds.”

Bucky’s gaze drifted again to you—now tapping the bottom of the potato chip bag in an effort to extract the last crumb. The entire display was so earnestly adorable that Bucky had to bite back a smile. “Look,” Bucky sighed, voice dropping lower, “he’s Thor’s brother. A prince. And I’m—well—” He gestured vaguely at himself, as if that summed up a lifetime’s worth of complications. “You really think he’d be interested?”

“Yes,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I do.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest—he’s just curious about Earth, he’s friendly to everyone, it doesn’t mean anything—but then, as if on cue, you turned around in your seat. The instant your eyes met Bucky’s, your face lit with delight. You waved at him so earnestly that you almost spilled the bag of chips.

Bucky swallowed. “Fine,” he muttered, giving Steve a pointed look. “Maybe there’s a small chance.”

Steve suppressed a laugh, nudging Bucky forward. “Then go talk to him. Ask about chips, or Earth cuisine, or literally anything. Just say something.”

Bucky tried to summon that stoic confidence that sometimes worked for him. Instead, he felt like a high school kid with a crush. “Right,” he mumbled. “Be casual. Real casual.”

He stood up, discreetly adjusting his jacket, and made his way over to you. You greeted him with a bright smile—still holding that bag of chips as if you’d discovered gold. “Hello, Bucky!” you said. “I didn’t realize such simple food could taste so addictive.”

Bucky felt his heart do a little flip at the sound of his name on your lips. “Yeah, uh…chips,” he replied brilliantly, jamming his hand in his pocket in a desperate attempt to appear nonchalant. “They’re a big deal around here. We’ve got, uh…like, 70 flavors, I think.”

Your eyes widened. “Seventy?!”

“Maybe more,” Bucky corrected himself. He cleared his throat. “So, you like them?”

“Very much. I fear I might become dependent,” you admitted, glancing a little sheepishly at the half-empty bag. “But enough about me—how’s your day? I noticed you’ve been reading that newspaper for a while.”

Bucky cringed internally. Busted. “Oh, yeah—lots of…uh…interesting articles,” he fibbed, holding up the folded paper. He glanced at the front page, realized it was yesterday’s news, and hastily lowered it again. “Anyway, I was thinking, maybe we could…you know, get out for a while? Go, uh…check out a café nearby.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion creeping across your features. “But the Compound has a coffee machine. It’s in the kitchen, right? I can fetch you coffee, if you like.”

“No, no,” Bucky corrected, trying to keep his composure. “I mean, we could go out. Just you and me. Kind of an…outing.” He struggled with the word date, but it hovered there, unsaid.

Your eyes went wide, as though another revelation had dawned upon you. “Oh! You need supplies? Are we on a mission?”

“No, not a mission,” Bucky explained, scratching the back of his neck. “Just hanging out. Relaxing. Maybe having a nice conversation—away from everyone else.”

You nodded, albeit slowly. “A private conversation…in a place that also serves coffee?”

“Right,” Bucky confirmed, trying not to seem too relieved. “It’s…well, on Earth, we call that a ‘date.’”

He finally said it—date. His palms were sweaty, but he held your gaze, waiting.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, brows shooting up. “I’ve read about dates in one of the Midgardian relationship guidebooks. Something about courting rituals and paying for each other’s drinks to demonstrate affection?”

Bucky’s cheeks felt warmer by the second. “Yeah, that’s…that’s the general idea. You interested?”

“Yes!” you said, then paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your features. “But do we need to bring my father into this? Thor mentioned father-gifts or is that just for official betrothals? I don’t want to be rude.”

Off to the side, half-hidden in the hallway, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle a laugh. Bucky shot him a quick glare—thanks for the backup, pal. Chuckling nervously, Bucky shook his head. “No father-gifts required. On Earth, it’s usually just between, well…the two people going on the date.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed. “Ah, excellent. That simplifies things. I wouldn’t know what to buy your father anyway—does he prefer golden chalices or—?”

“No, no,” Bucky interjected quickly, biting his lip to keep from outright laughing. “Seriously, no father involvement. We just go, maybe sit down, order coffee, talk.”

You seemed to take a moment to let that sink in. Then, you grinned wide. “That sounds delightful. When do we depart for this coffee date?”

“How about tomorrow morning? Around ten?” Bucky offered.

You placed a hand over your heart, nodding firmly. “Ten in the morning. I will be ready. Should I wear armor, or is that too formal?”

Bucky glanced at Steve again, who was now silently cracking up. He smothered a grin, turning back to you. “Casual clothes are fine. Maybe just…I dunno…a shirt and jeans, if you have them?”

“Ah, yes! The mortal garb. I’ll do my best not to clash patterns.” You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Though everything on Earth seems to clash with my Asgardian boots.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh, feeling tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding in slip away. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

Moments later, you excused yourself to research casual Earth attire, leaving Bucky standing in the lounge with a strangely giddy feeling in his chest. That’s when Steve sauntered in, arms folded, his smile practically ear-to-ear. “You see?” Steve teased. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite hide his grin. “I almost had to explain father-gifts, so maybe a little complicated.”

Steve chuckled. “Looked like you handled it just fine. And if you need a quick escape route tomorrow, you know I’ve got your back.”

Bucky gave him a playful shove. “Thanks, punk.”

Steve shrugged, still grinning. “Anytime, jerk.”

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

Personal Bodyguard

pairing: tony stark x male reader tags: you can't tell me Tony isn't bi or at least experimented in his youth, you become his personal bodyguard after the cave fiasco and iron man revelation, enemies-to-friends-to lovers, Tony really needs a hug, reader is set to become his friend (and more), military background

You’re used to working in tense environments. The military taught you that complacency is death and that vigilance is survival. You’ve seen your fair share of conflict, learned to read people and situations at a glance. That’s probably why Pepper Potts sought you out after Tony Stark’s dramatic return from Afghanistan. She looked you up and down with calculating eyes, recognized a bit of herself in your “don’t mess with me” attitude, and decided on the spot—you were the best candidate to protect Tony Stark from himself, and from the new, dangerous world he was plunging into.

