#i swear this was supposed to be short.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

velaenam · 3 days ago

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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – NSFW topics! mature themes, swearing/foul language, slow burn, talks of depression/mental health, guilt tripping, manipulation, tba 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬– not proofread. umm enjoy the domestic bliss before the inevitable 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 6 of many ! previous chapter | next chapter | playlist — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

it was cool, and the wind was picking up. you stood outside as you get out of the car. you patted your skirt downwards, making sure you didn’t have any wrinkles in your clothes. you were in linkon for the day to brief jenna on the findings that you’d discover. it had been a couple of days since you and caleb had your moment, and you were enjoying the casual conversation with him.

you two would text good morning to each other, and talk about your day as you meandered through work like normal. now more free than whispr, you both had some salacious conversations within the texting parameters. any shit talk, or any funny tidbits that happen in your day you made sure to text each other the news- like two teenagers gossiping. but it was fun. he was enjoying his public ability to talk to his powerful sexy mama super genius girlfriend and you were happy with finding out your internet crush was the 6 pack washboard abs super sweet and smart man that had you melting with one gaze.

except you weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend just yet.

there were just a couple of kinks to sort out. like the fact that he hasn’t asked you out yet, and as much as you loved to take the reins— these things were sacred to you. you wanted to feel like a woman loved. he’s supposed to ask you out. you already did your part.

you enter the headquarters and greet the receptionist once again before she pulls you into the room where your sister was at, and as you enter you’re met with a couple of her peers. one of them had glasses, and two other girls who had short and long brown hair. their gaze lingers at you— notably the short haired girl. you could’ve sworn her eyes twinkled at your arrival.

“ladies i’d like you to meet my sister” she introduces you to them as they wave with a sweet smile, “p-pleasure to meet you! i’m tara!” and the long brown haired girl extends her hand towards you, she gives you her name, but you didn't catch it . you give them a small smile with an acknowledging nod before you start the meeting.

you give them a briefing of the tests your team conducted regarding the wanderer and give them any more intel that could further assist them in the workings. after that you linger just a little bit more to discuss any topics that they might’ve had at hand. tara spent the majority of the day ogling you before you look down at your phone to see a text from himself

caleb: i miss you, pretty you: i miss you too handsome. what’s for lunch? caleb: was thinking of getting takeout, do you wanna come with? im going to linkon just for these famous noodles. you: already in linkon, wanna meet up? caleb: id never say no. ill meet you in 30?

your cheeks flush as you look up from the phone. jenna stares at you with a soft smile on her face as she turns her attention towards you, “you look like you’ve got an admirer.” and you wave her off, looking away and chuckling, “course not. boyfriend-er.. he was texting me.” you state and her brows raise. your slip up was for the lie, but she thought it was because you accidentally outed yourself “oh? boyfriend? since when?” —“since a couple days ago. we’ll discuss it over a dinner. im gonna go meet up with him for lunch. call me if you need anything.” you rise to stand up, and wave goodbye to the girls as you step out to go and meet caleb for lunch.

“these noodles are the best in linkon. you have to try it.” caleb nudges his chopsticks toward you as he dangles a piece of thick noodles at you. you were currently chomping down on a dumpling as he patiently waited for you to finish chewing. as he watches his smile gets bigger, and he places his palm on his jawline, leaning on his arm and staring you down— in a loving manner of course. you picked up the pace to finish digesting your dumpling and quickly gulp before you lean over to capture the noodles in your mouth.

your eyes widen at how soft the noodles were. it was paired with chili oil and this sweet red sauce you couldn’t make out. it was peppery and coated in umami as you nod fervently. he nods alongside you as he laughs at your reaction, “holy shit caleb this is so good?” you ask more than you exclaim and he keeps nodding, still laughing. your face is lit up with admiration as you watch him enjoy himself in front of you. he looked like an awe struck child sharing his treat. it was such a sweet moment, so sweet that it formed a core memory in your head.

you couldn’t help but lean forward and give him a small peck on his lips. aside from the chili oil he felt himself warm as he kissed back, falling forwards a bit from how passionate he was just a split second ago. you bit your lip as a blush crept on your face, “sorry i couldn’t help it..” you trail off as you slowly go to pick up a piece of your dumpling. your chopsticks met resistance as he swipes your last dumpling from you, a shit eating grin on his face, “don’t apologize. matter of fact—you should do it more often.” and your eyes trail away. he could only smile and enjoy the moment.

