#Mm. Let me know if this doesn't at all work

[hell-drabbles]

Beleth 1

Summary: After a fight cut short with a random devil that thought you nothing more than a pest, you take a break outside the club. Beleth joins you and offers to have you bite into his skin to get the stress out.

(Fingers decided to write about Beleth instead. So I did. Here be the Companion biting Beleth! Also I just figured out that apparently Beleth and his king are fallen angels? I could be wrong but oh well. Here you go.)

There was this… specific closeness you felt towards Beleth. An understanding, if you will.

Something, whenever you two end up alone in any sort of area, the air between you two never fails to remind you of those late night hours behind a bar club. Where you're all tired from the atmosphere, and just need a moment of quiet where you can recharge, and someone comes out to do the exact same thing.

A kinship. Yeah that's what it was. You felt a kinship towards Beleth, with both of you caring for someone that can barely take care of themselves.

It's why it didn't tick you off when Beleth walked into your break spot in the alleyway. He's another person that pays attention to Ra-on, certainly, but there was this lack of visible and verbal annoyance at your being. You're just another person, as far as he's concerned, and that's enough to keep your temper even.

While you sat on the ground, just taking in the sky, Beleth took up position near you, also looking up with you. He fished for his box of cigarettes and popped out one. He grabbed it with his lips, flicked open his lighter and lit it up. He took one deep breath in, then out.

From the corner of your eye, Beleth inclined his head towards you.

"Want one?" Beleth leaned down, tapping the open box against your shoulder.

To be quite honest, you were a little tempted to take a drag. It's been a long day, the battle before had tensions high and the devils inside the club wanted nothing more than to dance, drink and fuck the feelings away. And not only that, but you had just come out of a fight with a random devil that said, "Aren't you glad I got that pest off of you, Solomon?"

He got a full wine bottle to the face, and the ensuing noise got all the other devils riled up enough to beating at one another. Well, at least they're having fun, and you got to avoid facing the full brunt of that devil's strength. And having Ra-on skitter right behind you certainly helped in having him hold back. Your ribs are still throbbing, however. Damn devils and their damned power.

"Quite a fight you started in there. Everyone's rowdy, having the time of their lives I bet." Beleth said with a breath of smoke slowly trickling out of his lips.

"Mm-hmm," you replied, because what else are you supposed to say? Are you supposed to be proud of it? That you started yet another fight because you can't stand to let words slide?

"But hey, that anger of yours, it's going to get ya into a lot of trouble." Like you're already not in trouble? "I'm not complainin', I reckon it's something you need to do to stay sane, given how you are, but that doesn't mean it make you safe."

"…tell me something I don't know." You were hoping he wouldn't dive into that subject. You know it's reckless. You know you can't keep this up and rely on luck to save the day once again. But you're just too stubborn. Besides, you know that the minute you go lax is the day you'll lose Ra-on forever. This stubbornness is exactly why Ra-on's been learning to say no more and more often.

"I know you got injured somethin' fierce the other day. You're still walkin' like you have a stitch in your side. And that fight you got into? Can't say it's made you any better. It's got me worried, ya know? Especially since pain just makes you angrier."

You gave a sigh, right from the bottom of your lungs. First Ra-on--whom you were barely able to divert his attention--and now Beleth? And you're pretty sure that changing the subject won't work on him.

Alright. Fine.

"So, I should just shut up them? Is that what you're telling me, Beleth?" Are you supposed to shut your mouth forever? Swallow down all your pride and anger and just take it until the situation in Hell is solved?

"Get angry at me. I won't kiss and tell."

"…really?" That's his solution?

"Yeah. Yell and scream until your heart gives out. I'll listen to your howls any day of the week. Just say the word, I'll try and be there for you, Sugar."

"That's not gonna solve shit. Don't call me Sugar." You still have to shut your mouth and behave.

"Sorry there, but it's the best I've got. You're human, right? Just gather up all that anger, call me up, and give it to me in one go. And who knows? Maybe I'll take care of some of the problem devils that have been tying you up in knots? Besides, it's better than nothing, right?"

"Stay quiet." You're too tired, too burnt out for this.

"Alright, alright."

When silence settled between the both of you, you adjusted yourself, positioning in such a way that doesn't put pressure on your ribs.

"Hey, I wanna ask you a question." Beleth suddenly says, flicking ash on the ground with a relaxed curve to his back, smiling at you with a tilt to his head.

"Hmm, shoot." What does he want now?

"Wanna make out?" He popped open another button on his shirt, letting the flaps fall open as though to entice you into taking his offer.

"No." It didn't work.

Beleth shrugged, as though very much expecting it. "Hey, worth a try."

He didn't bother closing his shirt. Instead, he completely undid his buttons and untucked his shirt. Once he was done, he leaned against the wall you were sitting against, took a slow drag in, then breathed it out. The wind took the smoke away from you.

Beleth turned to you and smiled. He tapped one of the various bite marks on his arm. "Wanna sink your teeth into my skin, then? You can pick any place you want. Even," he parted his shirt, letting the rays of the dying sun hit his well bitten chest, "here. I know you won't hold back."

"…you're really bored aren't you?"

"Hey, can ya blame me for wantin' to fill up my time? Smokin' always gets me in a certain mood."

And he smokes all the damn time, so what does that say? You're both creatures of rather bad habits.

…besides you may as well get a bite in. You've been grinding your teeth anyway.

"…you know what, yeah, fine." You stood up and patted dirt off your pants. "Let me just drag a seat or something out here. I'll have you sitting on my lap for this."

The cigarette hung between Beleth's fingers as he exposed his neck, gazing up at the sky as you dug your hands into his thin waist. You smoothed your lips over the raised skin of his scar, just taking a moment to enjoy both the different textures and way Beleth's throat bobbed with his swallow.

"That's a talented pair of lips you got there," you can hear the smile in the way he wistfully sighed, "Ya really know how to rile a devil up, huh? Taking your sweet time with me like this. Didn't ya want just a bite?"

Beleth jumped in your lap when you took a small nip, then pulled back. You looked at him square in the eyes, at that lightly flushed face, parted lips, and small annoyed crease in his brows.

"I like messing with you." Plain and simple. Beleth, to the rest of the masses, was this unshakable fallen angel that can never be pushed into the territory of annoyance. Never bothered, no matter how chaos rains around him. A near endless patience that even stretches to you. You can take your time. You trust that something won't snap in him.

Beleth chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. His hand slid down the back of your neck and guided you to his.

"Careful there, Sugar. Language like that'll get ya--"

You opened your mouth and let your teeth bite.

