#sometimes he’ll ask what you’re reading about

[tbaluver]

Hi...I love your writing so much, Big Fan >_< ♡

Can I ask about what it's like to shower with LNDS men?

Thank U

Showering With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: MDNI, 18+, suggestive content. short NSFW is right below the SFW ! (p.s sorry if this format was confusing ! just wanted to add both in this one) a/n: hihi anonnie! thank you for supporting my work i always appreciate it so much ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ i hope this was okay and that you enjoy reading this and my other future works ! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ i dunno but i might make a shower smut after writing these LMAO anyways gonna post another headcanon in a few hours after this (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier: (SFW)

More of a shower person than a bath person because there were too many times to count on how many times you saw him asleep in the bathtub.

Almost falls asleep when you massage his scalp with soap as he wraps his hands on your waist to keep balanced. It just felt too relaxing and he couldn't help but flutter his eyes closed

Has a fair share of wash products but he ends up using yours because yours smell better and it smells like you.

He loves it when you clean him, it feels such a safe and intimate space between the two of you. You hum softly as you work gently against his scalp that you lathered. He felt so safe, so warm, in the space that you two created that he eases into the relaxation.

Loves the feeling of you every time he grazes his hands over your body. Obviously he’ll make sure to wash you as well. He’ll make sure that the soap doesn’t get in your eyes. Sometimes the two of you stand and hug, enjoying each other presence, while the water pours over the two of you-until the water gets cold.

Xavier: (NSFW)

He can't help it. You'll feel his hard-on when he's pressed up behind you. Ruts into you very slowly against your ass as he wraps around you while his hand is planted on your thigh to control the lazy pace. His moans would invade your ear as shaky breaths escape your lips.

Zayne: (SFW)

Another intimate time for the two of you.

When he’s coming home from work, he’s basically putty in your hands. You didn’t need to ask twice. He would barely have any energy to eat dinner or shower. He’s so touchy when you’re helping him wash him off while he lowly murmurs in your ear ‘thank you’s’

The type of man that would admire your body as he washes you with the body soap and shampoo. He has seen your body many times and has memorized every detail of you. But each time he sees you, it's like discovering you anew again. His eyes trail down as his hands lower, lower, and lower down your body as he washes you with the body soap.

Helps you wash your back and any hard places for you to reach and you do the same for him as well.

When you offer to help him wash his hair, he leans down, and you lather it with extra soap, laughing at how cute he looks. He doesn’t mind this at all, he finds your reaction to be adorable whenever you do this.

When he washes your hair, he is always so gentle. “Close your eyes for me, my love.” He’ll say softly as his hands carefully knead shampoo into your hair before washing it all away. He'll make sure none of it goes into your eyes.

Once you both finish washing, he turns off the shower and steps out to grab your towel. You both dry each other off, making sure every drop of moisture is gone and helps you put on your robe.

Zayne: (NSFW)

One finger would be rolling on your nipple while the other hand works through your folds. His mouth would be sucking and swirling on your breasts.

He'll use the shower bench to sit and to meet your height to suck on your breasts but will also use that opportunity to let you ride him.

Rafayel: (SFW)

Takes a long shower and I’m talking hours. He most definitely hogs the water and leaves you cold behind him. Has way too much showering products than you but he’ll definitely share them with you

Jokes aside, he would not stop caressing every inch and curve of your body when he sees you glistening with the water.

Loves to wrap his arms around you from behind. He’ll trail kisses on your shoulder to your ear while whispering how cute you look  before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Lets you try all his expensive washes and you two would experiment every shower on which is the best

Would tell you to wash him and he loves it when you wash his hair. The way your fingers scrub the shampoo and your nails massaging his scalp, felt like heaven to him. He’ll rest his head on your shoulder as you wash the suds out and he’ll have a content smile resting on his lips.

When the two of you are finished drying up, he'll make sure to pick the best moisturizer for the two of you before you both get dressed

Rafayel: (NSFW)

Round two. After you both finish having sex in bed or wherever, you’ll find him against you again all naked and wet. His arousal is more heightened in the water. He just needs his pretty girl again after the mess you made on his cock

Loves how the water slides and glistens down between your bodies

Sylus: (SFW)

The type to say, “Why waste water when we can just shower together.” And I fear he does have a point so that’s why you both shower together often.

He likes to stand behind you most of the time because this allows him to place his chin on your head as the water falls onto the both of you.

He is most definitely going to get handsy using the soapy water. He’ll moves his hand further down to rub your butt and give it a light squeeze

He loves to put the lather of soap on your nose or place a bunch on your hair just to see your reaction. He also finds it amusing to see you try to do the same with him but you can’t because of your height difference. It usually ends up in a bubble war between the two of you.

He helps dries you off first before you help him dry him off. He'll lower his head so you can ruffle the towel on his head.

When it was his turn to wash his hair, he would lean down, a smile curling on his lips as he gazed at your face while you carefully shampoo into his hair

“Sy close your eyes”

“Why would I do that when I want to stare at my pretty girl?”

Sylus: (NSFW)

You turn him on easily so showering with him feels like he has a permanent hard on. Once you step in the shower, he’ll let you get warm and wet before he starts  rubbing up on you. He just loves the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other, especially since you both are wet.

Pins you against the glass door of the shower and takes you from behind. His right hand finds your breast, squeezing them and pinching your hardening buds in the warm water while his left hand is on the plush of your ass. Sometimes he'll press you up against the wall and have your legs wrapped around him so you don't slip, just let him do all the work as he ruts into you

[fairyhaos]

◈ love of my life // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: technically requested by lots of people bc everyone wants jeonghan fluff, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, crack, mutual pining, almost-confessions

warnings: light swearing

summary: in which your relationship with jeonghan isn't exactly platonic and isn't exactly romantic... but rather, it's a secret third thing.

It has to be at least two in the morning when Jeonghan's ringtone blares throughout his bedroom, and he rolls over with a groan, grappling blindly at his nightstand before finding his phone and pressing it against his cheek. 

“Who is this and what do you want?”

“Jeonghan, let's go on a date.”

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come. 

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not four in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have. 

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved. 

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face. 

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs. 

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow. 

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you. 

He isn't. 

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

 Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile. 

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself. 

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you. 

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[embersofnovember]

WATERCOLOUR EYES

modern!bookshop!au

summary : you work at a bookstore. anakin doesn't actually read.

warnings : idiots in love, tooth rotting fluff, probably grammar mistakes, (mentioned) padme amidala, cheesy romantic stuff

the first time anakin sees you, you’re stocking up books in the educational studies section. 

   it’s been a relatively slow day. not many people enter this bookshop anyway, but when they do, the day seems to go just that bit faster, which is why when anakin sees you for the second time ever, you’re mindlessly flicking through a book in the window of the shop behind the counter, and that is when anakin knows. 

   but when you see— notice anakin for the first time, you see an older man with him. stubble, grey hair at his temples and a tired expression on his face. anakin’s leaning against a bookcase that coincidentally faces your direction as the other man peers at all of the books in the historical section, fingers tracing over the spines delicately, and every time you do what’s a weak attempt at stealing a small glance at the boy, you catches him looking back at you. every time. 

   the first time you ever spoke to each other was on a rainy wednesday. the sun peering through the window offered nothing but fogging condensation instead of the sun that baked your skin almost every day. the hours were long, but you got to read, and if you could do that, you were fine.

   the door swings open, gold letters glistening in the warm light of the lamp posts outside as the sky begins to grow darker. 

   you look up, exchange a smile with the same man from before, who you learnt last week that his name’s obi-wan. the boy trails in behind him and you almost freeze. 

   almost.

   his hair is damp due to the misty rain outside, his hands coming up to adjust his brown coat slightly with slight annoyance. you’ve seen him countless times, but the funny feeling in your chest never eased, and you still didn’t even know his name. 

   the two of them are in the bookshop for around fifteen minutes before obi-wan is at the counter with two books held in his hand: the conspiracies of geonosis and the swamps of dagobah. you put down her own copy of a random fiction book she found on the weekend and scans the two of them, trying her best to ignore the realisation dawning in your brain that the boy isn’t with him when he was mere minutes ago. you two exchange a quiet, light conversation. it’s easy. For obi-wan, at least. it seems so easy for obi-wan to talk and you envy it. his voice was clear and british, almost bostonian. by the end of his well-spoken voice, you’d almost forgotten about the boy and you’ve gone back to a book of your own after obi-wan’s left. 

   truth is, anakin’s been hiding in the thriller section trying to build up the guts to go and talk to you for ten, long and agonising minutes. maybe that’s why he didn’t leave with obi-wan. 

   without thinking, he grabs a book from a bookcase, not caring to glance at the title as he works up enough courage to finally talk to you, and he accidentally slams the book onto the counter. 

   a muscle in your arm twitches. you look up, as if you were a deer caught in headlights. his eyes are spilling like watercolours. 

   and anakin’s heart almost gives out. 

   he didn’t know what it was about you. just how you always seem so entranced in a book when you pick it up and flip the pages, or the way your hair sometimes glistens a sandy colour in the sun. 

   “sorry,” he murmurs, flashing her what he hopes to look like a polite smile. 

   “it’s okay,” you mutter back, and you smile. dimples. 

   anakin doesn’t know how much longer he can stay composed without looking like an idiot. 

   “did you find everything alright, sir?” you ask quietly, taking the book from anakin’s slightly shaking hands. anakin doesn’t know what he’ll reply with, so he takes the safe way out and nods instead. you scan the book, turn it around to read the title with a face twisted in interest.

   “tales of the force and where to find them?” you raise an eyebrow. not of confusion, but anakin thinks so, and he feels the blood rush to the skin of his face and he wishes he didn’t wake up this morning. he nods again with a smidge more confidence than before, tilting his head and acting like he didn’t just learn the title of the book with you.

   “i’m anakin,” he says, but it’s awkward and thrown off balance, as if he was thrown out of a rhythm. ultimately, you recognise that feeling, so you don’t comment on it and your small smile only thickens. you probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway. 

   you shrug, trying not to glance at his eyes as you tell him your name. the rain outside grows heavier, bouncing off the pavements. obi-wan’s stood under a canopy with his hood over his head to shield himself, eyes darting around. 

   “that’ll be twenty dollars. cash or card?” you ask, handing the book back to him. your eyes meet again and anakin looks down at the carpet floor that strangely reminds him of his grandmother’s house, rummaging through the pocket in his jacket. he pulls out a crumpled twenty on the counter and nods, avoiding eye contact, too. part of him, a very large part of him, just wants to crawl into the floor and never return. he decides that he will never walk in this place ever again, and he clutches the book between his bicep and his chest, turning around and stalking out, and tripping over his own feet just before he gets to the door. 