“umm, sexy pilot guy is your boyfriend? babes! how long have you kept me in the dark!” stacia cries through your phone as you ride back to skyhaven with caleb. you roll your eyes as she throws a fit through the phone, and caleb sits there, listening and laughing at your friend. “he’s here with me right now, and his name is caleb. also, we’ve literally been talking for a couple days, he’s not my boyfriend.” his smile falters a bit, but you don’t notice- not yet, as you hang up the phone on stacia mid conversation.

you look at caleb, and now notice his smile was gone. you tilt your head at him, “what’s the matter?” – “i’m not your boyfriend?” you roll your eyes again. lord who is this diva, “well you haven’t exactly asked me out on a date… nor have you asked me to be your girlfriend.” you poke his nose, and his hands meet yours. his large hands collapse over yours, as he leans to kiss your knuckles. you give him a small smile, “that’s true.. well… what are you doing tonight, miss ceo?”

“i was going to study a couple of schematics, buuuut, i can also make time for a handsome pilot. what do you have planned?” he pulls you closer to him, and you place your hands on his shoulder, “was thinkin’ i could cook you dinner tonight at my new apartment. just moved in.” you give him a nod, “wait i have a better idea, caleb.” your eyes twinkle in delight, your smile widening. his eyes widen back. “let’s go to your apartment right now.” you clasp your fingers,

it was downtown of skyhaven, a bustling hub. gorgeous parks and a good nightlife. caleb managed to snag a nice apartment with the help of his friends, and he just had a mattress in his room. it was real barren.

you walk around, taking a look at the living room. it was spacious. nice grey and black walls with a large skylight overlooking the downtown central park. he had a balcony that was bigger than yours. although the kitchen was your favorite. it was big, an island sits in the middle attached to a bar. the fridge had a screen as if it was a phone. the drawer and cabinets were in this dark color, maybe navy? it was screaming elegance.

“i won’t lie— i’m a bit jealous. your house is prettier than mine.” you cross your arms, taking mental notes from what kind of furniture would fit good with his rooms. caleb rounds the corner with your bag. he sets it down on the counter and walks near you, “what’s brewing in that noggin’ of yours?”

“i think we should go shopping for your apartment. what do you say?” he looks off to the side and rubs his arm, a sheepish chuckle coming from his lips. “id love to but i already spent alot of my money on the bills.” and you shake your head, “it’s fine. i can cover the expenses.” you say this and suddenly you feel like some sugar momma. a sense of dread comes over you, completely realizing, but you brush that off. you stare at calebs face waiting for him to respond. “oh no. no no i couldn’t possibly ask you to do that.” — “i promise it’s fine. i don’t mind at all caleb.” you attempt to alleviate him, and you could definitely tell he’d had some hesitancy. you tilt your head in a somber smile, “you seem more against this than anything.”

caleb holds his hands up in defense, “no it’s not that! i swear. just….majors told me that people only go after you for money.” he mutters, closing the distance between you two as he grabs your hands, placing it on his chest as he looks down at you, “i don’t want you to think that of me.. i can take care of myself, and i really appreciate you offering— it’s just.. i’d feel bad…” he whispers the last part of his sentence. you gave him a soft tap on his shoulder, as your laugh erupts from your mouth, “can’t believe majors is out here making friends with my partner. i thought i’d never see the day.” his face laces in pink embarrassment, and you wipe your tear from the corner of your eyes. his confession starts to alleviate your tenseness from your previous statement and your smile turns from a saddened onto a more relaxed one. you’d never hear anyone say that to you- so it felt new.. it felt really kind. you couldn’t quite pinpoint what the feeling was, but you wanted to thank him, instead, “when’s the last time you spoiled yourself?”

