#like it’s reasonable to table there too

[mooningningg]

notes, such a fun request to make

★ Roommate!Sukuna when his friend hits on you.

You don’t even get the front door closed before Sukuna’s voice rings out:

“Why the fuck is Gojo in my kitchen?”

Gojo, standing by the fridge with his sunglasses on indoors (as usual), flashes a grin and waves a juice box.

“She let me in,” he says cheerfully. “You should lock your doors, by the way.”

Sukuna walks into the living room shirtless, towel draped around his neck, looking every bit the pissed-off guard dog someone just kicked out of his nap.

“She let you in?” he repeats, eyes cutting toward you. “The hell you let Gojo in for?”

You raise your brows. “Because he knocked?”

“Fucking let stray animals in next time, too, while you’re at it.”

Gojo slurps from the juice box loudly.

“Don’t be mad, Sukuna,” he purrs. “I was just saying hi to your adorable roommate.”

Sukuna freezes.

You blink.

“...Hi,” you say slowly.

Gojo leans a hip against the counter and slides off his sunglasses — like he’s in a damn K-drama commercial.

“You look cute today,” he says.

You blink again. “I’m wearing socks with sandals.”

“Bold fashion choice. I like it.”

Sukuna’s face goes dead blank.

Gojo smiles wider. “Sukuna didn’t tell me you were this pretty. Thought he was hiding you for a reason.”

“I am,” Sukuna snaps. “I am hiding her for a reason. She’s not a fucking zoo exhibit, Satoru.”

Gojo ignores him completely, gaze still on you. “You know, if you ever get tired of this grumpy ass—”

“Satoru.”

“—you should come hang out at my place. I’ve got wine. A couch. Mood lighting.”

Sukuna storms into the kitchen and physically wedges himself between you and Gojo.

“Try that line again, and I’ll wedge this fucking juice box up your ass,” he growls.

Gojo laughs. “Down, boy.”

You, meanwhile, are trying not to choke on your own saliva. “Sukuna—”

“And you,” Sukuna turns on you, furious. “Stop fucking smiling like this is funny. This dumbass is not flirting with you in my house.”

Gojo leans down toward you with a dramatic sigh. “Is he always this jealous?”

You open your mouth to answer.

Sukuna slaps his hand over it.

“Say one word,” he mutters, “and I swear I’ll call the IRS on you. You forgot to file taxes last year, didn’t you?”

Gojo gasps. “That was ONE TIME—!”

“OUT.”

Gojo tries to protest but Sukuna is already shoving him toward the door, juice box still in hand.

“Text me later,” Gojo calls over his shoulder.

Sukuna slams the door behind him and turns back to you.

He’s breathing hard. His jaw is clenched. He looks ready to commit several minor felonies.

You blink up at him.

“...He thinks I’m pretty.”

“I know you’re pretty. But that’s not the fuckin’ point.”

“Jealous?”

He scoffs. “Over that discount scarecrow? Please.”

Then he grabs your phone off the coffee table and types something in.

“What are you doing?”

“Blocking Gojo.”

You raise a brow. “You know I can unblock him, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just tosses the phone to the couch and stalks toward the fridge.

You smirk.

“Oh, Sukuna?”

He pauses, halfway opening the fridge. Doesn’t turn.

You say sweetly, “Next time, maybe invite me to your little ego tantrum. I wanna see Gojo flirt again.”

The door slams.

“Over my dead fuckin’ body.”

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh. @beaniesayshi @levifiance @rinofcike @fushiguroooozzz @gojoscumslut @bellsoftheball @kunascutie.

[kuncitizen]

The changes seem almost imperceptible at first.

Gojo's bathroom rack, once barren except for a two-in-one shampoo that doubles as body wash—is now cluttered with pastel bottles, a pink loofah with a bow, and some mysterious scrub labeled watermelon smoothie (which, to his utter disappointment, was not edible).

The mirror near the rack—once mounted at his freakishly tall eye level—now has a mini mirror suctioned right beside it, tilted lower just for you.

You didn’t even say anything. Just sighed one morning, yawned, and slapped it on with sleepy precision. He had laughed at you for being bite-sized, but caught himself using it when trimming his jawline.

And the fridge used to be sad, truly. Half a bottle of lychee-flavoured lemonade, a sketchy cucumber, and maybe a Red Bull or five.

Now there's fresh strawberries in containers you washed, vegetables, spices arranged alphabetically in matching jars. He made fun of it at first. But then two weeks later, when he could find the cumin instantly, he stared into the distance and muttered, “My baby's a genius.”

There’s a polaroid stuck to the fridge door with a peach-shaped magnet. You’re in the middle of the frame, laughing so hard your eyes are half-closed. Gojo’s beside you, one arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders as he makes the dumbest face known to man, while his other arm yanks a scowling Megumi into the shot like a hostage. The caption, scribbled in your messy handwriting, reads:

Family dinner (Megumi hates us).

Just beneath the photo, pinned by the same magnet, is a torn piece of paper:

-milk

-eggs

-bread

-celery

-don’t forget the glazed donuts you like even though they give you heartburn <3

Gojo keeps the list even after everything’s been bought, folding it once and slipping it into his pocket.

Because it might be just some grocery list to anyone else. But to him, it’s written in your handwriting, smells faintly like your lotion, and—most importantly—it ends with a <3.

So naturally, there’s no official "you moved in” moment. No big conversations or suitcases.

It's your scent lingering on his pillow. Your toothbrush sitting next to his in a cup he swears he didn’t buy.

It’s your hair ties scattered on his bedside table, the black ones that Gojo swears just keep multiplying. But he sometimes picks them up and just holds them for no reason, like they’re sacred relics of a goddess.

And then there are the things that aren’t objects at all.

The moments that take up space. The gestures, the silences, the care stitched into his life like you’ve always been part of it.

Like when you were were in the laundry folding his shirts, humming off-key to something on your phone and snapping the fabric mid-air like you meant business. You didn’t notice him at first—standing in the hallway, gripping the doorframe like he’s been physically hit with feelings.

Gojo had to literally bite his knuckle to keep himself from bursting into tears or tackle you mid-fold and bite your arm out of the sheer overload of affection.

Or just last night, when he swore he passed out with the lights still on, jacket half-off, phone dead on the nightstand. He only remembers collapsing onto the mattress with his head pounding, too tired to even take off his shoes.

But he wakes up warm. Shoes off, lights out, a blanket tucked around his figure. There's a note scribbled in your familiar writing, just beside the glass of water and packets of Tylenol placed on the bedside table.

“Took your shoes off and put painkillers on the table. You looked like roadkill. Love you.”

He stared at it for a full ten minutes, blanket pulled to his chin like a little boy, blinking at the ceiling with the stunned realization that someone out there loved him like this—so gently, so normally, that it didn’t even ask to be acknowledged.

Gojo rolls out of bed like a man reborn and follows the smell of something frying in the kitchen.

Because of course, you’re there.

Barefoot, standing on your tiptoes at the stove, lips pursed in concentration as you stir something sizzling in a pan. His hoodie swallows you whole, dipping low on your thighs, sleeves bunched around your wrists. Your hair’s twisted up messily, and he swears if he looks any longer, he’s going to melt into the floor like a cartoon character.

It’s almost unfair how casual you look in his space. Like you were meant to be there. Like the room rearranged itself around you.

Gojo forgets his exhaustion in an instant. The only thing sore now is his heart.

He pads over and wraps his arms around you from behind, arms sliding around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Gojo mumbles against your skin.

You snort. “I’m literally making food for you.”

“That’s not what’s gonna kill me.”

“What, the garlic?”

“The fact that you’re standing in my kitchen looking like a walking dream,” he grumbles, kissing the side of your neck.

You laugh, wiggling your hips slightly to throw him off. “Down, boy. You’re gonna burn your fingers.”

He groans like he’s actually in pain, but doesn’t move. If anything, he presses closer, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck and mumbling nonsense into your skin.

“Y’know,” you say, flipping the pan with ease, “if you distract me, and we both die in a fire, that’s on you.”

“Worthy sacrifice,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone.

Gojo's hand slides down—slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. His fingers find yours, and he gently pulls your left hand away from the spatula. You blink, confused, as he lifts your hand and lightly wraps his fingers around your ring finger, measuring.

You raise a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he replies way too fast.

You squint at him. “Is this another one of your weird kinks or—”

“Shh.” He coos as he kisses the tip of your finger. “Just checking if my future plans align.”

You narrow your eyes further, suspicious of where Gojo's going with this.

“You like rubies better or diamonds?”

You pause. “What?”

He grins into your shoulder, kissing it again. “I’m just saying. Hypothetically. If a guy wanted to be smart and lock it down before someone else does.”

Your voice comes out quieter than expected. “You’re serious?”

Gojo leans in, his voice low and uncharacteristically sincere, suddenly stripped of the teasing.

“I am so stupidly, pathetically serious about you, it’s embarrassing. I want to marry the girl who makes my apartment feel like more than just four walls. I want to put a ring on the hand that steals my hoodies and flips me off.”

Your lips part, but he keeps going.

“I want you in my kitchen, in my bed, even in my closet. Even when you leave coffee mugs everywhere. Even when you hog the blanket. Even when you bully me for crying during Pixar trailers.”

“You do cry during Pixar trailers.”

“And I’ll cry during our wedding vows too. I’m not an insecure man.”

You lean in and kiss him before he gets all sappy again, hands tangling in his hair as he wraps his arms fully around you, pulling you close enough to feel every soft breath.

Halfway through, Gojo smiles against your lips like he can’t help it. Like his heart spilled out through his mouth and all it could do was grin stupidly.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, eyes half-lidded, that smile still lingering.

“So, rubies or diamonds?”

You roll your eyes, but your own smile creeps in anyway. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he replies.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s already engraving your ring size into permanent memory.

A/N: I literally got so lazy that I didn't even proofread before posting this. So if you spot a typo, no you didn't.

[bunbun007]

ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴛʀɪᴘ - ꜱᴀᴊᴀ ʙᴏʏꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: ꜰᴀᴍᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴅʀᴜɢ

Warnings: Mentions of demon pacts ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) Word Count: 1.9k Pairings: Saja Boys x Reader Chapter sum: You have come to accept the fact that your soul belongs to a group of demons and try to coexist with them. It's hard.

<- Last chapter || Next ->

It was moments like this that made you consider that maybe, just maybe, the one suffering from making a pact with demons was them instead of you. Honestly, it was a funny conclusion, but given the fact that they were lying on the ground weeping, it seemed like it.

“We are so doomed. Hopeless.” One of the demons whined as he ruffled his short pink hair. “You hopeless, useless human! How come you are poor?”

Classist. That’s what this group of five demons was.

Not only were they ungrateful for your soul—your precious, all-worthy soul, thank you very much—they had the nerve to complain about your living situation.

“This is some sort of joke, right? You didn’t just summon us to have us live in this… hovel.”

You gasped dramatically while clutching your shirt, throwing daggers at the blue-haired demon. “I’ll have you know that the only reason why I summoned you was so that I could get out of this situation. And yet, regardless of everything, my ‘situation’ is not that bad! I’m just a few months behind in rent!” And your diet consisted mostly of instant noodles below 1,000 won. But hey, how could they judge? They didn’t even own a home.

“Wow, you are just sad.” The demon in the middle —heavens, why was he always standing in the middle?— gave you a small smirk as he walked in front of you, his black hair being covered by a black gat that matched his hanbok. “But fear no more, human. We’re here to make it better. We’ll help you out, yeah?”

You gulped — that being the only sound in the room.

“Why me? What type of demons even are you?” Your voice cracked. It wasn’t fear, exactly. It was the growing, horrible realization that you were in over your head.

Silence.

One of the demons stretched out across your bed, yawning like a cat who owned the place. Another picked up a cracked mug on your table and sneered at it. Then, finally, a soft chuckle came from behind you.

“Why not you?” a voice purred, lilac hair draped over his eyes as he tilted his head. “You’re cute. You’re sad. And you’re clearly desperate enough to sign anything, aren’t you? Besides, it was either you or the middle schoolers who knew nothing about idols. And—” he walked closer, booping your nose softly and snickered— “they weren’t nearly as alluring.”

You took a step back. Idols?

“Idols, as in performers? What is it to you if I know about idols or not?” You stood your ground—or tried to, at least—but these creatures were weirdly enticing, as if an invisible force was pulling you toward them. The pact was getting stronger the more time you spent with them. “Is that why you all have colored hair? Must be it. Are the hanboks part of your theme too? Most demons are supposed to be scary, terrifying. But you are all… handsome.”

Finally, the last demon—who had yet to talk—walked behind you, his light pink bangs fluttering in your eyes as he held you by the shoulders and tilted your head back. “Quite. Thank you, dear. You clean up after yourself quite well.” He winked as he held you in this uncomfortable yet butterfly-inducing position.

Your stomach dropped as you pried away, holding your hands in front of your chest to keep some distance, but your shoulder hit something else.

A yelp escaped your lips as a flash of blue hair came into vision and a soft hand held the side of your waist to prevent your endangerment.

“Aye, careful there. Wouldn’t want our little human to get scratched, or hurt.” You froze, only straightening when the demon pushed your back forward so that you stood on your own.

A hand ruffled your hair as you steadied yourself.

“There, there. You look stressed. Poor thing looks ready to snap.” A sudden hand ruffled your hair messily as he fixed you a smirk, the only thing visible due to the purple locks covering his eyes.

A strong arm circled your shoulders and pulled you toward him in spite of a small sound of dissent from the one who held you before. You tilted your head to face the demon and he flashed you a smile. “Our starshine sure does. Relax, little one. We won’t hurt you—unless you want-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” the last demon called. Given the fact that the others stopped pestering you, it was a sign he was their leader. “You guys know how humans are—their little hearts can’t take it. And judging by their body language, this one is at their limit.” He walked closer. “Come here, starshine. We’ll explain everything.”

And they did.

Well, it’s not like you could do anything but listen. They were the owners of the chains you were now bound to. As their voices filled with teasing contempt, they revealed that whoever bore your contract… owned your soul.

As a visual representation of their power, they started throwing this small piece of paper around—a folded black envelope—and smirked at you. When you asked, they just laughed.

“Oh, this? This is your soul, Moonbeam. It’s ours to play with.”

⋆｡˚✩˚｡⋆

There’s a truth in sad boy literature: you don’t know how lucky you are until you miss that shine you took for granted. The magic behind being alone and at peace. But now, you were being trailed by a group of five sad-looking, handsome men.

“Why are we here…” The blue-haired demon whined. He unmistakably whined in a way that would usually be considered annoying—were it not for his handsome face. Pretty privilege. He tugged at your hair audaciously. “Hey human, this is so boring~”

You stopped in your tracks and turned around painfully slow.

“Stop being such a baby. You guys might be free from hunger, but I’m not. And if you want me to be able to promote your sad excuse of a boyband, then let me have this.” A sharp arm wrapped around your waist. You nearly dropped your basket.

“Now, Moonbeam, we wouldn’t want you to lose your cute little ability to talk back. Now, would we? If I were you, I would be nicer to us.” The light pink-haired man spoke softly in your ear, holding you more sternly as you tried to pull away.

To anyone else, it looked like a cute couple being close and shy with each other.

“Well, aren’t you a romantic…” You gritted your teeth and detached from his embrace, the hair on the back of your neck standing. “I’ll take your suggestion. Thanks.” You gave him the fakest, most obvious smile you could muster.

All that charm, and still can’t fix his attitude? Tragic.

Breathe.

“But if I were you, I’d be nicer to your manager. After all, I know how the world of entertainment works. While you…” Your gaze lingered on the black hanboks they were still wearing—pedestrians thought they were some kind of cosplayers. “…are undoubtedly lost. Face it, you guys need me.”

What you needed was power. Being your rightful owner again.

You needed them to free you.

The demon in the center smirked as he grabbed your chin and forced you to face him. “I think it’s the other way around, sweetheart. Remember your place, human—we could have you six feet under if we please.”

You saw red. But tried to breathe.

Yeah.

That didn’t work.

"You want to own my soul? Fine. But if you're going to drag me to Hell, you better do it right—because right now, you're all just dragging your feet." You snatched the man's hand away from you and pulled him dangerously closer. “If you want your little show to work, then you’ll have to hand some of the reins over. The summoning connects us both ways. Don’t think I don’t know that, demon.”

The demon froze, his eyes scanning your face as his lips fought to hide a small smile.

“Whatever you say, Polaris. But if you want to threaten me, do it by cursing my name. Jinu."

⋆｡˚✩˚｡⋆

You were being dragged to another store. Because, apparently, that’s the only way demons knew how to guide you anywhere they wanted to gaze at.

After spending the day with them, you had come up with a few nicknames for some of the demons—the ones that teased you most.

There was Baby, the smug, annoying one who kept tugging your shirt and making flirtatious comments when older women were present, making you a stuttering, ashamed mess.

There was also Romantic, which was originally just you being sarcastic—he had yet again threatened to end your life if you didn’t buy him a shiny necklace he liked.

Mysterious, who didn’t speak much, except for the small remarks he made when he thought you couldn’t hear him.

And Abby—who originally wanted to be referred to as Abs—who had a weird habit of holding your shoulders to show off his muscles.

Apart from the comic dialogue that had filled the silence in your head for most of the day, you were set on a single thought:

The demons needed clothes.

You didn’t know how you would pull off the whole boyband idea, but it was more than obvious that you wouldn’t be able to do it with them dressed like a historical Korean drama.

“I saw this exact fit on J-Dragon,” Romantic said proudly, shoving a hanger of glittery skinny jeans in your face. “Fancy, aren’t they, Moony?”

“From what year?” you asked, stepping back to admire the pair of slacks fully. You made an expression better left sealed than shown to the world. If side-eyes could kill, those pants would be long gone. “Those things are banned by Big Bang now.”

“2010, maybe?” he said.

“Exactly.”

Baby was already halfway into a pair of skin-tight pants. You didn’t know how he moved so fast—or how his bones were even intact.

“I look good,” he posed in front of the mirror like he was auditioning for a role in Twilight. “Humans will drool over me, won’t they, little star?”

You groaned. “You are so old, it’s painful to see.”

“No, no,” Mysterious spoke from beside you, making you jump as he appeared out of thin air. He flipped through a rack of mesh tops with a sinister kind of interest. “It’s vintage now. Retro. Cool.”

They were all going to get arrested for crimes against fashion.

“Bold of you to talk about crimes,” Jinu said, humming as he smirked your way—not understanding the definition of personal space.

…Did you say that out loud?

He tried on a leather jacket with zippers that went nowhere. You had to give it to him—he could wear a trash bag and still look good.

“Since we’re not paying for any of this.”

You froze. “What?”

They didn’t answer.

...

The alarms went off fifteen minutes later.

You walked briskly. They strolled—bags in hand, not a single receipt between them. Not even pretending to care. One of them even waved at a security guard on the way out.

“This is shoplifting!” you hissed, nearly tripping over your own feet as you tried to escape mall security. You were sweating bullets, and you weren’t even the one who committed a property crime.

“We don’t call it that,” Jinu said calmly, adjusting the lapels of his coat. “We call it… redistribution of aesthetic resources.”

“It’s theft!” you hissed again. “You could’ve gotten us caught!”

“No one saw you do anything,” Baby said, patting your head like you were a toddler who just learned object permanence. You pushed his face away as he laughed. “We handled it.”

The worst part?

They had.

Did I make everyone flirt with the reader? Yes, and I was blushing the whole way JAJAJA But then again, I don’t want to make them soft straight ahead. Because…they are demons.

ANYWAYS

Reader being nicknamed after stars bc when souls go to the demon realm, they look like shooting stars. Each character had a special nickname which will be unlocked throughout the series start.