Tony’s penthouse overlooks the Malibu coastline, the sun reflecting off the ocean waves and onto polished floors. There he stands—fresh from the workshop, grease on his tank top and that lopsided grin that only half-masks the shadows under his eyes. He spots you, sizes you up, and crosses his arms. “Pep, this is the solution you found?” Tony gestures at you dismissively. “A glorified babysitter?”

Pepper forces a polite smile. “A bodyguard, Tony.” You don’t rise to his bait. The best reaction here is none at all—just a stony expression. Let him get it out of his system. He cocks an eyebrow at your silence, clearly expecting some snark in return.

“Fine,” he says, turning on his heel. “Follow me. Or don’t. Whatever." Pepper shakes her head apologetically as she goes to leave. Before she goes, she places a hand on your shoulder, giving you an unspoken good luck. You already know you’ll need it.

Tony tries his best to make your life difficult. He’ll disappear from his home at odd hours, use his snark to try and aggravate you, or do something reckless like attempt a suit flight test above the Malibu cliffs. However, you're never that far behind and your patience is endless. One night, he’s just touched down too hard in the Mark II, crashing through his garage and damaging several of his expensive cars. You rush in, weapon at the ready, scanning for threats.

“Relax,” Tony says, struggling to peel off the broken armor. “It’s just me doing some, uh, routine test improvements.” You exhale slowly, then calmly dismantle your sidearm. No threats—except the one Tony poses to himself.

“You know,” you say eventually, picking up a piece of the shattered gauntlet, “if you keep messing around with these half-finished upgrades, eventually I won’t just be your bodyguard. I’ll be the one scraping you off the ground.”

Tony stares at you, momentarily struck by the genuine concern in your voice, before clearing his throat. “Point taken,” he mutters, but for the first time, he seems less antagonistic—and almost thankful.

The slow thaw between you and Tony continues. He starts sharing details of the Iron Man suit, half to show off and half because he’s realized you’re more at ease when you know everything that’s going on. You learn that behind the smug exterior, Tony is propelled by guilt, determination, and a heart that aches to do genuine good. And for your part, despite your initial refusal to get personally involved, you find yourself caring about him—protecting him matters, but so does understanding him.

Late nights often find the two of you in the workshop. Tony’s hyper-focused on some new repulser tech while you stand guard, occasionally offering your own insight to whatever he was working on. You’d never guess Tony would be the type to listen, but he does, especially when your suggestions keep him from blowing up half the lab. He’ll acknowledge your tips with a half-smile, or a nod that says more than words.

Pepper noticed the shift. She’d smile at you in passing, relief evident in her eyes. She once patted your shoulder and said, “You’re good for him. He trusts you, and that’s not something I say lightly.” Rhodey, Tony’s closest friend, warmed up to you fast. He appreciated having another military mind around. When Tony got lost in his own arrogance, Rhodey and you would share an exasperated look.

Then everything changes again when Tony becomes an Avenger. Suddenly, it’s not just small-scale threats or paparazzi you have to worry about—it’s cosmic forces, alien invasions, global catastrophes. You do your best to keep Tony safe in these new, unpredictable situations, but it’s a challenge.

The Avengers team is a powder keg of personalities. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, openly clashes with Tony over leadership and moral ideals. You see how the tension weighs on Tony; he deflects with sarcasm, but you’ve come to know the signs of when he’s hurting.

One night at the tower, you’re standing off to the side while Tony and Steve butt heads—again. "Take away the armor," Steve says, voice steely, "and what are you?" The words hang in the air. Tony’s jaw tightens, and you can practically see his heart sink. It’s a cheap shot. And it’s wrong. You step forward before Tony can snap back with a trademark insult. There’s a calm coolness in your voice, the kind that hushes even the Captain.

“Tony Stark is the mind that built that suit,” you say evenly. “He’s the one who sees solutions where everyone else sees dead ends. If you take away the armor, you’ve still got the man who pulled himself out of a cave and saved his own life with scrap metal—because that’s who he is. He’s more than the suit, Rogers, and you know it.”

Steve meets your gaze and steps forward, but you aren’t intimidated. There were lines you simply wouldn’t let him cross, not tonight, not after he delivered that cheap shot at Tony without even knowing him. You can see Tony stiffen beside you, as if ready to jump in—or bolt. But you’re not about to let Steve’s words cut him down.

“Think very carefully about what you say next, Rogers,” you warn, voice low and steady. “Because none of you would be here—Avengers, Stark Tower, anything—if it weren’t for this man. Armor or no armor.”

For a split second, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. Clint shifts uneasily near the back, Natasha straightens from her casual lean against the wall, and even Bruce lifts his head from the tablet he’s been absorbed in. Steve’s jaw tightens; he clearly didn’t expect you to stand your ground so bluntly—and you don’t care. Your top priority is Tony’s well-being, not theirs. With nothing more to say, you turn on your heel and head for the workshop.

By the time you reach the corridor leading to Tony’s private workspace, the echo of your own footsteps has become a steady, reassuring beat. Only then do you register the soft tread following behind you. He’s close—but conspicuously silent, which is out of character for a man who thrives on quips and banter.

“Sir, you have arrived at the workshop,” Jarvis’s polite voice chimes overhead, and the door slides open with a hiss.

You step inside and finally turn around. Tony lingers just past the threshold, his eyes lowered. His silence seems almost heavy, like he’s struggling to find the right words. “I never asked you to defend me,” he murmurs. “But you…you did. Why?” The workshop’s lights glow softly, illuminating half-built armor pieces and scattered blueprints. You let the sound of humming machinery fill the short gap before you speak.

“Because you needed someone to,” you say simply, though your voice carries an undercurrent of heat—residual frustration from your confrontation with Steve. “And because I wanted to.”

Tony’s gaze flickers upward—he looks uncertain, almost disarmed. “I can handle myself,” he says, though he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. It’s a weak protest, more habit than conviction.

You exhale, crossing your arms. “I know you can. Doesn’t mean you have to face it alone. Especially when the hits are coming from the people supposed to have your back.”

“You caught me off guard,” he admits, voice low, “standing up for me like that. Especially in front of the team.”

You stand your ground, letting the seriousness of the moment settle in. “You act like I never stand up for you.”