he couldn’t give you an answer

‘atelier seventeen’

it smelled expensive in here. something like eucalyptus, polished wood, and linen-washed ambition. the furniture showroom stretched across two floors, all glass and white tile, with a soft instrumental soundtrack playing in the background that made you feel like whispering. caleb shifted beside you, wide-eyed, hands in his pockets like he was trying to keep from touching anything he might accidentally owe a thousand dollars for.

he leaned in and whispered near your ear, “is this place…for people..like you?”

you bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “caleb, you live in a luxury skyhaven apartment with a view of the central park and your fridge can talk back. this store is made for you too.”

“yeah, well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “it doesn’t feel like it.”

you stopped in front of a display: a modular sectional wrapped in deep black velvet, with a smoked-glass coffee table and low, ambient floor lighting. you turned to look at him, already picturing the whole thing in his apartment.

“this would look amazing in your living room. especially with that huge skylight. it’d catch the morning light perfectly.”

he tilted his head, eyes flicking from the couch to you. “i don’t know… it feels too… put together. like the kind of couch that belongs to someone who drinks espresso looking outside of his balcony menacingly instead of eating breakfast.”

“you literally do that.”

“…right. shit.”

you smiled and took his hand, tugging him toward the next section. he followed willingly, letting your pace lead him past wall-mounted shelves, elegant lighting fixtures, and ergonomic chairs he couldn’t begin to understand. you stopped at a sleek, matte black dining table with navy blue accents.

“here. this is you.”

he raised a brow. “you think i’m blue and black?”

you shrugged, stepping around the table to inspect the matching chairs. “you’re bold without being flashy. solid, grounded. looks sharp. dependable.” he stared at the table. then at you. and then back to the table.

“…i’m weirdly honored.”

you bumped your shoulder against his arm, laughing softly. “come on, maverick boy. this is supposed to be fun.”

“i’m trying!” he insisted. “i just—this is a whole different world, you know? when you spend your life in hangars and barracks, living humbly, and for others, you don’t think about rugs or lamp aesthetics.”

“then i’ll think about them for you,” you said simply, “and you can sit there and look pretty while i redesign your home.”

he blinked. “…i can do that.” – “i know.”

you picked up a dark blue ceramic lamp with a brass base. “bedside. yes?”

he nodded. “whatever you say, boss.”

you paused, looked at him, and smiled. not teasing, not flirty—just quietly fond. “it’s not about spoiling you, you know. it’s about letting you rest. you deserve a home that feels like yours. especially when you just worked so hard the last couple years. think of this as a graduation gift.”

his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something back. but instead, he just touched your wrist, eyes warm.

“thanks,” he murmured. “really.”

you squeezed his hand, then gently let go. “now come pick out a rug before i give you one with florals just to mess with you.”

“god. you’re terrifying.”

“and yet here you are.”

and so you wandered deeper into the store—him trailing behind, you in your element. for the first time, he let himself imagine what it might feel like to belong in something soft. something curated. something built not just to survive in—but to live in.

“holy shit what is that.” caleb bee lines it towards a bunch of displays showing planes, cars, etc on the shelf of the warehouse. his face lights up as his hands touch a model plane. he’d walk around the model with childlike wonder as he touched the anatomy of. you slowly catch up to him, your laugh escaping your lips as he nerded out, “do you want this one?” you tilt your head at him, examining the price: $15,000. in one swift motion, you snatch the price tag off of the corner of the display as he walked back towards you. his face was in amazement, as you hid the tag away from him, “yeesh. i bet it’s expensive.” and you shake your head at him, “i’ve got the same model, it’s not too bad.” you lie, leading the salesperson with your index finger towards the model, then you smile up at caleb, “what’s next?” you ask, already walking ahead to the next aisle, your expression all casual charm– but your heart’s still beating from watching his face light up like that.

caleb lingers for a second, glancing back at the model plane like it’s calling to him. then he jogs to catch up, falling into step beside you with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“i still can’t believe they make that in full-scale detail,” he says, his voice trailing off like he’s imagining it in his apartment already. “that’s the aircraft that broke the record in rings five years ago. the way it was built– it shouldn’t have flown like that. i used to watch flight footage of it over and over again when i was a cadet.”

you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “you know all the specs, don’t you?” he shrugs, looking suddenly bashful. “maybe” you give him a giggle, before your brows shot up “nerd,” you murmur, bumping your shoulder into his.