Here are the unlocked nicknames until now:

Romantic — Moonbeam Why: “Moonbeam” feels elegant, timeless, and full of ‘gentle’ affection — perfect for someone who says “dear” like he invented the word. It's also a little melancholy, which fits “Come now, Moonbeam, don’t pout. The night would weep without your light.” Jinu — My Polaris Why: He sees you as his an anchor. The nickname reflects deep respect and connection. It’s not flirty — it’s reverent “You don’t have to prove anything, my Polaris. I’ll follow you anywhere.” Maybe, still a work in progress: When the whole nicknames are revealed, the story will break into individual routes for each character. Like otome games.

Special thanks to: @lillycore @apelepikozume @junni-berry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @crescent-z @arieslucy @enerofairy @soldmygenderforglitter

☆ ～('▽^人)

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ old habits

➤ summary: you call Rafe out when he acts disrespectfully

➤ w/c: 1.5k.

➤ warnings: themes of toxic masculinity, emotional confrontation

➤ a/n: really wanted to be a part of @zyafics campaign, and I hope that other writers will consider doing it too <3

masterlist

The thing between you and Rafe was still new and fresh—only a few times going out on dates, lingering touches, and way too many moments that were more than just friendly.

Since the first time you had met him, you thought that he had grown to be a better person. He tried to change some of his old habits to become more mature. And you truly saw that, and it was a reason why you even started to catch feelings. But there were still times when he struggled, when some of the traits of that old toxic Rafe were slipping through, either because it was too hard to control things that he had been taught from a young age or because he truly didn’t see himself being in the wrong. 

That day he invited you to the new cafe near the beach on the mainland, saying that it was the best one. For you, Rafe was a gentleman. He picked you up, helped you to get in and out of his truck, complimented your dress and your hair, and let you hold his upper arm when he was leading you to the entrance.

He opened the door for you, and the place was dimly lit with yellow tones and just radiated warmth. It was a little bit too loud with people sitting everywhere, but if the place was good, you didn’t mind that one bit. You looked back at Rafe, sharing a smile, until the young hostess stepped in front of you. 

“I’m so sorry, but as you may see, we’re full right now. You may sit here until one of the tables is free.” With a polite smile, she gestured to the side. “The waiting time will be around fifteen to twenty minutes, if that’s okay with you.” 

You nodded to her words without hesitation. “That’s totally fine.” 

But beside you, Rafe let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh, more like a scoff. He raised an eyebrow and looked the girl up and down with something colder in his expression than you would’ve preferred.

“You’re telling me you can’t fit two people in? It’s not even full in here.” She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, briefly looking at you to figure out how to react. Rafe’s voice wasn’t loud, but you knew how intimidating and cold he might be, especially to people who were not used to it.

“Rafe.” You said his name sharply, tugging his bicep once in hope that he would let it go. 

He glanced at you, then back at the hostess, not getting the problem that you seemed to have. “We’re literally standing here, dressed nicely, just asking for a table. I’m not trying to be a dick. I'm just saying, you could make it work if you actually wanted to.” You didn’t wait for her to respond. You took a step back, slowly removing your hand from his arm.

“I’ll be outside.” You said. No emotion in your voice, hands already folded across your chest. 

You sat at the bench outside, one leg thrown over another, looking at the ocean and debating just simply going back home. Rafe walked out a few minutes later, with hands buried in the pockets of his pants, looking at you like he genuinely could not understand your behavior. 

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.” You said calmly, not even sparing him a glance. 

“For what? I didn’t even say anything bad. She was the one who couldn’t do her job properly.”

Your head snapped towards him with eyebrows raised in surprise. “No.” You said sharply, taking him aback. “You were being an asshole because you didn’t get what you wanted. She was doing her job, Rafe.” 

His brows knit. “Jesus, I wasn’t an asshole—I was just calling her out.”

“Calling her out for what, Rafe? For not breaking policy? For not giving you special treatment?” He looked away, jaw clenching. His hand reached his head to rub over his buzzed hair in frustration, while you simply looked at him, seeing the conflict that he had. Part of him clearly knew you were being reasonable, that he might’ve stepped over the line, but the rest of him, the louder part, wanted to be right. Wanted to win.

“I’m not dating someone who thinks talking down to people makes him important.” You said firmly, your voice low and calm but hard to let him know how serious that situation was for you. “That’s not cute. That doesn’t make you look cooler or whatever. That’s not something I tolerate.”

Rafe exhaled hard through his nose, briefly throwing his head back in frustration. “You’re making it sound like I screamed at her or something. I was just—I don’t know—frustrated.”

“Yeah, and she was working. Probably scared of losing her job because of kooks who talk down to her every day. Probably already dealing with a bunch of other men who think that they are better than everyone and that other people owe them something.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that.”

You stood up, stepping closer with your heels softly clicking against the wood. You squinted your eyes slightly, tilting your head to the side now that you were almost the same height. “Do what?”

“Make me out to be some kind of monster.”

“I’m not.” You shot back. “But if you don’t like how I make you sound by just talking about your actions, maybe ask yourself why instead of getting defensive.”

The silence that followed stretched long between you. You crossed your arms tighter, mostly to keep yourself from softening, because, God, you wanted to. Because part of you knew that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but still addressing the problem was important to prove to him that the said problem existed. 

You watched the gears turning behind his eyes, jaw tight, hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked off toward the ocean like maybe the answer was out there, like it could help him to understand how to break the default settings that were engraved in his brain. 

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” Rafe admitted finally, his voice quieter now, and you could hear the edge of hesitation. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it. That I was acting like…” He trailed off, and you knew what he meant. Like Ward.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.” You said softer now, but still steady. “You don’t even notice when you slip. I know that you’re trying to be better. I see it, but I also need you to acknowledge that sometimes you can still be mean, that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Otherwise we won’t work out.”

He looked at you then, as if hurt for a second, because for the part of him, it sounded like a threat or like a challenge that he didn’t want to accept.

“I don’t want to be that guy.” He said after a moment. “I’ve been trying. You know I have.”

“I know. That’s why I’m still standing here and not leaving.” You stepped closer, but you didn’t reach for him.

“But I’m not going to coach you through being a decent person every time you slip. You have to want it for yourself, not just to keep me happy, because I’m telling you right now, Rafe…” You met his eyes, staying your ground. “If that’s the man you choose to be, I will walk away. Even if I don’t want to.”

His throat bobbed in a nervous swallow, his eyes darted away, then back to yours, as if he was trying to measure if you were bluffing. And when a few seconds passed, when you looked at him steadily, waiting for an answer, he turned and walked back toward the café.

You watched him through the front windows when he hesitated near the hostess stand, tugging awkwardly at the expensive watch on his wrist, and then leaned in to speak to the girl. Her face was surprised at first, then softened as he continued to talk, before she nodded a few times, still slightly hesitant, and said something back to him. 

When Rafe returned back to you, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little bit, though his jaw clenched when he rubbed the back of his neck and stopped in front of you like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“I apologized. Told her I was out of line.”

You gave him a small nod. “Thank you.”

He shifted on his feet, nervous. “She said the table will be ready in ten.” You nodded again, waiting for him to continue. “You still wanna eat with me?” He asked, almost hesitant, like a boy who'd just been scolded.

“I do.” His lips stretched in a small smile, eyes glimmering with something like surprise and maybe a bit of shyness that you caught every once in a while. Rafe stepped closer, offering you his hand, and you playfully rolled your eyes, smiling back and interlacing your fingers. “Now I’m about to order the whole damn menu, Cameron. And it better be good.” 

[nottivagos]

notti's nightly thoughts (18+)

an: going to be honest, i don't really know what this is. i'm sleepy 😔

it wasn't uncommon for lando to miss you whilst he was away racing. he knew he couldn't bring you to every race, and he respected that you had other aspirations and responsibilities away from supporting him at races. but god did he need you now.

it wasn't like a regular craving that he could shake away with a quick scroll through some pictures of you together, no, this was different. it was the kind of desire that he did prepare for, but never knew could actually happen. he needed to hear you. desperately too.

he'd been trying to get himself off to some odd voice notes here and there for a while that evening, but it wasn't enough. he needed to hear your voice again, and craved to even be told what to do by you.

in an act of desperation, he called you, not expecting you to answer. it was an ungodly hour for you at home, so he wasn't getting his hopes up for anything, but luckily he'd struck gold.

you stirred from your sleep, groggily turning over to your bedside table to see lando's name lit up on your phone. lethargically answering the phone, you croakily spoke into the microphone, wondering what your boyfriend's reasoning was for calling you at such an ungodly hour.

when lando answered, his voice was already a little breathless. his cock was half hard as he rested topless on his large bed in his hotel room, one hand just aimlessly tracing over his bulge whilst the other held his phone in his hand.

"you sound a little breathless," you asked out of concern. "you alright, lan?" you asked with a genuine concern, "you don't sound very well," you added with your eyebrow raised.

"me? oh, i'm alright babe," he laughed off, fisting himself through his boxers. "just got a little bit of a cold that's all," he mumbled, closing his eyes as he continued to rub up and down the now painfully straining cock in his boxers.

with a hum, you shrugged it off. you started to talk, rambling about things going on at home, blissfully unaware of lando pleasuring himself to your voice. lando's hands came to nearly rip his boxers from his body, letting his angry red cock bounce free onto his lower stomach, tip leaking with salty pre-cum.

lando continued to stroke his length as you continued rambling, thumb smearing the pre-cum down his length, whilst his curls fell on his pillow as he tilted his head upwards in pleasure. his mind was hazy, high on not only the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but the ecstasy of hearing your voice after so long apart.

losing any self awareness, lando let out a short whine, biting his lip to try and suppress it as much as possible, but failing miserably. your eyes widened in realisation, stopping what you were saying mid conversation to question what the hell lando just did.

"why did you just moan?" you asked bluntly and directly, adjusting yourself upwards on your bed.

"n-no!" lando exclaimed, grip hard on his twitching length as his froze, hot blood pumping through his veins. "why the hell would i moan?" he tried to laugh off, but you weren't having it.

"are you touching yourself to the sound of my voice?" you asked rather bluntly again, but lando could sense the smirk plastered on your face from his end of the line.

"why would i do that?!" he blurted out sheepishly, trying to lie through his teeth but failing miserably. "i'm not touching myself," he denied again, "i just-, i just missed your voice, okay?"

"aw, that's cute," you mumbled, "but i'd bet you'd need me to tell you what to do, wouldn't you? i bet you're so lost without the sound of my voice in your ear," you trailed off as lando grabbed his throbbing cock, thrusting the fleshlight around it so it fitted ever so snugly.

"please," he whined stupidly, phone now discarded to the corner of the mattress. "i need you," lando panted, pleading nearly as the breath was sucked out of his lungs in the breathless gasps escaping his lips.

"tell me what you want me to do, baby. i'm all yours," he added, biting his bottom lip at the feeling of the fleshlight fitted snugly around his throbbing length, making him a mess. but god did you revel off of that.

"yeah?" you asked, "you're all mine, are you?" you hummed with a devilish excitement flurrying in your insides. "why don't you let me hear those pretty little noises that you make whilst you tell me how you're feeling, hm?"

"fuck," he panted, fisting his cock with the toy. "it's just-," he stuttered, tears forming in his eyes as he continued to jerk himself off, "i just need to feel you- inside of me, and i can't-," he cut himself off as he whimpered, biting down on his hand to suppress a moan mixed with a sob.

"oh, it's that bad, huh?" you cooed, "you really miss me that much, lando? aren't you such a sweet thing," you murmured, voice laced with venomous sweetness as you felt your panties become wet from hearing lando's moans vibrate through your phone's speaker.

"if i cum please just promise me that you'll come to my next race," lando breathed as his hips rolled in a haste rhythm whilst thrusting the toy harder onto his cock. "that's all i ask," he added, before groaning, "fuck-, i'm close."

"oh you're close?" you hummed with a raised eyebrow. after a moment of pondering, listening to lando's moans grow louder and louder, you answered, "alright, i'll come to your next race," giggling before adding in a sultry mumble, "come for me, lando."

salty tears streamed down lando's face as he let out a guttural moan, hot spurts of come painting the inside of his fleshlight. the sticky white trailed down his length, painting the inside of his thighs as he panted, coming down from his high.

"good boy," you praised as lando whimpered, chest heaving. "that feel better, lando? i bet it does, doesn't it," you murmured into the phone with a sadistic smile on your face.

"now turn on your camera," you commanded, "i want to see what pathetic mess my stupid boyfriend made on his toy thinking about me." <3

[batsandbirdbrains]

Idk why but I cannot get this idea/hc out of my head and I’d love for you to expand on it:

Dick has bitten Hal at least twice when he was Robin, and one of those bites left a scar on his ankle or something. So now Hal wears ankle guards or reinforced socks or something to prevent his ankles from ever getting bitten again but he doesn’t tell anyone why because he’s kind of embarrassed that a 10 year old bit him so hard he scarred. And so over the years people come up with different conspiracies on why he wears armor around his ankle until one day Hal just snaps and points at Nightwing and goes “it’s because of HIM”. Dick just stands there and points at himself looking around in confused innocence because while he does recall biting Hal he doesn’t put two and two together. He’s even a little offended when Hal explains his reasoning because it’s not like Dick had bit him (on the ankles at least) since then.

I’m imagining Nightwing standing there gasping so loud and hold a hand to his chest just being like, “Who, me? Sweet little old me? Why, I would never!”

“It happened, you little shit! You latched on and didn’t let go, like a demented little vampire!”

“I do not remember this.”

“January 23rd! It was a Friday! You were ten years old and way too old to be biting people!”

“You remember the date?” Dick snorts, a shit eating grin on his face. “Okay, I admit, I remember biting you maybe once or twice in my youth. But I don’t recall it being that bad! Or on the ankle!”

“You were skulking around under the meeting table and attacked!”

“Ooooh yeah I may have done that. In my defense, you said something mean about my dad! It was totally fair!”

Hal is gobsmacked. Everyone else is trying so hard not to bust out laughing.

[idkyetxoxo]

Five | Burning Cold | Shadow and Flame

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2k

Warnings - Parental abuse, angst (who's surprised x)

<- prev || series masterlist || next ->

"You embarrass me beyond reason."

Beron's voice struck like a blade, sharp and deliberate.

The dining room was almost eerily quiet. The candles had burned low, casting elongated shadows across the table, and the fireplace crackled behind him like it too knew what was coming. 

Rhysand and Azriel had already been shown to their respective rooms. The staff had long since been dismissed.

It was just him, Eris, and me now. A ritual in cruelty. One we'd all rehearsed too many times.

Beron remained seated at the head of the long table, one hand curled around a glass of wine he hadn't touched, the other drumming slow, deliberate fingers against the polished wood. 

I stood before him, hands twisted together in the front of my dress, heart rattling against my ribs like a prisoner trying to escape.

Eris stood beside me. Tense. Too still. His eyes locked on our father like he was calculating exactly how much defiance he could get away with before he was forced to watch me bleed.

I knew this was coming.

I had felt it simmering beneath Beron's skin during dinner, even before I'd forgotten the name of my supposed betrothed. Even before I stumbled over my words like some foolish, fidgeting girl. 

My silence, my trembling hands, my avoidance of wine—all damning in his eyes.

But I hadn't anticipated just how bad it would be.

"I apologise," I said, voice low and tight. "It simply caught me off guard. I didn't know—"

"You didn't know?" he repeated, his tone mockingly aghast. "And is that not the root of your failings? You do not know. You never know."

He set the wine down with quiet precision, then leaned forward, voice lowering into a pitiless rasp. "What use is a daughter who crumbles under pressure? Who flinches like a whipped dog and forgets her place like a simpering maid?"

I swallowed, hard. "It was sudden. I was just shocked."

"Shocked" he echoed, voice thick with derision. He laughed once, a sharp, joyless sound. "Does the battlefield offer surprises, girl? Do alliances form and break without warning? And what then? Will you stammer your way through strategy while your enemies slit your throat?"

He stood. Slowly. With the terrible weight of inevitability.

"You are weak," he said flatly. "Weaker than before. I see it in your shoulders, the way they slump. In your eyes—there's softness now. Contamination. And you reek of something else. Something foreign. Untrustworthy."

Beside me, Eris stepped closer. His hand found the small of my back in a subtle, silent gesture. A warning not to provoke. A tether, so I didn't float too far away from myself.

But it was too late.

With one violent sweep, Beron's hand smashed across the table sending silverware and glasses crashing to the floor. The force of it made me flinch, and before I could recover, he was there.

His fingers were in my hair, twisting and yanking my head back until I was forced to look up at him. The pain was sharp. White-hot.

"You dare flinch from me now?" he snarled, his breath hot and thick with wine and rot. "You've forgotten what fear feels like? Let me remind you."

"Father—" I gasped. "I'm sorry," I cried out, the words choking on my tongue.

Eris's hand dropped from my back as he stepped between us. "Stop. Just—wait," he said quickly, voice low and firm, but Beron didn't even look at him.

"Eris, leave." His voice was razor-edged.

Eris didn't move. His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing. "No."

"Eris, leave now!" Beron roared, and a ball of flame exploded near the door, bursting in a rush of heat and smoke. The flames danced along the stone walls like predators hungry for more.

For a long heartbeat, Eris stood rooted. Then, with eyes that burned with guilt and helpless rage, he turned and left. I watched him go, just for a second and the look he gave me... It undid something in me.

It was sorrow. It was apology. It was useless.

Beron yanked my face back toward him, his other hand grabbing my chin so tightly I could barely speak.

"You are no daughter of mine when you falter like this," he snarled. "You've gone soft. Frail. Sluggish. And I will not have it." His breath was hot and sour. His grip turned bruising.

"You're hurting me," I sobbed, voice cracking as tears slipped down my cheeks.

"Good," he hissed. "Maybe pain will remind you what's expected of you. Maybe fear will shake this lethargy out of your bones."

I tried to twist away, but his grip only tightened, nails digging into my skin. He shook me, hard enough that the room spun.

"You think tears will save you? That Eris's pity will shield you from what you are meant to become? No. You will not be soft. You will not be weak. You will be what I command you to be."

His nails dug in. My legs buckled.

"You are not a creature of sentiment," he growled. "You are not soft. You are not kind. You are Autumn's flame, and you will burn when I say burn."

He released me so suddenly I stumbled back, clutching at the edge of the table to keep from collapsing completely. My scalp screamed. My lungs heaved for breath.

The doors to the dining hall burst open with a force that echoed through the room like thunder cracking through frost.

But it wasn't Eris this time.

Azriel stood in the threshold, shadows slipping off him like smoke from a smothered fire, writhing toward me in instinct—those tendrils of darkness already reaching, already knowing. They curled around my ankles, my wrists, brushed the bruised corner of my jaw with ghostlike care.

Of course they knew. Of course he knew.

"High Lord," Azriel said coolly, voice devoid of emotion, like he was carved from ice and steel.

Beron turned slowly, irritation flickering like flame behind his eyes. "What?"

"Rhysand wishes to speak with you before you retire for the night," Azriel replied, words casual but precise.

It was quiet. Polite. Submissive. It was also a lie. To Beron, it must have sounded routine. A servant simply doing his duty.

But not to me. To me, it was code. It was calculated interference.

Beron stared at Azriel for a moment too long, suspicion simmering behind his gaze. Then he glanced at me, my flushed face, trembling hands, the way I stood too still, too quiet. His mouth curled in distaste.

But he turned and left. His footsteps disappeared into the corridors like the closing of a cage.

Silence followed in his wake.

"Rhysand doesn't want anything," I rasped, my voice cracking like dried leaves.