Stones ground underneath Beleth's shoes as he curled his legs in, his grip sliding down to clutch the back of your shirt instead. The muscles underneath your tongue tightened, Beleth's bare chest shivered against your own, and he dropped his cigarette in favor of squeezing your knee.

"Haha--" Beleth tried to get a laugh out, but the next sinking of your teeth had that quickly die into a hiss. "When you bite you really--haa--bite."

It's nice, watching the blood trickle down from the open wounds, trailing down his heaving chest and getting absorbed into the band of his straining underwear.

"Mm-hmm, like you said, I don't hold back."

"Haha, and neither," Beleth grasped his shirt and ripped it into scrapes of cloth, leaving him bare before you, "do I."

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who leaves hickeys all over you so often that you have to push him away when you start looking like you fought an octopus.

"Toji, you know these aren't always gonna be so small. They're gonna end up looking like bruises. Just look at the ones you already left."

"Mhm," he hums, already leaving another one on your shoulder blade, releasing your skin with a wet smack of his lips. He rubs his spit into the mark like it's some sort of salve that'll make it last longer.

"I'm fine with these," you say, looking at all the one's he left on your chest and below. "but my neck... i'm running out of makeup, baby. I won't be able to cover them if you keep this up."

"Then don't." He would just love that. Despite how nonchalant he sounds about it, it's a highly recommended suggestion. He would genuinely love it if you walked around with his marks all over your neck. People will automatically know that you already have someone you get freaky with.

"I have to go to work sometime. I wouldn't be able to take having my neck stared at by everyone I talk to. No more neck hickeys."

He nears your neck, again. The second you say he can't put another mark on it, he spots a clear area and leans in, lightly pressing his lips against it.

"Tojiii," you whine, leaning forward, away from him. "Leave it alone."

"But, it's clear. It's lonely without being marked like the rest of your neck." He scoots forward again, putting his enormous hands on your waist to pull you close. "I'll be quick. Just-"

"Mm-mm. No," you interrupt, brushing his hands off of you.

"I might just die if you don't let me do this, ma."

"Really?" You raise your brows in disbelief.

"Really," he responds, so confidently.

You scoff. "You're so dramatic. You won't die if you don't get to suck on my neck."

"Who knows? I might spontaneously collapse because of it. Weirder, more unexplainable things have happened."

He's so dumb sometimes. Your hunk is absolutely ridiculous, and yet you find yourself weighing towards his point in this.

"Would marking up that blank space actually cure you?" You feel as silly as him for asking the question.

"Who's to say?"

You tilt your head and deadpan. "Right. I guess i'll take my chances and just keep the random patch of unmarked skin on my neck."

"Hey, that doesn't mean we can't try. Come on, now."

You groan and roll your eyes before making your way back to him. He cups your cheeks, smirking as he looks into your eyes, before turning your head to expose the blank area on your neck.

"It's a reaaally good spot, doll. I think i'm gonna make it."

You huff, unable to look at him because of the way your head is turned. You feel his tongue slide over your neck, the gesture transitioning to his lips kissing the area and then it feels sharp. His lips leave a stinging sensation with every second that they stay on you.

"Ow, fuck, you vampire. It feels like you're actually trying to suck the blood out of me." You wince. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm done." He admires his masterpiece and smirks with pride. You have an entire collar of hickeys that he put on you, and the newest one looks mean.

"You look pretty. Could eat you up, mama." He swipes at the new mark with his thumb, looking at the color that will remain on your skin for the next few days.

"I can tell. You already devoured me. You're insane. Just look at all of this," you say, running your hand over your kiss stained neck.

"I was just nibbling on you," he speaks, into your jaw, before smoothly laying you down, onto the bed. "Just wanted a little taste," he says, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "Am I really insane for that?"

"Um..." you laugh, making your flustered state obvious. "Yes?"

"Damn." He gives you a long, deep kiss, that makes you forget what you were talking about. "You think i'm crazy?" You hum, and he does it again.

"Haven't you played with me enough? I feel like i'm some chew toy for you." You giggle, feeling his lips on your cheek, trailing towards your jaw.

He hums, dismissively. "Found more blank space."

[dekuneho]

husband of the year ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — in your defense, who would've thought he would barge in while you're at work? clearly not you.

The TV was broadcasting and heatedly narrating Dynamight's current Villain-of-the-Week takedown when your co-worker, Yaeko whom you remember by her pin-straight waist-length hair and delight in a bunch of hearsay, taps on your shoulder for attention.

"Mm?" you murmur distractedly, incapable of tearing your eyes away from how the camera has easily captured the swift fluttering mid-air, even if just barely. No ordinary person could keep up with the force that is Bakugou Katsuki.

"Ayane-chan clocked out early."

"Did she?"

Yaeko settles on the plastic chair on your right, watching the #1 Pro Hero absolutely pulverize the villain with the most elegance, Bakugou style. She doesn't take it in with the same rapt. Doesn't hold her breath or tighten her grip on her knees, not like you.

"Her husband picked her up. They're having dinner," Yaeko sings, then sighs dreamily. "Oh, if only mine would pick me up with a nice, sleek car."

The villain finally registers he's clearly overestimated his plan for victory and starts begging for mercy. Dynamight appears too distracted to even feel victorious about it.

"That would be nice," you agree, though you're not really sure what she's saying anymore as Dynamight takes the last win. His expression looks off — far away.

'And once again, #1 Pro Hero Dynamight proves why he's at the top, breaking his last three-minute record! Looks like he'll be securing this year's ranking as well.' The reporter gushes like it's some Olympic Sport. Dynamight would grin like a fucking bastard, too, usually, but not today, it seems.

"How come I never see your husband?" Yaeko asks all of a sudden.

"That would be no good," you say, chuckling. "He's busy enough as he is."

Yaeko appraises your assured smile. "Hm. Is that what he says?"

The reporter continues gushing, "And he flees the scene in a signature Dynamight hit-and-run. He might be off to save another city; who knows!"

"That's what everyone says, really," you say cryptically, moments later. You wonder why Dynamight looked so distracted. It wasn't like him.

In the immediate silence that follows, you spare a glance at your co-worker. Yaeko looks thirsty for prying, but as soon as her shoulder comes in contact with yours, she rears back with a gasp.

"You're still sick!" she admonishes, not unlike in the tone a mother hen if they could speak and grip both your shoulders. "I was wondering why you even came today when you were all but dying last night."

You jerk away. "I was just feeling a little feverish. Nothing too bad.”

Yaeko clicks her tongue. The chair slides back as she pushes off to get water from the dispenser near the TV. The reporter drones on about how fortunate they were to witness the Pro Hero in broad daylight, followed by the dispenser's buzz.

"Your husband let you out like that?" she asks.