“hey, you’re literally the aerospace engineer here.. and–” he says, playful. “-you’re the one bribing warehouse staff into giving me aerodynamic furniture.”

“i prefer ‘surprise interior design investment,’” you reply, brow falling back in place. he laughs, that easy, magnetic laugh that makes the salesperson down the aisle look over and smile without even knowing why.

you turn the corner into a new section—lighting displays and sleek, modular bookshelves. caleb pauses next to a lamp shaped like a turbine.

“okay,” he says, gesturing at it, “this one feels like it belongs in a spy movie. but like, in the villain’s lair. see it?”

“you mean your living room?”

“...yea.”

you chuckle, stepping ahead again, but he doesn’t move. when you glance back, he’s still staring at the lamp—but really, he’s watching you in the soft showroom lighting. something about the way you casually took the price tag earlier. the way you knew not to make a big deal about it. the way you looked back at him now, pretending you weren’t checking to see if he was okay.

“you keep doing that,” he says quietly.

“doing what?”

“making things feel simple.” and you blink once, caught off guard—but then you offer a quiet smile, gentle and unspoken. “it’s supposed to be.” he rubs the back of his neck again, eyes flicking to the next aisle.

“you think i’m allowed to get a couch with cupholders?”

“caleb.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs. “just checking.” you roll your eyes, but your hand finds the edge of his jacket and tugs him forward again. “let’s find you one that doesn’t squeak when you sit down.”

and together, you wander deeper into the store—his awe still glowing under the surface, your presence guiding it gently, steadily. you and caleb shop for a couple more things ,until he figured it was too much. you had the men load it in their truck to get it sent to his apartment, and afterwards the two of you go back to his place, picking up some take out on the way.

the door unlocks with a familiar click, and caleb pushes it open with one hand while balancing the remaining takeout bag in the other. “honestly, i still think that lamp was staring into my soul.”

you step in behind him, ready with a retort—but stop short.

the apartment has transformed.

gone is the bare minimalism, the quiet echoes of an empty space. in its place: the deep velvet couch you picked, settled like it was always meant to live beneath the skylight. the turbine lamp hums gently in the corner, its soft light catching on the edges of the new rug– textured, warm, grounding. and in the center of it all, sitting proudly on the entry console like a centerpiece in a museum: the model plane.

caleb sets the bag down slowly, mouth parting just a little. “whoa.”

you slip past him, your steps soft against the new carpet. “looks like they beat us here.”

he walks in like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to—eyes sweeping the room, pausing at every piece like he’s memorizing it. his hand runs across the back of the couch. “this… doesn’t feel like my place anymore.”

you glance over, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“i mean it feels like…” he trails off, looking toward the kitchen. the bar stools are set in place. the lamp is lit. the room has a heartbeat now.

“...like a home.”

you fold your arms loosely, watching him as he slowly turns in a circle to take it all in.

“you sure you’re not overwhelmed?” you ask, half-teasing.

he looks at you then, really looks, and there’s something warm behind his eyes. “no. i’m just wondering how the hell i got this lucky.”

you let out a soft laugh, brushing your knuckles against the edge of the island. “just wait till you see what i’ve got planned for your bedroom.”

he raises a brow. “should i be scared?”

you shrug. “only a little. what if i put a sex dungeon in there?” – “well we’ll put it to good use, then” you brush the comment off, a tint in your cheeks as you look away, laughing to yourself.

he crosses the room in a few steps and stops in front of you, quieter now. “hey.”

you meet his eyes.