Azriel took a single step toward me, and in it was restraint, fear, reverence. "Well," he replied softly, "he does now."

I let out a breath that shook on its way out. My hands fumbled to smooth the bodice of my dress, to pull my sleeves back into place. Anything to look less ruined. Less broken.

When I looked up, I wished I hadn't.

Azriel's expression was... shattered. Quiet, steady Azriel, the male who never let a single crack show—he looked at me like something inside him had just died. 

The devastation on his face made me feel like I was drowning in it. It made me angry. Made me ashamed. I looked away.

He reached toward me slowly, gently, as though approaching something wild and wounded. His fingers found my arms first, featherlight on the sleeves of my dress. 

A breath later, his hand moved to my face. He brushed back a strand of hair, one of many that had been yanked free just minutes ago.

The contrast of it, kindness after cruelty was too much.

It undid me. I almost crumpled. Almost collapsed into him right then and there.

"How long?" he asked, his voice roughened with emotion.

I looked up at him, and my eyes betrayed me. The tears welled, then spilt, despite everything in me that tried to hold them back.

His jaw clenched. His eyes turned stormy.

"It's nothing," I whispered. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters," he said, voice firmer now, edged with something dangerous. "But you shouldn't have to take—"

"Do not meddle in our family's affairs," I snapped.

I meant it to be sharp. Meant it to push him back where he belonged. But the words fell flat. Brittle. Useless.

His shadows recoiled as if wounded. I felt the space between us widen, the silence become unbearable.

And still, I couldn't stop my body from leaning forward, couldn't stop my hands from curling into fists just to keep from reaching for him. 

I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and pretend the last twenty minutes hadn't happened.

But I couldn't.

Because if he touched me like that, I might not be able to let go. Because if he comforted me, truly comforted me, the illusion of strength would fracture for good.

And that would be dangerous.

For him. For me. For the tiny life inside me that I hadn't even dared to speak of.

"Is this why you've pulled away—" Azriel began, his voice quieter now, no longer edged in frustration but something softer. Something close to hurt.

But he didn't get to finish.

Pain—sharp and sudden ripped through my abdomen. A jolt that stole the breath right from my lungs.

I doubled over without meaning to, a sharp gasp tearing from my lips as my hands flew to my stomach—my glamoured stomach still concealed beneath layers of illusion and silk. 

My knees buckled, and I gripped the edge of the table beside me to steady myself.

"What's wrong?" Azriel was at my side in an instant, shadows coiling around me like a net ready to catch me if I fell. His arm reached for mine, his hands steady and sure.

I shrugged him off before his touch could truly land.  Because I knew what it was.

Because the baby—his baby had just kicked. For the first time.

It had been subtle, not the kind of thing someone else would notice. A ripple, a flutter like wings brushing against skin from the inside. 

But to me, it was seismic. A soft little tumble inside me that sent everything reeling.

My heart stuttered. My fingers splayed protectively over the illusion hiding the small curve that had begun to show beneath the glamour.

I straightened slowly, schooling my expression as best I could, even though I felt like my world had just shifted off its axis. 

Azriel was still watching me, concern carved into every line of his face.

"I'm fine," I managed though the words were hollow.

"You doubled over in pain—" he started again, voice tight, jaw clenched.

"It's nothing," I snapped too quickly. "I just... I hadn't eaten. Probably a cramp."

It was a terrible lie, one that passed my lips before I could think better. But it was all I had. 

If I told him the truth, if I let it slip—what then?

His child. The one I hadn't planned for. The one he hadn't planned for. The one who had just made themselves known, as if to remind me they were real. Alive. Growing.

Azriel was still watching me, too perceptive for his own good. His shadows hadn't recoiled either they hovered close, sensing the deception, the tension, the truth I refused to let free.

"Every time I try to speak to you, you shut me out. Now you're in pain and you won't even look at me—"

"Because you don't get to know everything," I bit out. My voice was harsher than I intended, cracking at the edges. "You don't get to demand pieces of me just because you decided to care too late."

That stunned silence again. The kind that cut deeper than shouting.

I hated this. I hated the look on his face—of ache and confusion and maybe even guilt. I hated how part of me wanted to fall into his arms and just tell him. Tell him everything.

But I couldn't. Because once he knew, he'd never leave.

And I wasn't sure I could protect him, not from my father, not from this court, not from the consequences of what we'd done.

So I turned away. Clutching my stomach as gently and secretly as I could, fingers spread over the place where life had just moved for the very first time.

My chest ached with everything I couldn't say.

The baby kicked again, just a flutter this time, almost as if they were responding to my heartbreak. As if they already knew they'd have to be strong, even inside of me.

And behind me, Azriel stood in silence. 

Still waiting. Still not knowing.

A/n - This part is a bit shorter than usual, but intentionally so—I didn't want to rush into the next part just yet. Next part, well, the beginning of it is my fav so far (hint hint kinda?).

Azriel finally sees the abuse firsthand and, of course, steps in. He assumes it's the reason reader has been pulling away—understandably, but it's not!!

And then... the baby makes their presence known. For the first time. The timing couldn't be worse, but in some small, bittersweet way, it matters that both parents were there x

It's definitely one of the more graphic ones with the abuse so I apologise for that.

Thank you for reading <33

Shadow and Flame tag list - @coffeebooksrain18 @jaybbygrl @slut4acotar @justtryingtosurvive02 @mortqlprojections @sheblogs @moonlitlavenders @windblownwinston @queenoffeysand @tothestarsandwhateverend @saamanthaag3 @metaphysicaldoom @natalijassav @bookishbishhh @yourenothingbutnottome @holb32 @etsukomoonbeam @fxckmiup @i-am-infinite @megwan @cuethedepession @rinalsworld @whoreforfictionalmen18 @asahinasstuff @lilah-asteria @smol-grandpa @shinyghosteclipse @rachelnicolee

[rcmclachlan]

tease tidbit tuesday

Tagged by @firehose118, @devirnis, and @ambernotember. Thanks, y'all 😘

Here's some more from the s3 alternate meeting au I'm working on.

+

Buck squints, because, "Wait, don't I know you?"

The guy, who looks like he competes in Steinstossen on the weekends, gives Buck a familiar smile—the same one he gave Buck a few years ago.

A four-alarm grease fire had consumed half an apartment building after someone supposedly tried to put it out by throwing a pot of water on it, and at least four stations showed up to beat it into submission. This guy had been climbing down one of the ladders with what must have been twenty kids on his back, and as he passed the window of the room Buck was in the middle of clearing, he smiled and waved at Buck through the glass like it was just another day at the beach.

"Hey, Buckley! How's the leg treating you, man? We were gonna send you flowers, but your buddy Chimney said you were a real weirdo so we sent that big box of whack-ass candy instead."

Amongst the explosion of flowers and wreathes and cards he'd gotten from people whose names he didn't know, there'd been a big box full of the strangest candy he'd ever seen: lollipops with ants frozen in the center, mints that tasted like roadkill, Carolina Reaper cotton candy, mac and cheese gummies, and chocolates shaped like dicks. He, Chim, Eddie, and Hen had laughed themselves to tears trying all of them one afternoon. Even Bobby couldn't deny the cactus candy was interesting.

Tied to one of the chocolate dicks—"cocklates," Chim cackled—had been a short note.

The bacon and cheddar cricket crunchies will get you back on your feet in no time. Get well soon! — Station 217

Buck bursts out laughing. "'Whack-ass' is right. Hey, Meyers, it's been ages. I-I didn't realize all of you were LAFD."

"Oh shit," one of them—a woman with broad shoulders and the most incredible mop of spiral curls he's ever seen—gasps. "You're the bomb guy! The one the engine fell on! I heard you were caught down the pier when the tsunami hit, too. I can't believe you're even walking around after all that. Don't even tell me you're back to work already."

"Y-Yeah," Buck says, eyes glued to a patch of the table top where the sealant is chipping away. "It's been an, uh, interesting year."

Tommy nudges one of his teammates further down the booth and then steps back so Buck can slide in. It takes every ounce of energy to actually do it, because even though he knows this woman means well, it feels like she's standing before a jury of his peers and listing all the reasons why he shouldn't don his turnouts again.

In all honesty, he should just call Chase and tell him to withdraw the suit wholesale. If a complete stranger thinks Buck shouldn't be back, then Bobby's definitely never going to budge on it. Eddie's never going to return his calls. Hen's never going to look him in the eye again. The days of daring Chimney to try a bacon and cheddar cricket are over. The 118's bay doors will never open to let him in again.

Thankfully, the din of the bar is so loud that no one can hear him sniffle as he glances toward the bar. Maybe they're hiring.

"Dude," one of the others chimes in. "I heard you were suing the department. I didn't know you could even do that. Maybe I can sue Cap for banning Mittens from the station, because that's just cruel and unusual. She gets lonely when I'm on shift."

"You bring your fucking snake to the hangar one more time, Nico, and I'll garrote you with it," the curly-haired woman snaps, then turns interested eyes on Buck. "But, are you? Taking the department to court, I mean."

Before Buck can excuse himself to the bathroom where he can have a good cry and then drown himself in a toilet, Tommy slides into the booth next to him.

"Actually, Jacinda, I can answer that one: none of your damn business," Tommy says sunnily. Without missing a beat, he reaches across the table to smack the guy with the snake upside the head when he opens his mouth. "Besides, I've got a better question: what's the deal with your kid, Benowitz? Did he finally ask what's-her-name to prom or what?"

Benowitz sighs, takes a long-suffering sip of his beer, and begins what sounds like a new chapter in an ongoing saga of his son Steven, who's been working on the world's greatest-slash-worst promposal for the last two months with no end in sight. Apparently trained doves are involved, and so is spcaLA.

Swallowing hard around the burr in his throat, Buck nudges Tommy's foot in gratitude.

Tommy nods at whatever Benowitz is saying, then nudges back.

+

No pressure tags: everyone who tagged me, plus @screamlet, @setmeatopthepyre, @beanarie, @geddyqueer, @freneticfloetry, @apollabarnes, @station18908, and @leashybebes

[fayevalentiinee]

— ACT I: Lights, Camera, Fake it.

Summary. After saving Gojo Satoru’s life, you’re suddenly caught in the spotlight when his team offers you a contract to fake a relationship with him to repair his scandal hit image. Reluctantly agreeing for your own reasons, you face the intense glare of the public and the challenge of pretending affection with a man who’s a master at the performance — even if he claims he isn’t.

— pairing. celebrity Gojo Satoru x f!reader

— info. to join the taglist comment under this post

series mlist. — art by _3aem on twt — wc: 3k — not proofread

you didn’t save gojo satoru’s life out of affection.

you saved it because it was your job as a set assistant and if a 200 pound lighting rig crushed the talent while you were nearby, in charge of adjusting the lighting rigs, the whole shoot would’ve been scrapped — and the blame would’ve landed squarely on your shoulders.

but that didn’t stop the internet from eating it up.

the clip of you tackling the most recognizable face in asia — gojo satoru, six foot something with a jawline that looks like it's been sculpted by gods and a personality better suited for comedy than serious acting — circulated like wildfire. the way he looked at you afterward, dazed and blinking, his white hair in disarray, hands still raised in surrender — it was instant meme fuel. edits. fancams. fanfiction.

and now, apparently, it was also a pr strategy for his team after his recent scandal; just a week ago, gojo satoru’s name exploded across headlines after paparazzi caught him leaving a luxury hotel at 3am with a crying socialite wrapped around him — her engagement ring missing, her mascara streaked, his shirt nowhere in sight.

the video showed just enough to suggest scandal, and the silence that followed only made it worse. rumors took over — cheating, manipulation, something darker — but no one knows the full story. he didn’t deny it. didn’t explain. just smiled through the noise like he didn’t care. sponsors pulled out. projects stalled. his agency scrambled.

a few anonymous “sources” claimed he “crossed a line emotionally” and that she was “taken advantage of” while in a vulnerable state.

#gojoisover trended for three days.

“i’m sorry, what?” you ask flatly.

you’re seated now, across from the man himself in a too bright, glass walled office, staring at a contract that might as well be written in blood.

across the table, gojo satoru looks exactly like he does on billboards and glossy covers — except here, he’s slouched like a delinquent in a chair that costs more than your rent. one leg draped over the other, sunglasses dangling from his fingers, hair tousled like it’s been styled to look effortless. it pisses you off that it works.

“i’m not doing that,” you add, in disbelief.

gojo doesn’t even glance your way.

he stretches lazily, jaw tilting with a slow exhale, voice thick and unhurried when he finally speaks.

“it’s six months,” he murmurs, smooth as silk. “a handful of appearances. handholding. posing.”

his agent cuts in. “just enough to convince the public he’s capable of something stable. affectionate. low drama.”

gojo lets out a lazy, humorless chuckle. “in other words... boring.”

you turn to him. “then don’t do it.”

he finally looks at you. his gaze is heavy lidded, cool, like the room barely interests him.

“you ever try saying no to a table full of men in suits who know what you’re worth per second?” he says, slow and low. “it’s like screaming underwater.”

his agent interjects again. “you went viral. you’re not famous. you have no online presence and no digital footprints. the public likes you.”

you lift a brow. “i didn’t sign up to be likable.”

gojo’s head tilts slightly. he watches you now, really watches — like you’ve said something that woke him up a little, piqued his interest — maybe.

his smile slips at the corners.

“you wouldn’t have to do much,” his agent continues. “a few interviews. red carpet appearances. affectionate photos. you’re allowed to keep your private life private. this is all surface level.”

“surface level,” you repeat. “that’s supposed to be comforting for me?”

gojo exhales through his nose, head leaning back against the chair. “don’t take it personally. none of this is personal. it’s just pr strategy.”

“you don’t like this either,” you say, more of a statement than a question.

he shrugs, voice dropping quieter, lower, then he closes his eyes, probably tired from all the shootings. “i don’t fake things well.”

“aren’t you an actor?”

he opens one eye, a smirk appears at the corner of his mouth. “bingo.”

the paper in front of you doesn’t budge. it just waits — silent, oppressive, too full of zeroes for you to ignore.

your eyes drift back to the number. it's not money. it’s freedom.

your father’s treatment. your brother’s tuition. your own life — something bigger than scraping by in the shadows of other people’s fame, tossing you money not sufficient for a week. you should probably walk away, you should say no, that they can't bribe you with money.

but instead, you reach for the pen.

“you don’t get to touch me unless there’s a camera on us,” you mutter, flicking your signature across the page.

gojo’s smile returns — slow, lazy. he leans back like a man with all the time in the world, voice smooth as honey when it leaves his lips.

“mmh,” he hums, the sound low and easy. “sure.”

his voice dips a little lower, that amused lilt creeping back in. “but let’s not pretend you’ll stay that strict for long.” he winks.

you pause. your gaze shoots to him.

he’s already turning away like the conversation’s over — but then he adds, with a smirk ghosting across his mouth once more:

“i also really hope you like flash.”

you grimace.

every part of you wants to snap something back — but you’ve already shoved the pen across the table and are halfway out of your chair. your hands are stiff, your jaw tighter than it should be, your steps too fast.

if you don’t leave now, you might say something you’ll regret.

and just like that—

the contract is signed.

the cameras haven’t even started rolling, but something tells you the real performance just began.

the elevator doors slide shut with a hiss, sealing off the glass bright office out of sight and everything you just agreed to inside.

your hand is still shaking. not visibly. not enough for anyone to notice. but you feel it — in the way your fingers press too tightly around your phone, the way your thumb misses the unlock button twice before it finally unlocks.

you weren’t even going to check your messages. but you do as an instinct. and there he is. you stare at the screen.

Your boyfriend, who kissed your forehead before you left this morning after staying over, who told you not to let this industry swallow you whole — how could you forget?

you’re supposed to tell him about the meeting — but instead, you let it blur at the edges, ashamed of how much you’re hoping it slips your mind completely.

your stomach flips. hard. when you scroll down and see a whole new set of messages from him, checking in every hour like a worried mother.

you chew the inside of your cheek and tap open the message thread. Then close it. Then open it again.

should you even tell him?

the truth is ugly, even in your own head — outrageous, really: you just signed a contract to publicly date the most recognizable man in the country.

were you supposed to text him something like, hey, don’t take this the wrong way, but i’m probably a gold digger bribed by hush money for my financially unstable family — and in exchange, i’m gonna fake date another guy to help clean up his scandal and get a paycheck out of it?

would he even believe that bullshit? he’d probably laugh. it sounded like something ripped straight out of a bad rom-com.

for six months. on red carpets. on camera. in staged, “intimate” moments designed to look real.

you press the edge of your phone to your forehead and exhale like it might clear something out.

your boyfriend isn’t famous. he’s not even online. hell, he hates the whole industry you work in for the things they've done to you.

you could explain it. spin it. beg forgiveness and swear you didn’t want it — because you didn’t, but that won’t stop it from hurting him.

and besides — it’s not real. it doesn’t mean anything:

gojo satoru barely looked at you in that room. he slouched, smirked, spoke like he was only half listening. he probably won’t even remember your name after six months, and if he does, it’ll be for convenience.

he won’t ask. he won’t dig. you tap out a reply. then delete it. then start again.

you didn’t say a thing about the contract.

“sorry, got caught up in a meeting. i’ll call you tonight.”

a white lie. small. harmless. you hit send.

but the guilt lingers, low and sharp behind your ribs — even if it’s fake, even if it’s for your family…

you’re not sure what hell looks like, but you’re pretty sure it smells like too much perfume and tastes like red lipstick cracking in the corners of your mouth.

a few days ago, you received your first official duty as gojo satoru’s “girlfriend”: attending a fashion event together.

you couldn’t even remember the name — too long, too extravagant, too complicated for someone of your caliber.

or so you thought, staring at your own reflection in the mirror.

people are now fussing around you like you’re a bride on a reality tv show. someone pins a mic near the side of your chest, a bit too close to skin. what did you even need it for?

another tugs the hem of your dress into place. a makeup artist taps at your cheekbone with a beauty blender and gently angles your chin up.

“keep your eyes on him,” she says. “and smile like you’ve known him forever.”

you nod. but your stomach turns. you haven’t even seen him yet.

the hotel lobby where you’re waiting is luxurious, echoing with distant voices, but none of it registers. your thoughts are pounding too loud. you’re not supposed to be here. you’re a set assistant. a background figure. you’re not supposed to be in heels, wearing a dress someone else picked for you, about to step into a scene you didn’t audition for.

outside the hotel glass doors, the crowd roars. the screams of fans and paparazzi rise and fall in waves. camera flashes explode like fireworks. they’re already chanting his name. the pr team probably leaked the address on purpose for your debut — you picked up on that much.

this isn’t a red carpet. this is war for you and of course — your reveal.

the set assistant who went viral for saving gojo satoru. now, playing the role of his girlfriend.

fake, of course. but that detail is yours alone.

he arrives just as you’re exhaling your fifth breath. you hear him before you see him. a smooth voice, a familiar drawl.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says. “ready to pretend we’re in love?” you look up. and there he is.

he looked like he stepped out of a runaway. no, who are you kidding? — he is a model, too.

he’s wearing the dries van noten suit from last month’s paris runway. black silk lapels, tailored waist, open collar. a glint of chain at his throat. he’s undone but sharp, rumpled in that intentional way that costs thousands.

his sunglasses are perched in his snow white hair, tousled and slightly pushed back. his skin glows like it’s been professionally lit. and he’s smiling that same slow, easy smile that the internet eats alive with edits.

he’s obnoxiously beautiful. and the worst part is he knows it. you know it.

he extends a hand. you hesitate — then, slowly, you take it, only then do you notice: you're both matching, each wearing the same colours.

his grip is warm. confident. yours is stiff.

he tucks your hand into the crook of his arm as if you belong there, and just like that, the two of you are walking.

the lobby is suddenly smaller. you can feel every pair of eyes on you as you and gojo satoru approach the front entrance of the hotel. he walks like he owns the marble floors, like the flickering chandeliers are bowing toward him.

outside the revolving doors, the storm is already swelling.

and then — you step out together.

the noise hits like a wall.

flashes. shouting. the low buzz of security trying to hold people back. fans pressed up against barricades. phones in the air, capturing every second.

he lifts a hand, waving like a politician. "showtime," he mutters to you, lips near your ear. his touch doesn’t linger, but it travels. it burns. not in a good way.

in a don’t-make-this-harder-than-it already-is kind of way. the car door opens. a long, black vehicle, glossy like lacquered ink.

he lets you slide in first. you do, silently.

once inside, you sit stiffly, tucking your legs to the side as best you can in your dress. the fabric feels too tight, too short. the makeup on your face too heavy. your skin prickles with awareness.

he follows, slipping in beside you with the same ease he uses to slip through cameras and conversations. his knee bumps yours as he manspreads. you pull back instinctively.

he doesn’t seem to notice. or maybe he does. and he just doesn’t care.

he lounges beside you like it’s any other night. one hand on his thigh, the other adjusting his watch with that same idle grace that makes people fall in love with him from behind a screen.

but you’re not in love. you’re not even interested. what you are is overwhelmed — anxious, guilty for lying to your boyfriend, full of regret — but determined to make your family’s life better.

the car pulls forward. the driver says nothing. the partition rises. and suddenly, it’s quiet. insulated.

and that’s worse.

because now there’s nothing to drown out your thoughts with.