"He doesn't know," you murmur shamefully.

Yaeko appears unimpressed, holding the cup to your lips. You sigh and move to keep the glass yourself, feeling a little petulant about it.

Commotion begins to pick up in volume from outside, muted by the walls. Yaeko pays no mind to it, but your hair picks up on its ends. When there's a stifled sound of explosion, you understand why. The news moves to a different topic, though it seems that the headlines made its way to you himself.

"Shit. Hide me, Yaeko-san. Please."

Yaeko frowns. "What? Hey, don't move so much."

The door slides open and presents the #1 Hero himself, sweating and seething and still looking like a dream. He has to twist his upper body, the door for ordinarily built men unable to accommodate his solid, beefy arms.

"You," he growls, eyes blazing.

"Noo." You shield your face with the crook of your arm, but there isn't a single wall in the world that Dynamight can't break through.

Behind him, the security guard emerges and looks rightfully guilty. He makes a gesture of 'I tried, sorry. It's up to you now.'

He grips your elbow and pushes it out of view until your face is bare, and you're witness to his very, very angry face. "I told you not to punch in for work."

He did say that. "Uhh…"

"You went all," He pitches his voice somewhere obnoxiously high, "'Don't worry, baby, I won't!' — we lyin' to each other now?"

You did also say that.

"Baby?" Yaeko whispers to herself, stunned.

Dynamight scowls, ripping his glove out to press it on your forehead, his skin ice-cold. You wonder if this is how the villain from earlier felt, though maybe with a little less arousal at the sight of his eyes. "Fuckin' idiot," he mutters under his breath.

"D-Dynamight, sir," Yaeko pipes up, looking shell-shocked, "please unhand my co-worker."

"Ha? You the one who asked this idiot to clock in?"

"No." You shield Yaeko's terrified expression with your hand. "No, she didn't. I did it myself."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a dumbass on your own," he says, and now the familiarity of bickering feels more like your Katsuki in the walls of your home. Your husband, who seriously came all the way here after kicking some ass. Katsuki turns to Yaeko. "Tell your boss we're leaving. Don't call."

And he pulls you up and drags you off. You half-expected him to throw you over his shoulder, but his neck brace might dig into your side painfully, and Katsuki has already considered it despite his boiling anger at your disobedience.

"Katsuki," you whine, heating up at the stonished staring while you're tugged off into the exit. "Did you really fly all the way here just to kidnap me home?

"The hell's with that," he snaps. "I'm clocking out for the day 'cause I'm not stupid like your stupid ass."

"Katsuki!"

"'sides," Katsuki gives you a long look over his shoulder, and oh, is this what he was thinking about the entire time? Your heart does a bit of somersaulting. "Who else is gonna take care of you?"

Yaeko can keep her nice, sleek cars. Nothing beats this.

[iceunhie]

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks��but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

[ilydeku]

izuku loves to talk about you during interviews

- anything and every topic it will ALWAYS be about you

- the question won't even be remotely related to you and still izukus answer will revolve around "y/n, my wife!!" <3

- oh, the glint in his eyes, the peaking smile when he speaks about you, lover boyyy

- the media knows he LOVE LOVES you, they think it's funny for this big, confident, mighty hero to be reduced to sap when it comes to you

- it's like his whole is personality is HIS WIFE

- the journalists lowkey get so SICK of him for this, they don't want to invite him anymore 😭

- but they kinda have to, due to to his status as #1

"Good evening everyone and welcome Hero Talk! Tonight we'll be staring someone you all know and love, single handedly the greatest hero of all time, Deku! Alright, Deku how are you tonight?"

"Feeling pretty good! This is one of my wife's favorite shows, so I'm even more grateful to be here. And how are you?"

"Oh, same old. Really, just living. Now, we wanted to ask you some fun questions. Let's start with this one. Why did you want to become a hero?"

"Wow, haha! That really brings be back to my youth. When I was kid, my biggest influence was All Might, and he miraculously became my mentor. He was a good hero, and a good man. I wanted to be just like him: fearless, persevering, saving people with I smile. I would beg my mom everyday to watch this video on the computer of him saving a bunch a people. I was really swayed by All Might. I wanted to become a hero to make an impact in the world. I wanted to save people with a smile too."

"That sounds really endearing, Deku. I remember All Might's reign. He wasn't number one on the top charts all those years for nothing. So, did you ever think you'd be standing as Japan's top hero?"

"Well, it was never really my goal to become number one. That was Kacchan's- Dynamight's. My dream was, like I said, to become a hero and save others. But I have to say, it really is a blessing. I'd like to thank my Mom, All Might, my friends, and especially my wife for who I've become. My Mom has really done a lot for me growing up: protecting, encourage, and just always caring for me. All Might has kinda been that father figure for me when my Dad was away. My friends have shown me what it's like to work together and really be part of a heart. And my wife? Haha...I can't thank her enough for all the times she's been right by my side, even before we were together. Nothing I can say or do will ever be enough to express how much she means to me."

"Mm. Quite the supportive group. Your wife sounds like quite the lady!"

"She is. She's wonderful."

"Moving on to the next question, do you use social media often?"

"Occasionally, yes?? My wife uses it regularly, posting about us when we go out and stuff. It's mostly for her family to see how she's doing. She handles most of my official accounts. She says it's to be more appealing to the public, and I guess to show that there's more to heroes on the inside?? I'm not really sure, but I trust her process. Although, I'd rather be appealing to her alone."

"The public will always interested in a hero's private life! Now, Deku, what is your ideal setting of relaxation?"

"My wife doesn't like places that are too crowded or noisy, so maybe a cozy day at the beach?- but early in the morning or in the evening when the crowds calm down. Maybe a movie theatre, but days after the movie is released so it's just us together. Actually, a lazy day at home together is great too! Cooking meals and watching a movie on the couch? Really, any place is relaxing if my wife is with me."

(am i questioning Deku's wife or Deku!?) "How scenic! Those sound very fitting for you!! How about any restaurants?"

"Not really. My wife really knows how to cook, it's amazing! I love her home-cooked meals, so there's no way I'd go out of my way to a restaurant. But if my wife is feeling it, I'll be sure to make reservations."

"(sigh)"

"(smiling warmly)"

[riki-dazed]

Riki can't help but shower you in hickies

suggestive · wc: 649 · requested

"Rikiiii—" you squirm beneath your boyfriend's large frame, a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He hums in response to your whines, his actions against the side of your neck not slowing down in the slightest of ways; your noises only turning him on that much more.

What started as an innocent-enough make out session on your bed, has now taken a sudden turn for the.. better. After some playful bickering between the both of you, Riki managed to pin your figure against the mattress. His hands hold your wrists down by either sides of your head, his body practically laying on top of yours, not allowing you to escape him.