   “have a good day.” you blurt out to him. 

   “you too!” anakin says back, a little delayed, humiliation burning his skin as he keeps his eyes trained on the space in front of him. He’s thinking of nothing but how relieved he is to get out as soon as possible. the door opens and closes with the ding of the bell at the top. you grin as you watch obi-Wan outside when anakin walks up to him, pestering him as they both turn around and walk side by side down the pavement, until she can see neither of them. 

   you can’t stop thinking about him until you fall asleep later that night, later than you normally do, and neither of you knew it, but anakin couldn’t stop thinking about you either. 

___

the bell rings at the top of the bookshop. a shrill, honeyed sound in your ears. you find yourself glancing up with cartoonish eyes in hopes of seeing anakin again, heart stopping for a split second before you calm down again.

   it’s a monday. a warm one, but you feel strangely serene. it’s been five days on the dot since you’ve seen both anakin and obi-wan, and they somehow only seem to be the only customers that treat you like an actual person. intimidation, filthy looks, lack of respect. yeah, it was the bare minimum, but it made you happy, and you didn’t care. 

   It’s tuesday when anakin comes in with obi-wan. in the morning as you drove to work, they announced on the radio that there would be a heatwave (much to your annoyance). working at a bookshop with little to no air conditioning was a nightmare, so there you were, sitting in a tank top with a thin flannel and shorts.  

   obi-wan walks in with a slightly irritated anakin behind him, who is wearing a white vest and cargo trousers, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes his skin glow. obi-wan seems unfazed by this weather. anakin learnt that he’s pretty much immune to the heat ever since they went on holiday to a place where the temperature was triple what it is here. 

   you immediately lose her composure, but you manage to recover quick enough for either of them to notice you sitting behind the counter, and when anakin does notice you, it seems that he relaxes. his gaze softens and he suddenly doesn’t look so tense. obi-wan almost seems perplexed with how suddenly his demeanour changes, but he quickly turns around and waves to you, which you return with a small smile.

   it happens again: obi-wan buys a book, obi-wan leaves, and anakin doesn’t, but this time, when he goes up to the counter with yet another random book (that he made sure to check before grabbing it), he has more confidence than before. 

   as you take the book from his hand, your fingers brush up against each other. you fight the urge to draw your hand back, and anakin almost loses his confidence then, but he remains physically tranquil, but on the inside, he’s rethinking his every move. 

   “so,” anakin starts, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo trousers, “you work at a bookstore. you like reading?” 

   you glance up at him, brown hair glistening gold in the sun as you scan the book. you look back down at the book again, reading the title. a galactic empire of descending madness. that sounds more interesting than the one he had last week, at least. 

   “yeah, i guess,” you reply, even if a simple ‘yes’ was a severe understatement. every night, you went home and always had stacks of books still waiting to be read. “why do you ask?” 

   he throws down another crumpled up twenty on the counter again. this time, you give him change. 

   “well–” he pulls one arm over his chest, his other arm hooking over it as he stretches. you did your best not to gaze at his muscles, or his vest hiking up slightly and revealing the smallest slither of skin at his hip, but it’s hard—especially when he looks so attractive. “–i have a project to work on. for my University. need some help with it, ‘n’… i was just wondering if you'd help?”

   you stare at him in surprise. eyebrows raised, and gnawing the inside of your cheek until you taste metal, you ask, “what’s it about?”

   that’s the part of the plan he’s missing. before, he couldn’t figure it out, and now he does, and it’s right in front of him. he wets his bottom lip and grabs the book and the change. the pennies clink in his pocket and he feels like a nervous wreck all over again.

   why is he so nervous?

   “can i get back to you on that?” he asks, his voice still somehow smooth and even. 

   you breathe a small chuckle, “sure.”

   and he leaves again. 

___

this time, when anakin appears, it’s on a sunny friday, still amidst a heatwave, and obi-wan isn’t with him. you want to frown, but for some reason, you can’t. 

   it’s no different than the last time he was here, yet it feels so new. you smooth out the tank top your wearing nervously as he walks– rushes through the door.

   he walks forward, taking a small condescending look at the display of books, picking up the first book he sees and walking over to the counter.

   he isn’t pretending to buy something this time. 

   the loud thud echoes in your ears as he slams the book down on the counter. padmé, who’s stacking up books in the romantic-comedies section, jumps, stealing a startled look at the pair of you before turning back around. 

   “let me take you to dinner,” he blurts out. his voice sounds confident, but he’s albeit shaking with nerves and shuffling in one spot. 

   i’m a mess, he thinks to himself for a brief second.

   in the miniscule silence that follows, you want to let the silence go a little longer just to fuck with him, but you're too eager, he’s too nervous, and the sun is watching with curiosity. 

   “sure,” you mumble, grabbing the notebook and a pen under the counter. you flick it open and scribble down your address and your number in writing that’s almost too hard to read as you have never been too patient when it comes to writing, but as you rip the page off and hand it to him, he smiles faintly at it. an achievement. your hands brush against each other again, but neither of you acknowledge it again. just like last time.

   “pick you up at six,” he says, turns around, and he’s walking out the door before you can say anything else. 

___

anakin ends up picking you up at six o’clock on the dot. not a minute late and not a minute early. however, he is sitting there for a minute or two, observing your house from the driver window. 

   the grass outside grows at all lengths with small weeds peeking from a few of the wooden fences dotted around, which has probably been hacked away since not much of the wood remains anymore. the plant pots hold large ferns, and the trees behind the house are large oaks, thick branches branching out and leaving half of the house in a shadow. it’s small, but it looks like a home. anakin’s about to smile, but then he sees you rush out in a haste, hair glowing in the setting sun, and he freezes in his seat. all of the thoughts in his head have buried themselves, and it’s just him and his thumping heart.

   “sorry i’m late,” you mumble to him as you open the door and get in. the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek and his smile, which seems like the brightest in the world, but you don’t bother to comment on it and just smile back at him. “i was caught up in an assignment, lost track of time.”

   anakin breathes a chuckle, and he nods, turning on the engine with the twist of his key in the ignition. he’s surprised you haven’t noticed his hands trembling yet. “don’t worry about it.”

   you can’t help but smile again. the sun’s in his eyes and they flash a mix of blue and green. his hair is golden, and for a brief minute, you wonder what it’d be like to tangle your fingers in it. you have to force herself to look away and out the window. 

   you don’t go that far away from the city. off to the coast where there’s a van that sells drinks. it’s only around a twenty minute drive and you were both humming to the rock songs on the radio and talking about your week. the awkward atmosphere dissipates as the evening passes. anakin could listen to you talk for hours. 

   you both settled for a can of coke. of course, anakin was adamant in not letting you pay. with a firm shake of his head, he gave the man in the van a crumpled up five, and only laughed at your protests. after you finally gave in, and tried to hide your smile, you went off, walking aimlessly down a path in search of somewhere to sit.

   the sun cast a glowing effect on the beach they sat in front of. the tide was out, and you listened to the leaves in the trees crinkle above. 

   you didn’t feel so nervous anymore.

   you learn a lot about each other in the ten minutes they sit on the bench. you learn a lot of things. obi-wan’s anakin’s step-brother (who’s also a lot older than him), and he tutors at the university he goes to (which he takes the train for every other morning because it’s forty minutes away), and not only that, but he has a major in engineering. anakin learns that you're studying film in a university a couple blocks away and you have a ginger cat called oscar. he reads comics and you play piano and you develop nicknames for each other and you end up walking on the beach together not long after, the sea loud and erratic. anakin never liked the feeling of sand between his toes, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be in the presence of you for a little longer. 

   it’s like you’ve known each other for years. 

   “you know,” you start, taking a sip of anakin’s half-empty coke can. you finished yours a while ago, but anakin insisted you had some of his if you really wanted. it ’s like exchanging a secret and a kiss all at the same time . “i knew from the second you walked in the bookstore, you weren’t actually a reader.” 

   anakin almost winces at the memory, but a boyish grin appears on his face. “was it that obvious?” 

   you nod, grinning. you were always good at reading people anyway, but after you got a job at the bookstore, you somehow became even better at it. most people were dragged into the bookstore by their eager friends, bored expressions plastered on their faces, yet coincidentally, when anakin and obi-wan first walked in, neither of them seemed like that. 

   observant in the worst ways possible. 

   “i only went because obi-wan dragged me in there all the time,” he replies, trying to seem unfazed by the sudden redness to the tip of his ears.

   and you both chuckle, but anakin knew that deep down, it was really anakin dragging obi-wan there instead, and you maybe knew it too. 

   “i could get used to this,” anakin murmurs. neither of you notice how close you are until suddenly, your hands brush up against each other. 

your hands always seem to be cold, anakin thinks, but your fingers interlace and the words die on his tongue. you—not confident enough to say anything without your voice shaking–don’t respond, and you instead squeeze his hand lightly instead, resisting the urge to ghost your fingers over the bruise on his cheek. 

   and Anakin knows. you both know. anakin might as well write it in the sand, but further away from the shore so that it doesn’t wash away. 

___

when anakin comes back just after the sky has gone dark after dropping you off, he walks into the kitchen to see obi-wan leaning against the counter with a mug of hot tea in his hand and a smirk on his face. 

   “so?” he says expectantly. anakin stops in the doorway, trying to ignore how tense his shoulders have become. crimson stains his face and he keeps his gaze trained on the floor. 

   “so what?”

   obi-wan looks at him with knowing eyes, “how was it?” 

   anakin only shrugs him off, attempting (and failing miserably) to conceal his genuine grin. “shut up.”

   obi-wan only chuckles, walking past him and ruffling his hair, to which anakin sends him a glare, but obi-wan remains unfazed as he walks out the kitchen. 

   “you’ve fallen!” obi-wan yells as he walks through the hallway. anakin instantly grows flustered and rolls his eyes. 

   “have not!”

   but obi-wan is many things, and a liar is not one of them.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Sing me to Sleep Zhongli & more

Return to File

Recovery date: September 23rd, 2024

Description: hi again! i'm back for something else, maybe way more fluffier than the angsty one :) so, what do u think abt a reader who literally can't sleep without hearing their beloved's voice? i'm kinda like that, except that i listen to songs, and seriously, its super annoying without my earphones ;-;

anyway! what do u think about zhongli, al haitham, cyno, xiao, and any others u want? tysmm <3

-⭐️ anon

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with researcher ⭐️, we thank them for their contributions. You're back! Hello again! This one is definitely fluffier, just... maybe a touch of angst. If you squint.