A wry huff of laughter escapes him. “Not the same way. Usually, you’re telling me not to blow up half my lab or reminding me to eat something other than coffee. This time you had my back when it counted.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here?” you ask, tilting your head. “I’m your bodyguard, Mr. Stark. That means I protect you—against outside threats and inside threats too. Even if that threat’s a super soldier with a knack for colorful speeches.”

“So that’s it?” he asks, a thin note of vulnerability in his tone. “You did it because it’s your job?” You take in his tense posture—shoulders rigid, hand flexing at his side. Tony’s never been good at showing his more vulnerable edges. Carefully, you move closer, letting your voice soften.

“Let’s get one thing straight. Defending you isn’t just me ‘clocking in.’ I do it because I care. Because I know you’re more than just the suit, no matter what Steve says.” Tony looks up at you in surprise, but you're not done yet. "If this was just part of my job, I wouldn't be spending all my free time down here with you. I would've jumped at the chance to quit when you offered it on a silver platter."

Tony cracks a half-smile, remembering when he outright tried to bribe you to quit, and you surprisingly rejected his offer. The money could've set you for life, supported you and a family if you so desired, but you simply shook your head and informed him about a meeting he had in the morning.

Tony moves closer, so close you can count the faint freckles along his cheekbones. “I hated the idea of having a bodyguard,” Tony admits, voice low. “But I’ve come to realize how much I needed you.” Your heart stutters, unsure of how to respond. Tony swallows thickly, looking uncharacteristically unsure. There’s no witty remark, no deflecting sarcasm. It’s just him, raw and honest, baring feelings you never thought he’d share.

“You’ve become one of the closest people in my life,” he continues. “I trust you in ways I don’t trust anyone else. Hell, Pepper might be the only other person who gets me anywhere close to this.” He hesitates, eyes flicking to your lips before returning to your gaze. “And…I’ve been trying to figure out how to say I might—well—I feel something for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth blooming in your chest. There’s something surreal about this: Tony Stark, the man who refused to even acknowledge your presence at first, now openly admitting he cares—that he wants something more than just having you as security detail.

A ghost of a smile curves your lips. “I might feel something for you, too.” Tony’s grin is immediate—relief and mischief dancing in his eyes. He leans in, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades.

“Do I have to make an appointment to kiss my bodyguard,” he murmurs, “or is this—” You cut him off by closing the distance, your lips finding his in a slow, tentative kiss.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

TAMARANEAN TROUBLE (AND A JEALOUS BIRD)

pairing: nightwing x male reader synopsis: Meeting your boyfriend’s ex was never easy, especially when she’s a literal goddess. But turns out she’s way more charming than you anticipated—and your new friendship with her starts to drive Dick a little nuts.

You had expected to feel a little awkward meeting his ex. After all, how often does someone casually meet the woman who used to date the guy you’re currently in love with—especially when that woman was the embodiment of alien royalty, radiant warmth, and god-tier beauty?

What you hadn’t expected was how nice she was.

“So you are Y/N,” Starfire said, floating slightly off the ground as she smiled at you with a kind of sunshine-bright sincerity that made it impossible to dislike her. “It is a pleasure to finally meet the one who makes Grumpy-Wing less grumpy.”

You laughed a little. “I—uh—thanks? It’s great to meet you too.”

And it was. But damn, she was...everything. Kind, smart, powerful, beautiful. You'd seen the pictures of her and Dick back in their early days—smiling, shoulder to shoulder, picture-perfect in ways that belonged on magazine covers and cheesy soap operas. Even now, years later, they moved around each other like they still shared an orbit. Not romantic—not anymore—but familiar.

And as the three of you moved through the Titan Tower that weekend, helping out with some team reconvening for a threat that thankfully didn’t escalate, you couldn’t help the thought that rooted in your head like poison ivy.

Why did you guys even break up?

They had chemistry. A history. Years of shared battles, shared glances, and emotional highs and lows. And you? You were just the guy Dick dated now. The guy who sometimes stumbled through fight choreography, who needed more coffee than sleep, and who couldn’t fly—unless you counted being thrown by a meta.

You didn’t voice it.

Of course not.

You smiled and teased, joined in the banter. But the seed had been planted. Every time she touched his arm affectionately or burst into laughter at something he said, it watered itself.

And Starfire? She was always so genuine with you.

“You are most humorous,” she beamed after you cracked a joke. “Dick never laughs that way. It is endearing.”

You blinked. “Thanks. I think.”

One afternoon, while Nightwing was busy coordinating with Cyborg, you and Kory found yourselves lounging on a terrace overlooking the bay, bathed in sunset light and quiet.

“You seem troubled,” she said gently, sipping something fizzy from a glass she probably made sparkle with her fingers.

“Nope,” you said. Then: “...Okay, maybe.”

She tilted her head. “Is it the comparison?”

You froze. She was looking at you with those big green eyes, not with judgment, but understanding. That made it worse somehow.

“I—what?” you asked, a bit too fast.

She smiled. “It is a natural thing. I have known Richard since he was very young, but that is no threat to what you share. If anything…” she leaned in a little, voice low, mischievous. “You and he are very hot together. It makes me wish I had taste in better timing.”

You stared.

“I mean it,” she went on, her smile widening as she leaned back. “Your dynamic is delightful. You challenge him. He softens around you in ways he never did before. And aesthetically? Glorious. Your hair alone could inspire three songs.”

You snorted. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I am complimenting,” she said innocently. “Unless you are open to being flirted with. In which case, yes.”

That was how you and Kory became best friends and when Dick began to act funny. Not in the ha-ha kind of way—no, you’d take goofy knock-knock jokes over what he was doing now.

First it was subtle. He started appearing in rooms he had no business being in. You’d be lounging in the common room, scrolling through Kory’s latest intergalactic memes, and suddenly Dick would appear with a clipboard, muttering something about “inventory checks.”

“In the living room?” you’d ask, raising a brow.

“Important living room supplies,” he’d mutter, shuffling cushions and trying very hard not to glare at your legs draped across Kory’s lap.

Then it escalated.

If Kory threw an arm over your shoulders in the hallway, Dick would suddenly need to “discuss patrol assignments.” If you so much as laughed too long at her joke, he’d swing by like a vulture in a domino mask, kissing your temple in a move so obviously territorial, it practically growled.