"So pretty for me," his breathy voice purrs beside your ear, soon before grazing his teeth lightly along it. "Wanna taste you..."

The tickling sensation sends you into a fit of quiet giggles beneath Riki, he returns you a sultry smile, his lips now trailing along the skin on your jaw. His actions continue to follow down your neck, causing the playful expression on your face to twist into one that emits pure bliss, and pleasure.

The fact that you can feel him making small movements against your thigh, considering how close your bodies are pressed against one another's, doesn't help your overly flustered situation at all.

Riki's soft lips trace the contours of your neck, as he leaves traces of his warm saliva behind. Feeling his wet kisses against your skin causes you to arch your back off the mattress, your chest meeting his in the process.

He settles his lips on a spot right beneath the back of your jaw, knowing exactly where you like having him. The needy boy wastes no time in beginning to make out with the delicate skin, muffled moans escape his mouth as he starts to suck on it shortly afterwards. He lets go of one of your wrists, his hand now cupping the side of your face, holding you in place for him as he continues sucking on the opposite side.

"Fuck, baby—" you barely manage to utter beneath your breath as your freed hand gravitates towards his hair, your fingers grasping the strands at the back of his head. "Mm, r-right there."

With a final kiss against your skin, and tauntingly slow lick along it, Riki slightly lifts his head back up. His gaze stays focused on the obvious mark his mouth has left behind on you, he can't help but admire it for a short moment.

Feeling a sudden longing for Riki's lips to be back on your skin, you guide his head back down to where you need it. Your fingers, yet again, tug at the strands of his hair at the feeling of having him graze his teeth along your neck. You tilt your head back, surrendering yourself to him completely.

"Does that feel good?" his low tone speaks against your skin. "Hm?"

Feeling lightheaded, your bottom lip finds itself between your teeth again at his question, "Mhm." The smile on his face only grows cockier at your breathy reply.

Riki helps you remove your top before moving his actions to your chest. With the both of your hands now being free of his grasp, you take the opportunity to tug his muscle tee off too, discarding the piece of fabric somewhere across the bed.

He lifts himself off your body, straddling your thigh, as one of his knees settle in-between the both of your thighs. Riki looks down at your figure, admiring you through his hooded eyes. He had become an artist, you, his masterpiece. A canvas for him to leave his marks of desire all over.

As he continues to eye your chest, the newly scattered marks he's left across it causes something within his sweatpants to twitch.

...

Copyright © 2024 riki-dazed. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.

[bbokicidal]

"You're So Much Alike." - [B.C.]

Summary: Where you meet his mother for the first time and capture a picture that you will treasure for years to come.

Warnings: None, just a lotta fluff.

Notes: Based on the photo above where Chris recreated his childhood picture w/ his mom.

"When was this?" Your eyes turn to your boyfriend beside you and his head tips in your direction, eyes following only a moment later. A bright smile is plastered on his face as he was previously having a conversation with his mom to the opposite side of himself.

His teeth grit as his lips pull apart in a quiet hiss of thought. "Ah... Mm." His lips press together, brows furrowing as he looks at the picture. "Think I was.. four? Three? Three or four." He nods curtly, eyes drawing up to where you stare at him. ".... What?"

Your smile grows the longer you peer up at him. He doesn't seem to realize how absolutely adorable the photo currently in your hand is. "Nothing. I just love you."

Chan's eyes wander over your own before he giggles, his hand falling to rest on your knee. "I love you too, sweetheart."

"Oh, I was so young here." His mother reaches for the photo, gently taking it from your hand to look down at it. The look on her face seems to say without words that it brings back wonderful memories she couldn't ever forget.

"Please," You murmur, catching her attention with a soft smile. "You look the exact same, Mrs. Bang."

It was kind of his mother to offer to show you baby photos of him. You hadn't necessarily expected it during your first meeting with her, but she seemed more than excited to show you the silly pictures of Chan in the bath, or pictures of him covered in birthday cake when he was two years old. He'd gotten a bit embarrassed at the bath pictures, begging his mother not to show them to you before she countered back with; "What? She's seen it all before anyway!"

And you couldn't argue with that, laughing along as you squeeze his hand in your own. "I mean, she isn't wrong."

You felt incredibly lucky to be able to tag along on this opportunity - visiting Australia with Chan for the first time. The majority of the day is spent relaxing at his family home and getting to know his family; Unfortunately Lucas and Hannah are with their friends, which you can't fault them for, but you get to spend the day with his parents. And Berry, of course.

Their pup seems to take a love to you, following you around instead of sticking to Chan. She sits at your feet while you lean against the kitchen counter and watch his father cook lunch for the group of you; And she treads only a foot or two behind you as you move to dance with Chan's mother in the dining room to the soft music that plays through the house. The room is filled with laughter and the soft banter she exchanges with you on how she may have to steal you from her son with just how charming you are.

Lunch is quiet and soothing, bodies filled with warm home cooked food and Chan's mother asking just how the two of you met - where you saw yourself in ten years, what kind of career you were interested in, and how you felt about her son. Typical first meeting types of questions - But, she seems happy with all of your answers and while you aren't looking, shares an exchanged glance with her son that is telling him to marry you.

It ends as you excuse yourself from the table and move to help Chan at the sink, washing the dishes from preparing the meal and drying them off as he handed them to you. He smiles at you helping him out, about to tell you to go shoo so he can take care of it himself and let you relax. His eyes wander in your direction as you suddenly ask if his father needs another wife - widening in surprise and whispering a soft, "Excuse me?" in shock.

"What? He's literally you but a little older!"

"Are you tryna marry my dad right now--"

-

His father excuses himself from the home about an hour later, something work related beckoning him away. His mother suggests a walk around the park Chan use to run about in when he was little and you eagerly agree, wanting to see more of the local scenery. It's pleasant, a breeze wafting through your hair and brushing over your shoulders as you go. Berry's leash is held careful but firm in your palm and she treads nearby, tail wagging in excitement at just being out.

Without being fully aware of it, you'd fallen behind the mother-and-son duo after being caught up in admiring the nature around you. As your eyes draw back to the pair ahead, you stop walking and Berry takes a few more steps before halting as well. She turns to look up at you in curiosity and when you crouch down, she comes closer to rub her nose against your arm. Hand digging in your pocket, you pull out your phone and let the pair continue walking without disturbing them. Lifting your phone to snap a photo, the picture on your screen looks lovingly familiar to one you had seen earlier.