Back to directory

Zhongli

Has sooo many stories to tell

More than happy to talk until you fall asleep

Also reads you poetry from Mondstadt

When you’re apart he genuinely feels bad and wishes he could be with you

But once you’re together again he’ll tell you all about what you missed

Makes sure you know that you could wake him up in the middle of the night and he wouldn’t care

Your comfort is a top priority for him, don’t ever forget that

Al Haitham

Pretends to hate it

But it also really works out

He has to read grant requests and the like, and you want to hear his voice

Starts to use how fast you fall asleep as a ranking tool

Sure, the whole goal is for you to fall asleep

But sometimes they’re so good you want to hear more, so if you ask about it the next day he seriously considers approving it

Not even sure he realizes he does that, he just sees the paper the next day and thinks of you

If you fall asleep before the end of the first page, the author lost your attention and honestly he’s getting tired too

In the end, it’s no extra effort and even if it was he wouldn’t mind

Cyno

His work is classified so at first he has no idea what to talk about

At first he tells you about Cyrus, and his days in the Academia

One time he told you about how he met Collei

Then he ended up talking about Lisa, which led to him talking about Mondstadt

Eventually he realized he could just talk about TCG

You aren’t awake enough for him to tell you jokes, he also doesn’t want to make you laugh and keep you up

He’s away often, and it sucks

Sometimes he’s not even out of the city, but he gets home so ungodly late that staying up isn’t a good idea

Only Tighnari knows he’s trying to acquire a new Fontainian invention that allows you to record and replay audio

Xiao

The easiest person to be with for this

All you have to do is call his name and he’ll be there

At first he offers to play his flute

Surely that would be nicer than his voice

But you insist, and he’s at a loss for what to say

Ends up talking about the Yaksha

After that first night he asks Zhongli and the other Adepti for stories you might like

No matter where you are, call his name and he’ll tell you stories until you fall asleep

[bubbledtee]

something in me thinks that if you were dating him, modern!80s!james would call you “honey” when you’re alone together.

[sleepdepravity]

I’ve continued reading some Simon Forman and he’s starting to get into some really deep details about the various “houses” and stuff, and there’s one specific configuration where he’s like “okay so if you’re looking at the 1st house and the other houses look like this then the disease is caused by some secret enemy, HOWEVER, in this VERY SPECIFIC SITUATION, then the disease is a PUNISHMENT FROM GOD and you should leave the patient alone.”

“Anyways if the houses look like this then the patient’s servants are causing the disease”

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[215-luv]

“OH GOD, IT’S NOT FAIR OF HIM TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS MUCH!” (HQ BOYS)

ATSUMU: says things out of nowhere that it makes you feel butterflies. it’s so sudden that it hits you like a tidal wave that knocks the air out of you. the two of you could be laughing at some random thing and suddenly, he opens his mouth to mention something, “your smile.” he says, almost out of nowhere, eyes looking at you with so much fondness that you refuse to believe that someone could ever look at you that way. “my smile? what’s wrong with it, tsum?” you question, and he chuckles, “oh, there’s nothing wrong with it.” a goofy smile plants itself over his face, “it’s just.. it’s so pretty. i want to see it more.” he says, resting his forehead over yours. “wanna be the person who makes you do all that—smile and laugh. you’re so beautiful.”

AKAASHI: “you were saying?” he questions as he’s scribbling over his notebook, studying for a test he’ll take the next day. the question almost surprises you. “i was saying..?” you ask, eyes on him as he looks busy enough writing over his notebook rather than listening to your nonstop blabbering. “yeah? you were talking about the book you just finished reading.” he says, and you sat there surprised, silenced and unable to fully process what you just heard. “well?” he ushers you to speak, the tone of his voice coming out as if he wants to hear more from you. and you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. “you.. you were listening?” you respond with a timid voice. your boyfriend lets out a chuckle, dropping down his pen to look at you with interest in his eyes. “of course i do. i’m always listening to you, honey.”

KUROO: you weren’t sure what just happened, but all you could process was the fact that you’re suddenly lifted by the strong arms of your boyfriend as you walked through the hallway of the campus. it was supposed to be a normal day. you sighed, trying to ignore the stares of the students around you (and yaku, literally staring at the both of you in disgust). “tetsu, what are you doing? what’s all this? what’s happening?” you throw your boyfriend a wave of questions, unable to get a glimpse of the motive behind his actions. the deep chuckles from him reaches your ears, and you almost had to be grateful for being carried bridal style so as to not feel your knees weakening from the sound he just made. “am i not allowed to care for the love of my life?” he says, almost as if it’s an obvious fact. you roll your eyes, not convinced. you open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it—“you mentioned you walked home yesterday, right? you know, it’s pretty convenient to take the bus sometime. your house is pretty far from here. your feet must have been aching. let me take care of you, alright?”

OIKAWA: “delivery for the most beautiful person in the world!” he knocks on your classroom door, catching the attention of your classmates. you mildly panic, a rush of embarrassment flowing over you as you’re greeted with teasing smiles and chuckles. you see, tooru always had the tendency to do these things. and it honestly surprises you ‘till this day. he makes you feel so openly loved that it scares you it might disappear someday. your heart beats at a fast pace as your boyfriend nears you, eyes never leaving your figure as the corners of his lips are raised upwards. he places a bouquet of flowers on your desk, along with your favorite food on a plastic bag, and you almost choke a cry. “what’s all this?” you question, looking at him with suspicious eyes. he chuckles, “is there anything wrong with a boy simply wanting to show his love to his favorite person in the world?” his hand reaches to cup itself against your cheek, his warmth cascading over you. “let me show you what you deserve. i’m right here.”

USHIJIMA: you let out a sharp breath as you’re suddenly being pulled to collide against a strong chest which happens to be your boyfriend. you’re about to ask what just happened when he speaks first, “be careful. you were about to hit a lamp post.” your eyes widens, looking to the side to notice that you were, indeed, about to bump against one. guilt quickly begins to rush over you. “o-oh.. i’m sorry, i get really clumsy and bad at these things—“ you try to explain yourself apologetically, but your boyfriend cuts you off before you could finish your statement, “please don’t apologize. these are simply trivial matters.” he tells you. it’s only ‘till then you notice his arm wrapped around your waist in a protective manner while he keeps you steady. “matters like these are the reason why i’m here. let me be the one to keep you out of danger.”

KITA: “this one’s wrong. you messed up the formula halfway, that’s why the rest of the equation is wrong.” your boyfriend explains to you as he compares his math homework with yours. you couldn’t help but chuckle in embarrassment, inwardly beating yourself up for being dumb infront of him. you scratch the back of your head, “s-sorry, i could really get confused over these things.” you apologize, and your boyfriend could only nod in understanding. “in this number too, you got the formula wrong. you’re supposed to use this.” he then adds, pointing to a certain number on your paper. you couldn’t help but feel small under his gaze. “r-right.. i’m sorry, i promise i’ll do better.” you reply apologetically. but your discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by shinsuke. his eyes worriedly looks at your figure as he quickly slides an arm around your waist, “hey, it’s okay. don’t worry about it.” you could feel his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt as a way to assure you. “you’re doing amazing, believe me. just let me know if you’re confused anywhere. i can always help you. you’re okay.”

[midnightorchids]

Jason is clingy. To him, you’re a breath of fresh air. The soft breeze that cools his sweltering and tormented life.

There are days where he will sit on the bathroom floor while you shower. He’ll lean his head against the door and will silently listen to you hum. It soothes him and puts his mind at ease. Occasionally, he’ll pull you out of your melodic trance and ask a question. Sometimes, it’s about what you want for dinner, other times it’s to simply hear your sweet voice.

If Jason isn’t in the mood to speak, he’ll sit there with a book in hand, not quite interrupting your routine. He’ll silently stare at the words on his paperback, while enjoying your company. He’ll read until the humidity from your shower engulfs him with its warmth.

Then, there are times where he’ll ask to join you, it’s never sexual really, it’s just to be near you. He lets you wash his hair and pepper his face with kisses. He’ll help you wash your back while leaving soft pecks across your shoulder. It’s endearing, intimate and sweet.

Jason spends almost all night fighting and protecting people from the tragedies of Gotham. But when he comes home to you, you become his personal hero. You keep the disturbing thoughts away. With you, Jason always finds peace.

Jason can’t help but be clingy, he basks in your presence. Being with you feels as if he’s sitting under the safety of a large willow tree.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

꧁ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

w.c. › 3.8k

Plot › you end up winning a call to a camboy/sex worker, you watch a lot!! Though it’s a bit embarrassing learning you’re one of the few men in his usual audience. Based off this.

Warnings › gojo a bit cocky sometimes—this takes place in a normal world. Reader is 19, gojo is 25. Some… straight stuff mentioned cuz gojo fucks a girl during his streams, bi gojo agenda!!

Kinks › praise, size kink, (attempts at) dirty talk…

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

: ̗̀➛

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝

𝗦𝗶𝘅𝗲𝘆𝗲!

↳ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ

: ̗̀➛

No way. You just gasped in your coffee shop, literally as your coworker was calling for you to serve a cake to someone.

You were never a lucky person. Most and every thing you ever entered in a prize to win something, being money or an item, you never won. Never, not once. You had assumed you just was an unlucky guy in those type of things.

So when you applied for the giveaway for the chat, you did it just cause.

And you won!

You fucking won.

“(Name) if you don’t hurry up and serve this poor lady her cake!” Your coworker, Nobara screamed.

You rushed out with the cake and quickly gave the girl it, ignoring the glare she gave you for being so rushed. That didn’t matter! You had to tell Nobara. You practically sprinted to her and dragged her to the employee lounge.

“What is your problem?” She asked, pulling her arm away from your tight grip. “It’s like you were trying to rip my arm off…”

“Look, look!” You shoved your phone in her face, earning a tight glare as she snatched it out of your hands. Her eyes glanced over the screen as she mumbled to herself, reading the message. It took about thirty seconds before she seemed to understand what the fuck she was reading.

“Seriously? You got a free call with your favorite pornstar?” She placed your phone on the countertop and shuffled over to the fridge.

“You don’t understand! I hardly ever win giveaways!”

Nobara glanced back at you. “Okay, same here. Are you alright, (Name)? Are the toys not enough?” She asked with a fake sense of pity.

You glared at her. “The toys are just fine!”

“Sure, sure. Well, what do you get from the win?”

“Uh, a free thirty minute private chat.”

“She’s also a camgirl?”

“No… it’s a camboy.”

Nobara blinked. “Oh. So it’s a gay camboy.”

“Also.. no… he’s only fucked women on the videos he posted on Twitter..”

Nobara sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Let’s hope he’s not going to be upset a dude just won his giveaway.”

You panicked slightly, “wait, you think he’ll be upset?”

“Maybe not. But if I were you, I’d make sure to not show my face on camera or speak on the mic.” She said, patting you on the back before leaving the lounge.