“thank you,” he says. not joking. not dodging. just honest. “i’ve never had a space that felt this… mine. and you did that. you didn’t have to, but you did.”

your chest tightens, but you cover it with a smile. “you earned it. you’re the one who brought the maverick home.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, stepping even closer, his voice dropping.

“you realize this means you’re stuck helping me assemble every piece of furniture that comes through that door now, right?”

“caleb,” you say dryly, “i already ordered the tools.” he grins—wide and effortless, and for a moment, he just looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

and across the room, the little model plane sits beneath the afternoon sun, catching light like it was always meant to belong.

as you pick up the take out and lead to the couch– that thankfully- was already assembled, and in front of his flatscreen. caleb trails you with the drinks as you both sit down. the couch is ridiculously comfortable. you’re half-sunk into one of the cushions, one leg tucked beneath you, while caleb sits next to you with a carton of takeout balanced on his knee.

the food sits open on the coffee table—chopsticks, drinks, and a barely-touched bowl of noodles because you’ve both been too caught up laughing to focus.

some ridiculous cooking show for failures. it was just simple background noise now as you both talk about random things.

“okay, but what color was your childhood bedroom?” caleb asks mid-bite, pointing his chopsticks at you. “i’m betting something sensible. like... navy.” you scoff. “please. it was custom-painted blush. with hand-stenciled clouds on the ceiling.” he freezes mid-chew. “blush?” – “and the closet was a walk-in. had a chandelier. my mother insisted.”

caleb blinks, then breaks into a laugh. “you’re kidding.” “i’m not,” you say, smirking. “she had an interior designer redo the room every three years. themed. once it was paris. once it was….‘feminine futurism.’”

“what does that even mean?”

“no one knows. the curtains were made of silk. the bookshelves were imported. i think i had a chaise lounge at one point.”

he whistles, clearly impressed and confused. what the hell was a chaise? “and here i was thinking you just came out of the womb calculating thrust ratios.”

you shrug. “i had help getting places. doesn’t mean i didn’t work to stay there.”

he quiets for a second. then smiles, easy and fond. “makes sense. explains the confidence. and the tendency to redecorate other people’s apartments.”

you reach over and steal a dumpling from his box. “i’ll show you the designer portfolios if you ever want your bedroom themed.”

“please,” he says, mock-serious. “give me ‘masculine minimalism’ with a splash of pilot-core.”

you nearly choke on your drink . “pilot-core?”

“you started it.” you roll your eyes, then look around the couch, almost forgetting. you look at caleb with a grin as you pointed at the arm of the couch, “check it out.” you laugh like a goofball as he opens it– cup holders in tow.

when he finally catches his breath from his childlike excitement, he nudges your knee with his own. “alright, your turn. guess mine.” and you narrow your eyes at him, pretending to analyze. “gray.”

“wrong.”

“beige?”

he makes a face. “worse.”

“oh no. was it—”

“bright orange,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “with blue trim.”

you blink. he holds his hands up in defense, “i was nine! it was ‘space commander’ themed. i thought it looked like a rocket cockpit.”

you burst out laughing, leaning back against the couch. “that’s horrifying. and yet so on brand.”

“yeah, well,” he says, bumping his shoulder lightly into yours, “not everyone gets to have chaise and blush” – “you don’t even know what chaise is, caleb.” – “exactly why i’m mocking you.” you bump his shoulder lightly, as you both laugh in sync. this felt so natural, sweet. like two hearts in love, and a part of you felt like it was healing.

you weren’t privy to romance in this way. you only knew love and romance from as much exposure as you could have, like your parents, your siblings and their wives, but even then, you kept to yourself most of the time. you had no real connection with the men you dated, and so for this one to make it beyond pecks, beyond hand holding, and lavish dates. even something silly like furniture building and take out, not once, but twice. it was kind of mesmerizing to you.

but something also felt different. you couldn’t place it, you wanted something more, but your brain couldn’t explain to you why that was. you shrug it off, throwing it in the proverbial back burner as you face your attention to caleb once more. you still needed to finish putting the other things together.

a soft playlist hums through the apartment—something mellow, old, and easy. the kind of music that belongs in kitchens and sunday afternoons.

the bookshelf pieces are spread out across the floor like a puzzle waiting to test your patience. caleb crouches beside the pile with a half-read instruction manual in one hand and a drill in the other.