Chan seemed extremely grateful when you showed him the picture later on - and his mother even more so that evening. His father peeked over her shoulder before gently giving the woman a shake of admiration, hugging her around the waist shortly after. "Jessica, you don't look a day over thirty." And she laughs, swatting at his arm.

Your eyes dart to Chan's and he blinks, meeting your gaze a moment later. Your eyes narrow. "Why am I just now finding out that your mom's name is Jessica?"

[l1tw1ck]

could I get a subbot afab Stanford x domtop amab reader drabble/fic, any plot is fine :)

cw: overstimulation, afab lang

"Don't you think it's time to take a break?" You ask, rubbing the lower half of Stanford's back. "You've been at it for hours."

"No, I need to finish this." He says as he tries to troubleshoot his new invention.

"Come on, Ford." You slide your hand down his pants and squeeze his ass. "A break wouldn't hurt."

Ford gulps. He turns to look at you. "You're right.."

👁️

Stanford moans your name as your cock slides in and out of his wet cunt, the wetness dripping down onto his workroom floor. "So good~" His knuckles are white from gripping his desk. His eyes are half lidded both from sleep deprivation and pleasure. It's like he's floating.

"That's right, babe, just let me take care of you." You gently massage his back. "Don't worry 'bout anything else."

Ford mewls as he feels himself getting close. "[Name]~!" He bites down on his lip as he squirts, his pussy convulsing around your cock. "Don'- don't stop~" He loves it when you overstimulate him. You stroke his t-dick and fuck him harder. His eyes practically roll to the back of his skull. Cute strings of "yes, yes" "oh god" "more" "i love you" leave Ford's saliva ridden lips. You're good at making him forget about his work and all his worries. The two of you know each other so well, he can tell you're about to come. "Inside~ come inside~" He begs. You're quick to fulfill his request and pump his pussy full of your seed.

bonus bc i randomly got the idea

cw: consensual somnophilia

Ford is sleeping peacefully on his bed and it's clear he fell asleep without bothering to remove any of his clothes. As you're taking off his jacket and pants, you start to get a little horny. You remove his sweater, leaving him in just an undershirt and boxers. You slowly trail your hand across his body. You feel bad for wanting to fuck him when he was working so hard only a few hours ago but it's not like he wouldn't want this. Feeling "drunk" while getting fucked is his favorite way to be fucked. Being used is his second favorite. So waking up while you're fucking him and feeling both sleepy and delirious is something he will never dislike.

You remove his underwear and spread his legs open. You kneel down in front of the bed and bury your face in his hairy pussy. You swirl your tongue around his dick before sucking on it.

It doesn't take very long to make him come, he's always sensitive. When you know what buttons to push, he'll turn into a blubbering mess within a few minutes.

"Mm.." Stanford slowly opens his eyes, instantly recognizing the feeling of your cock inside him. He grins drunkenly, looking at you with hazy vision. "Harder, [Name]~" He mumbles. The bedsheets are wet from how many times you made him come.

[ddejavvu]

Mei! You know how sometimes when you put a bra on that has padding you sometimes have to adjust it a little? I feel like Anakin would see reader do that one time and offer to “help” from then on “to make sure it’s in the proper spot” but really it’s just to touch your boobs.

You're not surprised to feel a large palm pressing against the heft of your breast, and you wish you could say you're disappointed, but you're not. That doesn't mean that you can't act like you are, though.

"Anakin."

"I'm helping!" He insists, his voice thick with sleep but fiery with intensity, "I'm rearranging the foam thing in there."

"The pad?"

"Yeah, the pad. I'm rearranging the pad."

"The pad is in perfect position," You swat his hand away, "Thank you very much."

"Gimme the other one," He demands, palm flat and fingers curling and uncurling, "I'm the bra inspector."

"You're a perv," You accuse, taking advantage of his still-closed eyes to reach over and press his face into the pillow. Perhaps you shouldn't be smothering him so early in the morning, but you're admittedly a little jealous that he gets to sleep in and you have to work.

His reflexes may be slowed by his grogginess but his muscles aren't, and he wrestles your hand away from his face and uses it to yank you back down onto the bed. You go from towering over his sprawled out form to being pinned beneath it, and his victory spoils come in the form of a prompt squeeze to your previously untouched breast.

"Mm-mm. Pad's all wrong." He laments, clicking his tongue sympathetically as he settles his hand over your chest, "It's so bad I think we just need to scrap the whole thing. Take it off?"

"The pad is fine!" You laugh, but Anakin's lithe fingers have already slipped into the gap between layers of fabric to yank the foam pad out of your bra. He's quick to slip it down the front of his pajama pants, grinning smugly at you as he leans back with tousled hair against the headboard of your bed.

"Hey!"

"Take it."

"I have more bras," You huff, stripping off the lopsided bra and digging in your drawers for the others, "I'm gonna be late for work, Anakin!"

You expect a groan of defeat from Anakin but it's cheekiness you hear instead, "They're empty."

"What?"

He's right. There's a distinct lack of form in each piece of fabric laying limp in your drawers.

"Anakin!"

"I'll give them back! Just let me put them in," He grins doggedly, "Deal?"

"Only because I'm late for work," You gripe, glaring at him with all the force you can muster even though you're beginning to flush.

"Liar," His eyes gleam with excitement as he lunges for the drawer beside his bed, withdrawing two foam bra pads from within, "Once I get my hands on you you'll be begging me not to stop."

[a-hazbin-reader]

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Extreme Fluff!! Sweet Intimacy!!! A little canon cannibalism

Description: Different ways Alastor likes to be pampered by Wifey!Reader

When it comes to his wifey...Alastor is super spoiled and he knows it, craves it like nothing ever before

He's a glutton for your attention and everyone knows it

Every little act of kindness, every drop of affection and loving gaze just melts over his (shriveled black)heart like a sugary glaze

Mmmmmm glazed hearts

Great now he's hungry

ANYWAYS-

Even the normal everyday things make him feel warm and fuzzy inside

Like when you bring him his favorite tea in the mornings, giving him a soft kiss on the side of his face as you drape your arms around him

"Mm...good morning my dear..."

Or when you smooth over an unruly hair for him or fix his bow tie before he leaves the hotel

You can't have your snookums going out looking like some scruffy strawberry clown

You always make sure his staff is clean and polished, suit flawless and pressed, shoes shiny before he has an overlord meeting

You're NOT going to let your pookie bear hang around the other overlords with smudged shoes

Just. No.

Loves the days that you drag him off to the bathroom to coax him into a hot bath

"You've been so tense lately... let me take care of you..."

How can he say no to you?