Any sort of happiness basically dwindled. She was right. You didn’t know this guy and while realistically, he can’t do anything to hurt you… He could end up getting angry and disgusted you won his call when the majority of his fan base has always been women.

Reaching over, you grabbed your phone and looked at the email, wondering if it’d be worth it. Just as you were about to email back that you couldn’t do it—you got a text message on your Twitter.

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 :

↳ Did you get the email?

You fainted.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“You boys are so overdramatic.”

You can hear Nobara judging you. You feel the soft winds of someone fanning you, your head resting gently on their legs. With hesitance, you open your eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights blinding you.

Oh, it’s just Inumaki and Megumi.

Inumaki was the one holding your head on his lap while Megumi lazily fanned you with a makeshift paper fan. Megumi rolled his eyes once he noticed you were awake, moving to get up from the floor.

“Good?” Megumi asked, holding his hand out as he helped you get up.

‘We found you on the floor,’ Inumaki signed, getting up as well. ‘What happened?’

You pursed your lips, unsure if you wanted to tell them that you got shocked that a pornstar you’ve been following for over a year now messaged you. Nobara was heard stifling with laughter in the corner.

You quickly, and messily, signed that you were fine back to Inumaki. “Uh, just felt lightheaded. Y’know how the AC isn’t working well anymore.”

“Like those toys.” Nobara suddenly said.

‘Toys?’ Inumaki signed.

“You know what I mean, that emo boy of yours must use them too,” she said, ignoring the sudden blush on Inumkai’s face. Megumi groaned and moved to get his apron to begin his shift.

“Shut it, Nobara.” You whispered, glaring at her. She simply shrugged, smirking gleefully at the embarrassment she was bringing to you. You slipped out of your apron and placed it back, grabbing your bag as you began to clock out.

Inumaki and Megumi usually took over once you and Nobara were finished.

As you and Nobara left the cafe, she grinned mischievously at you. You looked straight ahead, not wanting to entertain her teasing.

“So, it couldn’t have been the email that you made you pass out like that. What was it?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullcrap!”

With a swiftness, your phone in your back pocket was gone. She easily dodged you as she began checking your phone, trying to see what had caused your fainting spell. Once she checked your notifications, she barked out a laugh.

“Oh he practically wants you! ‘Did you get the email?’ So desperate already,” she snickered, beginning to type something on your phone.

“Nobara?!”

After hitting send, she pushed your phone to your face, showing what she had just sent him.

𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚

↳ yes!!! <333

↳ Sorry, I was just so shocked I won!!!

What time are you thinking about?

“Mooniebunnie? What type of username…”

“I made it when I was like fourteen! Don’t judge.”

“Jeez, you’ve been on Twitter that long?”

“Nobara!!”

“Oh he responded.”

“Hah?!”

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚

↳ took you long enough.

↳ Saturday, 9 pm. I’ll only wait 5 minutes

↳ after the 30 minutes, you’re paying.

“Dick. The fucks his problem?”

“What’d he say?”

“You’d think he’s the one taking the dick up his ass.”

“Nobara..!”

“What? You can’t tell me this doesn’t come across as rude?”

She began typing for you again.

𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚

↳ just don’t disappoint me, 4 inch

↳ kisses <3

“Nobara?! What the hell?!”

“Hey, he started it. Anyway, your date is in two days. Good thing you don’t have a roommate anymore.”

You glared at her as she handed you back your phone. He didn’t seem to text back after that—only having a note that he certainly did read Nobara’s text. But to him, it was your text.

Gosh, you really didn’t want him to hate you.

But Nobara was right, he did seem a bit rude over text. Maybe he just texts a bit harsh but in person is nice.

Though it honestly felt you were creating excuses in your head at this point.

After splitting ways, you made it home to your small apartment. It was comfortable enough so you didn’t complain. Especially since it was in a good area. Nobara and her roommate, Maki, weren’t so lucky in the area they lived in.

Though it seemed like the burglaries that were happening there had finally slowed down.

Decorated in second hand items and anything you stole from your ex boyfriend and mother, your apartment was homey enough. The good thing was that you got an amazing view of the sunset in your room every afternoon.

The kitchen, dining, and living room was essentially just one full room. You had a foldable table to bring out whenever you ate dinner. Your tv was taken from your ex boyfriend, which was why it was so brand new compared to everything else.

You only have two other rooms. The master bedroom with an attached bathroom, and a small, small bedroom. You practically just made it an extra closet space because it was just too cramped to be in there for long period of times.

Especially with the fact it only had a small tiny square window all the way close to the ceiling.

It was after 8 p.m. when you plopped down onto your bed, finishing your daily home tasks. Washing the dishes, warming up dinner, watching a BL drama while crying in loneliness, and now—masturbation time.

You scrolled your phone, wondering if you should wank it out to some random twitter videos or go to the cam website.

Just as you were about to pull up your list of comfort gay videos, a notification rang on your phone.

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 ➤ ❝a creamy fill❞

Your fingers moved lightning speed. A bit embarrassing, really. Slipping off your boxers, you reached over and grabbed your lube, squirting a good amount on your fingers.

Despite him constantly fucking girls—you always watched. Something about him was captivating, even though you never saw his face. The girls face was almost always shown. But like always, the comments are filled with girls saying they love him.

The video started out with the girl in his lap, withering as his fingers spread her pussy open, his other hand resting comfortably on her throat. The only sliver of emotion you could see from him, was the small angle of his lips in frame.

Like always, he was smirking.

You never really enjoyed the beginning of his videos, since it focused heavily on getting the girl to cum from oral sex. Which was good for the girls—but not for you.

So, you usually focused on getting yourself ready for your dildo.

It was one you bought on a whim. But you had never meant for it to be so large, a length of seven, more so eight, inches. You would’ve thrown the thing out if it wasn’t the only dildo you had.

And there was no way you were going to go back to that sex store and get a new one.

You tuned them out for a few minutes, focusing on stretching yourself. It was always tedious, wishing it was someone else doing it for you. Just as you felt ready enough for your dildo, you finally glanced back at your phone.

The girl was now screaming, in pleasure, as he slammed his hips against her ass. It harsh and unforgiving—leaving the girl no chance to stay still. They were in a doggy style position, her face right up to the camera as she mewled and cried.

His grip was on her waist, pulling her back whenever she tried to pull away a bit in a way to slow it down.

“That’s a good girl.”

Boner gone.

You groaned. You loved hearing his voice, he sounded hot. But you hated it whenever he used that fucking word. Any type of “girl” or even more feminine terms always made you lose your boner.

There was nothing else you could really do at that point.

That’s why you mainly watched his solo streams.

With a huff, you placed your dildo back in its drawer and turned off your phone just as the girl reached her climax.

This guy was obviously straight…

You were really wondering if it’d be worth it.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Ready for your big day, (Name)?”

‘What big day?’

You quickly glared at Nobara, hoping she wouldn’t tell Inumaki anything. Inumaki looked a bit confused—mostly in why you were so angry.

Isn’t today supposed to be special?

“Oh, nothing. It’s just… Saturday, who doesn’t love a Saturday?”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a normal Saturday.’

“Mhm, not for our (L.Name) (Name) here.” She winked, obviously enjoying the flushed look on your face.

The entire shift was spent with Nobara making innuendos and Inumaki looking confused by the minute. It wasn’t until your shift was over, and Megumi and Itadori came, that Nobara seemed to just blurt it out to Inumaki.

“He won a call with his favorite pornstar!”

‘You have a favorite pornstar..?’

“Nobara!” You screamed, slapping your hand against her lips as she stared at you in triumph.

Looking back at Inumaki who didn’t seem to be judging you, just a bit perplexed. Which isn’t shocking. He has a fucking boyfriend—you doubted he needed to watch pornstars religiously to get his socks off.

You shrieked as Nobara licked your hand, forcing you to pull away and quickly wipe them off on your pants.

“Yeah! That’s what I said! Who has a favorite pornstar?!”

“Shut it!!”

Inumaki gave you a shrug, ‘no need to be embarrassed. We all have weird habits.’

Somehow that felt less comforting.

You signed back a thanks to Inumaki before turning your anger to Nobara. She willfully began whistling as she walked down the street, not paying you any mind.

In all honesty, you just hoped the call wouldn’t end up with you in tears.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚

↳ here’s the link.

↳ join in twenty minutes

Dick.

Nobara was right. With a huff, you set your busted laptop on the bed in front of you. It was a miracle this laptop could even come to life. As you were deep in thought, wondering if you were feeling brave enough to really join, you heard the sound of a ping.

It took a moment, but then you accepted the link, joining a private call with Sixeye.

It was his usual set up for his live streams. The sight of a wall decorated with bookshelves. You always just assumed it was an office room he had. He was dressed in a compression shirt and grey sweatpants.

Huh, he usually dressed nice for his cams because his fan girls loved seeing him in suits.

Something something daddy issues.

Guess you weren’t special enough for that.

“Guess you aren’t putting on your camera?”

You quickly typed a simple no. No way in hell were you showing this guy your face—no matter how many times you had cummed to his videos. A simple chuckle was heard. His camera was pointed solely at his chest and bottom half, his face no where in sight.

Which was natural, the most he ever showed was his lips.

Girls just went wild for a cool smirk or something.

“No requests? Usually you girls are quick to give me a whole script.” His laugh filled the room.

↳ Just act natural

You type, hoping that was enough to make him get straight into it. He was quiet for a moment, as if he was reading your text. It seemed he took your words to heart as he pulled down his sweatpants and his cock plopped out, resting against his stomach.

“Alright, just want a quick fap then.”

He reached down and rubbed his tip, teasing the slit as he slowly began jacking himself off. His cock was large, maybe around seven inches? It was similar to your dildo. His hands were big too. Gosh, everything about him was big.

He was definitely the one who helped you figure out your size kink.

The only sound by now was his soft grunts and his hand jerking off his cock. You slipped off your boxers and easily slipped in three fingers inside of yourself, having stretched it out a bit earlier. Now, you were just trying to get yourself excited.

You reached down to your laptop, moving it a bit further so you could get comfortable on the bed with more leg room. Your fingers rubbed against your prostate, teasing it just the way you wanted.

Your moans were always on the more high pitched side, almost sounding similar to a girl when you reached your orgasm. So it was something you were a bit self conscious of. But being alone in your own home, you didn’t hold back.

Rubbing against your prostate, your toes curled as you whimpered and bucked into your own hand. You tried to push back any feeling of disappointment that it wasn’t someone else making you feel this way.

“Changed your…mind, baby?”

“Ngh..?”

You opened your eyes and glanced back down at your laptop.

Oh god.

Your fucking mic was on!!!!

You screamed out, quickly clasping your mouth shut as you stared at the screen in horror. He heard you. He heard every little gasp and whimper you had made. How long had he heard you?