“we’ll step out together,” he says after a moment, eyes still on the passing lights outside. “walk like it’s second nature. hold my hand if you want. or don’t. just don’t trip.”

“thanks for the encouragement,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, sarcastic. his mouth twitches.

he turns his head slightly to look at you. his gaze lingers. not affectionate. not curious. just assessing.

“if it helps,” he murmurs, “you look like you belong here.”

you don’t respond. your heart is already galloping ahead of you, preparing for the next performance, the big one, this time.

the car slows down.

he steps out first. the flashbulbs go off instantly, blinding bursts that eat the night. he poses with the natural ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times. fingers splayed in a careless wave. smile lopsided. chin tilted just right.

the crowd screams. and then he turns, offering his hand to you. you take it.

the moment your heels hit the pavement, the noise doubles.

lights erupt all around you. cameras click in rapid succession. someone yells your name. another screams his.

the sidewalk feels unsteady beneath your feet — no, the world feels unsteady.

a thousand flashes strobe across your vision. people are screaming. pushing forward behind barricades. reporters lurch in with microphones like weapons.

you blink against the lights, smile faltering. your chest feels too tight.

and then — his hand finds yours again. a light squeeze. not forceful. not showy. just there.

“deep breath,” gojo murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. you try. but your inhale is shallow. it catches in your throat.

voices rise, slicing through the static:

“aren’t you the set assistant who went viral for saving gojo satoru from a light rig?”

“what’s your name? are you dating?”

“hey, gojo! what happened to that woman from two weeks ago?”

“did you cheat on her?”

the words crash over you like waves. sharp. relentless.

you flinch. fingers twitch. your free hand lifts like it might shield your face, you're not used to this, you overestimated yourself, you can't do this, you're not meant to be here — but gojo moves quicker.

he turns toward you just slightly, still smiling for the cameras. his hand slides from yours and guides it, smooth and easy, to rest over his chest.

your palm lands flat against silk and warmth. his hand covers yours — solid, grounding. he leans in, voice barely audible beneath the noise.

“they’re always like this,” he murmurs. “you’re doing fine.”

you don’t respond, you’re not sure you can as you desperately try to breathe in some fresh air, under the gaze of the blinding lights.

they're too bright. the crowd is too loud. the questions are piling on, pressing in like heat, making you overstimulated. gojo adjusts your position to pose like he's done this a million times. for someone who didn't want this, he for sure played the part just fine.

his hand grazes your hip, subtle. his fingers brush a piece of hair behind your ear. his body angles yours toward the cameras just right.

he’s managing the scene. managing you.

you focus on the rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand. because everything else is moving too fast.

his laugh cuts through the chaos — practiced, charming — as he leans in, whispering something you don’t catch.

you nod with a smile anyway. because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

another voice barks calling out for you to answer. another microphone is shoved in your direction.

gojo’s hand presses a little firmer over yours. his body shifts even closer, acting as a soft barrier between you and the crowd. you hated him, hated this whole industry from the start, but in this moment, his grip is the only thing keeping you from unravelling and running away.

so you stand there. pretending, faking. letting the noise wash over you like a cold shower in the winter.

then, in the silence beneath the shouting — the part no one else sees, the part you won’t say out loud — you realize something.

a few days ago, he told you he doesn’t fake things well. not good at pretending, he said. you were utterly fooled. he is an actor after all of course he'd handle this well.

what a liar.

and as the cameras keep flashing, his hand stays steady on yours, you wonder—

how could someone this composed, this untouchable, who handled everything amazingly so far be the center of so many scandals this past year? leaving that kind of chaos behind him like smoke trails.

you don’t know. and maybe you won’t ever get to have an answer.

but right now, under all the makeup and perfume and eyes that don’t blink—

you’ve never felt more unlike yourself.

taglist: @earth-to-mee @cherryflavoredconversationsposts @tushkiiiiiii @sanestsanstan @saanday @fawnfaer @miiikooooooo @ilovebeansyay @nanamisbbygirl @sato-suguoi @chocalycake

[rhettrosunsets]

Basking In Your Light - Bob Floyd X Fem! Reader

Pairing: Bob Floyd X Fem!Bartender Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Love Confession.

Summary: You've always been the one who tried to make peoples days brighter, make people know that someone cared. But when someone say's you're too much, Bob notices, and he's quick to tell you, you're anything but too much.

Masterlist

Word Count: 1,931

Warnings: Men in the bar being complete assholes and making a somewhat sexual comments!! Self deprecating thoughts from reader, readers over thinking. No use of Y/N, no description of what reader looks like. Reader is often described to light up a room and is very outgoing.

You'd always liked being a bit loud, a bit chaotic, and you just always liked making people smile.

Not in a flashy kind of way but the sort of way people would recognize you for your quick wit, remembering your distinct laugh that always broke through quiet moments, the way you were always cracking a joke to make someone smile if you noticed they were having a bad day, the way you could light up a whole room without trying too hard.

The Hard Deck was often like your home most nights, and you wore your charm and heart on your sleeve. Always available for everyone around to see. You’d mastered the quick banter, the soft yet flirty teasing that pilots would often do with you, the flipping off bottle caps into the trash can behind your back when you handed someone a beer. You just loved making people smile, you liked being the reason they felt at ease, like they could breathe a bit easier, like they had someone to confide in, even if they didn’t know anyone in the room.

But tonight, you just felt deflated. You’d had a shit-show of a day so far. You overslept entirely, making your day much shorter than intended, your errands got pushed off to tomorrow for the sake of trying to get through your day, and your check engine light in the car came on again, something you knew you couldn’t afford to have breakdown right now.

You’d barely gotten through the first hour of your shift when you'd overheard it, some smug voice from the back of the bar, his voice low and sharp like it was meant to slip under your skin and sting as hard as it could with the amount of venom in the man's voice.

“She’s a bit much huh? Doesn’t know when to fucking shut up and quit that polite act of hers. Girls like that always need the attention, if you know what I mean.”

You didn’t even see who said it, and to be frank you didn’t want to as you heard the mens howling laughter in the background. You’ve dealt with your fair share of things as a bartender, from creepy men who won’t leave you alone, to drunk backhanded comments that would be enough to make a grown man weep. These comments typically never bothered you, always deeming yourself an eternal optimist, always seeing the good in people. But this, this one stung away more. 

You felt it sting hot and sharp in your throat, your eyes trying to not tear up as you quickly blinked them away. And you’d brushed it off, at least on the surface level. But little by little you started unwinding your well presented cover as your shoulders curled in, your smile dulled and the sparkle normally always present in your eyes dimmed as you moved through your shift like you were on autopilot, not wanting to cause anything as you knew there was a whole squad of naval aviators just mere feet away that would go to war for you if they noticed something was wrong, much less if they had heard what the drunk bolstering men had said about you.

But Bob noticed, Bob always noticed. He hadn’t said anything yet, he was sitting in his usual corner near the pool table with the rest of the Daggers, a ginger ale in hand, watching you with those soft baby blue eyes you tried not to think about too often. He hadn't seen or heard what caused you to become a shell of yourself, but he noticed one minute you were cracking jokes with some regulars and the next your shoulders were hunched and your face read of hurt.

You liked Bob Floyd, a lot. Maybe too much, considering how little you actually knew him, only having the shared conversations, lingering glances, and the way his ears flushed pink when you made a joke that landed right, to go off of. But you knew he was different from the others, especially in the way he treated you. He was quiet, and so kind to you, always offering you the sweetest of smiles, or asking if you wanted him to walk you back to your car on nights when the bar would get especially rowdy. He was easy to be around, And for some reason he made your heart race in a way that no one else ever could.

When your break finally rolled around, you told Penny you were taking your fifteen and all but slipped out the back door into the warm night air. The ocean breeze was warm, brushing past your arms as you leaned on the railing and stared out at the distant horizon, letting out a long sigh. You were so tired of pretending things didn’t get to you, like the things people said to you just because you were so joyful and optimistic didn’t hurt you.

The door creaked behind you a few minutes later and you didn’t need to look, you could just feel the energy, and you already knew it was him.

“Hey” Bob said gently, not in a questioning manner like he was going to interrogate you, but rather like he was asking for permission to come be with you. You didn’t speak at first, you just let him come stand beside you, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as you both stared out at the moon glistening on the ocean waves.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment. You gave him a half hearted shrug, your body deflated as you muttered a soft “M’fine, you should go back into the bar, i’m sure the Daggers miss you.”

He huffed a quiet laugh shaking his head “You’re a terrible liar” That earned a ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes from you “So I’ve been told” You muttered softly. He leaned forward on the railing, arms folded as his gaze is still set on the ocean “You’re not like yourself tonight, everything okay?”

You swallowed harshly, that hitch in your throat looming near, trying to blink away the tears that have reappeared as you look down at your shoes. “M’just tired.”

Bob turned his head to glance at you. “You sure?” You exhaled slowly. “Someone made a comment earlier, about how I’m too much, that I don’t know when to shut up, that I'm just asking for a certain type of attention” You laughed out as you did quotation marks with your fingers, but it wasn’t an amused sound. “Guess it got stuck in my head.”

Bob was silent for a second, and then, quietly asked “Do you know who said it?” You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me” he said the firmest you’ve ever heard his voice., a clear difference from how he normally talks to you “Because whoever said that clearly doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about, and needs to be taken down a few pegs.” You turned to look at him, your eyes glancing over his face, there was a fierceness in the way his jaw clenched, a quiet tension in the lines of his brow, as his baby blues seemed darkened, the moon seemingly reflecting out of them.

“I just” you started, then stopped, not wanting to break down on the man you have the world's biggest crush on, but then you see the way he’s looking at you, like he’s encouraging you to talk and open yourself back up, not wanting you to become a shell of yourself again. “I’ve always been this way, you know?” You continued  “Loud. I like to talk a lot, I laugh a lot, I always try to fill the space, and I've always typically liked that about myself. I thought it meant I was doing something right, trying to make people happy, feel better. But when someone calls it too much it makes me wonder if I should just shut up sometimes, just be a bit quieter, more reserved. Maybe I’d be an easier pill to swallow if I was like that.” You say looking down and picking at your nail beds.

Bob’s head tilted slightly, his gaze locking with yours looking almost offended by your words “You shouldn’t have to shrink yourself to make other people comfortable” he said firmly “You hear me?” he asked again, softer this time. “You don’t have to dim yourself just because some people can’t handle your light.”

It hit you harder than you expected, when you looked at him, like really looked, and your chest ached. Because here was this man, the man who has always been nothing but kind to you, always gentle, always observant, and he was standing beside you and seeing you exactly as you were. He didn’t see you as too much, he didn’t see you as too loud, he saw you as you, and he didn’t want to change that.

“I love that about you” he added, and your breath caught in your throat, as your eyes winded. “Love what?” You asked in a confused tone, wondering how this man in front of you was real.

“The way that you fill a room, the way your voice carries over the music, the way you laugh without holding back and sometimes you snort and immediately try to cover your mouth.” He smiled a little shy at what he seemed to be admitting to you. “ But what I really love about you is the way you make everyone feel like they belong.”

You felt something crumble in your chest, it felt like your defensive walls were being brought down in front of you. The words settled between you like a secret, warm and glowing. You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched again, before softly muttering a quiet “Really?”

He nodded, his voice matching yours as he whispers. “Yeah.” The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward or felt like you needed to fill it. It was filled with something heavier than words could convey. And when he stepped closer, you didn’t pull away. His hand brushed yours on the railing, fingers hesitating slightly.  You turned to face him, your heart pounding so loud you were convinced he could hear it, your throat dry as you whispered “Bob?”

He looked at you like you were something incredible, like your presence was enough for him to get lost in. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now” he said, “But you’re you, you light up every room you’re in, and that whole team in there adores you almost as much as I do, and I didn’t want to make things weird if you didn’t feel the same.” A small laugh bubbled in your throat caught somewhere between disbelief and relief at his admission “Bob Floyd,” you gasped “Do you have a crush on me?”

He grinned that soft smile of his that made butterflies appear in your stomach, his cheeks a soft shade of pink as he responded “Yeah. I do.” You blinked at him, stunned for a moment, and then you stepped forward, and when you leaned up and moved in, he met you halfway.

It was gentle, warm and steady, just like him. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your cheek softly as he kissed you like he saw who you were, It wasn’t rushed like most kisses felt, It felt like something new entirely, it made your whole body feel like it was glowing. And when you pulled back, you were smiling for the first time that night. “Me too,” you whispered, as you were catching your breath.

He blinked, before grinning wide. “Yeah?” He asked with that smile stuck on his face. “Yeah” You let your forehead rest against his, “I always thought you were too good to be real.” you muttered softly, eyes meeting his. “You’re the one who lights up rooms, remember. I think you're the one who’s too good to be real.” he murmured, still so close.

“Well” you said as your brushed your nose against his “maybe now I’ll let you light up a few of mine, Bob Floyd.” and that made him laugh, as he kissed your temple like it was instinct to him.

And as the two of you stood outside beneath the warm string lights with the waves crashing softly in the background, a gentle sea-breeze engulfing you, and your fingers entwined you realized something.

You never had needed to dim your light for other people,

not when Bob Floyd had been waiting all along to bask in it.

[blank-potato]

A Special Surprise

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary:

“What’s going on?” he asks, brows raised. You say wearily, “It’s been shaking all morning… almost dancing?” You both look at it. The plant is doing a slow, rhythmic shimmy like it’s listening to music, only it can hear.  It was no longer sad, that was for sure.  You watch it…it’s almost hypnotic in its movements. Going round and round and round and— you look away, shaking your head.  “Not today, horny plant, not today.” Bob tries and fails to suppress a snort. “Did you just…. call it horny?” Or Since the plant attack a month ago, you and Bob haven't had sex, agreeing that you should take things slow. But your plant sees how pent up you both are and changes your plans.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, plants being freaky asl, Bob using his telekinesis for horny reasons, orgasm control/denial, tentacle handjob (tentacle job?) oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, hair pulling, bondage via tentacles and telekinesis, established relationship

WC: 5.8k

A/N: This is part 2 of Something Special linked below. This was another really fun one to write, more plant action as promised, hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆

Since the great plant incident, the two of you had decided to take things slow. 

Really slow.

It had been almost a month, and you guys had just worked your way up to holding hands, kissing and the occasional makeout session. 

Even though you guys had had sex, it probably wouldn’t have been the natural progression of your relationship. You would have kept awkwardly not quite flirting with each other until one of you made a move. 

So, taking it slow seemed to be the best course of action. It was fine, you were both okay with it… kinda. In all honesty, you wanted each other bad.

You’d be completely normal, working on something, and you’d feel his arms wrapping around you from behind, and that is all it took. The rest of the day, you’d think about you and him in many different compromising positions.

But you had to be normal and chill, and that is something you definitely know how to do. 

Bob enters your office, and you smile up at him. You could never resist your daily dose of Bob Reynolds. “Morning, I brought you cinnamon rolls. I figured you haven’t eaten yet?

“You know me and my bad habits so well,” You say before leaning up to peck him on the lips. You taste sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon. “You’ve already eaten yours?”

“Couldn’t resist.”

He rounds the table to settle next to you, the smell of his cologne and shampoo already making you feel at home.

“How’s it looking?” he says, nodding at your flower.

You look at the plant in the corner of your lab, which has lost a few petals and curled in on itself a little. It’s looking out your window, all forlorn like it’s wishing for better days. “I swear I’ve been taking care of it, giving it enough water and sun, but it’s…”

“It looks a little sad,” Bob finishes.

The plant had taken to Bob over the past few weeks, probably because Bob was always in your lab, hovering nearby under the guise of helping or waiting for you to finish up.

It was oddly endearing, watching the way the plant seemed to lean toward him whenever he was around, as if it had claimed him, too. It was very cute how it would do a little shiver whenever you ruffled Bob’s hair or laughed at one of his awkward jokes, almost like it was rooting for you.

Sometimes, when Bob got too close to your workstation, the plant would nudge toward him, its leaves twitching like it wanted to be involved in whatever the two of you were doing.

He turns away from the plant and observes you instead. Instantly, he sees that you’re looking a little tired. “You alright?”

You mumble as ‘yes’ but honestly, without your second coffee of the day, you’d be curled up underneath your desk, asleep.

“Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

And that was the truth. You didn’t sleep well last night, he didn’t need to know that it was because you had a dream about him fucking your brains out. Another shitty side-effect of not having sex with your hot boyfriend. 

“Anything I can do to help? I could… organise your notes, or bring coffee, or I don’t know…” Bob offers, clearly trying to come up with anything useful. “I just don’t want to see you burnt out.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close, resting your forehead gently against his. “I’ll be okay. I survived med school, okay? I’ve been more tired,” you say with a soft smile, “You’re so sweet, wanting to take care of me…”

You loved it when he got like this, all cute and tender. And the way he’d be doting on you even when you insisted you were fine. Like when he found you passed out at your desk, surrounded by papers and coffee cups, and you woke up in your bed and had a sparkling lab by the next morning. 

You glance up at his worried eyes, framed by the faintest crease in his brow. He’s so beautiful when he’s like this; it makes you want to melt into a little puddle on the floor.  There’s even a smudge of sugar on the corner of his lip from the cinnamon roll, and you just wanna kiss it right off. 

Just then, you’re overcome by that aching kind of affection, the kind that just demands an outlet, and you start pressing kisses all over his face: his cheek, his temple, the bridge of his nose.

He bursts into laughter, leaning back just slightly as you continue your playful assault. “What are you doing?” he laughs.

“This’ll keep me awake,” you murmur against his jawline.

He wraps his arms around you and lifts you in his arms like you weigh nothing.  You lock your legs around his waist like a little koala. You have no idea what has you both feeling so bold, but you like it. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say, as you move to the other side of his jaw. He lets out a moan, quaking under your praise. You knew just how to make him feel good, just how to make him feel special. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, his voice dipping even lower. Your lips leave his skin, and you look up at him to see his eyes glowing gold. All that does is turn you on even more, the fact that you got him so worked up…

Then, like that, as if you realised you weren’t exactly going slow right now, you break apart. 