Kory noticed. Of course she did. She was a warrior, a princess, and now, your best friend. She took great delight in making your boyfriend squirm.

“Hello, Dick,” she would purr every time he showed up mid-conversation. “We were just discussing how your partner’s biceps have grown. He is becoming so sturdy.”

Dick’s eye would twitch. “Great. Love that. Very…sturdy.”

You tried to hide your smirk. Tried.

It all came to a head one evening while you and Kory were testing out her new “Earth-style fashion experiment.” Somehow, this translated into you wearing a sleeveless mesh top and Kory bedazzling your boots while perched upside down on the couch.

Dick walked in.

Paused.

Looked at you.

Then said, “Cool. When’s the drag show?”

You and Kory wheeze with laughter.

“Oh come on,” Dick huffed, folding his arms. “You two are literally one hair braid away from running off together.”

Kory beamed. “Do you give us your blessing?”

“I—what?! No—that’s not—” He pointed at you, then her, then back again. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You stood up, sauntered over, and poked his chest. “Doing what, Grayson? Having fun without you?”

“You’re flirting.”

“She started it,” you said.

“And he is adorably receptive,” Kory added.

Dick groaned. “Unbelievable. My boyfriend and my ex-girlfriend are best friends and now they’ve unionized against me.”

You grinned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey. I’m still yours, y’know.”

He tried to stay mad. Really, he did. But the tips of his ears turned red, and his lips twitched upward despite himself. “Yeah. I know.”

Kory stood as well, looping an arm around each of your shoulders. “Do not worry. I will not steal your sparkly boyfriend.” She paused. “Unless you break his heart. In which case I will destroy you and then marry him on a moon garden beneath three suns.”

Dick stared. “That’s…oddly specific.”

“She’s been planning it,” you said, nodding seriously.

Kory winked. “I have the dress picked out.”

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

૮ • ﻌ - ა Virgins ~ Haikyuu & BNHA men x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: How Daichi, Kuroo, and Lev are during their first time with you - as well as: Bakugo, Kirishima, Denki

Featuring: Top!Characters x Bottom!Reader Characters are aged up!!

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Virgin!Daichi who never wanted to impose on you or seem like a perv, so you had to make the first move. The Karasuno captain would get overwhelmed with just kissing, so when you suggested that you take things further, the man almost short-circuited. Sure, he could handle making out with you, with your legs around his waist or his knee just below your crotch, but that didn't mean that his mind wasn't RACING whilst your tongue was toying with his. So when your (overly-)kind boyfriend heard you offer him a blowjob, he couldn't even look you in the eyes or he knew he would fold, subsequently bombarding you with "you don't have to" 's.

Virgin!Daichi who couldn't control the plethora of moans and whines and chants of your name as you skillfully went to town on his dick. You didn't mean to overwhelm your cute boyfriend, but you did want to make him never forget his first bj; so you may have pulled out all of your best moves. You were complimenting him non-stop, on his looks, his voice, and most of all his thick, veiny, uncut dick which you "loved shoo much". Anytime Daichi would tug on your hair just a little tighter, you quickly yet effortlessly pulled off of his dick and just looked up into your boyfriend's eyes, while his pretty impressive dick rested on your face; covered in your spit and showing off just how big it was compared to your face. And in the same way that Daichi could barely take his eyes off of you, you couldn't take your eyes off of Daichi. He just looked so fucking hot; fighting the urge to shut his eyes and drown in the pleasure just so that he could keep looking at you, Daichi's mouth would fall agape more and more the longer you worked his cock and his tongue show it's pretty pink surface once in a while, oh and the way Daichi's muscles would flex! His pecks and abs would tense as his muscular arms showed off his veins, all because of your magical mouth; Daichi's fingers gripping your hair tighter and his blissful look turning into one of raw pleasure as he came down your throat, his eyes shutting tight and then opening once more, only to be rolled to the back of his head as his hips give tiny jolts of pleasure.

Virgin!Daichi who had never felt the way he felt then. Not even just sexually! Although it was true that he'd never felt such pleasure before, he'd never been so fucking hard, so fucking horny, and SO FUCKING ATTRACTED TO YOU. But also, in that moment he felt so much love! He just really fucking loves you. You took such great care with him and were so patient, Daichi felt guilty that he couldn't verbalise his love and thankfulness in the moment, but that was mainly your fault after all...

Virgin!Kuroo who gets visibly excited when you suggest having sex. Although the volleyball player seems to have tons of charisma and charm, he's always been too busy with college and volleyball to focus on relationships. That was until you came along, and along with you came Kuroo's buried sexual desires; and they took over. The handsome man didn't wanna scare you off though, so he stuck to thinking about you as he jerked off and being the perfect, non-creepy boyfriend instead. But holy shit did things change when you asked him if he wanted to fuck. The smile on his face didn't fade until a new, even happier expression took over, and then a smug expression...

Virgin!Kuroo who can't contain his excitement, running his smooth hands over every inch of your exposed body; of course, finishing his exploration and setting up camp on your plump ass, squeezing your cheeks and kneading them like dough. Kissing Kuroo in this moment was different, the love was still there like always but he felt more dominant; his tongue guiding yours instead of you guiding him like before. As the two of you made out, Kuroo manoeuvred your body to be below his, and quickly the man broke the kiss and trailed his way down your body with little pecks and bites; SINCE WHEN DID YOUR VIRGIN BOYFRIEND HAVE SO MUCH SKILL??!!?!

Virgin!Kuroo who gets too impatient and shoves himself inside of you a little too quickly after promising to go slow... You expected it though, you could see it on his face; when Kuroo slowly slid his tip inside, his eyes widened and his smile dropped into a pleasured sigh. The room was filled with Kuroo's horny, sexy moans. His groans echoing inside the bedroom along with the soft sound of his thighs smacking against yours at a slow pace. Kuroo was above you, brokenly moaning your name and whining at your tightness, his face flushed pink and his eyes hazy with love and lust; your boyfriend was cock-drunk off of you, unable to think straight because of how good he felt being inside of you, being near you, kissing you.