Why didn’t he fucking say anything?

“Screamer, huh? Noted.”

He teased. Even without seeing his face, you knew he was smirking.

“You….why didn’t you tell me?” You muttered, glaring at the screen.

But he didn’t answer. He seemed quiet for a moment. You watched as his hand stuttered on his cock. What? Did your voice sound that terrible?

“Speak.”

“Wha..?” You whispered, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Speak now. Loud and clear.”

You hated how authoritative he sounded. It felt like you couldn’t just no respond to his command.

“Uhm… why didn’t you tell me…?” You spoke louder, allowing your mic to pick up your voice this time. You thought maybe he just didn’t hear you.

“Shit. You’re a guy?”

With a brave face, you huffed. “Judging me?”

“No. Fucking finally.”

You felt yourself blush. He was… excited? He began stroking his cock again but this time, with more vulgarity. It was like he was actually turned on by you. You felt your own cock twitch.

Someone… interested… in you?

You grabbed your dildo that rested beside you on the bed, rubbing it against your hole. Any sort of self consciousness you felt with your moaning was thrown out the window as you didn’t hold anything back. Fuck it if you regretted it later.

Right now, you’re going to enjoy it.

As your dildo began stretching you full, you glanced at the button that would turn your camera on. This was a one time thing…

He’d never see you again…

Fuck it.

“Well aren’t you adorable..? Fuck, how big is it?”

“Seven… inches.” You whispered, feeling embarrassed about showing yourself. Your sweating body, flushed face, watery eyes, and your cock leaking on your tummy. You were glad you didn’t see his face…

So you didn’t have to know if he actually found you cute.

“Always the cute ones.” His laugh sounded strained, a soft huff following it as he continued teasing his tip. “Like it big, huh? Stretching you until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Didn’t.. mean to… get it so big.” You moaned, slowly teasing the dildo inside. Your camera was angled right between your legs, showing him the entire picture of the dildo slowly inching inside your puckered hole.

You arched your back, gasping once it finally reached its hilt, stuffing you full.

“Keep looking at the camera.”

You hadn’t even noticed you couldn’t be seen anymore. Moving around a bit, your face finally showed back on the camera. And you got a good sight of just how fucked out you looked just from a damn dildo.

“Good boy.” He whispered. “Y’know… I always put on a show for you guys—it’s time you do the same, hm?”

If you weren’t already itching for an orgasm, you would’ve ended the call immediately out of embarrassment. But you couldn’t back down now.

So, you moved to rest against your headboard, bringing in your laptop to get a good view of your face and ass. Tightening your grip on your dildo, you began thrusting it in and out, keeping a fast pace.

Your hips moved against the pace, your thoughts filled with the desire of a real cock fucking you. His hand gripping your waist, bouncing you on his cock like a toy just for his pleasure. But you had to deal with this pisspoor dildo.

The sound of squelching, your moans, and his grunts filled the room. You were so close, wishing to moan his name but no way in hell were you going to moan his fucking username.

“W…wan..na…moan..name..” you barely sputtered out, your moans betraying you whenever you tried to speak a full sentence. A cry left your throat when the dildo brushed against your prostate. You quickly made sure to continuously hit that area, your moans reaching higher in pitch.

Your orgasm was close.

You suddenly heard him grunt loudly. When you glanced at the camera, you saw his grip tighten as cum spurted onto his shirt. Did your moans…?

Not wanting to feel any misplaced confidence, you pushed the thought away. No way did your moans make him cum.

The sound of shuffling caught your attention as you saw him reach for his camera.

And then—

The camera was on his fucking face.

His lips turned up into a smirk, his eyes staring straight into yours. Blue eyes and white hair. It looked soft even though the camera.

You came.

You fucking came.

Man, maybe those girls were right about smirks being sexy…

Your toes curled as you arched your back, gripping the bedsheets as your cock came all over your stomach. The only sound left was the sound of your heavy breathing as you tried to calm down—having never orgasmed that intensely before.

“Did you… cum from seeing my face?”

He sounded so fucking cocky.

“Bye!” You yelled, slamming your laptop shut.

You totally did.

You sat in your room for about two minutes before screaming in embarrassment. No way in hell could you ever watch his streams again!!! You came!! You came from seeing his face!!

God….

That was embarrassing…

At least you would never interact with him again.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“No way! From his face?!”

Nobara screamed laughing, her cackling echoing in the empty cafe. You could only focus on putting the cakes on display, trying to ignore the embarrassment in your heart.

“Gosh! Megumi! You heard about—”

“Don’t bring me into this.” He answered bluntly.

It had been a few days now since the… incident. You had blocked Sixeye’s account and haven’t watched any of his streams or videos ever since. It was just too embarrassing to watch them without thinking on how you came just from seeing his face.

But you kept thinking, why did he show his face?

It wasn’t like you were anything special. As the three of you continued getting the cafe ready for opening, Nobara continued making fun of you at any given chance. Megumi seemed to be in his own mind.

You had went to the back to grab some cups for the lattes and when you came back to the front, Megumi and Nobara were already speaking to some guy. He looked pretty tall, practically towering over Nobara.

But his back was facing you so you didn’t know who it was.

“Why are you even here?” Megumi asked, glaring at the stranger.

“Oh! Aren’t you Megumi’s friend?” Nobara questioned.

“Don’t insult me like that,” Megumi rolled his eyes before grunting as the stranger wrapped his arm around his neck.

“Aah~ Megumi~~ don’t be like that! I heard the cakes here were good. Can’t I try them??? Hm~?” The stranger teased, laughing slightly.

“Get off, you’re not getting a discount.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one… but now that you mentioned it~”

Nobara laughed, “no wonder you called him a blue eyed freak! He’s so annoying.”

“Megumi?!”

Megumi shrugged. “I’ve called you worse in my head. (Name), take Gojo’s order before I kick him out.”

Gojo huffed before finally turning over to face you. Your eyes widened once you finally got a good look of him. It…

Sixeye?!

The cup you were holding were slipping out of your hands as Gojo tilted his head, eyes narrowing at your face before widening in recognition. A grin appeared on his lips.

“Today’s my lucky day, huh?”

It definitely wasn’t yours.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Oop? Yall want a part 2? It’s so hard writing phone/facetime sex… I praise those who write it constantly lmao

Tag list: @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @remdayz @tehyunnie @flurrina @rhetorical-conscience @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @love-kha1 @star-3214 @smellwell @ofclyde @the-ultimate-librarian @teyvat-writer

[silentheiss]

It starts with Shang Qinghua, as many unpleasant things do.

“Come on, Cucumber-bro,” He whines, lying on Shen Qingqiu’s floor and eating Shen Qingqiu’s snacks. “Do you have to go? You promised you’d read my draft, remember?”

“I do.” Shen Qingqiu says. “And I will. Later. I promised I’d help Binghe with his hair before he has to leave for his trip today.”

“You gotta get all the way back to the demon realm just to do his hair before he leaves again?”

“Yes.”

“Aw, bro. I’m sorry.”

Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan shut. He doesn’t like his tone.

“Why?”

“What?” Shang Qinghua blinks up at him from his position on the floor.

“Why are you sorry?” Shen Qingqiu repeats, slowly.

“Well, because you have to interrupt your evening to placate my clingy son?”

Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure what exactly about Airplane’s wording bothers him so much, but he doesn’t let it stop his ire.

“You think I prefer your company to my husband’s?” He hisses. Shang Qinghua sits up abruptly.

“Oh, shit, bro.” He mumbles, sounding apologetic. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you love him and all.”

Does he? Not that Shen Qingqiu cares, of course, but- does he?

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it was hard to miss with all the rage comments and well, uh. Suicides?” Shang Qinghua laughs awkwardly and Shen Qingqiu opens his fan once again. “It’s just that I get that it must be hard for you to put up with his quirks sometimes?”

What quirks! Shen Qingqiu grips his fan tighter. Sure, Binghe can get a bit sticky and is prone to crying, but what’s so quirky about it? And who’s talking! As if Mobei-jun is a completely normal choice of a partner. Shen Qingqiu scoffs and moves to stand up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He snaps. “Binghe’s perfectly normal. I enjoy spending time with him.”

“Of course you do.” Shang Qinghua nods hurriedly, also scrambling up to his feet. “Don’t be mad, Cucumber-bro. I didn’t mean to offend you!”

Shen Qingqiu know that. He didn’t mean to offend him, no. He meant to commiserate. Because, apparently, he thinks Shen Qingqiu must be tired of Luo Binghe.

“I’m leaving.” He says and promptly turns around and walks out of his own house. Binghe wouldn’t like it that he left his martial uncle in bamboo house unsupervised, but it’s either that or beating Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu hasn’t yet formulated a reason inside his buzzing and spluttering mind for why he needs to do that.

Shen Qingqiu is still trying to understand what exactly about the conversation with Shang Qinghua addles him so much as he walks towards the designated meeting spot. Luo Binghe should be there soon to pick him up and take them both to the underground palace. When they last talked – just that night, in a shared dream – Luo Binghe asked if he could visit Shen Qingqiu in their bamboo house as he has some free time before he has to continue on his business, but Shen Qingqiu wanted to be alone with his husband for the short time that they would have, and he’s rarely left alone while on Qing Jing Peak.

“Shizun!” He hears, as almost reaches the stairs. He slows down, allowing Ning YingYing to catch up to him, but doesn’t stop completely. Binghe might already be waiting.

“What is it, YinYing?” He asks, smiling indulgently at his disciple.

“Why is Shizun leaving?” Ning YingYing pouts. “Didn’t he say that he’ll stay for a few days more?”

“Your Shizun will be back shortly.” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes, but his smile is still present. See, Airplane-bro? All his disciples are sticky! Luo Binghe is not worse than anyone else. Well, if only just a little. “This Shizun just has a meeting with your shidi.”

“Ah, A-Luo is back? When will this one get to see him?”

“Luo Binghe is very busy, so he won’t be coming to Qing Jing Peak just yet.” Shen Qingqiu says, stopping at the top of the stairs and looking downward. Binghe isn’t there yet.

“So he’s stealing Shizun all to himself?” Ning YingYing pouts again, but this time her eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Isn’t A-Luo the sweetest?”

And then it dawns on Shen Qingqiu. He quickly sends Ning YingYing back and starts his trip down the stairs, lost in thought. He’s taking Shizun all to himself. You have to interrupt your evening to placate my clingy son. They say it as if it wasn’t Shen Qingqiu who insisted on meeting somewhere else, so they could be alone. As if he didn’t insist on being interrupted whenever Luo Binghe had a minute to spare during his trip.

Because even if they know that Shen Qingqiu cares for Luo Binghe, they are certain that Luo Binghe cares for him more. More to the point of being annoying, even?