“We should probably…” 

Bob hums in agreement, and you reluctantly release your python grip on his waist. It’s a near-impossible task, and you miss having him hold you as soon as he plops you down on your desk. 

You fan yourself a little and fix your shirt, trying to look composed even if you were the furthest thing from it. 

But when your eyes sweep the room, you notice the plant now turned away from the window and right at the two of you, like it was watching. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆

By the next day, the plant is going wild.

Bob stops by your office, hoping to take you out to lunch, only to find you locked in a tense staring contest with the plant, before you turn and he sees why.

“What’s going on?” he asks, brows raised.

You say wearily, “It’s been shaking all morning… almost dancing?”

You both look at it. The plant is doing a slow, rhythmic shimmy like it’s listening to music, only it can hear.  It was no longer sad, that was for sure. 

You watch it…it’s almost hypnotic in its movements. Going round and round and round and— you look away, shaking your head. 

“Not today, horny plant, not today.”

Bob tries and fails to suppress a snort. “Did you just…. call it horny?”

You nod profusely before pointing an accusatory finger at it. “I know that look. I’m telling you, something isn’t right.”

“Do we have any idea why?” Bob asks, but you shake your head. 

“I’ve called a specialist, but they won’t be here by next week.” Shifting away from it, you hold onto Bob’s arm. You needed to be ready to bolt just in case, it went crazy on your asses again.

You knew exactly what this plant was capable of, the flashbacks to your completely destroyed office coming back to you all at once. You still missed the shirt that it obliterated. 

You sigh. “You still wanna get lunch?”

Bob smiles. “Only if we’re not bringing the third wheel.”

You shoot the plant a final stern look. “Stay.”

The plant, as if in response, gives another aggressive little shimmy.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆

Lunch was perfect, but moments with Bob often were. You shared jokes and a meatball sub from the corner shop and sat together in a nearby park. 

How could someone look so cute with sauce on his face? You wiped it off, brushing his lips with your napkin. Pretty lips, lips you wanted to devour.

You almost didn’t want to get back to work. 

Once you get back to the Tower, it’s quiet as the rest of the Avengers are now halfway across the country, fighting dangers unknown.

Like a big weighted blanket, he wraps his arms around you, walking with you in a slow, sleepy sway.

“Do you have to get to work now?” he murmurs against your temple.

You nod, sighing as you both waddle down the hall like two sleepy penguins, still tangled in each other’s warmth.

“See me after?”

“I will.”

Then, without warning, he stops and spins you around, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing, pressing a deep, giddy kiss to your lips.

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet,” you laugh breathlessly as he sets you back down.

He smiles, that soft, golden smile. “You just bring something out in me.”

Swiftly, he disappears down the hall, leaving your heart pounding and you wondering when exactly he got all suave and smooth. 

When you swing your door open, still swooning over Bob, you see something. Something…concerning?

It’s another flower. 

The door shuts behind you as you pause mid-step, squinting at it. This wasn’t the one Bob gave you. That one had soft green leaves and leaned adorably toward his voice and evidently danced. 

But this? This one had glowing yellow petals that pulsed faintly, almost like it was breathing. You hadn’t seen it before, and you certainly hadn’t grown it.

“I come in peace, plant.”

You carefully lift its pot and set it next to your other plant. If you were more attentive, or just less exhausted, then you probably would’ve noticed the faint tremble in the soil, or the way the leaves angled ever so slightly toward the door. You’d deal with it after the giant stack of papers and emails you had to get through.

You click-clack at your computer and try to focus, your body becomes heavier, the letters on your keyboard become blurry.

“Stay awake, stay awake,” you whisper to yourself, like a chant to keep you up, but it’s no use. “Just five minutes,” you murmur to yourself, as you rest your head on the desk.

What must’ve been at least an hour slips by, and when you jolt upright, disoriented and sticky-eyed—

“Of course, I fell asleep…”

You look around, scratching the back of your neck, stretching with a yawn, trying to blink the fog from your brain. But when you look to the corner, the one you’d started glancing at by habit, it’s empty.

When you wake up, the flower is gone.

Actually, both flowers are gone.

“Shit.”

You blink, disoriented, and then the sudden crack of gunfire rings out. You bolt upright, and you step out of the lab into complete chaos.

The hallway is a mess, vines are all over the ceiling and walls, snaking around furniture and lights, creeping fast. Ava is blinking in and out of sight, phasing wildly as she dodges them, while a vine nearly snags her ankle. Yelena is hanging from the chandelier on the ceiling with a gas mask, shooting at them. 

You can’t see him, but you can hear Alexei roaring in the distance, presumably batting the plant’s tentacles away with brute force.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

At the centre of the chaos, the yellow flower that was on your desk was now mad with power and trying to pull Bucky out of the elevator. And in another corner amongst overturned chairs and sparkling wires is a pink one, that had tentacles attached to John’s back, trying to pry off his clothes. 

How the fuck did they get here? Did they take the subway? A taxi?

Before you can do anything, you’re being pulled away into the air with a scream… not by a tentacle but by an invisible force.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ⭒˚｡⋆

A few minutes before the plant attack on Avengers Tower, Bob’s lying in bed, living his best life and thinking of you, like always.  

Since you were busy working, he decided he’d take a nap, five minutes tops. He had been tired these past few days as well, thoughts of you in his bed, riding him, calling out his name until your voice was hoarse, keeping him awake more and more often. The sex dreams were wreaking havoc on his sleep schedule. Every time you guys would makeout, he’d be brought back to all the filthy things you’d be whispering in his ear in his dreams. 

He’d only meant to close his eyes for five minutes.

But eventually he drifts off peacefully, the comfort of his pillow and the lingering scent of you on his shirt pulling him under. Only to wake a few minutes later to the feeling of a warm, unfamiliar weight on his chest.

A soft rustle. Something moves.

A bloom of purple petals hovers above him, looking down at him with something almost resembling fondness. The plant tilts its head, mimicking him as he shifts, confused.

It takes him a moment to realise… his sheets are gone. His wrists, tied gently but firmly to the headboard by vines. Velvet-smooth tentacles looped like cuffs around his ankles.

Bob freezes, his breath catches in his throat. His heart races too, thoughts piling up in his head faster than he can sort them.

He swallows hard, shifting his hips in a vain attempt to sit up, but the vines hold firm. One of the petals tilts curiously, responding to his movement with something too close to glee.

Still pinned, still breathless, he whispers to the ceiling:

“…This plant is going to kill me.”

As if hearing him, the plant gets to work, making quick work of his clothes, discarding the fabric in smooth, deliberate motions, like it had done this before.

Bob couldn't deny it felt good… He'd been left wanting more every time, longing to be touched more. Every heated makeout session, few and far between, cut short by your mutual agreement to take things slow.

The tendrils slither their way around his body until they found what they were looking for, his cock. They wrap around him, the substance that was oozing from the tentacles onto his cock making him feel weak.  

His whole body shivers when they start moving. They fluctuate between pulsing around him and jerking him off, making it impossible to focus on anything. 

He bites back the no doubt embarrassing moan that was bound to come out. But he can’t keep them back for too long.  The moan that rips through him is more of a pathetic whine. They use his reactions against him, rubbing wherever made him whimper the loudest. But instead of moving as fast as they can, they slicked up his cock, moving just slow enough to leave him wanting. 

His breath is short, and his limbs feel heavy, too heavy for him to do anything, but he’s not sure he wants to do anything right now. 

“Fuck…”

He feels himself getting closer and closer, but one of the tentacles curls around the base of his cock and squeezes. Denying him the release, he very much needed. His legs shake as he groans and slams his head against the headboard, denting it. 

“Please…,” he lets out, his eyes dazed, and if you asked him what he’s begging for, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. 

The plant isn’t done with him yet; it starts moving again. The tentacles are making themselves right at home, working their hardest to get him to another orgasm. It's hell-bent on draining all his energy and leaving him a complete mess. He moans, bucking his hips up into its grip, causing it to squeeze around him harder. 

“I can’t, I can’t…” he gasps, before collapsing into a quiet sob, trembling under its iron grip pressing down on him.

He turns his head to the side, burying his face in the pillow, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. His breathing quickens, shallow and erratic, as his toes curl in pleasure.

It’s not long before he feels it coming again, another dry orgasm he’s too weak to do anything about except whimper.

“Please, let me—”

His back arches off the bed as he has a second dry orgasm. All he can think about is you, how he wanted to kiss you and hold you in his arms… and fuck you senseless.  He wanted to hear you, wanted to make you feel good. His eyes start to glow gold as he moans out your name over and over. 

“Please, please, please—”

With the thought of you fresh in his mind, he finds his orgasm hitting him that much faster and harder. No matter how much he begged, the plant wouldn’t let him finish. But that’s not what really hurt; what hurt is the fact that you weren’t here right now with him. And he needed you. 

The tentacles keep moving, but start exploring the rest of his body more. He felt boneless and unbelievably horny, like he was about to go crazy. 

He needed relief. He needed you. To feel your body pressed against his, to feel your pussy squeezing down on his dick.

He flexes his hand and thinks of you, hoping that you’d come to him.

And you did. You were still mid-yell when you flew in there, as he slammed the door shut behind you with his telekinesis. 

Not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined seeing Bob like that when you floated into his room.

Vines around his body, his abs twitching, panting out your name in desperation. He was practically gift-wrapped. 

“Holy—” You start, but you see Bob nod his head, and your clothes literally go flying off your body. 

“Need you right now,” He breathes out, and your body floats over to him. Good to know that Bob could throw you around with his mind. You land on his lap, just as the vines fall away from around him. 

He only wants to focus on having you.  

“Bob, what happened?” you ask gently, caressing his cheek.

He’s so sensitive to your touch that he lets out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut under your fingertips.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he leans in, mouth finding your collarbone, marking it with slow, desperate kisses. He’s been craving you, and that's evident.

“Bob…,” you whine, getting lost in his touch. You’re sure he can’t be affected by the sex pollen capabilities of the plant, so it must have found a way around it. 

He kisses his way from your collarbone to your neck to your earlobe, gently nibbling on it. 

“I’ve been wanting to be inside of you for weeks,” he confesses, finally saying it, feeling like a weight off his shoulders. 

Your heart jumps in your chest, and something about the way he says it, all breathy and needy, goes straight to your core. 

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, every movement he makes methodical. “Every time you’d climb in my lap or grip my hair when we’re kissing, all I could think of was how you looked lying out on that examination table that day.”

His hand runs down your stomach until he’s gently pressing on your aching pussy, not moving yet. “How good you felt to touch… You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to just bend you over and…”

You gasp, feeling him start to move his hand, rubbing your clit in slow circles. “And just fuck you,” he says finishing his sentence. 

“Need to fill you up,” he says and moves you until you’re over his dick. “Can I?” 

You nod excitedly. Who were you to deny him when he’s so cute asking for permission? 

He slides in, and you remember just how good it feels to have him inside of you. Your walls stretching to accommodate his size, the biting pain that melts into pleasure, there’s nothing like it. He makes the most of it immediately, moving in sync with you. 

“So perfect,” he moans, like he’s finally gotten that relief he’s needed so badly. 

It’s clear he’s desperate for you, and only you.

“Want my cum to be dripping out of you for days,” Bob rasps, as he thrusts harder. 

That was a surprise.

“O-okay,” you squeak. He looks at you like he’s starving, like only you can satiate this aching hunger that’s eating him alive from the inside out.

You had never heard Bob talk like this, but you kinda liked it. 

He locks eyes with you, something fierce and tender flickering there, then pulls you flush against his chest. He starts thrusting into you with inhumane force, which makes you drool. His breath brushes your ear as he whispers, “You feel that? That’s all for you.”

“Bob!” you scream as he bounces you up and down on him with vigour.  You cry out his name so loud, you swear the other Avengers might hear it over the potted plant chaos. It feels so good, you swear you’re about to lose your mind.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you reply immediately.

He slows down, holding you by the hips and rocking you gently, the head of his cock pushing right against your sensitive spot. He leans in and kisses you like he’s scared you’re going to disappear, his whole body pressing into the moment, as he pours every ounce of feeling into it.

You're his world, and in that kiss, there’s no mistaking it. He wants you just as much as you want him.

He pulls back, kissing you on the forehead. Before you can even think of whining at the loss of him, you’re in the air as he flips you over with his mind. That was going to take a lot of getting used to. 

You end up back on the bed, legs spread, waiting for him to fill you up again. The anticipation is almost killing you and just when he decides to tease you, pushing the head of his cock against your entrance but not giving you want. 

“Bob, please…,” you beg, looking behind you to try and convince him with doe eyes and a pouty lip, but an invisible hand forces you to face the front and arch your back. You can feel Bob’s both of actual hands replacing his dick, spreading your wet folds apart.

“Don’t tease me like this,” you complain, still at the mercy of Bob’s invisible hold on your hair. Then catching you off guard he gets underneath you and starts licking at your pussy.

“Bob!”

He sucks your folds hungrily, like he was starved of you, before flipping you around over like a rotisserie chicken to get more access. You land on your back, chest heaving as you look up at Bob, so determined to please you. 

“You’re so beautiful, can’t believe I have you all to myself,” he praises before diving back in and turning your brain to soup.

You’re about to close your legs, too sensitive to the feeling, but the plant now sprang back to life with impeccable timing, catching them to keep them open. The vines deepen the stretch of your legs to allow Bob all the access he could ever want.

You watered it every day, gave it sun, and now it betrays you, just when you think you know a plant. Traitor.

He laps you up, your slick coating your lips as you continue to squirm. “Gonna die…,” you breathe out, and you’re surprised you’re not already dead. 

You try sitting up, but again that invisible force pulls your body around like you’re a puppet. He takes your arms with his mind and pins them above your head as he continues to please you with his mouth. 

“So…mean…” you whine to which you feel the vibration of his chuckle on your pussy. 

When you look down, you catch his eyes, glowing gold and full of desire for you. 

Just when you feel like you’ve had enough, you feel his fingers rubbing on your clit and more fingers pressing on your g-spot? Or at least you thought it was his fingers, but when you looked down, Bob’s hands were under your knees, so he was doing it with his mind. You didn’t know he had that much control, but you’re glad he did. 

“Bob, you’re fucking magical,” you say, as you let your head loll against the sheets. 

If his telekinesis wasn’t keeping you flat, you’d be arching your back off the bed as you scream out his name again. 

The moment you finish is something you’ll never forget. You’re whining because you can feel the orgasm coming but a final lick on your clit, as he looks up at you sends you crashing.

You fight against the hold the plant has on your legs, and the hold Bob has on…well, the rest of you, but it’s no use. The orgasm rolls through your whole body as you’re practically forced to stay still. 

He finally lets you go and shoo the plant away from your thighs. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, checking up on you, and you nod. You may be slightly (very) disorientated but you could fuck until the sun came down and then continue to fuck until the sun came up again. 

He pulls you up to a seated position, arms wrapped gently around you, letting you catch your breath as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, words soft and warm enough to melt you.

“Want to keep going?” he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing your skin.

“More than anything,” you breathe, and before he can respond, you shift, taking him by surprise as you climb on top of him, eyes locked with his.

The look on his face?

Completely undone.

His Adam’s apple jumps and he gulps, eyes locked on you like he’s trying to memorise every inch.

You were so beautiful, so sure, so sure of him. It made something ache deep inside him.

“You want no one else?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, needing that confirmation. 

“Just you,” you say without hesitation, and it’s all he needs to hear.

You run a finger slowly down his abs, watching the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

Then your desire takes over, and then leaning down, licking a line from the bottom of his abs to the top, savouring the way his breath catches, the quiet, broken sound he makes in response.

He's yours, and right now, you're making sure he feels it. You even feel his whole body shiver when you do that, a subtle tremble beneath your touch, and it gives you a quiet satisfaction. It’s something special, knowing you can unravel him like this. That even someone as powerful as Bob Reynolds can fall apart in your hands.

 He’s looking up at you with wide eyes, “Always wanted to do that.”

They were perfectly crafted. What were you supposed to do, not lick them?

You hop back on top of him and start rubbing his cock against your entrance, knocking him out of his stupor. He reaches for you immediately with a quiet beg, “Please.”

You can never handle it when he asks you for anything, so you oblige. Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock but when it comes to riding him, it’s hard and fast. 

He’s crying out your name as he clutches at your hips. 

You roll your hips faster and the plant comes to help you this time, pulling his hands from you and holding his arms down. Even though he could break the hold at any time, he’s rather enjoying being entranced by you. The way your body moves made him want to give you anything and everything. 

“You like this?” he asks, voice needy but happy. He loved seeing you feel good; he loved being the one making it happen. 

“I like everything you do to me,” you say back, breath hitching, fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer.

And the way he looks at you then, like you just gave him the universe, makes your heart stutter in your chest.

You slow your pace for just a moment, catching your breath, and his eyes, before leaning in to press a soft, tender kiss to his forehead.

It’s gentle, the kind of kiss that says I’m here.

But next thing you know, you’re being plucked off of him and placed at the edge of the bed so your trembling bottom half hangs off of it. He was putting you through your paces today, that’s for sure. 

You feel him suddenly behind you as he runs his fingers over your body with reverence and lays a soft kiss on the small of your back. He pushes you legs apart and pushes in without warning but at this point, to his cock, your pussy was a second home. 

You grip the sheets as once again you’re being ganged up on by Bob and the plant. You feel tendrils wrap around your legs and ankles, lifting you in the air to create more space for Bob and invisible hands grab your hands from their death grip in the linen to place them behind your back.

He’s fucking you so hard, the bed is shaking. You can quite literally hear the legs groaning under the pressure and screws coming loose as it scrapes, inch by inch, across the floor.

“More, please, more…” you blurt out, your mind halfway across the world

In response, the plant wraps around you more, pushing you back to meet his thrusts. The sound of your hips meeting his echoes in the room so loud, it’s obscene. 

“Only want you,” he says, his voice sounding completely wrecked. 

He’s so deep inside you now, stretching you out so perfectly,  you can barely handle it.

Your legs spasm and shake, you know you’re close, and so does he.

“I’m close too, I know,” he says like he’s reading your mind and picks up the pace. You’re barely holding on, moaning so loud you might lose your voice. 

You wanted to be fucked senseless and you suppose this is it. 

The toe curling, leg shaking, drool inducing pleasure tears through you once again as you slobber out a series of “Fucks” and “Bobs”.

And before you can catch your breath you feel his cock twitch inside of you then you’re being flooded with his cum, it feels never ending. He just keeps pumping you full of his load before he presses down on top of you, kissing everywhere he can reach. 

“I love you so much,” he pants out, almost quiet enough that you don’t catch it.

He freezes.

Then suddenly, he’s off you, untangling himself, backing away like he’s afraid he said too much. Your limbs, once wrapped up in Bob and the tentacles, now lie free and cold in the absence of him.

He won’t look at you. His hands fidget. His breathing’s uneven. He’s spiralling. He’s thinking too hard.

What if it was too soon? What if you thought it was stupid? What if—?

“I love you too.”

His head snaps up, eyes wide, meeting yours. You’re looking right at him, that beautiful, grounding smile on your face, the one that always reminds him of sunshine after a hurricane.

“I love you,” you say again, slower this time, to make sure he knew you meant it.

Then you hold out your hand.

And when he hesitates for half a second, you yank him back down onto the bed, right next to you, where he belongs. 

The moment you two settle, you hear a creak, then another, and before you know it, the whole bed collapses with a definitive thud. All you could do was laugh, breathless and tangled in sheets with him.

“I’m sorry. Got a bit carried away,” he says sweetly, laying a gentle peck on your cheek. Bob Reynolds, folks. Talking to you all sweet as if he wasn’t railing you so hard, his bed collapsed.