“you ever built furniture before?” you ask, handing him a set of screws.

he shrugs. “if planes count.”

“umm.. they don’t.”

“then no.”

you snort, rolling your eyes as you line up one of the side panels. caleb kneels next to you, and as you both settle into the rhythm—measuring, aligning, anchoring. it’s weirdly peaceful.

you steal glances at him when he concentrates. the way his brow furrows a little when he double-checks the alignment. the way he hums along with the music. the way he looks so at home, sitting cross-legged on the rug in the apartment you helped him fill.

“you’re really good at this,” he says suddenly, not looking up.

“what, building things? it's my job sweetie”

“yeah. that. and this.”

he gestures loosely at the room. the warm lights. the scent of leftover takeout. the bookshelf half-assembled between you. his voice softens.

“making things feel like they matter.” you pause, screwdriver in hand, and glance at him.

“well, captain apple, you matter,” you say quietly with a tinge of comedicness, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

his smile is small but genuine. and when you both return to the bookshelf, the silence between you isn’t empty. it’s full of everything unspoken—warm, easy, and undeniable.

the bookshelf stands.

it’s a little crooked at the top because caleb overtightened one of the brackets, but you said it gave it character, and he swore it was intentional after that.

the rug’s been straightened. the coffee table has your tools lined up neatly on one side and two mugs of peppermint tea on the other. the lights are dim now—just the glow from the turbine lamp and the soft under-light from the kitchen island casting a warm haze across the room.

music plays low, something slow and melodic. probably one of your more relaxed playlist.

you’re curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you, a blanket half-thrown over both of you. caleb leans back, arm draped along the backrest, fingers occasionally brushing the edge of your shoulder, never staying long.

“i can’t believe it actually looks like someone lives here now,” he says, surveying the room. you smile. “someone does.” he glances down at you, his expression soft and unreadable.

“you made it feel real.” you shrug, not meeting his eyes. “wasn’t hard. you just needed a couch that doesn’t creak and a lamp that doesn’t give off interrogation room vibes.”-- “you say that like you didn’t pick that lamp specifically.” – “well, yes,” you admit, smug, “but if i said that, it’d ruin the illusion of generosity.”

he chuckles, the sound is lazy, tired, and happy. you glance up at him, catching the way his face looks in the low light. relaxed. at peace. you lean your head against his shoulder without thinking. he doesn’t flinch. just breathes in slowly and shifts slightly, enough to let his arm settle behind you more comfortably.

the show still plays in the background. something light, something funny. but neither of you are really watching anymore. your eyes are half-closed, and caleb’s heartbeat is steady beneath where your temple rests.

“you tired?” he murmurs. you nod softly, “mm. maybe.” and he doesn’t move. doesn’t suggest you leave. doesn’t joke about it. just says: “you can stay.” and it’s the way he says it—like of course you can. like he hopes you will. and as you think about saying yes.. a part of you feels.. odd. you felt blissful, all day. up until now.

you still didn’t feel right with what had happened between you two and his so called friend. it gave odd vibes. you didn’t quite enjoy being a second choice, and if he didn’t know you weren’t the person he was texting, he probably would have never mentioned it to you. this gives you a sense of dread, as you peel from caleb. your smile lingered, but the trajectory of that smile was no longer of sweetness– it was sad. one that he thankfully couldn’t tell.

you shake your head– kissing his cheek as you stand up, “i’ve got some reports to review tomorrow morning.. but i’ll text you when i get home, okay?” he stands up as he nods, taking your hand and leading you to the door. this act alone made you want to stay. but you couldn’t fold. not now. even though you wanted to so bad.