Virgin!Kuroo who has never been the same since fucking you. This man is the horniest piece of shit known to man, you two fuck like every other hour!! He's such a bad influence on you, 'cause he knows you can never say no to him; which has indeed led to you two fucking in storage closets, changing rooms, clubrooms, classrooms, bathrooms, and even his parent's bedroom!!! You can't complain though, the sex is fucking killer every time. And even in a non-sexual sense, your relationship has never been better! Kuroo is fucking in love with you, and you're just as head-over-heels for him!

Virgin!Lev who has never been in a relationship due to looking kinda intimidating to most people, but you saw him for the sweet dork he really was! Your relationship with the taller man was always quite wholesome; dates like any other couple and hanging out. Being a virgin actually made Lev a little insecure about his relationship with you - what if he wasn't any good in bed and you broke up with him! So it was understandable that it took until the 6-month mark for you two to actually sleep together, and of course, it was you who proposed the idea. Even though Lev was very nervous, he couldn't deny the fact that he did really wanna have sex with you, his body showing that fact by popping a boner the SECOND you mentioned fucking.

Virgin!Lev who was high on pleasure very quickly, all worries and nerves evaporating from his body once he was inside of you. Your warm smile and patience really helped to ease Lev into it (in more ways than one lol). Oh and when your boyfriend started to thrust? It was over for him. This man was drunk on pleasure, your warmth, your tightness, it was all too much for him. Lev went from trying to give you backshots in doggy like he'd seen in porn, to resting his chest on your back and hugging your waist as he pathetically humps you! You didn't mind though, hearing your boyfriend's rugged breaths and moans in your ear was hot, as well as feeling his strong, long arms around your waist, his fit chest against your back; both you and Lev also couldn't deny that the size difference between you both was a HUUUUGE turn on! Oh and not to mention the sexy "chert voz'mi da..." and "tak khorosho, khorosho, khorosho...." that Lev would mumble to himself as he began to lose his pace and fuck into you like a desperate animal. Hearing your boyfriend swear in Russian was something you didn't know you needed so damn bad.

translation: chert voz'mi da ~ Fuck yes tak khorosho, khorosho, khorosho ~ so good, good, good

Virgin!Bakugo who's too smug and too prideful to ever let onto the fact that he is a MEGA virgin!! Like never even held hands romantically! The only person he'd even really had those feelings for was you, so it made sense that the temperamental man hadn't had much sexual experience; however that doesn't mean that Katsuki doesn't understand the social stigma around that, and his ego would never allow his reputation to take such a hit. So to say you were shocked when your boyfriend finally let his stupidly high walls down and confessed to you that all his big talk was bullshit, well that would be an understatement.

Virgin!Bakugo who doesn't let the fact that he's never even kissed someone get in the way of finally getting it on with you; effortlessly pulling out tricks that would make you think he was kind of a playboy! Katsuki knew to loosen you, knew about your prostate and exactly how to stroke it in a way that made you spiral, and the man was even talking that talk AND walking that walk; his actions and words were on point! You were pleasantly surprised by how easy your boyfriend had made your job, you'd prepared yourself to talk the blonde through everything! What you didn't know, however, was that Katsuki had been studying up on gay sex since your one-week anniversary... Bless his heart.

Virgin!Bakugo who kind of rocks your world! His pace rough but not fast; it felt good, he was hitting all the right spots with that big dick of his, and his attitude was (for lack of better words) just straight-up hot. However, that's not to say that Katsuki wasn't almost immediately overwhelmed by pleasure, and his brain was slowly but surely starting to turn to mush just from the warmth and tightness of your ass. The blonde was stuttering on most words, moans ripping from Bakugo's throat and interrupting whatever he was saying; but it just made it all the more enjoyable - your boyfriend feeling so damn good 'cause of you, it was a huge turn-on for you. And ever since the first time, Katsuki has moved his strict nighttime routine back a bit, making time to have some fun with you every night.

Virgin!Kirishima who's quite unaffected by being a virgin. He's been in relationships but has never taken that step, but he didn't really care; sure he'd like it, but the redhead had never felt a need for it - that was until he started dating you. Holy shit did you turn Kiri on so, so much; it was like you couldn't even speak without making the man want to fuck you out of your mind! So even though he never told you, Kirishima was desperately waiting for the right moment to finally be inside of you, to get as intimate as possible with you. The grin on his face, when you asked him to go further, was something you'd never forget, mainly cause it just turned you on even more; your dick already hard from making out with your boyfriend, now painfully harder!

Virgin!Kirishima who is a moaning and grunting mess, thrusting into you like no tomorrow, desperate to feel you faster, deeper. Your boyfriend slurred his words as he would chant your name like an ancient prayer, moaning softly into your ear and his body jerking slightly at any clench of your hole onto his dick. It didn't take long for Kirishima to lose himself, mumbling incoherent variations of calling you beautiful and tight, his face flushed a bright pink and his entire body drenched in sweat; you got your boyfriend cock-drunk on your hole within literal minutes. It did surprise you how long Kiri lasted though! For a virgin who was absolutely drilling his dick into you at a life-threatening pace and force, the redhead didn't seem close to cumming; his uneven pace not faltering. But trust, when that man did reach his climax, the most raw, blissful moan erupted from Eijiro's throat; his body collapsing on top of yours, his sweaty muscles smushed against yours and his sweaty face buried into your neck as the man gently bit you, holding himself back from marking you more than he already had. Other than feeling your boyfriend's huge, rock-hard body crush you, you felt incredible too; the feeling, sight, and sound of your boyfriend reaching his peak inside of you and basking in the sweet, strong afterglow, holy fuck did it turn you on. So much so that the soft whimpers and voice-crack-riddled moan Eijiro was letting out resulted in you shooting your load too, painting your stomach and your boyfriend's shiny, sweaty abs.

Virgin!Denki who starts physically shaking with excitement when you ask him to fuck. Your rattlebrained boyfriend short-circuiting just from the idea of finally getting laid; best of all, his first time being with you! You kinda knew straight away that Kaminari was a mega-virgin, the man having his perverted side and all, and getting flustered at the smallest amounts of attention from you; but if anything, it was a turn-on for you.

Virgin!Denki who gets cock-drunk out of his mind! Within only a couple of minutes of thrusting his dick in and out of your warm, tight entrance, the blonde was a moaning mess above you. Denki was slurring his words, weakly moaning out nonsensical words, and chanting your name all while holding tightly onto you; the amount of pleasure he was feeling for the first time in his life was a little overwhelming.