You look around and see the plant sitting there innocently, like it hadn’t just caused a full-scale disaster. The state of Bob’s bed has the place looking like a tornado tried to redecorate.

“Seems you had a lot pent up,” you say, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “So did I.”

He nods, quiet for a beat. “One of us should’ve said something.”

“I agree. So let’s agree to communicate,” you reply, exasperated but softening, “instead of letting a plant interfere and tear the tower apart… again.”

He smiles, small, sheepish. “Deal.”

Slowly, his eyes flick to the plant in the corner. “Do you think that’s why the plant did this?”

The plant had been oddly in tune with both of you, following your every move like you were its favourite reality TV show. You sigh, dragging a hand down your face.

“Fuck, probably…”

Then, the door slams open.

“Wait! There are naked people in here!” you yell instinctively, cuddling up to Bob, who yelps and fumbles for the blanket.

Alexei freezes mid-step, unbothered. “Just checking you and Bob still alive,” he says, then nods toward the chaotic hallway behind him. “There’s a team meeting. Everyone’s… angry.”

You groan into Bob’s shoulder. “Of course they are.”

You both get dressed and peek your head out in the hall. The vines are gone, but there’s a significant amount of damage (those flowers could pack a punch) that they left behind.

When you step into the living room, you’re happy to see everyone’s alive and unfucked. 

The yellow and pink flowers sit peacefully without a care in the world in the middle of the room, with the rest of the Avengers, who look like they just survived a hard-fought battle. 

You and Bob waddle out of the wreckage and stand in front of them.

“Hey guys…,” you say sheepishly, brushing a leaf out of your hair. This was the second time a plant-related attack happened on your watch, so safe to say you weren’t feeling too great.

“Again? Really?” John throws his hands up. The plants got him the worst, as he was only left with his beret, boxers and his shield. “How did the other two get here?!”

You shrug, half-defeated. “I think the first plant summoned the other two?”

A collective groan and chorus of exasperated sighs ripple through the room. You think you hear Ava mutter about “never trusting a flower again.”

“How?” Yelena asks, exhaustion rife in her voice. 

“With a dance?” you say, instantly regretting your own words. “It was a kind of shimmy,” Bob adds, trying to be helpful, and you squeeze his hand with a smile. 

There’s a long pause.

Bucky sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s it, we’re banning plants. Or we won’t have a tower left to work out of.”

“Agreed,” you and Bob say in unison. 

Main Masterlist || Marvel Masterlist

[chikithree]

Toji x Reader

Running into Toji, an older man at the club?

nsfw, 18+ mdni

It was your twenty-first birthday, the legal age where you can get into clubs, bars and drink without a pesky fake ID, and of course you were celebrating with your closest friends, Shoko and Utahime. Pre-Gaming in the back of the uber as you fix Utahimes makeup while you talk to the man driving, Shoko scrolling through her phone.

The cab drags to the side of the road as the driver pulls over, “have a fun night, girls.” he murmurs, receiving the online payment as you all stepped out the cab. Pulling down your skimpy dress that Shoko bought you for this specific night.

They drag you to the security guy guarding the door, all of you showing your ID’s, earning a grunt from the man as he moves out of the doorway, undoing the chain and letting you walk through. You all walk in, the hallway darkening as you walk deeper, turning a corner to all the neon lights and disco balls reflecting colours, along with a busy bar, tables, and dance floor.

Shoko turns to look at you and Utahime, “Drink first, then dance?” which earns her a collective nod, the three of you walking over to the very occupied bar, “could we grab a round of vodka shots?” she asked the tender, who nodded as the three of you sat at the bar, Utahime in the middle.

You look around the place, it was huge, one reason it was so popular was because of its sheer size. You turn back to your friends, “Why didn't we come here in highschool?” you raise your voice to speak over the music. Shoko shrugs, “the place wasn't this popular then.” she shouts back, the shots sliding in front of you.

Later on, your mind was slightly hazy, music blurring in your ears as you danced with Shoko, Utahime walked off somewhere with some white haired man after claiming ‘he's too handsome to pass up.’ The club was packed now, the day darkening into later hours of the night.

The music, alcohol, and heat of bodies around you put you into a zenned state, zoning out to the sound of the music as you danced with Shoko, her hand grabbing onto yours and spinning you around and pulling you to her chest.

But her chest wasn't at your shoulders, and didn't feel this solid.

Your mind snaps back, and so does your head as you look up at the man holding onto your hand. He was tall, maybe late thirties, scruffy black hair and green eyes that would be hard to forget, with a scar on the left side of his lip, that seemed far from an accident. “What's wrong, cat got your tongue?” he smirked, voice low and velvety, smirking like he knew you, hand sliding onto a somewhat ‘respectful’ place on your hip.

You stared, eyes wondering down to his sculpted biceps, down to his hand planted on your waist like it belonged there. His smirk grew, letting go of your hand and leaning down to your ear while brushing a strand of hair away, “Names Toji, sweetheart.” he murmurs.

You felt your breath hitch as his breath hit your neck, but you didn't pull away. You were due to get laid. It had been way too long, not since your ex boyfriend dumped you for his co-worker at fucking mcdonalds.

Sure, this man is older, scruffy looking, but that all cancels out as your eyes keep falling to his greek god muscles poking out of that godforsaken compression shirt. And it's not exactly like he was growing greys yet..

Now, after a few minutes of talking, teasing and subtle grinds, he's dragging you off to the bathrooms, pushing you into a stall that felt ten times as small with him inside, closing it behind him. Lips locking onto yours as he pushed you up against the white wall of the stall, covered in random graffiti and lipstick marks.

His hands slid up your slides, to the straps of your dress and pulled them down enough for the top half of your dress to reveal your lace black bra with a tiny white fabric rose in the valley of your breasts.

He pulls away from the kiss and lets out a groan, one hand going to your thigh, pulling it up to his hip as he cupped a breast with his other, kissing down your neck softly, “pretty baby, aren't you.” he breathed, pulling a strap of your bra down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking, his hand on your thigh moving higher, scrunching your dress up to your waist.

He etched your bra down further to capture your other nipple into his mouth, giving it the same treatment as before. “Toji,” you whine, hips shifting in his grip due to the paulse between your legs, slick pooling in your panties. He hums against your skin nipping at the sensitive bud, eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your back arches into his touch.

He lets go with a wet ‘pop’, lifting your leg higher and hooping it through his arm as he starts to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his flyer and tugging them down mid way his thighs. Hand sliding to cup your heat, “you sure you can take n’old bastard like me, babygirl?” he grunts, looking down to see your hand suddenly rubbing over the thick outline of his dick in his boxers.

“I wouldnt be here if I wasn't sure.” you mutter, putting your leg down and moving your hands to pull your panties down slowly, letting them pool around your ankles and pulling him closer to your body, “I needed a change either way, maybe show me an older man is what I needed.” you whisper, hands hooking into his boxers elastic, pulling them down softly.

He smirks, pushing you up against the wall, “yeah, you'd like that wouldn’t you.” he husks, lifting your leg once more and taps his fat tip onto your clit lightly a few times, watching your expression as your lashes flutter, a small moan slipping from your puffy lips.

He picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist mindlessly. He lines himself up tip prodding your entrance, making you let out a frustrated whine, about to make a complaint before he wedged his way into your first ring of muscle, tip stretching you like it was an insult to your past ‘things’.

You let out a whined breath, hands sliding up his back and digging into his shoulders as you hold onto him. He placed a kiss on your neck, slowly edging himself into your slick cunt, “so tight,” he hissed, hands tightening on the meaty flesh of your ass, “gonna make me go fuckin’ feral.” he grunts, letting out a groan as he bottoms out.

“Tojii..” you whine, head on his shoulder as he pressed closer to you, basically moulding you to the stall door, “s’deep.” you moan, toes curling in your high-heels. He huffs a breath, “yeah, you feel me deep, babygirl?” he pressed his hips closer, tip kissing your cervix, causing you to let out a loud moan, acrylics digging into his skin as he started thrusting slowly.

He doesn't keep it slow, though. As soon as you'd somewhat adjusted, he started pounding into you like a bitch in heat, groaning and moaning into your hair as he fucked into you, chest pressing agaisnt yours, body trapped between him and the wall as the stall shook from his relentless pace.

Neither of you quiet down, too lost in each other's touch to care about people who are also in the bathroom. “Pleasee- Toji!” you moan out, legs tightening around his waist, feeling the familiar pit in your stomach building up. He grunts, pounding into you recklessly, “gonna fuckin’ ruin you for everyone else, hear me? Fuck, you’re my girl, my pretty little thing.” he growled, hand moving to rub his thumb over your clit, other hand sliding fully under your backside, supporting you with his arm.

Your mind hazed, body hot as he went impossibly faster, moaning turnin into breath hitches and whimpers, eyes rolling back as you see white, squirting all over him. And he smirked, watching as your juices soaked all over his briefs and shirt, the situation only making his hips snap harder into you, rubbing your clit with dire speed.

“Good fuckin’ girl, so fucking good f’me.” he groans, dick twitching, “inside or out, sweet thing.” he speakers through gritted teeth, pace getting sloppier.

You whimper, eyes glossing over at the overstimulation he's giving you, “inside, please..” you whine. And then he came, filling your womb to the point his semen dripped out the sides of your pussy because of how much there was.

He let out a long deep moan forehead pressing against yours as he watched, letting out raspy breaths, waiting a few seconds before pulling out and watching his cum drip out of you, placing your legs back on the floor, keeping you steady as you held onto his shoulders.

He helped you clean up and fixed your clothes, before fixing himself, stuffing his cock back into his boxers before tugging up his jeans and buckle.

“Give me your phone.” he murmurs. And you do, digging past your makeup and random knick knacks in your handbag, pulling out your phone and letting him put his number in. “Call me later, baby. I'll take you out somewhere real nice. You're mine now, sweetheart, and I don't plan on letting you go.” he husks, sliding the phone back into your hand, and kissing your shoulder before leaving the stall, disappearing back into the crowd of people.

Now, you just have to pray Shoko and Utahime didn’t leave without you.

© all works belong to chikithree. do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Keep You Company

steddie x fem!reader

Your best friends Steve and Eddie decide to make your night worthwhile when they see that you seem lonely at a party

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap before you tap it) fingering, oral (m receiving) choking, spanking

word count: 5,003

This idea was brought you by the lovely @n0t-even-try1ng-2 who was a winner of the 5k word fic contest! This one was so much fun to write and I really hope you enjoy it!

The party isn’t exactly what you’re expecting as you sit alone on the couch in the dingy basement. Everyone around you seems to be coupled up while you’re by yourself. You sip from the solo cup of the screwdriver Eddie made for you before leaving to make a deal. Now you have no idea where he is nor Steve. This is the first party you’ve been to as a newly single woman and now you’re debating on going home because this isn’t nearly as fun as you were promised that it would be. 

You’ve come to realize that you don’t really know anyone at this party besides Steve and Eddie. And you’re not exactly looking to meet anyone new even though that was the whole reason why you even came tonight. The whole idea intimidates you. And even though you told yourself you were going to move on from Steve and Eddie, you somehow can’t seem to get yourself to. 

Ever since your breakup with your boyfriend, you’ve felt isolated from your friends. They all took his side and when Steve and Eddie assured that they were going to be there for you, you knew you made the right choice in being friends with them. They’ve been there for you through all the tears and they both held you in your bed while the three of you watched your comfort movies. You’ve felt bad for hogging them the past few weeks so you demanded that they hang out with their other friends tonight. As you sit here alone, you’re starting to regret it. 

That is, when Steve drops onto the cushion to your left, Eddie to your right. Their thighs are pressed to yours and you can feel the heat emanating off their bodies. There’s something about this that feels so right but you’re too embarrassed to tell them that you’ve been feeling attraction for weeks. You’re sure it’s just you anyway. 

You have no idea that they know exactly how you feel. It’s obvious with the way you look at them, like they hung the moon. It’s sweet actually. You constantly bring them gifts and baked goods. Sure, you are just that sweet, but there’s clearly something romantic behind the whole thing.

You just can’t understand how either of them are single. It just doesn’t make any sense to you. Steve used to be “King Steve” who had all the women wanting him and you don’t know when it stopped, but now you never see him with anyone on his arm anymore. He’s so sweet and kind and you wonder when everyone stopped fawning all over him. And Eddie..that’s the biggest mystery of all. He’s such a sweetheart and you know people only dislike because he’s nerdy. And because he plays D&D, of course he’s the devil incarnate. But you guess that means there’s more for you, not that they’d be interested in you like that. You’re all just friends…right? 

You have no idea how badly they want you and they think it’s cute. They’ve talked about it on multiple occasions and decided that tonight is going to be the night where everything gets laid on the table. They know how badly you want them-it’s obvious. And they want to show you how much they like you. They want to make you feel special. They want to show you that you can be appreciated and that sex is supposed to feel good. You told them all about how your ex wasn’t able to please you in the bedroom and they fully intend on showing you how it’s done. 

Steve sees how you’re looking at the couple who’s at the fireplace. They’re making out and you’re looking at them longingly, like that’s what you want. He scoots close to you, his lips right by your ear as his arm rests on top of the back of the couch. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, his voice nothing but seductive so there’s not room for confusion. When he pulls back, you’re biting your bottom lip, nodding furiously. 

“Please,” you whine and he swears he feels himself getting hard at that. He takes your hand and helps you up from the couch while you grab hold of Eddie’s hand. The three of you make a beeline for the stairs, giggling as you head to Eddie’s van. 

You have an idea of where this is headed and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You’ve had a few sexual partners, but never two at the same time. It’s intimidating for sure, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited about the whole thing. 

You’re just glad you’re wearing the lacy set you just bought just in case you decided to take someone home. You’re not usually like this, but tonight, you want to do something impulsive. And you think that maybe fucking your two best friends is exactly what you need in order to finally get over your ex. And maybe you want to see if what the three of you have is more than just physical attraction. 

You all squeeze into the bench and the drive to your apartment seems like the longest ride of your life even though it’s only ten minutes. You can’t believe this is happening. After wanting both of them for so long, you finally get to have them. And they seem to really want you too. 

Steve has to admit that he’s a little nervous. He’s never had a threesome before and he’s about to have one with his best friends. It feels sort of weird but his excitement outweighs that. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been crushing on both of you for a while now. He’s only recently come out as bisexual so this whole thing is so new to him. 

Eddie, though, he’s been out for a while. He’s made his attraction to you very clear, but he reeled it in with Steve because he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. When Steve came out a few months ago, he wanted to be honest with him, but decided he’d wait until he felt like the time was right. He’s thinking that maybe he should say something tonight.

He can’t stop thinking about the things he wants to do to the both of you. He’d never tell either of you that he’s gotten off to the idea more than once. It’s always the same with Steve fucking you while Eddie’s cock is in your mouth. And then they swap places and both have their way with you until you get tired and insist that they have some fun with each other. And he always comes just as the imaginary version of him gets on his knees for Steve. 

God, what he would give to be able to suck Steve’s cock. He can practically hear the whines that would fall from his lips. He can feel Steve’s hands in his hair, tugging on it as the breathiest moans leave his mouth. It would be so sloppy and needy and he can’t help but imagine what you’d do as you watched. 

He’s trying really hard to act normal, like he’s not about to cream his pants right now. He’s trying to think of something, anything to make him not think of those panties he got a glimpse of as he followed you up the stairs. 

Steve’s fantasies haven’t been hesy as filthy, but they’re still dirty enough for him to not want to tell either of you what they are. He imagines himself and Eddie on either side of you, both kissing your neck as they make a mess of your cunt. 

He can practically hear your moans as the fantasy plays in your head and he tries so hard not to let out a moan of his own. He doesn’t know if he really needs you that bad or if he just hasn’t been with anyone in a while. He’s pretty sure it’s the first one. 

You’re also doing your own fantasizing. But yours is probably the dirtiest of them all. You imagine them both hovering over you as they both fuck into you side by side, rough and hard. You can hear them calling you filthiest things. You want them to go so hard that you can’t walk for a week. 

Tension is high as the three of you walk up to your apartment. Steve is in front, you’re in the middle, and Eddie is behind. And he’s got a great view of your ass that he just wants to get his hands on. He’d spank you again and again as he pounded into you over and over, telling you just how much of a whore you are. 

If he wasn’t so scared of disrespecting you, he’d give your ass a hard slap just to see how you’d react. He wants to hear your little squeal and ask him to spank you again and again until your ass is numb. 

You turn to see him staring at your ass as you give it a little shake to tease him as you make your way down the hall. He stands behind you as you reach for your keys and gives your ass a little slap, unable to hold himself back anymore. You let out a little squeal like he expected and you turn around, your eyes lighting up with lut-almost if you want him to do it again. 

The three of you crowd around the door as you unlock it.

Well, try. It’s like everything is moving much slower as you unlock the door. You’re all just eager to get inside and have your way with each other. But the door lock seems to be stuck and you can’t seem to get it to unlock. 

Eddie has you step aside and you do so as he works on it, moving the key this way and that, doing things you wouldn’t even think of. It makes sense with his history of breaking in to places and hot wiring cars like his dad taught him. 

The lock finally clicks and you pull them both inside by their shirts as soon as it's open. You’re so nonchalant about the whole thing while they’re both nervous. You toss your purse onto the island in the kitchen as you kick off the shoes you’ve wanted to take off the whole night. 

Your feet are hurting and now you’re more desperate to get out of your clothes just because of how uncomfortable your bra and panties are. They look hot but that doesn’t make up for the fact that they’re both super itchy. The lace rubs you in all the wrong places and you’re just eager to get out of it for more reasons than one. 

You stand in front of them, letting them decide who makes the first move, but they just stare at you, eyes wide, like neither of them can believe what’s happening. Because they can’t. After waiting for what you think is too long, you move to stand in front of Eddie. You turn your back to him and make sure he’s able to see the zippedr of your dress. 

“Unzip me?” You ask, unable to see the blush creeping up on Eddie’s cheeks as he reaches up to grab hold of the zipper. He doesn’t know why doing this always makes him feel like a shy, awkward teenager again. He pulls it all the way down and pushes the press off your shoulders before pressing a kiss to one of them as your dress pools at your feet. 

You stand there, giving them a good look at your ass before you turn around to face Steve and Eddie and you can see lust filling their eyes as they take in your bra and panties. They’re thin and lacy, almost like you expected to get laid tonight. Well, your wish is their command. 

The three of you stand there awkwardly, waiting for something to happen. The three of you are entering uncharted territory and none of you are quite sure how to approach this next step. You’re all friends, but this is different. After tonight, you can never go back to the way you were. 

They wait for you to make the first move, not wanting to cross any boundaries. You make your way over to Steve, grabbing his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. It starts out slow but quickly progresses to messy and sloppy, moans falling from both of your mouths. 

Eddie watches the whole thing without a single ounce of jealousy. In fact, he’s actually more turned on than he thought he’d be by watching his best friends make out. When your tongue slides into Steve’s mouth and you both moan again, Eddie feels himself getting hard just by seeing it. 

You break away when Steve’s really getting into it before heading over to Eddie, feeling bad for leaving him out. You’re more rough with him, knowing that he can take it. It’s much more heated than the one with Steve and he groans into your mouth as you palm him through his jeans. He’s straining, desperate for something. 

He backs you up to your couch, pieces of clothing dropping to the floor as they’re discarded. You’re pushed down onto the couch and Eddie drops to his knees in front of you as he pulls Steve down with him. 

“Let us worship you,” he says, more like a command and who are you to say no? This is everything you’ve wanted, right? The kind of thing you’d never admit you fantasized about even when your ex was inside you. It was the only thing that would get you through it and even then, you’d only be able to come when you imagined that he was either Steve or Eddie doing the work. 