Shen Qingqiu sees red. He’s furious with Airplane, of course, because he started it, but most of all he’s furious at himself. Sure, he isn’t as shameless as his husband to declare his love left and right, but did he really let his cold and aloof facade lead people to believe that he is not madly in love with his husband?

Did he lead Luo Binghe to believe that, too?

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t notice the stairs end and almost stumbles, when his foot meets the ground sooner than he anticipated. A strong arm catches him around the waist.

“Shizun.” His husband breathes out and draws him closer, hugging him as if they’ve been apart for months instead of days. Shen Qingqiu is frozen in his arms.

That’s it, isn’t it? Luo Binghe never hesitates to show his feelings. But Shen Qingqiu’s thin face is not an indicator that he loves his husband less! It’s just that-

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe leans away, arms still circling his waist. His brow is furrowed, just a bit. Starry eyes are already watering from Shen Qingqiu's lack of response. How on earth could someone not love this man with their whole heart?

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu says, unable to hold the question back a moment longer. “Do you think you love me more than I love you?”

Luo Binghe’s arms drop. He takes a stumbling step back. His perfect, beautiful face freezes completely, not showing a single emotion. A second later tears start rolling down his cheeks.

“Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu takes his husband’s hand and squeezes lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Shizun said-” Binghe chokes, still looking at him without as much as blinking. “He said he loves…?”

Then, the dam breaks and Luo Binghe starts sobbing in earnest. Shit. Has he ever said the L word before? Shen Qingqiu swears on his own grave – on all of his graves – to never let the shame overtake him again.

“So, you do?” He asks, heartbroken and ashamed. He truly is an abominable husband.

“I do!” Binghe cries. “Of course I do. How can there be a love greater than my love for Shizin?”

How? Shen Qingqiu would love for Luo Binghe to see his old room right now. That’d show him how.

“What about my love, huh?” He snaps, fighting an urge to stomp his foot. “Why can’t it be greater?”

Binghe must realize his mistake. He hastily wipes his face and shakes his head.

“Of course this one knows Shizun cares for him! Shizun’s shown this one so much kindness, has been so generous, and-”

“No!” Shen Qingqiu feels his cheeks grow hot. “I don’t just care for you. I love you. I love my husband.”

Luo Binghe stares at him and doesn’t say anything for a very long time.

“Shizun?” He says, finally. “Did you happen to come across any interesting plants recently?”

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“I’m not under any influence!” Shen Qingqiu huffs.

“Do you mind if I…?”

“Go for it.”

A second later Shen Qingqiu feels the blood parasites start fretting. It’s not the most pleasant feeling, but if it’ll make his husband stop humiliating him, he’ll take it happily.

“Shizun is healthy.” Luo Binghe says dumbly. “But then why would he say that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Shen Qingqiu cries. “Why is it so hard to believe? Why do everybody, including my own husband, keep suggesting that I don’t feel as strongly about Binghe as Binghe does about me?”

“Did Liu Qingge say something?” Luo Binghe asks, eyes narrowing.

“No!” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “But I’m sure he would, if he had a chance. Because apparently, I don’t look in love!”

Luo Binghe’s face is quite red, Shen Qingqiu notices.

“But they’ll see.” He continues. “Ang you! You’ll see too, Binghe.”

“I’ll see?”

“Yes.” Shen Qingqiu nods decidedly. He knows how to fanboy, okay? Binghe’s cooking and fretting and gift lavishing won’t stand a chance against Shen Qingqiu’s skill. “Take me home this instant. I have posters to paint.”

“Posters?”

“Now, Binghe!”

Luo Binghe squeaks and reaches for Xin Mo. Shen Qingqiu jumps through the portal before it even fully opens.

[velvrei]

request: can you do nsfw alphabet with logan howlett?

yes i can! accidentally deleted the request but i’ll just do it here :3

logan howlett nsfw alphabet (18+)

smut alphabet below the cut!! read at your own risk lovelies!!

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

logan is secretly a big teddy bear when it comes to you. call me unrealistic i don’t care. he loves you, and will take care of you until his last breath. after sex, he loves to make sure you’re all cleaned up and satisfied with everything before you fall asleep.

he never falls asleep first. him being older, he still believes in certain gentlemanly rules when it comes to you and the main one is him taking care of you after sex. like GOOD care. getting a wash cloth to clean you up, making you food if you’re hungry, getting you water, some new comfy clothes, watching a show after. all of it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

logan is a big thigh guy. he loves every thing about you but if you were to ask him straight up, he’d say your thighs. he loves using them as pillows, smacking them, grabbing them, everything. he especially loves when they’re around his head.

his favorite thing about himself is probably either his abs or his arms. that was what he always liked about himself the most, but when you came along, and he noticied how much you loved his physique, it only motivated him to keep it that way.

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

okay so logan is actually FILTHY when it cums to cum (ha). when you cum on his face, he will lick every last drop. no matter where you cum, he will taste it any chance he can.

he loves to cum inside of you (if allowed) otherwise like the fucking filthy dog he is he loves to see his cum all over you, especially on your face. he loves to cum on your thighs too. and your stomach. and ass. and back. basically anywhere.

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

god logan had quite a few dirty secrets. he loves using things during sex. like handcuffs, whether you cuff him or he cuffs you, blindfolds. (he loves to be blindfolded but also loves when you are too)

he would never actually admit this but the thought of you taking care of him every once in a while makes him so desperate for you. every once in a while he just wants to be taken care of. he’s mostly dominant but sometimes wants to be taken care of like a sub.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

this man is on the older side so it’s no secret that he has experience. bring up anything he’s never heard before though, he will definitely research it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

logan is a SUCKER when he gets to see your face during sex. he lives missionary, cowgirl, anything where he can see your pretty face and how good he’s making you feel. he absolutely loves the affect he has on you and wants to see it any chance it can.

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

logan is a goofy guy but not when it comes to sex. when you guys make love, he tries to keep it intimate and serious. obviously, if something happens, like he accidentally slides out of you, or something falls, he’ll chuckle when necessary. but he loves the intimate nature and will keep it that way if he is able to.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

yeah everybody saw that shirt rip off scene. he’s obviously not clean shaven, but he definitely keeps himself trimmed. he has hair almost everywhere though, we’ve seen most places, but when it comes to his dick, he has a good amount of hair at the base, and if he were to shave it it would grow back within a few days, so he kind of gave up on fully shaving and just decided to trim it. hair is normal anyway, he just always makes sure it’s clean & trimmed so it’s not long at all.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

god logan is such a sucker for intimacy. he loves fucking you slow, just to make eye contact with you, and watch you fall apart for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

logan is a bit of a perv when it comes to you. before the two of you first had sex, he would be jerking off every other day to the thought of you because he didn’t want to rush your pace on when you wanted to have sex.

now that you’ve had sex, he only jerks off when he’s not physically around you. like he would be more than willing to walk to you if it’s within a mile if that meant having sex with you. however, if you’re farther, he grabs his polaroid of you he keeps in his wallet and jerks off to it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

there’s so many it’s probably just better for me to list them.

- if you’re into it, he wouldn’t mind being called daddy but it’s not something that NEEDS to happen for him to get off

- he honestly had a bit of a choking kink, mostly him choking you, but if one night you were in control and you choked him? he’s cumming instantly

- he secretly loves handcuffs and when you use them on him. he loves using them on you as well, but he prefers for you to use them on him.!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

literally anywhere. wherever you guys are. it does not matter. his favorite is the bed however he loves the idea of getting caught and the thrill makes him hard.

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

literally anything you do gets him going. because it’s you. you’re his woman.

he loves when you take care of him even if it’s the smallest thing such as cooking or cleaning. he fucking loves it. he often gets off to the thought of you being the mom to his kids one day.!

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

i don’t see logan doing anything with another person. whether it’s a 3sum or polyamory. what’s his is his. you’re his and he doesn’t want to share that, let alone let someone else fuck you.

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

logan loves both. he loves the sight of you on your knees for him, so he can cum on your face or in your mouth. he has no preference.

logan is a god a pussy eating lemme tell you. hands wrapped around your thighs, loving how you’re squirming, he’ll occasionally throw in “where you going, baby?” when you try to squirm.

eating you out gets him off and he loves it. he’s such a messy eater too. he’ll use his nose, tongue, lips, anything he has to to get you off from his touch.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

logan is usually fast and rough; perhaps this is how he displays his sincere love for you. when he fucks you really hard, prepare to be unable to walk the next day. when he is slow and sensuous, it is usually to torment and punish you slowly, while the heat between your thighs spreads more and faster. "slower? what did you say? speak up bub?”

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

logan doesn’t mind quickies but he prefers slow and sexual sex with you rather than rushing it. however, his mindset is you gotta do what you gotta do.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

god the idea of getting caught turns logan on SO MUCH. he has literally jerked off to the thought before. he imagines, some guy he’s jealous of walking in on the two of you fucking. then imagines you moaning extra loud so that way the guy KNOWS you’re his. logan is an animal.

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

hey so this man is actually over 200 years old basically so he can last as long as he really wants to!

he will never push your limits though (unless it’s a consensual punishment) but if you’re done, you’re done. except for the occasional overstimulation which you both love but, if you’re really tapped out for the night he can tell and he will listen and do whatever you need.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

logan doesn’t own any toys aside from handcuffs and blindfolded if they even count. he wouldn’t be opposed to using a toy on you though if you had one. using the vibrator on you and talking you through it is definitely something he could get behind.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s SUCH A TEASE. logan absolutely loves teasing you, just so when he pulls down your underwear to see how wet you got just from his teasing. he’ll purposely tease you to the max, rub you through your underwear, all of that. he absolutely loves teasing you and something it has you in tears. when he sees that he will either keep going with your consent or stop and finally give you what you want.

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

logan is very vocal in the talking aspect. he loves telling you filthy words during sex, when it comes to moans and grunts, he’s decently loud too. maybe the occasional whimper if he’s close to his climax. when you’re in charge though, on the very rare occasion, he’s a whiny mess.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

as i mentioned before, logan loves the idea of you being in charge every once in a while. not only does it give him a break but you take care of him and he always struggles not to fall fast asleep right after.

you taking care of him is something that has always turned him on, another various thing he’s: jerked off to.

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

logan is the type of guy, if asked about his dick size, he’d be the one who would just brush off the question and secretly have a huge dick under those pants. it’s not something he boasts about, but he loves seeing how crazy it makes you especially the first time you see it.

he’s probably a good 7 inches soft, little over 8 inches when he’s hard. when he’s hard he has veins prominent in his dick, and there’s a little bit of hair followed by his happy trail.