Virgin!Denki who just looks so fucking hot as he's cumming inside of you! His body was sheened with sweat, his muscles bulging and his face contorting in pleasure; Denki's entire tan body was dusted ever so slightly with a pink hue. And even though you'd expect your inexperienced boyfriend to shut down after orgasming, he made sure even in his post-euphoric state, that you came too; even using his quirk just a tad to shock the pleasure out of you.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

open up what you got in your mind to me. [pt.2 – saja boys.]

they've never met someone like you — a mortal who almost knew them .. better than they knew themselves. for the boys, it's annoyingly intriguing. for the girls, it's comforting.

paring(s): huntrix & saja boys x demon expert!gn!reader

warning(s:) EVERYTHING IN HERE IS A PART TWO TO THIS !! some movie changes, probably effected lore that makes no sense for the sake of the narrative, a little angst at the beginning

request | tags: @blueberrysquire @akariis4snowball @j0ykill

a/n: this is part 2 !! i had sooo many ideas for huntrix that i had to make another part for the saja boys so that it wasn't so long . this part isn't as good but i liked it so ☆☆☆

that night huntrix defeated gwima was a blur. all you remember was the zombie mob of fans, half of the fight, and the use of your aura vision to raise the saja boys above the honmoon before it glimmered in gold. jinu, who gave his newly found soul for rumi, was practically reincarnated through her sword – standing in front of her post-concert, arms open for her to fall into with tears from the both of them. everyone else? well, they felt lost.

the saja boys weren't sure what to do anymore. jinu was overjoyed, of course, but the boys knew nothing more beyond gwima and their mission. they didn't care much about music, nor their fans – which huntrix still couldn't wrap their minds around – and it's not like they had secret human hobbies. they never had time for that. until now.

post-gwima, they stayed in an apartment near the huntrix penthouse, trying to figure out their new lives. for the most part, they spent most of their time under your watch – to make sure they didn't go cause chaos – but also .. under your study.

you were weird to them

they weren't used to someone other than them.. knowing them

their capabilities, their knowledge, their origins.

actually jinu found your extensive understanding of what he is to be kind of comforting

he noticed how you never really drooled over them

you'd stare, sure, but in the same way an art critic would stare at a painted blue canvas with a smeared red dot in the middle

he felt like that red dot – unexplained but you somehow understood

when he told you about his past, it was a lot for him – talking about his cruel choice

but you.. didn't judge him.

in fact, you wrote it down in your notebook immediately, the one you never let the boys get too close to

he accepted you into his life when he entertained your interest in his history

unlike him, however, the other boys were uninterested

at first anyway

thank jinu for getting them to talk to you btw

it took a little bit of convincing – telling them that you wanted to give them something more than just gwima

even though they didn't want it ...

REGARDLESS they hang out around the penthouse

because they're no longer saja boys (uninterested and unsupported by any demon staff anymore)

they really had nothing to do but mildly annoy your personal space

including being the center of your attention when the girls are out

mira gave you one rule, "living room and bathroom. only." and you've succeeded so far. abby and romance were talking by the large scale windows, mystery was playing some game with baby (and obviously winning), and jinu sat in the middle of the couch, watching whatever movie rumi put on for him. you sat beside him, sketching in your one and only personal researcher book. your pencil drew out what you felt like was the final line in mystery's hair ... before you huffed, erasing it, and trying again.

that was... until the littlest demon startled you.

"mystery, they're drawing you." bored of his game, baby peered over your shoulder, only passively curious and really wanting to mess with you. heads turned at your exposure to the room, especially jinu, who looked over your other shoulder at the sketch you did of him earlier.

"you're.. sketching us?" the direct ask made you a bit nervous, especially being under so many eyes. (kind of. mystery was more just.. generally facing your direction.) "'weakness.. chest?' are you taking notes on us?" you stood up, nearly defensive, turning around to face the couch trio.

"if it weren't for your old friends, i wouldn't have to write it all down again." the boys went quiet, remembering the origin of your knowledge and powers. "i'm just.. tired of keeping it all inside. i need to get it out somewhere."

romance, true to his name, leaned over your shoulder, putting you both in a proximity much closer than you've ever had to experience before.

"then why don't we do something.. a little more fun .. to help you get it all out?"

normally sentences like that from him sound way more suggestive than he means them to be

but this time he came up with an actual solution to release your closed up, ready-to-pop-out-of-your-skin knowledge

they gave you a one way trip to infodump station ! an interview !

they wanted to learn more about you anyways

their fellow demons down below were the ones to wipe out your ancestors

not them

and they make sure you know it too

but they can't help but feel .. a little, tiny bit bad that you're now just a living library

a time capsule, holding onto so much information that you're about to burst 24/7

they had never met a researcher honestly

you intrigued them as much as they did for you

how much did you really know ?? did you know anything or is all this antsy behavior a ploy to make it look like you knew everything when you really knew nothing ??

their disguises were perfectly created to make every little fan fall for their attractiveness the second they looked at the boys

but you never drooled at them or had your eyes pop out of your head

you just always... stared. processing. tracing mindfully.

they didn't know what you were really abut. but they were about to find out. and really test your persona.

romance sat relaced in a chair as you circled him, pencil taking note of everything you noticed. how his markings were sharp, not rounded like rivers, how his skin was cooled, not burning hot. all things you already knew, but you found small comfort in knowing not much changed. you took a deep breath around his hair, nose scrunching up. he smiled, taking your cheek in his hand.

"new cologne." his voice was smooth, gentle. traditionally alluring. "just for you. do you like it?" he turned up his flirtatiousness, pulling you in closely, testing the waters of your focus.. before you turned away to start writing, completely uneffected.

"so many generations and you guys still smell like flames.." you mumbled to yourself.

"would you rather we smell like bubblegum?" baby tried to sass you, but you were too focused on the sharpness of his teeth to care. you stepped towards him, eyes widened.

"can demons still tear apart brick with the force of their canines?" you asked, rather close to his face. for a moment, he almost felt like the flustered one.