“Please,” Steve begs and you nod as you watch Eddie pull down your panties. Once they’re off, he stuffs them into Steve’s pocket as they both spread your legs wide. 

You’re wet beyond belief, dripping onto the couch and even though they’re both eager to dig in, they decide to take their time. Whispering the most sweet words against your skin as they kiss up your legs and you suddenly feel like the luckiest woman in the world. 

Then it’s not so sweet as they absolutely devour you. Eddie goes for your clit while Steve is at your slit, both of them working you with their mouths as fingers slide inside. They’re curved and you already feel close to exploding as they hit just the right spot. You’re holding onto the couch cushion beneath you for dear life as they make an absolute feast out of you. 

When they start to bite down, your swear you see stars. You feel like you’re going to come any second by the sheer pleasure that’s coursing through you. People have eaten you out before, but never like this. This is greedy as they take and take, but you don’t mind. This is easily the best head you’ve ever received. 

When they swap places, your heels dig into their backs as you feel an orgasm approaching. They’re biting down harder as they get you there, fingers pumping harder, faster. You moan so loudly and they both swear it feels like a cry. 

As your orgasm courses through you, you think they’re done, but they don’t let up, Eddie’s tongue plunging deep inside you as he tries to get one last taste. It’s pushing in and out and you mewl again and again, another orgasm on the way as they both finally pull away from you. 

You’re a sweaty mess as they look at you, seeing how blissed out you already look and neither of them have even gotten inside you. They remove your legs from their shoulders and Eddie heads to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth to clean up the mess as Steve is nothing but encouraging. 

“Did so good, honey,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze as he speaks softly. You see that his free hand it’s still covered in your mess and now you’re wondering what it tastes like. Your mouth is watering as you begin to crave it, feeling his fingers in your mouth. 

Steve seems to sense what you’re wanting because he’s leaning up now, fully between your knees as he leans over you. His wet fingers hover over your mouth and there’s a drop that lands on your bottom lip. You’re quick to swipe your tongue slowly over your lip then part both of them as he slides his fingers inside. 

You watch him as you lick and suck, purposely making the most filthy sounds as you do so. Steve watches, lips parted as he watches you, knowing that this exact scene will replay in his head constantly for the rest of his life. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. At the way you’ve got this man literally on his knees for you. You’re convinced he’d do whatever you asked without question and he’d do it with that adorable, dopey grin on his face. 

Eddie comes back from the bathroom just as you release Steve’s fingers with a loud pop. Eddie cleans you up despite knowing that they’re just going to make more of a mess of you as the night goes on. 

You stand from the couch and Steve moves out of the way as you make a beeline for Eddie. You drop to your knees in front of him and he’s sure that this is the prettiest you’ve ever looked. You’re quick to unbuckle his belt, and before he knows it, you’re pulling his jeans down, his boxers quick to follow. 

He’s already hard beyond belief and you spit into your hand before grabbing him at the base. He knows this night was supposed to be about you, but he feels like it would be wrong of him to deny you the opportunity to return him the favor. 

You’re pumping hard and fast and he’s losing his mind as he watches you work. He’s been given many handjobs, but not like this. It always seems like they’re doing it because they feel like they have to. But you? You definitely want this. He can see it in your lust-filled eyes. 

You take the tip into your mouth and run your tongue over the slit before giving him a hard suck. He whines as his hands wind into your hair as Steve ties it back for you. You take Eddie deeper, inch by inch until your nose is pressed to his bush. 

Your tongue flattens against the underside stroking it as you get him fully into your mouth. You feel it hitting the back of your throat and gag, but you keep going, still determined to make him come. He’s so close you can feel it. 

“Just like that,” Steve encourages. “Look at how crazy you’re making him.” 

You look up and his head is thrown back, his eyes shut tight as he lets out moan after delicious moan. This might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You give him a few more sucks and peek up at him through your lashes. Watching him come, feeling him leak out into your mouth feels so rewarding because you were the one to do it. 

You stand to your feet and force him to look you in the eye so he can watch you swallow. His eyes darken as he sees your throat bob, pushing your mouth open to see that you really did swallow. 

“So fucking hot,” he rasps as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in for another heated kiss. It’s just as hot and messy as the other one and his tongue slides into your mouth. You moan as it roams your mouth, his rock hard, wet cock pressing against your stomach, showing you just how badly he wants you. 

“Please let me fuck you,” he whines and it’s the most pathetic you’ve ever seen anyone. You feel bad for letting Eddie have all the fun but you swear that you’ll make it up to Steve after. 

You pull both of them into your room and push Eddie down onto your bed. Watching him sprawled out like that, begging for you to use him in any way you want-you don’t think you’ve ever been more turned on in your life. 

Steve helps you take off your bra and you both join Eddie on the bed. Steve is quickly stripping down as you straddle Eddie’s waist, taking no time to top him. You don’t move yet, leaning down and kissing him first, wanting to warm him up before you completely ruin him. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair and he has no idea how he’s going to move on from him-from tonight. He doesn’t think he ever will. This is going to replace the scenario he’s cooked up in his mind. Seeing you here and now, straddling him as you kiss him as your life depends on currently tops the fake version of you he sees every night. 

Not only are you real, but you actually respond to him. You make him feel good. You make him feel alive. You pull away and rest your hands on his shoulders as you begin to ride him. It’s fast and hard and you’re both moaning loudly as you work together, his hips bucking against yours. 

Steve thought he would feel left out, but he doesn’t at all. He knows he’ll get his turn and there’s just something about watching his best friends fuck that makes him feel something. The way you’re both moving, the delicious sounds falling from each of your mouths. It’s all just so hot. 

He’s fisting his cock as he gets even harder, needing some release. He pumps and pumps, trying to match the pace that you’re going, imagining it’s your hand that’s doing all the work. 

The bed starts to shake and squeak underneath Eddie as you’re both moving fast and hard. So loud that you’re sure that the police will be knocking on your door with a noise complaint at any second. 

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say, so fucked out already even though you’ve barely done anything. His nails scratch down your back and the way you moan only makes him and Steve need you even more. Eddie’s close, you can feel and Steve’s not that far behind. But you’re far from done. 

Your hand grabs hold of Eddie’s neck, unsure of what you’re doing, but it just feels right. You’ve never choked anyone, especially not in a sexual context, but Eddie seems very into it. So you squeeze and squeeze, watching his eyes widen. You continue to fuck him senseless as you squeeze harder and harder until he can’t even speak. Even then, it’s almost like he wants more. 

But as his face turns bright red, you decide to let up, but still keep your hand on his neck. He’s close and you watch him cum and you still continue to ride him, trying to reach your own orgasm. He’s still thrusting as he leaks inside of you, trying his best to get you there. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he breathes as he lies back on the bed, watching you come not long after he does. His name falls from your lips and he’s sure that it’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever made. 

You climb off him and collapse onto the bed next to him as Steve reaches his own climax, leaking out all over himself and the bed before hurrying to the bathroom to clean himself up. 

You feel bad that he’s been pushed to the side and are not determined to make this the best fuck of his life. It’s what he deserves for being such a good boy. For being so patient. 

Steve takes a little longer in the bathroom, fixing his hair as well as cleaning himself up. He doesn’t know why he’s so focused on his hair when you’re just going to mess it up. Truthfully, he’s just nervous. More so that he thought he’d be. You’re his best friend so this feels weird for him even though he’s dreamed about this very thing for so long. He’s just worried he’s going to screw it up. 

He opens the bathroom door and steps out into the room, his eyes widening as he sees you on your knees at the end of the bed. You’re moaning loudly as you play with your nipples and god, does he want that to be him. 

You reach out for his hand and he lets you pull him forward. You guide it your chest and he hesitantly lets his hand rest on your tit. He seems nervous and you want to do what you can to help make him feel more comfortable. 

“You can touch me, Stevie,” you whisper and look around the room before spotting Eddie smoking a joint. He offers it to you before taking a drag and you take it from him. 

“Open your mouth,” you tell him and you take a drag from the joint before pressing your lips to his, blowing the smoke into his mouth. You pull away far too soon but he chases your lips, capturing them between his. It’s slow and sloppy and he seems to be much more confident. 

He licks into your mouth as his fingers tweak your nipples, turning them this way and that and you whine into his mouth in response. He leans you back, kissing his way down to your neck, giving it a suck. You’re so overstimulated but you don’t dare ask him to stop because it just feels so good. 

He bites down on your neck and you gasp, feeling even more wet, more needy for him. He bites again and again, making you moan even louder. He kisses his way down your body as he lays you down on your bed. 

He’s hovering over you with the joint in his mouth and Eddie is quick to take it from him, giving it one more drag before stubbing it out. He’s at your side just like Steve was, just in time to watch Steve pound into you again and again. 

His hands grab yours as he watches you come undone underneath him. The bed is squeaking once again and all that can be heard besides the sounds you’re both making is the sounds of slapping skin. He’s fucking you so hard, so deep inside you that you can practically feel him in your stomach. 

He’s moving fast and hard, which is so unlike him but he’s so eager to please that he’ll do whatever he thinks you want. This isn’t about him anyway. He just wants to make you feel good. 

“Fuck, this is so good,” Eddie whines. “So hot. Harder, Steve. I want to see her come undone.” Steve listens, somehow going even harder and you’re struggling to keep up, clenching around him as you cry on his cock. 

You never imagined sex with Steve to be like this. You always pictured soft and sweet but you’re definitely not hating this. He’s just so good at it, always somehow knowing exactly what you want without even having to ask. But you’re pretty sure that’s only because you’ve been friends for so long. 

His hands tighten their grip on yours as he fucks into you even faster, seeing that you’re starting to slur, your hips slowing their pace. But you snap yourself out of it, trying to keep up with him despite being so tired. Your hips buck against his over and over until you feel another orgasm rising. 

This is the biggest one yet and Steve’s not that far after you, still fucking into you to see if he can get one more out of you, but he can tell that you don’t have any more left in you. So he pulls out once he comes down and the three of you lie there on the bed, all thinking about what’s just happened. 

You can’t believe you just fucked both of your best friends and are already craving more. You even sucked one of them off and let them both eat you out. You know that this is just going to be a one-time thing but now you’re craving more. You want this to be a regular thing even though you’re terrified to ask. You know they were just doing it to be nice and you’re just willing to take whatever you can get. 

Steve can’t believe he just did that. He’s never fucked anyone in that way before. It’s always so gentle but he felt like trying something different. And he liked it. So much so that he almost wants to ask if you want to go for another round. But when he turns to his right, he sees that you’re fast asleep. 

Eddie and Steve watch you in admiration, both still wondering how they should approach telling you that they want you. Even after tonight, they’re sure that they could do this every night for the rest of their lives and be happy. 

Eddie watches your lips part and still thinks about how good that blow job was. Definitely the best he’s ever had and how is he supposed to let anyone else suck him off knowing that none of them will ever compare to you? 

In fact, he’s not sure he wants to have a sexual partner that’s not you nor Steve but that seems to be a conversation for another day. You’re all clearly fucked out and just need some sleep. 

So Eddie and Steve pull the covers over you before climbing into bed on either side. They both drape an arm over you before you all drift into the best sleep you’ve ever had.  

[noosayog]

ushiwaka and his daughter 

–

Sundays are your husband’s dedicated rest days. So on Sundays, he stretches, rolls out his muscles, and does the occasional core circuit. After the birth of your daughter, this doesn’t change much, with just the slightest adjustment. 

It came when she discovered the rowdier half of the Olympics team engaging in a push-up contest. Then, an innocent question, “Daddy, can’t you do those?” 

You resist teasing him when you see the faintest flare of his nostrils, before he props her onto his back and gets down to rep twenty of them, unnecessarily sprinkling in a clapping rep every other push up. 

It’s a familiar sound now, the tinkling ring of your daughter’s giggles, often fizzling into full on belly laughter, as she drapes her small body onto Wakatoshi’s back as he does push-ups on his one rest day now. Between the three of you, it’s a secret you plan to keep from Iwaizumi. 

–

Toddlers are clumsy. This came unexpected to Wakatoshi but he adapted – always equipped with a first aid kit in the car, the random napkins in every single pair of pants he owns, an extra pair of socks anywhere within reach. 

The spilling, tripping, and whining does get tiring sometimes, but if he had limbs that stubby, he’d be doing the same, he reasons. 

It’s a mindless routine now, when he hears her zoom past him in the hallways of your warm home: a gentle but firm reminder, “don’t run too fast.” 

And inevitably, she will trip on air, ram her head into a table corner, snag her sweater into a door handle – she likes to change it up. 

And inevitably, he will crouch down, face to crying face, and pick her up, two strong arms under her armpits. 

The speed with which he hoists her up always startles her enough to stop the waterworks, but even if he didn’t propel her to his towering 192 centimeters, the gentleness with which he nestles her into the crook of his shoulder would be enough to quell her tantrum soon enough. 

–

Wakatoshi has picked up the habit of humming anytime he’s in her vicinity. He used to sing, but well… let’s just say a man can’t be good at everything. 

Your endless teasing didn’t stop him but you once made a comment about your daughter picking up his horrid sense of music and that really made him rethink singing to her. You felt badly about it, but he continued to hum around her and this seemed to please her all the same. 

“Daddy’s not a very good singer, but he’s a very good hummer,” she nods solemnly. 

And Wakatoshi flashes a smug grin at you, like he’s won, like he’s eating this up. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that that is not the compliment he thinks it is. 

–

It’s preschool when your daughter is first exposed to the concept of socializing. There’s a sadness that washes over you when she wants to start wearing less mismatched colors and patterns, and the more the same sneakers that every third classmate seems to own. Though the munchkins in matching outfits are adorable in their own way, it feels too early for her to start wanting to fit in. 

You worry that she may feel similarly about being left-handed. You know how Wakatoshi feels about his left-handedness and how his father fought for him to keep a part of him that makes him unique. 

It comes up in conversation one evening, as she talks about bumping elbows at the coloring table. 

“They always make fun of me for bumping into them, but it’s not like that’s my fault.” 

You glance worriedly at your husband. 

“But I just bump back a little harder,” she giggles, covering a hand over her mouth conspiratorially. “I like using this hand because it makes me just like Daddy.” 

Wakatoshi moves from his seat at your side to hers, to wrap her up in a big bear hug. You’ll keep it a secret that you see his eyes get misty.

[orelicia]

could i request the seven brothers with a gn!lover who falls asleep the second they cuddle ? like it can start as some simple cuddles, and then their lover is just going to pass out in their arms without a single care in the world. and is hugging them very quickly so they can’t really move. (if the seven brothers is too much pick whoever you prefer)

Cuddles for you, only you!!

Xeijun's Letters: Thank you so much for the love you all gave on the first two posts!! Hope you all enjoy this one too!! Can you tell I really love Lucifer?

Warnings: Reader might be fem coded, so I'm sorry for that. I mean to make it as gender ambiguous I can!! Putting on makeup (Asmo), mentions of cocaine.

Genre: Fluff || Scenarios.

Lucifer

You sat on Lucifer's lap, while swinging your legs and humming to yourself. Being free from your assignments meant the free token to bother your darling boyfriend while he does paperwork as always.

Humming to yourself, your fingers fiddled gently with his hair on his nape while your cheek rested against his shoulder. Lucifer hummed, smiling, the weight of you on his legs felt nice, warm and the humming gently rumbled in his chest as well as he worked. It's been awhile since you've two just been together silently, with all his brothers shenanigans.

As he read the papers, feeling you move, he sighed but smiled, "Is something bothering you now??" he asked as you hummed silently, "Mm..Not really, but you're paying more attention to your paperwork than me." he said silently, pressing your lips to his jaw.

"You better be all mine after this is all done" you hummed as he nodded, "Yes-yes..I get it." he assured you, gently pressing your face back against his shoulder.

He went back to his work, humming to the silent classical music you had played from an MP3, more so for white noise to his paperwork. He wrote down the allocated money for the council and any and all clubs, checked up on Diavolo's reign, the subjects, the demons and witches and sorcerers. Everyone and everything demanded his utmost attention, why is it so?

Why can't people do things without him having to yell at them to check over things for them!?

As he wrote, his hand moved you and pressed you closer to him as you hummed and let out a gentle yawn. After finally being done, he leaned back sighing in relief and slight exhaustion.

"Up now, dear." he mumbled, waiting for you to listen so you two could snuggle on bed, instead of his chair. Yet when you did nothing, he gently lifted your head to find you asleep, warm and quiet.

Your cheek squished gently against his warm hand, a soft and relaxed look which is rather rare and soft snores as he almost grinned.

You were just perfect for him despite being a human..how ironic..

He gently let your had fall back against his shoulder as he gently put his hands under your knees and your back and tried to stand up but could barely budge, oh this again..

He looked down at you, to see your legs hooked under the arm and beside his side to keep him in place as if to hold him against you as tight as h could, likely to melt your skin together so he won't leave...

Well, all the more time to let him admire you!

Mammon

You grinned, counting the grimms and notes Mammon somehow won with you as his 'lucky charm' apparently. The only reason you bothered to join him was because he was sweet talking you far too much to let you ignore him.

Finally Mammon smirked, taking a last shot, shoving the glass on the table and walking after you as you skipped ahead, glad with the money he got. He walked faster, pulled you back by your waist,

"Oi, human! Quit stealin' my money"

He scoffed, but not really mad or anything, really just allowing you to do anything and obviously speaking fondly.

You shrugged, and continued walking ahead to the parking lot and waited for him to unlock the expensive car, and as he did, he got in first. You stretched your shoulders before Mammon pulls his seat back and lets you climb into his lap.

"Better get home before Lucifer hangs us up." he huffed, pulling out the driveway, as you grin.

You usually wouldn't do it, but partaking in the adrenaline rush Mammon does in the private chambers he's booked regularly for the past 1000 years, it's a place of Russian roulette, guns, drugs, alcohol and indulgence in you and his greed.

So you silently got in, leaning your head on his shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss to your head, "You okay?" he asked softly as you nodded as he began driving. You hummed softly, one hand on his other shoulder, thumb subconsciously stroking circles.

Mammon silently turns the sound of the radio up form the tiny panel on the steering wheel, playing some music as one foot subconsciously, very subtly tapped to the rhythm as he drove. One hand on your back, gently stroking.

It wasn't far too long that the House of Lamentation was in sight, as he parked, waited for you to bounce up and open the door and rush in like you always did..

Hm...weird, his head perked up when you didn't so he announced, "We're here, human." he said softly, but you didn't budge did he look down.

Breath soft, glitter everywhere on your body, cocaine somewhere in your hair after he got a bit too playful with 'snow', smell of cigarette and alcohol clung to you..But eyes softly shut in tiredness.

Your feet aching but you ignored for the pursuit of squishing your cheek against his bare chest which showed through his shirt, your shoes hooked on the little panel on the lower part of his door, making it absolutely non refusal to get out lest someone from outside opened the door..

He knew he wouldn't budge, so he just pulled out his phone to send a text to the family chat...

Ah, stupid humans..They fall asleep and do everything so easily, like making him fall in love all over again..

Leviathan

Levi watched with a soft snicker as you groaned, staring at the 'You lose' stamped in bright red as if branding you as an idiot at games. He patted your back softly,

"Lmao..how many times have you lost again??"

He asked with a grin, taking another photo of the screen, gently using the edit tool on his phone to edit the photo to circle a 'losses: 18 || wins: 0'. It was right under the 'You lost' banner and it showed your losses.

You sighed, "I don't get it..How do you pass this damn level!?" you turned to him as he sighed, covered in his blanket to minimise his embarrassment for wearing a Ruri-chan theme night pajamas.