He just relaxes and closes his eyes, letting your gentle fingers massage his scalp as you lather shampoo in his hair

The candles and bubbles 🫧 were a good touch too 👌

He almost always falls asleep by the time you're done massaging and cleaning him up, once you start scrubbing under his nails then he's OUT LIKE A LIGHT

Not that you mind, he's so attractive when he's sleeping

WAIT HUSBAND DON'T DROWN

Wakes up to an empty bathtub and a warm towel being wrapped around him by his delicious boo

You're so good to him how did you know he needed this

Always finds himself in a better mood after that, like his problems have all been washed and scrubbed away by your gentle pampering

He secretly loves it when you come by his radio tower with a fresh lunch, interrupting his set just because he needs to eat

Though he pretends it's a big hassle

He savors the food you bring him either way, walking you to the door afterwards and thanking you for thinking of him

Bby boy that's all you do is think about him

He locks the door on your way out tho

Alastor loves the way you convince him to come to bed with you, knowing he needs to sleep but also armed with the knowledge that he'll fight bedtime like a child

You leaning on the doorway already in your sleep attire, giving him a soft pout as he tries to continue his work and ignore you

"Alastor..."

Not his ears flicking up at the sound of your voice

When whining doesn't work, then you slink your way over to him, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at you

He's trying so hard not to though, the moment he looks at your face then he knows he's done for

"Look at me, darling~"

Okay maybe just a quick glance-

Alastor you are a strong man, you are cruel and sadistic and you are an overlord with very important business!! You can handle telling your wife no-

Ffffffffuck.

Not the gooey goo goo doe eyes

Immediately leans into your touch, savoring the feeling of your fingers stroking his cheek

Not his tail fluttering

"Come to bed already~ I can't sleep without you, you know..."

And that's how you convince him to get to sleep every single night, a full 8 hours or whatever is recommended in Hell

Getting out of bed is hard for him because you look so delectable asleep and curled into him

Maybe he should take more time to pamper you too

But he's a selfish, greedy man who likes being spoiled by his wife so that thought is gone as fast as it came

He gets out of bed just to watch you whine and blindly reach out for him, so adorably pathetic

Okay just five more minutes of snuggles then I gotta go-

If he's cranky then you manage to convince him to nap, patting your lap and stroking his hair once he lays his head down

Your soft singing lulls him into a light sleep as you scratch and rub the ends of his ears

Wakes up drooling

Wakes up with his face buried in your stomach, arms locked around your waist as he sleepily breathes in your scent

How is he supposed to get any work done with you around????

Alastor loves all those things but his favorite way that you spoil him?? His number one fave?? That he would never admit to anyone??

When you give him your special smile, the one that's always been his to see and his alone

The smile that conveys enough warmth and love to make all of Hell seem like Heaven, at least for him anyways

The same smile that he first saw when you told him that you loved him, the same smile that tells him you still love him

You spoil him

Alastor thinking of his wife:

[medicinemane]

I don't know, in the end it comes down to you see people saying "you should do this, you should do that" and it's like... yeah... probably so, but can't or won't, don't know which it is with me, but it's not happening

I get that much of what's wrong with me is probably my fault, that my depression probably doesn't improve because of some step I'm not taking, but in the end I just can't or maybe don't manage those things you're saying to do

That's just kind of how it is, so you'll forgive me perhaps if I just do things my way. My mood may stay about the same as every, but at least I have a house and no trailer to deal with now

[hopelessdazai]

✿ 》 To Hold or Be Held?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; writing witj this many characters was scary . pls ignore any typos or errors or mischaracterisation im learning. reblogs appreciated!!

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Nikolai, Fyodor, gn!reader ( fem terms in fyodors and mentions of boobs in nikolais parts )

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; fluff, cuddles, all those nice things, nikolai being nikolai, possible mischaracterisation

dazai

dazai doesn't have a preference. he enjoys both being held and holding you for the same reason. when he's holding you, he's holding on tight - part of him is still scared you're gonna leave him if he gets too comfortable. and if you're holding him he always finds himself melting into you, his hands shakily gripping at your clothes as he smothers himself against your chest. he adores how your hands find his hair and comb through it. if he puts all his weight onto you, you can't go anywhere, right?

".. 'm sorry .. don't get up, just five more minutes. I'll be good ..- you're warm .. 'm sorry.. "

chuuya

chuuya prefers to hold. be adores the feeling of you in his arms, it makes him feel like he's protecting you from the known - blanketed by his strong embrace. he traces 'I love you's on your back knowing you're too comfortable and sleepy to know what he's writing - his thumb writes his name into your hip when you think he's just rubbing circles. little possessive things like that, just to quietly manifest that you stay with him. he can press a gentle kiss to the top of your head and tease you for being so clingy ; even though he's holding you tight too.

".. you need the bathroom? .. you can hold it, jus' stay with me for a while longer .. I love you .. pretty thing you are .."

atsushi

atsushi prefers to hold. while he won't ever deny being held, usually he finds himself pulling you on top of him to keep you in his embrace while he takes a nap. your head on his chest and his arms resting around your waist, while he gently purrs to soothe you to sleep with him. he hasn't been able to take solo naps since you've been around - and he knows you enjoy resting with him too, anyway. so what's the harm when he tugs you over to the detective agency couch and asks you to take a quick break? you've both been working hard , after all.

"let's have a quick break, okay? we can stay finish everything later .. you're gonna exhaust yourself out, sweetheart .. just 10 minutes .."

akutagawa

akutagawa prefers to be held. he'll never admit it to anyone, especially not to you. but you can see the way he relaxes and sinks into you when you wrap your arms around him. the way he takes a long exhale and his shoulders deflate as your hand traces a certain spot on his back. he likes listening to your heartbeat, he likes knowing you're alive and with him for who he is - and not what he can do. he's still learning to love and to trust, but it's a little easier when it's by your side. he hopes you wont leave him, he'll work to impress you as he grows.

".. what? no, I'm not falling asleep. you're imagining things. you .. mm .. can you do that again ?"

nikolai

nikolai doesn't have a preference. he's like a big dog, despite his size he'll absolutely lay himself on top of you and nuzzle into your chest. if you have boobs then he won't be moving for a while, so kiss your oxygen goodbye. whenever he wants to hold you, he's not really one to ask ; he'll just drag you over onto him or use a portal to drop you into his lap, then he's clinging to you and whining desperately whenever you try to leave. he's just big and clingy, but can you fault him? he finds you so comforting.

" .. where are you going? no! you can't leave .. do you not love me anymore ?.. why do you wanna leave !.. just stay with me .. thank you .."

fyodor

fyodor prefers to hold. if neither was an option, it'd most likely be that. but he regularly asks you to come sit on his lap while he works. a small whistle as he turns his chair, patting his thigh - and he'll wrap an arm around you to keep you close. he's not too affectionate, and too much touching before your marriage repulses him. but he'll learn to deal with these little moments for a while - it gives him his energy back and helps him with a little push to finish his work so you rest together.