"yes..? no? i-i don't know." he crossed his arms, childishly. "i don't go around biting bricks." you jot it down still as you move towards abby. he's deeply relaxed, leaning back on the couch, comfortable shirt riding up to expose his famously toned abs. your eyes trail off of your notebook and they think.. they've got you.

"like what you see?" he teases. "you can touch them, you know." a bold move that brings you closer, nails tracing his skin. they're almost disappointed that abby is the one who stole your attention.. before they realize you're attention isn't stolen at all. you're drawing his markings with careful detail.

"where did yours come from? rumi's started forming on her arm when she was a kid, but they haven't reached her stomach yet. they grow with time, right? how old would that make you then..?" you dissolve into mutters they can barely decipher. "oh!! mystery!" he almost jumps behind the couch when you race over to him, making jinu laugh from the sidelines of their attempts to flirt with you. "i've never seen a demon sparkle! that's new.. is that just you? or is there a whole subspecies of sparkling demons? or is it your human disguise..?" your questions nearly overwhelm him, enough to make him forget how he's supposed to flirt with you, but romance pulls you away, whispering in your ear.

"it's not just him." he smiles, hand on your shoulder. "you're sparkling, too, sweetheart." if anyone could fluster anyone, it'd be him, even if it takes two rounds. his thumb runs against your chin. "you look so cute in this lighting, like a rose."

"speaking of which, what's the flora like down there? are there any? do they eat demons or are they like.. regular flowers? we knew more of demons than of gwima's realm. did they smell? i bet they might have.. would it be nostalgic or torturing?"

the boys share a look, and sigh. you went off into high speed muttering again.

you really were everything you said

uninterested in their flirts and more in knowledge

that almost made them like you more..

in the following times after the interview, they greeted you a bit more casually – sometimes cheerfully, asking if you had any new drawings or trivia you wanted to get off your chest

how did you . tame them !? does the whole hard to get thing actually work !?

it confused the girls wildly

but to see them adjusting to being here through someone who actually understood them instead of lying around, empty and lost, was a pick-me-up in the mornings

one morning, after being delivered a coffee, handsigned by the boys, you felt something click in your head, a sensation you had never felt before, and reached to put it in your notebook immediately

"demons, when properly befriended, like to be understood. they brought me coffee. do demons like coffee??"

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

DAMN, THAT ASS

pairing: nightwing x male reader synopsis: Being a hero is hard enough without having to constantly pretend you aren’t ogling your partner’s perfect ass every time he moves. Unfortunately, X-ray vision doesn’t come with an off switch and Nightwing doesn’t come with bad angles.

You’d been around the block with your fair share of awkward powers, but x-ray vision was the crown jewel in the “oh no” category—especially when it came to him.

Nightwing.

Dick Grayson.

The man was sculpted like some divine joke, and your traitorous eyes didn’t miss anything. It was bad enough that you could see every twitch of muscle under that skintight suit, but his ass? His perfect, crime-fighting, gravity-defying ass? It should’ve been illegal. You’d lost count of how many rooftop patrols had turned into silent, suffering thirst traps in your own head.

So you made a plan: avoid him. Act cool. Keep your eyes on literally anything else. Because if you didn’t, you were either going to combust or blurt something out that would make things very, very awkward.

The problem? Dick wasn’t stupid.

At first, he’d thought you were shy. Then he thought maybe you were just distracted. But as the weeks passed and your banter went from warm and easy to clipped and professional, the gears in his head started turning. He’d been working himself up to ask you out—hell, he thought you’d been flirting back. Now? You barely looked at him.

So, naturally, he cornered you.

It was after a mission, both of you in the locker room. You were busy pretending to sort through your gear, avoiding eye contact like it was life or death. Dick, still in half his suit, walked right up and planted himself in your space. “Did I do something?” His voice was low, steady—but you could hear the bite under it.

You swallowed, keeping your gaze firmly on the wall. “Nope.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, stepping closer. The scent of sweat and clean soap clung to him, his bare chest still glistening from exertion. “You’ve been dodging me for weeks.”

Your jaw flexed. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Bullshit.” He tilted his head, eyes sharp. “You’re avoiding me, and I want to know why. If I screwed up, tell me. Don’t just give me a cold shoulder and pretend I don't notice.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “It’s not that you screwed up, Grayson. It’s that my powers make it really hard to be around you without—” You cut yourself off, realizing you were about to confess that you’d seen everything.

Without missing a beat, he smirked. “Without what?”

Your pulse spiked. “Without getting distracted.”

Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, then slow, predatory amusement. He stepped in until his chest brushed yours, the heat of his body making your brain short-circuit. “Distracted by what exactly?”

You clenched your fists, eyes darting anywhere but him. “You know what.”

“Oh,” he said, grin widening. “I think I do.” His hand slid to your hip, pulling you closer. “You’ve got x-ray vision, right? So you’ve seen it.”

Your breath hitched. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” His voice was a low purr now. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because you can’t stop thinking about me naked?”

That was all it took—weeks of pent up frustration snapped. The moment your lips crashed against his, Dick’s breath hitched in surprise, then melted into a deep, hungry groan. You didn’t give him room to breathe, one hand tangled in the short dark hair at the back of his head, the other gripping his bare hip and yanking him closer until he was straddling your lap completely.

You could feel him through the thin material of his suit bottoms, hard and pressing insistently against you. Every flex of his thighs sent your self-control spiraling.

“Fuck—” he gasped between kisses, pulling back just enough to smirk. “So this is what you’ve been avoiding?”

You didn’t answer. You just hooked your fingers into the waistband of his suit and yanked it down, revealing exactly what you’d been torturing yourself over for weeks. He was thick, flushed, and already dripping. Your smirk made him flush harder.

“Goddamn, Grayson,” you muttered, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slow just to watch him squirm. “You really have no idea what you’ve been doing to me.”

He bit his lip, hips bucking into your grip. “Then stop talking and—”

You shoved him back against the lockers mid-sentence, standing to tower over him. He didn’t even have time to protest before you were kissing him again, hard enough to make his head thunk against the metal. Your other hand slid down to cup the perfect curve of his ass—yes, the one you’d been obsessing over—and you grabbed a fistful of it as if staking a claim.

Dick groaned, his hands flying up to your shoulders, nails dragging down your back. You manhandled him onto the bench, pushing him to sit while you knelt between his spread knees.