He scoffed with a smirk, his eyes focused on the screen where you went wrong as he spoke, "Lmaooo, loser..AH-sorry, sorry, please don't hate me!!" he said, suddenly realising it was you..

He couldn't say that, what if you hated him for your entire life?? For an eternity and you BROKE UP WITH HIM?! He couldn't ever forgive himself...

But you brushed it off, shoving the controller back to him, as he smiled,

"Let me." he hummed, adding your save as you grumpily crawled onto his lap, instead choosing to pull out your DDD. It wasn't a very much video game marathon, the pair of you just usually did these nights where you both were on your separate devices, doing whatever but still together.

Levi hummed, one hand on the back of your upper thighs, but not quite on your ass as he squeezed gently with his large hands as you snuggled your face into his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss as he played the game.

He pressed the button, forcing the character to jump up while throwing explosions at the main boss, his fingers tapped even more, trying to defeat the many minions the character's way.

A few more hits, he waited as he tried to finish the quest under the time given, he gently pushed your hand over his shoulders as you groaned softly, but didn't protest..Weird.

Finally, Levi grinned as he won, softly whooping under his breath,

"Yessss!! Henry, did ya see??!" he asked brightly, as he waited for an affirming hum and when he didn't receive it..he felt awkward and insecure.

Of-course why would you be paying attention more to him than your DDD? Levi could almost cry but he didn't as he felt soft breaths on his ear as he gently tried to pull you apart to se your face which was hidden in his shoulders, but you didn't even budge.

"Henry..? Uhhh.." Levi softly called your name, as you didn't answer, only snuggling close as he gently pushed back your hair from the side of your face, to get a glimpse of your eyes closed and him unable to move as he sighed.

Squealing excitedly, he sighed out, "Eeeekkk!! They wanna sleep against you so tight you can't move!!! It's exactly like what happens in MycrushisasleepdemonsoIbecometheirpillowandnowican'tbudge!, yes! YESSS!!" he said, before clamping a hand to his mouth, realising he got too loud before he patted your back softly.

Trying to lull you back to deeper sleep, he sighed out with a smile. Oh the stupid otaku has a love so deep!~

Satan

Satan sighed, rubbing the back of his nape as he stretched his shoulders as you both groaned, entering after finally finishing one of the most tiring days at RAD that you could remember in the past month.

You dropped your bags, as Satan quickly attempted to change, throwing you one of his comfy shirts to stay in as you got in his bed, turning on the air conditioner to a slightly higher setting.

Finally done, he got into bed with you, "Who puts three hexes and curses lesson in a row on the same DAMN DAY?!" he asked, removing his blazer and then unbuttoning his shirt and folding it, loosening his tie.

You huffed, tiredly pulling on some pair of shorts of yours which likely laid around with how often you were over, and pulling one of Satan's white night shirts as he sighed, wiping his face with some wet wipes to remove the sweat and all..

Annoyance and wrath was already pooling in his eyes and your sigil of his, his pact, glowed green as you scoffed.

"An idiot does." you scoffed, pulling a book or something to see if you could pass the time until lunch came around. You'd want to start a new one, but you and Satan had been busy reading this book he'd recently got.

You pulled it from his nightstand, cursing since you both forgot to somehow bookmark it as you flipped the pages trying to see where you were.

Satan looked over your shoulder, humming in affirmation to see if you'd read the part of not.

Finally getting to where you both read, Satan laid-sat back as you leaned against him, Satan's thighs pulled up so he could rest the book there as you snuggled into his chest, inhaling his scent of old books, mint, green apples and dark chocolate..

"You know, I'm surprised nothing happened in class today, no?" he said as you hummed in slight agreement.

THREE curses and hexes classes back-to-back, you're surprised no one got sent to the infirmary by one of the seven brother because one of the demons annoyed them a bit too much..

But silently, his eyes trained over the words. The character's discovery to her magical heritage with the help of a demon, she arrives at the new place and is trying to find herself and fit somewhere..

His finger fiddled with the end, the book smelled of cats, dark chocolate and tiramisu from the last time you were eating it while reading the book..He waits for any type of sign that you're done reading after he himself is done. But nothing, so he gives it a few more minutes.

He hums softly, his cheek against the top of her head, he smells your shampoo, presses a kiss and waits. He re-reads the same two pages a few times until he is sure it shouldn't be taking you this long to read.

"MC..?" he looks down, one of his arm was around your waist and the other on the side of the book to hold it straight.

Since he saw your head lolling back and forth as he removed his hand form the book to gently push your hair back and pull your head onto his shoulder.

Snores soft and tiredness obvious, he knew it was tiring today and this was obviously bound to happen. He smiles, gently kissing your forehead as he actually put a book mark in, one you bought him with Claude Monet's painting on it.

He gently put the book aside, having expected you to sleep with how tired you were from RAD, just not this early. He softly laid down, pulling you as he hummed softly,

"Sleep tight, dear." he smiled. Oh Devil, you fit perfectly in his arms!!

Asmodeus

"Ooo, mauve and pink together, Pleaseee!!" Asmodeus almost squealed as he straddled your waist as you laid on his bed. Letting him do your makeup as you sighed.

"Sure, do what you want" you said with a soft smile as Asmo smiled, his glossy lips gently kissing your lips before she sat up, straddling your waist as he applied foundation, he seemed so adamant on this position, not that you minded.

"Hm, you know we should do skin care more often, cutie! Your skin is just glowing!" he said softly, using the clean wet sponge to spread your foundation after primer and all the base. You closed your eyes a bit since the foundation felt itchy and you didn't want it in your eyes, but Asmo gently pushed back your hair and continued.

He spread the foundation, softly humming and whistling 'ghost town' by Veorra which you introduced to him as he gently nodded his head side to side to the beat subconsciously, as he gently patted your skin to see if the foundation got streaky, it didn't.

He gently hummed, putting on concealer, contour and powder softly, humming to himself as he admired you. You usually wouldn't, but you trusted him enough to let him do make up on you, mostly as a test trial.

"Oh my! Your cheeks are so cute!!" Asmo cooed, almost ready to pepper kisses on them, but he paused since his gloss might ruin your foundation and the base he laid down, "Hm.. Pink and mauve, but colour were you thinking??"

He hummed, holding up the make-up palette as you slightly lifted your head at an awkward angle while trying not to give yourself cramps in your collarbones, neck or jaw or anywhere as he hummed softly.

You chose two to three colours, which you knew would go nice together, as he giggled and gently began prepping your eyes before he started to do your eye makeup, complex and pretty.

He softly made cat eye crease, gently colouring your eyes like his personal colour book with makeup as his art supplies as he hummed, his thighs gently squeezing your waist in support as you closed your eyes. Another shade on the inner corner, another colour in the inner-upper side.

A few very delicately crafted eyeliner to pull it together, with rhinestones, pearls or makeup decorations and all.

After eyeshadow, he leaned back and admired his handiwork for a little bit, your eyes closed politely and sweetly like an obedient kid's.

His hand refused to shake as he gently laid down the inky black eye liner with colourful liner too, making sure to fill in gaps but also not leak the eyeliner in your eyes since he knew, as a human, that wouldn't be pleasant.

"Oh, I'm just pretty in everything I do, don't I?" Asmo smiled, cupping his cheek as you hummed softly, your eyes still close, "Hmm-...hmm..Keep your eyes closed, this liner takes a sec or something!" he worked to curl your lashes, mascara and lash pearls so you had dotted eyelashes. Oh you were such ADORABLE!!

And finally, he dug through his bag to pull out multiple lip products, lining with two different colours, lipcolour was a mixture of five different; mauve, a deep shade of magenta, dark wine red, dusty red and a soft purple-pink..

It looked so good, dare he say, heavenly on you!

He applied lipgloss and setting spray and he was finally done, his finger very gently touched your eyelid, on the eyeliner, "Hm..It's dry, cutie. You can get up!!" he squealed, waiting for you to open your eyes and smile.

A second or two passed, as he got concern, "Honey..? Oh shit" he grumbled, looking through his bag, which he kept separated to make sure he didn't use anything that would be harmful or poisonous or anything!

Finding and hurriedly reading anything and everything, he checked your breath to see you breathing normally which made him pause. His finger softly tickled your side, "Cutie..?...oh." he paused.

You were asleep, your legs tight around him so he couldn't get off you..DAMMIT! Don't scare him like that, his skin might get wrinkles..But thank the Devil you're okay! He sighed, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead, before pulling out his phone.

His devilgram followers are going to love your makeup!!

Beelzebub

Finishing, you brushed your hands and wiped them, "You sure you want to wait for me, MC?" Beel asked softly, still in the middle of seven two times, so technically 14, different dishes.

You shrugged, humming since you didn't feel up to doing ANY activity and Asmo, who took you both shopping, let you both stay in to eat. He could handle a few hundred bags himself, he is the fifth born after all and thank Diavolo for that.

You leaned against him, legs across his lap and his bicep as your pillow in the booth you two were sitting as he sat silently. You weren't gonna lie you didn't understand why Asmo was so insistent on dressing up to just go to the mall, but now you understood. It looked like one of the most lavish buildings you've seen.

People decked out in their most fashionable clothes, dressing up casual would just look like a hobo entered in, no offence to anyone.

Just seeing it made you tired as you subtly removed your shoes on the floor, under the table and sat criss-cross, the place was so fricking clean, you wouldn't lie.

Leaning against, Beel hummed in delight chewing on his fifth burger, taking a sip of his second cup of dev-coke to wash it (it had cocaine in it!!), as he dipped his burger into the plate of corn-cheese, eating fries and nachos in between as he swallowed food over and over.

He was glad Lucifer agreed to fund them, his single modelling photos went for billions, who knew trillions of dead humans, sinners and hell-born demons, witches and others since the beginning of time would pay that much for the avatar of pride to model?

He didn't care about that right now, he was busy more busy gulping down his seventh burger, be quiet humanity and demonity!

He chewed silently, licking the sauce of his fingers, pulling a tissue and wiping before he sipped his sprite and coke and his milkshake, then went back to nachos and fifth box of fries.

He hummed in delight, when he finally finished, he patted your thighs, wiping his hands and digging in your purse quietly to pull out a wet wipe to wash his hand, as he sighed with a small smile. He felt so good...for the next two hour or so.

He smiled, "done, MC!" he said brightly, looking down to find you asleep, trying to keep him in place as he tilted his head, "Hm? Oh..you must have been tired." he whispered.

But nonetheless, he picked you up like a little doll, one hand on your butt (for privacy), the other holding you tight as he walked out, thanking the waiter, ducking a bit to not crush his forehead on the doorframe.

He walked a bit, finally meet Asmo in a shoe shop, grumbling with a box over some baby pink heels in annoyance, but it melted when he saw you over Beel's shoulder.

"Ah, they fell asleep!! I got the cutest thing for them, no worries. We'll let them try on at home!!" Asmo said, gently squeezing your cheek on Beel.

The fifth born pulled the sixth born, and you sleeping on his shoulder for more shopping

Belphegor

"And that is Heracles and that one is Jason, I think I met Jason once. Since Lucifer and Diavolo are technically a sort of Hades..I don't know. I think i'm a fury..." he whispered sleepily, barely comprehending what he said.

But you felt compelled to believe him as he sat up somewhat to try and stay awake while he tried to explain the stars to you, his eyes squinting to see where each star was while you admired him.

"God, Jason reminds me of Grey Sister's taxi company...it's mostly just them duplicating themselves to serve demons and entities..They drive so bad, it makes Beel sick." he whispered as you shrugged,

"Who..?", "Grey sisters. Once they made Mammon so mad, he took their eye and tooth and threatened to turn it to gold so they can never see.." he whispered, far too out of it as you laughed softly.

Boys never had a simple story such as visiting a lake, always something crazy with mythology mixed in, again he spoke as if he was an oracle,

"Yumraj likes to see Diavolo every few weeks.", "....The Hindu god of death?" you whispered softly as Belphie snored after almost falling asleep, again, when you snapped your finger to him.

Belphie groaned, actually sitting up and letting go of his pillow to try and stay awake which he sometimes found it slightly difficult to do (as difficult as can be for him, the epitome of sloth) without Diasy.

He looked up at the stars, chewing on a strawberry as he sat on the gingham patterned mat, he could now see the stars more as he hummed softly,

"That star there is Mars. Mars is, obviously, named after the Roman god of War, the Roman counterpart of Ares, the greek god of war." he said softly, letting him rant about random Greek shit. You didn't know he knew so much, but you shrugged. Eyes drooping with love.

He spoke on topic to try and stay awake, despite the difficulty he faced and you appreciated it.

You both were sitting on the backyard of House of Lamentation, on gingham patterned picnic blanket with snacks which you somehow concealed the smell of from Beel using a spell while star-gazing.

Well, you laid and he sat.

Belphie spoke on different stories, his own stories he made up about the constellations and the real stories,

"That is 'Orion'. Orion proclaimed himself to be such a great hunter and that he was the son of Zeus" he said, his fingers moving to motion a pattern of the constellations,

"This made Hera made, it always does but no judgement to her, and she sent a scorpion to kill him. That scorpion later became the constellation of 'Scorpius'..." he whispered softly, his hand gently patting your hair.

"Zeus took pity on him and turned him into a constellations in the stars." Belphie hummed, softly. "Zeus was, no offence, a weirdo." he whispered, as you hummed in agreement, your arm around his waist as he smiled.

After moments of talking, he stood up, "I need to go to the bathroom.." he whispered, but unable to with your tight grip, as he waited for you to let him go..

He looked down, seeing your eyes closing and you on the peak to sleep as he grinned, uncovering the grapes and sighing, he hurriedly teleported to go and came back.

Seeing you sleep, your arm reaching around the blanket to look for him, the sight making him smile. He silently laid down beside you, deciding his own sloth-ness needs to be fulfilled,

"Enough stars for one day..."

© orelicia. I do not give permission to modify, translate, copy or repost ANY of my works. Reblogs are very much beloved!

[vasito-de-leche]

B-Baby Saja dating hcs, please and thank you. I have no money, but I have my love and support!! 🥹👉👈

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS BABY - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Baby (Baby Saja) in a romantic relationship.

no problem anon, all we ask is for your heart and soul, nothing too big!

Okay, hear me out. I know it's common to portray maknaes as sweethearts, the cute ones that make you squeal with their adorable antics, but I really like the idea that the roles given to each of the Saja Boys are somewhat ironic--Jinu being the leader, the figure of someone you can rely on and that keeps things stable being actually a liar and selfish person only looking out for himself, Romance being all about love but being unable to truly accept nor commit to a relationship, etc etc. So when it comes to Baby, I like the idea that his cute antics are mostly an act.

He and Mystery are the most difficult members to approach in a romantic context, simply because they have no interest in anyone outside of the band.

The difference between them is that Mystery believes any connection he makes cannot be genuine for many, many reasons, while Baby just doesn't think anyone is interesting enough to let them stick around. He likes the superficial attention and compliments that he can get just by rapping and making cute faces, those are easily accessible! He dislikes the idea of anyone expecting something out of him, the pressure of living up to someone else's idea of him--the vibe I want to portray with Baby is that of someone who is too childish to realize that relationships are a two-way thing, who struggles to understand that some people are worth the effort.

I mentioned in my previous Saja Boys posts that the only way for most of them to be in a relationship right away is through a publicity stunt--being in a fake relationship with Baby takes a lot of patience, due to him going hot and cold, back and forth constantly. Sometimes he has fun pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes he gets fed up with keeping up with the cutesy nicknames and ignores you for days on end. Sometimes he's blowing up your DMs, asking if he's done anything wrong, why are you ignoring him? Don't you want to hang out anymore? By the way, you still owe him money for that lunch date the other day.

Ideally, for Baby to start considering a relationship, he would first need to consider the idea of opening up to someone as a friend; I think that anyone looking to be close with Baby needs to be someone full of surprises, who can keep up with his moodiness and all of his whims.

There are a million fans who would love to spoil him rotten after all, he can get those any day. But someone who can keep him on his toes? Bite back with comebacks that leave him speechless? That's rare. That's new and fun. I do think that Baby gravitates towards people who are most similar to him, hence why he had no problem following Jinu--game recognizes game, both are people who live for themselves.

And once you have Baby's attention, it becomes easy to earn his approval. He likes you, so obviously you should get the same privileges as him!

He teaches you how to pull the perfect pouty face to get away with anything, how to cry on command and where the hottest hidden spots in town are, always making sure you get the best VIP treatment. Even if you're not into the life of luxury that idols live, he still insists that you keep him company, it's fine if you don't want to buy designer clothes or fun novelty trinkets for yourself, but you have to be there when he shows off his new outfits or this new drone he's bought.

And trust me, he WILL show off in front of all of your friends and family, Baby is the type of person who would LOVE to show up unprompted to a family dinner just so everyone at the table can gawk at the two of you because holy shit you're dating THE Baby Saja?

Movig on to their demon aspects, dating Abby involves slowly coming to see more of his animalistic and demonic impulses, all of the sides he cannot keep hidden because of how excited he is to be in a relationship--but with Baby, it's more like you're finally privy to all the things that happen behind the scenes, like you're in on the joke. His attitude doesn't change a lot, but it's like you're able to see him in a brand new light either way, understanding all the little details because he finally allowed you into his world.

I like to think that Baby's struggle as a demon, or the reason he became one in the first place, is related to how guarded and childish he seems to be--someone who was raised to be great, couldn't live up to those expectations and yet demanded the rewards either way because this is what he was raised for, this was what was promised to him. Why deny him everything now? Why force him on a path with no escape, only to toss him aside like that?

This is why it's harder for Baby to let anyone in, why he struggles with expectations and responsibility of any kind and why he becomes so fiercely overprotective and territorial of anyone that manages to slip into his heart.

When Baby falls in love, he unconsciously becomes extremely clingy with you; sometimes it's his casual cute maknae antics, sometimes it's giving the nastiest looks to anyone who distracts you from paying attention to him, sometimes it's whining into your arms about how you're leaving him alone too often, he wants your opinion on his next rap! Do you wanna hear it? It's a diss track on this guy you both hate! He genuinely doesn't notice he does this, more focused on finding ways and excuses to be with you.

Following his instincts as a demon but lacking the actual drive to get himself physically involved, Baby would have no issue pulling a few strings to somehow push anyone he deems annoying or a threat to your friendship and relationship with him out of the picture--in fact, I can see him fully believing he's doing you a favor by weeding out those who might be a bad influence on you. These people? They want to change you, to force you to do things you don't want! What the fuck is a 9 to 5 job, that sounds awful!

Whereas Abby becomes drunk in the positive feelings you inflict on him, focusing on how to make you happy because you make him happy, Baby focuses more on how to ensure you don't leave him, nor experience any of the things he's lived through. Depending on how close Jinu is with all the members, I can see Baby somewhat adapting the mentality that all demons deserve is to swallow in their own misery for all eternity, but it doesn't extend to you.

Moving on to less intense topics, it's pretty easy for fans to spot when he gets serious about you; he simply stops posting about you as often on his social media. All the cute pictures he takes of you or the two of you together are for his eyes only.

Once you two settle into the relationship, you can pretty much figure out what he wants or is going to say with just a single text. He sends "Hiiii ❤️✨" and you already know he's going to say that if he was a worm, you'd obviously love him but that he'd want you to also be a worm with him.

Another fun headcanon I have about Baby is that he's pretty much a brat and all, but he's not immune to you and basically folds super easily without even realizing--not when it comes to things he likes and dislikes, mind you, there's no one on this planet who can make him do anything he hates, but if you happen to mention your favorite color, then Baby will find himself wearing more of it without noticing. If you mention you like sweets, he just happens to bring up your favorite snack during interviews, as if that had been his favorite brand all along.