" .. зайчик .. come here. no, I'm not finished. just come. don't be disobedient , now .. there we are. good girl."

[luveline]

I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.

maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out

ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty 

cw criminal minds typical gun violence

Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning. 

The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly. 

In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt. 

You'd like to keep it that way. 

It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour. 

Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again. 

It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return. 

You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage. 

It's deep but small. A nick. 

The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means… 

You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid. 

He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor. 

"You were sleeping? I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream." 

He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?" 

"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?" 

"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence." 

"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay." 

You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?" 

—

"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?" 

"You want to tell me, right?" 

"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope." 

"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again. 

"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."

Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?" 

"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside." 

"What were you doing up?" 

"That's my business," Morgan says. 

Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers. 

Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops. 

Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby. 

"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?" 

"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?" 

Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading. 

"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night." 

She gawps. 

Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never…  and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–" 

You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?" 

"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down." 

"Yes sir." 

Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly. 

Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…" 

"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh. 

"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me." 

"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now." 

Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away. 

"I don't deserve him," you say softly. 

Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something. 

[peachsukii]

You carry Bakugo back to his dorm room. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

A quiet night at the dorms of UA, you're sitting in Midoriya's dorm room with Bakugo. The three of you are studying for an upcoming exam while sprawled out with notebooks and text books haphazardly all over the floor.

The time is slowly creeping up to 10:00pm - way past Bakugo's "normal" bedtime. He's leaning on his elbow while annotating a paragraph in his textbook, eyes slowly drooping shut. The pen in his hand grows looser as his arm rocks back and forth, about to collapse at any moment and let his head rest on the pages.

Midoriya shoots a glance your way, silently acknowledging how exhausted Bakugo looks. You both had attempted, multiple times, to get him to go to bed. He refused.

"I can fuckin' finish this. It's only a few more pages."

Bakugo was determined, and stubborn, to get his work done - just like anything else in his life. You peer out of the corner of your eye as he shifts, crossing his arms over the textbook and laying his head down on his forearms.

"Kat, you can go to bed if you're wiped out," you say, patting him on the shoulder. "Studying on top of sparring is enough to kick anyone's ass."

Bakugo grunts, sighing into the papers beneath him. " 'm fine."

You look at Midoriya and mouth, 'he'll be out in five minutes or less.'

And like clockwork, Bakugo passes the hell out, snoring atop the open textbook.

You gently stroke his back to get his attention. "Kat, come on. Let's get you to bed."

He doesn't stir at your voice or touch but rolls over on his side. You shake your head, chuckling to yourself as you cast a smile in Midoriya's direction. It's a good thing you're a hero in training or you wouldn't have the strength to do what you're about to.

In one fluid motion, you bend over and scoop Bakugo into your arms and lift him from the floor. He's much lighter than you expected him to be - you always assumed he'd be dense from the sheer amount of muscle mass that adorned his figure. He still doesn't wake and lulls his head against your arm, mouth hanging open and snoring peacefully.

'Wow, he must be exhausted if this isn't enough to wake him.'

Midoriya opens the door for you and follows you upstairs. He opens the door to Bakugo's room for you as well, considering you - quite literally - have your hands full. He waves and mouths 'good night!' as he shuts the door to leave.

Making your way over to Bakugo's bed, you carefully lower him onto the cool sheets and maneuver your arms out from underneath him. As you're pulling away, he sleepily grasps at your shoulders and pulls, causing you to come crashing down on top of him.

'Damn, even in his sleep he's strong,' you think to yourself, flustered and afraid you'll wake him up.

He swiftly turns over, snaking his arms around your waist, intertwining his legs with your own and nestling his head above yours.

"K-Katsuki...?" you mumble, confused as your cheeks flare with heat by the sudden close body contact. You hope that your face isn't as scorching hot as it feels when it squishes up against his chest.

"Mm...don't go," Bakugo slurs, still halfway in dreamland. "Stay."

"...did you let me carry you to bed just so you could cuddle with me?" you ask, perplexed. He grunts in response and squeezes you tighter.

"You son of a bitch," you curse playfully. "If you wanna be carried like a princess to bed, just ask."

" 'm not a princess," he murmurs as he's nuzzling into your hair like a cat begging for attention.

"You just didn't wanna ask to go to bed in front of Izuku, didn't you?"

"...Nuh uh."

You snort as you shimmy in his hold to get comfortable. By the time you settle on a position, he's fallen back into a deep slumber, chest rhythmically rising and falling with hushed breath. He looks so angelic when he's dreaming.

It's too bad he turns into a devil the second he's awake.

i just wanna hold him tight and squish his cheeks - ya know??

[moonstruckme]

the boys w a reader who's very physically affectionate? pre-relationship >:)

like none of them are dating yet, and she'd hug and kiss them on the cheeks, hold their hands on the way to class, carry their books/bags for them and lean on them in the common room and all three of them are flustered by it. bonus points if reader doesn't even know she does it, it's just how she is, and when they point it out she's like "oh.. i'll stop, sorry" and they're like "NONONONO" THEY'D BE SO CUTE

Yesssss thanks for requesting my love!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You insist on carrying Remus’ book bag to Hogsmeade for him, and he glares at James the whole way for letting slip that his shoulders have been aching all day. 

“Let me take that,” James offers for the upteenth time, ignoring Remus’ muttered “Yeah, let ‘im.” 

“I’ve got it, Jamie,” you say again, wobbling a bit under the weight of Remus’ books, far more plentiful than what you’d packed for the study session. “We’re here anyway.”

“C’mon, doll, let’s get you a butterbeer to warm up, yeah?” Sirius opens the door to The Three Broomsticks. “I’m sure Remus will buy.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy Y/N one, not either of you.” 

“Spoilsport.” Sirius slides into an empty booth, and you set your load down beside him, turning around and pushing up on your tiptoes to give Remus a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thanks,” you say sweetly, and Remus isn’t a very affectionate person, but he’s hardly easily flustered either. So when his cheeks turn bright pink as soon as you’re not looking anymore, James can’t help but grin. 

“Sit by me, sweetheart,” Sirius says, setting his arm atop the booth. James thinks he views your flirting as a sort of contest, seeing who will go the farthest before someone needs to tap out. But if it’s a competition, it’s one Sirius is destined to lose. 

You slide agreeably in beside him, slipping under Sirius’ arm so readily that it drops from the booth in surprise, landing with a dull thump at your side. “Merlin, it’s cold in here,” you say, nestling close. “You think they keep it that way so you’ll buy more butterbeer?”