The first slow drag of your tongue from base to tip had him throwing his head back, a strangled noise ripping from his throat. You wrapped your lips around him and sucked deep, bobbing your head until you could feel him throbbing against your tongue.

“Shit—fuck—” His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling tight, but you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his sides. You set the pace, taking him in until your nose brushed his skin, pulling back just to watch his face twist with desperation.

When you finally pulled off, he was flushed, panting, and staring at you like he wanted to devour you. “Get up.” you ordered, voice rough.

He obeyed instantly. You shoved him forward, bending him over the bench. His bare ass was right there in front of you, perfect and infuriatingly tempting. You palmed it roughly, kneading, spreading him open until he shivered.

“Always knew it was perfect.” you muttered, and then you were spitting into your hand, slicking yourself up before pressing the tip against him. He looked over his shoulder, eyes blown wide, mouth parted in a needy gasp.

“Do it.” he breathed.

You pushed in slow, savoring the way his body stretched to take you, every inch sinking deeper until your hips were flush against him. He moaned, clutching the bench so hard his knuckles went white.

Once you were buried to the hilt, you didn’t hold back. Your hips snapped forward, hard and fast, each thrust making the bench creak under the force. Dick’s voice was a mess of gasps, moans, and broken curses, echoing off the tiled walls.

You leaned over him, one hand gripping his jaw and forcing his head back so you could kiss him while you fucked into him. “This what you wanted, Grayson? Weeks of teasing me for this?”

“Yes—fuck—harder.” he panted, pushing back against you.

You gave him exactly what he asked for, driving into him until your thighs burned. Every thrust hit deep, making him cry out. Your hand slid down to wrap around his cock, stroking in time with your hips until he was shaking under you.

“Gonna—fuck—I’m—”

“Do it.” you growled against his ear, pounding him through it. He came hard in your fist, spilling over your knuckles, body trembling. You didn’t stop, fucking him through his orgasm until you followed, spilling deep inside him with a groan.

You stayed there for a moment, both of you catching your breath, sweat-slick and shaking. Finally, you pulled out, watching your cum drip down his thighs before you smacked his ass, making him jolt.

“Next time,” you said, smirking as you grabbed his chin and kissed him again, “stop making me work so hard for it.”

He laughed breathlessly, still bent over. “Where’s the fun in that?”

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

Diavolo is always well put together. Crisp, clean clothes. Flawless posture. An affable smile that welcomes everyone, and the regal presence to keep an entire room of demons in line. He is an unwavering light in the darkness of the Devildom that all of its residents follow.

In the wee hours of the night, just before it can technically be called morning, Diavolo is at peace. It's a sight only for you. There's no paperwork. No meetings. No urgent decisions to be made. The prince pulls you closer against his shoulder and nuzzles his cheek against your head. You both used the same soap, so how is it that you smell so much nicer?

Diavolo's hair is a complete mess, with half sticking up at odd angles and the other half completely flat against his head, squished into the downy pillows. There's a faint trickle of light coming in through the curtains around his bed, but you still can't see a thing. You can only feel the calm rhythm of his abdomen rising and falling with each deep breath, lulling you back to sleep in much the same way that Diavolo dozes off to the lullaby of your breathing.

Diavolo relies solely on his familiarity with your body instead of his eyes to pull the sheets up around your chest. It's clumsy. He is half asleep, after all. The kind gesture alone is enough to make you feel warm. Brain sleepy, barely thinking, you rub his side in thanks.

The prince tries to grab your hand. His nails lightly graze against your palm as he weaves his fingers between yours. He holds your hand securely atop his chest. You fall asleep thinking that his heartbeat feels so human.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

Tim reboots the Batcomputer software every couple months, but on the newest update, he forgets to change the code words he uses for batfamily before publishing the code.

Bruce is mildly surprised when he boots up the mainframe and the screen flashes, "Welcome Back Walking Wallet, Aka PTA Warrior, AKA Nagging Ninja, Aka Batdad," but he knows that it's his fault for letting Tim into the software, so he lets it go.

Jason's permanent username is now Therapy Topic and he hasn't let it go for months.

[pi3rc3-th3-r3ap3r]

Batfamily headcannons but as shit my brothers, dad and I do and have said: ___

Jason: So, when really thinking about it, out of all the league members, Wonder Woman is the best

Tim: Jay, wha-

Jason: *still talking about wonder woman while getting up and grabbing a knife in the kitchen and sitting with it for no reason*

Tim: Yeah... uhm sure *slowly backs away*

Jason: *Pauses - notices Tim backing away, the knife in his hand and the lime he had picked up in his other hand*

Jason:

Tim:

Jason: >:) *starts creepily following Tim while slowly cutting the lime*

Tim: Dick! Jason is threatening me!

___

*in the airport, in line to board the plane*

Bruce: *turns too his hoard of children and very much unplanned says* Remember, Keep it secret...

Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and any other child: Keep it safe.

(they had watched lord of the rings two days prior)

___

Tim: I can scream louder

Damian: No, I can

Tim and Damian: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tim: wait, lets harmonize

Tim and Damian: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH *But now it's pretty*

Jason from somewhere upstairs: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

___

Dick: Jason can do a really good Pigeon impression, Jason go

Jason: what no, why would I- *proceeds to do a perfect pigeon impression*

Jason: But when I went to france they sounded different so it was more like *proceeds to do perfect pigeon impression with apparently a french accent*

Dick: See?!

Random Gala person: What the hell?

___

Damian: I have a crush.

Jason and Tim: WHAT?!

Damian: Yes, it is normal, now, do not tell Grayson

Tim: Why?

Damian: Because I'm going to taunt him for the next month that I have something big to tell him but that I shouldn't

Jason: You're mean and I love it.

Tim: I thought Dick was your favorite?

Damian: Exactly which means I must treat him as a brother should through sheer annoyance.

*later*

Dick: Dammmiiiiii it's been weeks, come on!!

Jason and Tim smirking: Honestly it's huge news Dick but he probably shouldn't say anything.

Dick: wait..... YOU GUYS KNOW??? WHAT IS IT???

Jason, Tim, and Damian: >:)

___

Enjoy me imparting my families chaos upon their's