he gives you slight puppy dog eyes as he nods, leaning forward, his lips capturing yours. you felt your stomach burn with passion. your breath hitched as you lean forward– before backing away quickly, silent

“i’d ask you if you didn’t enjoy that– but you’re beet red, honey.” you shake your head, clearing your throat as you give him another smile as you leave him for the night.

the door clicks shut behind you.

caleb stands there for a moment, hand still on the knob, staring at the quiet hallway you just disappeared into. he exhales, slow and controlled, before he locks the door and turns back into the room. the apartment feels different now. not because you're gone – but because you were here.

his eyes sweep over the living room. the couch still has the slight impression where you were curled up. the tea mugs sit empty on the coffee table, one of them with your lipstick on the rim. the blanket is half-folded, crooked, like the way you’d always say, “that’s good enough.”

he drags a hand through his hair, then walks into the kitchen. leans on the island with both hands. he’s still in his hoodie, the sleeves pushed up, fingertips warm from where they’d brushed your shoulder earlier.

it’s never been this quiet in here. not in a bad way. just... noticeable. he opens the fridge without thinking – mostly to do something. nothing inside he wants. closes it again.

caleb moves to the console table by the door. the model plane is already there, centered, catching the soft light from the lamp across the room. he runs his fingers along the wing. careful. reverent.

you bought this. you didn’t even blink when you saw the price. you just smiled and made it happen. he sighs through his nose, then steps back. scans the apartment again. it’s no longer just four walls. it’s a space that breathes now. because of you.

caleb pads back toward the couch. flops down with a soft grunt. one leg sprawled over the armrest. the blanket still smells like your perfume: something faint, expensive, and familiar.

he reaches for the remote. pulls up the last show you were half-watching. lets it play. he’s not really paying attention. just watching the soft flicker of the screen. the movement of shadows across the walls. the way his body still remembers the weight of you leaning on him.

he doesn’t fall asleep. he just stays there — awake, still, and quietly full of something he doesn’t know how to name yet. but it feels good. and it feels like it’s going somewhere.

you wake up before your alarm.

there’s a sliver of morning light creeping in through the blinds, painting pale gold across your bedsheets. everything’s still — the kind of still that only exists before the city fully stirs. you blink a few times, adjusting, and reach blindly for your phone at the edge of the nightstand.

5:23 a.m.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes. for a second, you think about crawling back under the blanket, but your phone buzzes in your hand — a call, not a text.

you blink at the name.

caleb.

you answer, voice still groggy. “hello?” there’s a pause, then: “wait–you’re awake?” you can hear the smile in his voice already. you yawn softly. “barely.” –“i’m genuinely impressed,” he says, laughing. “i thought i was the only one who voluntarily existed at this hour.”

you shift, tucking your knees up under your blanket as you lean back against the headboard. “guess you’re not special anymore– wait you didn’t even know if i was awake or not– you just said fuck it and called me?”

“it’s a talent of mine” he says, lying through his teeth. he genuinely didn’t think you’d be awake. he was going to just leave a voicemail for you to wake up to. he thought that’d be sweet. “notice when i tell you good morning, i tell you good morning at like 6 am, not 5. ” your voice is slightly muffled as you move around in the bed. he just chuckles, "touche.."

“what’re you doing up?” you ask, rubbing your thumb over the edge of your phone.

“gym,” he replies easily. “i always go early. gets my head right before flight sim. no lines, no distractions… plus it’s quiet. the hangar looks kind of eerie at this hour, not gonna lie.”

“bet you love that,” you murmur, smiling. “i do. it’s peaceful,” he says. then adds, a little softer: “makes me feel like i’ve got the whole world to myself.” you hum, eyes fluttering closed again. “you heading in after?”

“yeah. should be at base by 6:30. i think we’ve got a systems run scheduled, right?”

“we do,” you say. “you’ll see me there.” there’s a small pause, that comfortable kind – and you can picture him leaning against a locker, hoodie on, hair damp from the shower, phone pressed to his ear as the first bits of sunrise creep into the sky behind him.