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

his sex drive is extremely high. however, he will match yours regardless. whenever you’re horny, he’s probably horny too. if not it doesn’t take much for him to get there.

his drive mostly depends on you, because you’re the thing he cares about most.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

as i said at the beginning, he doesn’t fall asleep until you’re asleep and comfortable. he makes sure everything is good with you before he can comfortably doze off.

[certifiedfreec]

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that ghost took an interest in you…

- one time you were showing him something on the computer, and he took that massive 6’4” body of his and leaned it right over your shoulder to read the screen. as if that wasn’t close enough, he rested one of his big ‘ol calloused hands on the desk beside you, effectively caging you into your seat. you could practically feel the warmth that radiated off of him when he did that. (he really likes the smell of your shampoo, by the way.)

- he watched you make your coffee one morning, memorizing your order down to the number of sugar packets you used. after that, you’d head down to make your morning cup and all the exact ingredients would mysteriously be laid out on the counter for you. he’d pick on you later about drinking coffee instead of tea, though. maybe he’ll make you a cup for you to try- back in his own office, of course ;)

- everyone in tf141 knows you’re a perfectly capable soldier, so they think it’s odd that ghost always finds ways to provide extra backup for you during missions. guarding you from danger, making sure your area is clear of threats…he can’t help but want to protect and take care of his fellow teammate, though he has a list of other ways he’d like to take care of you :’)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that keegan took an interest in you…

- he saw your phone screen after training one day, immediately zeroing in on the artist you were listening to. later that evening he casually brings up the exact same band/person, because he’s coincidentally one of their biggest fans! maybe he’ll ask you to go to one of their shows when you’re off duty… looks like you’ve found yourself a concert buddy ;)

- he bullies you, but it’s with the best intentions. it’s more like him relentlessly nagging at you until you match his snarky energy and give him some sass back, which he loves to provoke from you. you always have the best comebacks when he uses his dry humor on you, and he thinks it’s adorable. he definitely likes to push your buttons, but he’d like to undo them even more <3

- ever since he revealed your “shared love” for your favorite artist, he sends you music recommendations for you to listen to (that will hopefully make you think of him whenever you hear them!). pay attention to the lyrics, because he might be trying to tell you something with them… :))

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that graves took an interest in you…

- if you have any snacks or candy on you, he’s nonchalantly stepping right beside you and doing that “underhand-behind-the-back” gesture for you to shake some into his palm. (sometimes he imagines that’s what your lips taste like- omg who said that???)

- he let you wear his jacket during an operation where you were in the freezing cold outside for an extensive amount of time. he watched you shiver through your orders, trying your best to be a good soldier for him :( he walked up to you and draped his shadow company jacket over your shoulders (which smelled deliciously like him) and flashed you that toothy grin. “you look like you’re ‘bout to get frostbite, soldier. take this.” (he was definitely thinking of some other ways that he could warm you up…)

- he took his time when he read through your file, and wow, it looks like your city’s professional football team rivals his. it’s the perfect way to initiate banter with you. he’ll be giving you a hard time about it for sure, and maybe he’ll make some interesting bets with you depending on how well the season’s going ;)

[after-witch]

Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You're taken as bait, but will Geto even bother? Companion piece to Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader (er, twice?); violence against reader; some non-graphic blood and violence 

There is a thin line separating your world at all times. It might be white or gold or every color under the sun, but it doesn’t matter, because you are the only one who can see it. The only one who knows what categories fall on either side of this decisive line. 

On one side, there is something like comfort to be found. Something like acceptance. It is the world where you sit quietly when Geto tells you to be with him; the world where your heart flutters when he asks you to comb through his hair, or undress him for the day, or bring him his meal. A world where you are his good pet, and that is enough.

But on the other side, there is only one singular certainty:

He will get bored of you.

He will no longer find your compliance endearing. He will kill you, or discard you on the streets, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You’ve never been able to decide how much of his behavior towards you is actually endearment, and how much is a vague interest in the novelty of your compliance. Maybe it’s pointless to decide, because that thought always comes in cold and creeping: you’ll be gone, in a flash, like a wayward candle left on in the night. Dead or alive but without him, and isn’t that just about the same thing?

That thought slithers its way around you even in some of your best moments. When he pats the cushion behind him--a cushion, instead of the bare floor--and instructs you to comb out his hair for the evening. When the water is warm and your bodies are wet and close, and afterwards, you smell almost the same. At least for the night.

He’ll get bored of you, that reality hisses, and that will be that. Not even the twins could save you, if they were so inclined. You’re not sure if they would be, if it came down to Geto wanting to be rid of you. Sometimes, they are warm--sitting with you, reading with you, tending to you. Asking for your opinion like you are, perhaps, a person after all. At other times, they keep to themselves; watch you with something that might be wariness.

Nanako and Mimiko are the reason you are here, under his thumb, at his feet. They saw you and wanted you--like a mother, you think, when you’re feeling sentimental--and they got what they wanted. Geto told you this, once, your knees banging against the floor from where he dropped you like a bad dog. 

And you don’t think he’s lying. Even here, now, in the sitting room with the girls, they seem to still like you overall. 

Still.

If Geto wanted you to go away, you would.

And it’s this sole thought that pushes past the primal surge of adrenaline that comes when a rough bag is suddenly, crudely shoved down over your head.

He’s getting rid of me.

Over your heartbeat, though, you hear sounds that don’t match up with those bitter thoughts that whispered at your back for ages.

It’s not Geto in the room; not Geto who put a bag over your head.

The girls are shouting something--a yelp of surprise?--and there are too many strange voices, too many conflicting sounds. Someone’s fumbling with your arms, and you can feel the scratch of rope, but something about that awful yelp from one of the girls gives you the strength to shove them aside, to rip the bag off your head.

Strangers. There are strangers in the room. Strange men wearing black face masks, with their arms on the girls, rough and cruel. They’re carrying rope, too--to tie them up? To take them? To hurt them?

No. No.

You don’t have a plan. You don’t have the time or ability to think of one. Your body simply launches itself at the men, who aren’t expecting it, who trip and stumble when  you throw your entire body weight against them to get them away from the girls.

“Run!” Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

And the girls--oh, it makes your heart feel fuzzy--hesitate to leave you. But then they grip each other’s hands and run away. The sight makes your heart soar, for a moment. 

They’re safe. They’ll get to Geto, and be safe.

And you--

You grunt against a stinking cloth shoved over your mouth and nose, and inhale a sharp, pungent scent that makes you gag. You blink against the coming grayness as you fall to your knees. Unconsciousness doesn’t come swiftly, and there’s an uncomfortable dizziness as your hands are tied behind your back, and someone hoists you roughly over their shoulder.

You can just make out what one of them says before you pass out--

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just--just grab her instead. He must like her, to let her around those kids.”

--

The sensation when the world gradually returns to you is a familiar one: you’ve been tied up. But instead of soft silks tightly pinning you to the bed, or winding around your body only to be hidden by your layers of clothing, it’s rough rope that keeps you bound to a cold metal chair.

The room that you’re in, when your eyesight returns with a blurry fog, is not Geto’s comfortable apartments but a bare room with concrete walls. The only decorations are--the realization comes with a dull acceptance--bloodstains against the wall, on the floor.

Ah.

This is where you die.

A sound--muffled, still, but a jarring screen all the same--makes you jerk your head. It’s another metal chair. But the person sitting in this one isn’t tied up--it’s a man, wearing a gray suit and puffing a cigarette that glows in the dimly lit space.

“Wakey, wakey.” 

He blows a puff of gray cigarette smoke into your face, and you cough, throat acidic and burning. 

It takes you some time to realize that it’s certainly one of the men who took you, who wanted to take--and maybe there is some justice in the world, because it seems they got away--the girls. There’s a bandage on his face and a vague memory comes back to you; your own hand reaching across his face, clawing at him with your carefully trimmed nails. 

There are other men behind him, quiet, watching the two of you with their hands folded. There are probably countless of these men, waiting for orders, in the rest of the building. 

“You hear me yet? Or are you still all fucked up?” His eyes narrow; his voice is gruff, no-nonsense. There’s some grit behind it. You wonder how much of his gruffness is because their plans were thwarted, and how much is because you managed to get a good dig into his flesh. Maybe both. 

Your lips part, and you feel a film of stickiness keeping your mouth together peeling as you lick the inside to give yourself some sort of moisture. Your voice comes out hoarse and dry, despite your efforts.

“I… can hear you.” 

Your hands flex from their bound position behind your back, pressed harshly against the chair. There’s no way to get out of this, not on your own. And you are on your own, because Geto would not bother getting you from here. 

You can imagine what happened as clearly as anything, despite the lingering effects of whatever drug they used on you.

The girls would run immediately to Geto, and tell him what happened. He would look them over to make sure they weren’t hurt. He would ask who attacked them, how many, what they looked like, and if they could remember any other identifiers. Then he would probably think back to who might have done this… someone with a grudge? Some enemy he’s made? 

It would only be then that he would realize the girls said you had been taken, and he would sigh. Perhaps he'd be annoyed that he lost his pet, but that would be the end of that. It would be too much of a hassle to get you, too much of a bother. He’d need a plan and perhaps men to back him up and heaven knows you weren’t worth…

Your head snaps to the side, pain blossoming on your cheek, as the gruff voice huffs out from above you.

He slapped you.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?”

You’re not trying to be distracted. Really. It would be better to stay focused, since you’re going to die here. Maybe you can think about your life from before all this, that would surely be a more pleasant ending than spending your last moments dwelling on Geto leaving you here.

“Sorry,” you say, out of reflex, more than anything.

The man sighs and runs a scarred hand over his hair. He takes another puff of his cigarette. 

“I said, you’re our bait for that greedy sorcerer. Once he shows up, we’ll do this on our terms, and our boss’ll get his curse removed in exchange for keeping your pretty little head intact.”

You don’t mean to do it, you swear you don’t. The reaction comes from deep inside you, from that part of you that’s been stepping over the line where you know that you’ll eventually be discarded by the man who took over your life.

Your lips quirk. And then, from your stomach, into your chest, it happens: you laugh. A harsh, almost braying sound that bounces off the bloodied concrete walls. 

The man’s face contorts, and perhaps he might hit you again, but there’s something freeing in this moment that makes you not care. What’s another slap to the face, when your blood will spray the flat end of those walls before the night is over? Whenever they realize that Geto won’t be coming for you, that you’re the worst bait they could have possibly chosen.

That you’re simply a pet that’s more trouble than you’re worth. 

The feeble jerk your body makes when he screeches his chair back and gets in your face, hot cigarette dangling from his lips, is reflexive. You’re not scared of him, or what he might do--you’ve faced far worse.

Spittle hits your sore cheek when he growls out--

“What the fuck is so funny?” 

You don’t tell him--

What’s so fucking funny is that they think Geto will actually come for you. That he’ll deign to respond to their blackmail, the heavy presumption of it all, just to rescue you.