Sirius’ voice is pitchy and breathless. “Mm—probably.” 

James smirks at him, sliding into the safe zone across from the two of you. 

You take Sirius’ hand in both of yours, frowning and rubbing at it. “See, your hand is freezing! This is ridiculous.” 

Remus reappears with four pitchers, grinning knowingly at the shell-shocked look on Sirius’ face. “I’ll be expecting the two of you to pay me back,” he says to James and Sirius, setting them down and beginning to dig through his book bag. “Merlin, if I can finish Slughorn’s essay while we're here it’ll be a miracle.”

James blows gently on his butterbeer, trying not to watch too closely as you purse your lips to do the same. “Have you started on that already?” he asks.

Remus shakes his head, exasperated but familiar with James’ ways. “It’s due tomorrow, Prongs. You won’t be able to do it in the hour before class, trust me.” 

“Wait, the one on boggarts?” you ask, opening your own bag. Remus nods, and you hold up a small stack of parchment, beaming. “I finished this morning. Wanna see?”

“That'd be great,” Remus says. “What I really can’t figure out is the part…about…” he appears to lose his train of thought as, instead of passing the papers across the table, you disappear under it, re-emerging a second later to squeeze between James and Remus in their seat. 

“I know what you mean,” you say, as though this is all very commonplace, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip with the both of them. “The second part of the question is near impossible to understand, but I think I may have figured it out. Here, see…” James stops hearing the conversation as you duck down towards your work, your hair tickling his arm and your jumper riding up to reveal the small of your back. James’ eyes follow the curve of your spine, down, down, until—he feels like a total perv, and looks away. 

Across the booth, Sirius is looking simultaneously relieved to have a break from your brazen affection and regretful that you’re not still there with him. He watches you as you speak in low tones with Remus, his eyes flicking upwards to James as if to say this is insane, right?. James nods back dazedly. 

You finish whatever you’ve been explaining to Remus, hauling your butterbeer across the table to sip at it. “Jamie, do you want my jumper?”

He nearly chokes. “Hm?”

You look up at him with concerned eyes. “I can feel you shivering. It might be a bit small on you, but it could help.” 

James is cold, but watching you take off that jumper, smelling you on it, would be too much. He forces a smile, taking a sip of his warm butterbeer instead. “Thanks, but I’m alright.” 

You frown at him, setting your hand atop his on the table. “You sure, honey? I don’t mind. I’m feeling a bit hot, actually.” 

Whatever the look on James' face, it’s enough to make Sirius guffaw. Loudly. Even Remus snickers, tucking his tongue into his cheek. 

“What?” You look at them. “What’s funny?”

“Doll, you’ve killed him,” Sirius laughs, and James doesn’t feel so chilly anymore, all his blood rushing to his face. 

Your brows scrunch together worriedly. “What do you mean?” 

Remus chuckles, the only one of them kind enough to give you an explanation. “I think what he’s saying is, even James has a threshold for flirting. You’ve just flustered him. Don’t worry, he’ll recover.” 

“I…what?”

“C’mon,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “all the touching, the hugs, the pet names? A man can only take so much.”

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry!” You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror. “I didn’t realize—I’m just a naturally affectionate person, but I didn’t mean to flirt—well, I don’t not want to flirt with you all, but I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I’ll stop, I’m sorry.” 

Sirius blinks. “Don’t stop,” he protests. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Your confusion returns. “No?”

“No,” Remus says, some of the color from earlier returning to his cheeks. “I mean, it’s nice.” 

James nods, finding his voice again. “Flirt with us all you like, but, um…would it be alright if we flirted back?”

Your smile comes like a sunrise, slow and brilliant and beautiful. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Sirius grins at you, bravado restored. “Good, because we need to even the playing field, dollface. Come back over here, I’m cold.”

[rillian4e]

Are they dominant or submissive in bed?

ft& Childe, Wriothesley, Scaramouche, Neuvillette

Childe: For him, being the dominant one in bed is something he loves. Childe prefers being the one on top, doing the work while you lay there all pretty, taking it like the obedient girl he made you for him. That doesn't mean that he doesn't let you be the dominant one on occasion, he likes a challenge, be it testing his own limits or that of his partner. But most nights he is far too impatient for that, instead indulging his desires and rashiving you for himself. "Archons... you and your body—drives me crazy," whispering into your ear as he moaned shamelessly, before long releasing his fluids deep into your needy pussy. "Fuck—one more, baby, yeah?" one more would turn into two and then you both would lose count, knowing it would never really end up as only one more.

Wriothesley: As for the Duke of the fortress of Meropide, he is similiar to Childe except he is a patient man, he would let you be the dominant one, watching you struggle and end up pleading for him to help you which eventually turns into full-blown rough sex with him, just what you both needed. Wriothesley would adore taunting you when you try being dominant, it's in his nature to tease and all the more if it's his sweet lover, trying to switch things up in the bedroom. Most times it ends up with him, releasing his pent-up frustration on you, you gladly take it all—enjoying the way his fat length rams into your hole, the wet and squelcing noises filling his office. "Mm...are you close? Yes? Well, hold it, sweetheart. You don't deserve to cum yet, you need to earn it." Purposefully teasing you even as tears fill your eyes, the way he was pinching your nipples harshly not helping in the slightest.

Scaramouche: The dominant one. Nothing else needs to be said here, he doesn't like feeling vulnerable and having you be in charge, just feels so wrong to him. Due to him being a puppet, his stamina is insane and he isn't easy to please, so he would much rather be in control. He would have you spread out, legs wide open as he smirked at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing. Normally he would tease you and make you beg but when he gets too impatient, he would simply enter you without any warning, adoring the way you moan in pain and pleasure at the stretch. "fuck...you're so tight—loosen up a little, will you?" His words wouldn't get any less mean, your fucked out expression only making him more turned on, his desire to make you break deepening.

Neuvillette: Sweetest man ever. He is fine with anything you want, you want to be on top? Your wish is his comman. You want him to be in charge? Of course. He would do anything for you, no matter how unreasonable of a request. You have him wrapped around your little finger, and you love it. Even when he has you in a mating press, ravishing your body and using you for his pleasure—which you absolutely love when he does. But on a typical day after completing the long piles of paperwork, he considers it a reward to have you bent over his desk, his big, fat cock fucking into your dripping cunt, that's the sweetest reward he could get. "You feel so warm...I didn't know I needed this, maybe I should have you as my reward like this more often, hm?" His sweet praises were music to your ears, telling you about how good you were doing for him. His soft groans and hot breath on your neck makes you all the more needy for him.