A trinket. A pet. A toy.

You smile, and wait to die.

--

Surprises are not something Geto particularly enjoys, unless they end up working to his advantage. And there is a keen sense, as he picks up the sudden sounds of scuffles and running feet and shouts, that this is not going to be a surprise he welcomes.

Something in him turns dull and heavy when he sees the girls running down the hall, hair askew, missing the smiles they often sport around him--instead, their faces are etched in worry, fear, and a terrible sort of uncertainty that he hasn’t seen in them in years.

Everything connects together like an unwanted puzzle. The sounds of a scuffle. The girls with their gasping breaths, their flailing limbs, words that tumble out together like spilled marbles--

“They took her.”

Her.

You.

You, whom he expected to find sitting quietly, sweetly, with Nanako and Mimiko when he returned to you in an hour or two. Yet everything was wrong. Topsy-turvy. There would be no quiet evening where you looked up at him with ridiculous doe eyes, hoping to please him, eager to do whatever he told you.

There would be no warm satisfaction in his gut at the sight, no pleasant tingling in his skin as he bade you to do as he pleased. 

Instead, he would be spending his time retrieving you, and what if–the thought comes, and it’s disturbing how much the thought seems to weigh him down. What if you’re already dead? Disposed of, a corpse? 

No. He shakes his head. They wanted you as bait, clearly; or rather, wanted the girls. Pride puffs in him that you protected them, at least. A small lightness in a sea of grey. 

Still–you were gone, and uncertainty weighed heavy in the air as he weighed the best options for retrieving you. 

It was an unpleasant surprise, after all.

They--whoever they were, it did not matter. Perhaps the girls already told him, but their identity wasn’t important. Not only because Geto didn’t have the slightest care over who they were, but because they would be dead in a matter of hours, if not sooner.

No one disrespects him like this and lives. 

The thought of their filthy monkey hands dirtying you, a pet he had risen up from the lowest of the low into something more palatable and pleasant, made acrid bile climb into his throat.

Oh, you were beneath him, of course. There was no doubting that. But the stench of these stranger’s mediocrity and ape-like helplessness would coat you like dust, undoing so much of his hard work. 

Geto collects only the finest things and oh, it had taken time, but you now counted among them. 

He doesn’t need a plan. Why would he, to counteract a foolish kidnapping perpetuated by some half-baked mafia gang? They stood no chance against him. Even without his curses. He’s not sure he’d even release curses against these monkeys; it would be a waste of time and talent. 

All he does is nod to the girls, who have curled up on his sofa, holding each other tight.

“I’ll be back.”

At this, they smile, and he can see their breaths coming easier, their shoulders relaxing down. 

He doesn’t even need to tell them that he won’t be coming back alone. 

It is, as with so many things, a certainty. 

--

The lingering pain after they left you alone was not too awful. Yes, your lip was bleeding--the man wore metal rings--and your neck was sure to bruise, if you were left alive long enough for the skin to get all mottled. 

But you had expected the pain, and that made it easier to manage while you waited for them to return. They would probably kill you now. A gun to the head, you think. They wouldn’t want to waste time with messier and slower implements, unless they were that angry about their “bait” plan failing.

You had expected the pain, and now you expect the door to open, for those no-nonsense guards to come through and simply pull out a gun and that would be that. Would there be pain? For a moment, maybe, but hopefully not more. 

You don’t expect what actually happens.

Shouts--that quickly turn to screams. 

Clanging of metal, the sound of something being struck and sliced. 

Thumping, an awful, dull sound; like a carcass at the butchershop being let off its chain.

And then that door in front of you creaking open to reveal the last person in the world you ever expected to see in the doorway.

Geto.

Geto, with blood sprayed on his face, gore clotting on his clothes.

It’s so unexpected that you don’t believe it until he’s behind you, the familiar warmth of his body turned upside down with the new stench of metallic blood, mingled the scent of your own sweat, the lingering puffs of cigarette smoke.

It’s not until he’s made you stand up, that he’s right in front of you, tilting your chin up to look at him that the realization comes.

He came for you.

He killed for you.

It’s too much--it’s too much to realize the reality beyond that line was bullshit the entire time. It’s too much to realize that you were, perhaps, worth something after all. Too much to see Geto covered in blood and wonder, briefly, if he had been hurt in the process of your rescue.

It’s too much, all of it, and you black out.

From adrenaline, from injuries, or perhaps from sheer disbelief.

--

When you wake up, you are sitting on the floor of Geto’s spacious bathroom. Disorientation keeps you on the floor for too long, because then there are hands--Geto’s--on you, pulling you to unsteady feet.

Despite the swaying of your body, there is something grounding about all this. You, and Geto, in this familiar space. 

Geto stands in front of you, face impassive, still covered in specks of blood. The reek of his blood covered clothing is stronger in this space, an invasion of stinking metal.

“Strip,” he tells you. Your body obeys before your mind registers the command fully, hands trembling as you peel off clothing stuck to you by sweat and a bit of blood. Most of it wasn’t yours.

He tsks at your naked form, and shame creeps down your collarbone--stopping cold when he opens his mouth again. 

“Remove my clothing.” Another order, obeyed just as quickly, but perhaps with more brightness than you thought possible. If he still wants you to do this, it means he doesn’t find you too disgusting, does he? He can’t, if he’s allowing you to touch him like this. 

He doesn’t give the clothing a second glance--he’ll probably burn it, and yours too--as he steps toward the tub. 

The bath has already been prepared, though without the usual luxuries Geto asks you to slip in for him; lotions and salts, dried flowers and oils. 

Still, it is a comfort when Geto steps into the tub. It is all familiar to you, expected--welcomed, even. The way the water sloshes as Geto steps inside, the warm heat of the water rising to greet you as he beckons you closer. The firm, damp grip of his hand as he steadies you, lest you slip and annoy him.

"Wash this filthy monkey blood off me," he says, when you’ve settled in, his voice soft and clipped.

 Is he angry with you, you wonder, or the people he’s killed? Would he think on this later, and decide that it was far too troublesome to go after you in the end? Maybe the next time you were a target, he wouldn’t save you after all. He’d leave you to die and mutter that once was quite enough. He--

“Well?”

“Sorry,” you murmur, not a reflex this time but a genuine apology.  You were making him wait. That wouldn’t do.

So you take up the cloth and gently wipe at his face and body, where those flecks of blood have sprayed onto him like troublesome paint. You go slow, soft, just like he’s taught you to do. 

It’s the softness of the moment that pushes the words from your mouth. If he had not brought you here, if you two were not together in the warm, naked intimacy of the water, you might never have dared to ask.

“Why did you save me?”

You don’t even stop wiping at his skin, dipping the cloth into the water and watching it run red. Not until he grips your wrists with his wet fingers, making you drop the cloth. 

He pulls your hands closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to your damp skin. Soft. Gentle. A streak of blood near his mouth catches on your skin.

“I merely took back what is mine.” His eyes roam over you; you, the pet he owns, the pet he’s created.  How cold his words are. Strict, no-nonsense. What you’ve come to expect from him.

And yet, and yet--

He presses his lips to your knuckles again, and inhales the scent of you, all traces of cigarette smoke  on your hands washed away with the bathwater. 

[6esiree]

“Oh, so your fingers worked when they were inside of me last night, but today they can’t text me back?”

I saw this on Instagram and tried to imagine how my five fav Hazbin men would react if you texted them this. I whipped this up pretty quickly so sorry if it’s crap, LOL <3

Alastor:

Alastor only has a phone so you can contact him whenever you need to, and he usually answers right away, the only exception being when he’s busy. But the one time he accidentally leaves you on read because he’s out with Rosie, getting sidetracked by an interesting revelation, you decide to hit him up with this and, oh, he’s visibly horrified, flustered even, when he finally reads it.

“Is something the matter, Alastor?” Rosie asks, putting her teacup down as she notices the look on his face. “Oh my! Are you…blushing?”

“Excuse me for just a second,” Alastor says as he stiffly stands up, pushing his seat in and turning away, furiously typing at his phone.

“I am with Rosie. We will talk about this when I get home, understood?”

“Ok, I’ll be waiting for u <3.”

“Kiss your legs goodbye, ma chérie, because you will be unable to walk for a while.”

Lucifer:

Whenever you go out, you like to text Lucifer to see how he’s doing. This man answers FAST as fuck, that is why the one time he doesn’t you hit him up with this, trying to get his attention. When he finally checks his phone his heart instantly drops—I mean, what is he supposed to feel? He’s a blushing mess as he recalls what you did last night, but he’s also panicking, so he decides to call you.

“Hey, honey! I’m so, so sorry, I was in the middle of something. My fingers work just fine, by the way, I can show you if you come back home—“

“Christ, Luci! I was just trying to get you to answer.”

“Pretty please?”

Husk:

Husk takes his sweet ass time responding to your texts, so the best way to reach him is to call him. However, it’s just one of those rare occasions where you can’t do that, hitting him up with this to try to get his attention. Husk has company at the bar, that’s why when he finally sees your text he immediately turns his back to everybody, cursing under his breath as he tries to adjust himself through his pants.

“Oh, babydoll. Just wait until you get home,” Husk texts you back, pissed off but also slightly amused, especially when you answer him.

“Haha, ok…whatever u say old man :P.”

“You’re lucky Angel can't mind his own fucking business, otherwise I’d have something to say about that.”

Vox:

Unless he’s busy with something or he’s pissed off with you, Vox will answer your texts right away. The one time he forgets to tell you he has a meeting, you hit him up with this after trying to reach him for a while. Vox steals a glance at his phone, his screen slightly glitching when he’s asked to put in his two cents about something because he’s flustered. As soon as the meeting is over with, though, he teleports to your room, utterly embarrassed.

“I was in a MEETING! What in the Hell were you thinking?”

“Hey, I didn’t know that, I swear!”

“Yeah, yeah, now come over here, sweetheart. Let me demonstrate how well my fingers work on you.”

Adam:

Adam is 50/50 when it comes to answering your texts. Sometimes he’ll answer quickly, and sometimes he won’t, which can be frustrating. When you hit him up with this, it’s one of those times that he’s taking hours to see your texts, even leaving you on read when he finally opens them because his memory is shit. Adam is out with Lute, his eyes bugging out of his head when he decides to check his phone. I mean, hey, what’s up with that?

“Sir? Where are you going?” Lute asks him, watching him spread his wings, but Adam doesn’t answer, leaving before she can notice his boner.

“Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? You gave me a boner in public, you stupid—!”

“Well, start answering your texts then, Adam! And don't you dare finish that sentence, or no sex for a week.”

“I'm so sorry, baby. I love you so much and I will answer your texts right away from now on.”