“well,” he says, voice low and warm, “try not to fall back asleep.”--“no promises.” he laughs again, soft and fond. “i’ll bring coffee. see you soon.” – “see you soon,” you echo. you end the call, smiling into the morning quiet.

fuck whatever you were just thinking last night. this man made you swoon at 5 in the morning.

the halls of the base are alive now – boots echoing off metal, comms buzzing low in the background, the constant hum of movement behind every sealed door. pilots pass by in uniform, nodding greetings, tablets in hand, flight schedules loaded and blinking.

you step out of the diagnostics wing, already halfway through your morning checklist, tablet tucked under your arm. you barely make it five steps before you hear–

“hey.”

you turn and theres caleb’s walking toward you down the corridor, dressed in his uniform and looking infuriatingly good in it – flight suit sleeves pushed to his forearms, hair still a little tousled, like he barely ran his fingers through it after the gym, good…lord..i wonder if he needs a dog so i can- there’s a takeaway cup in his hand.

he grins as he gets closer. “told you i’d bring coffee.” you take it with a quiet smile, fingers brushing his, completely eviscerating the stupid dog comment you were about to make to yourself. it’s warm in your palm – exactly your order. no need to ask.

“you’re good,” you murmur. “i know,” he says, like it’s nothing. “come here.”

he steps around you, guiding you gently by the wrist into a narrow alcove off the main hall – a shadowed space between briefing rooms where the noise of the base softens, and no one ever lingers long. you blink up at him as he sets a hand against your waist, the other resting just above your hip. he leans in slowly, not rushed – just close enough that his breath brushes your cheek.

“been thinking about doing this all morning,” he murmurs.

you part your lips to answer, but he’s already there – kissing you softly, deliberately, like he’s memorizing it. his hand tightens slightly at your waist. your free hand finds the collar of his uniform. it’s quiet, but sure.

when he pulls back, he’s smiling. “hi,” he says, like it’s the first time. you laugh under your breath. “hi.”

a voice echoes down the hall – a name being called for sim prep. caleb glances over his shoulder, then back at you, eyes still warm.

“i’ll see you in the sim bay?” you nod, still a little breathless.he squeezes your waist once before stepping away, walking backward for a few steps before turning fully, still grinning as he disappears around the corner. you take a sip of your coffee, heart pounding steady and full, and start walking the opposite direction – but not without one last glance back. yeah. he can totally fix you.

yknow i was asking myself- who is richer, the reader, or sylus? it's sylus- duh. we cant compete to that man. BUT you know it got me thinking. how much money do you actually have? WELL LETS BREAK IT DOWN BABY GORL.

you're an aerospace engineer, so ur already raking in big big bucks. u have ur own freaking company, and you're the source for A LOT of commissions and creations for aircrafts of all kinds. you invest in stocks/personal investments (bc your brother taught you how to) , you have a trust fund that you haven't even touched yet, you have royalties and patents from the DAA, soo you'd probably be making about 9-figures (10 figs on a gewd year) , with a 500+ mil net worth, and u do get more money as years pass soo..... im throwing random numbers up in the air. feel free to tell me to stfu.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @rcvcgers, @mcdepressed290, @young-adult-summer, @unstablemiss, @britishfailure, @caramelizedpopcirn, @velvtcherie, @lonelylandofan , @llamabois , @i-messed-up-big-time , @mysticcollectionvoid, @iamawkwardandshy, @auraficial, @mxkvlio, @mysticcollectionvoid, @rxelarailuj, @angelwhizpers, @p5ycholuv, @dysphxriaii, @loversobession, @lucifers-silhouette, @alayaaaahhhhhh, @dwuclvr,

#lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads caleb #lads #lads mc #loveanddeepspace #caleb x reader #lnds caleb #lnds #calebmc #caleb lads #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x non!mc reader #mc x caleb #non mc x caleb #non!mc x caleb #xia yizhou

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hyunniesamericano · 1 day ago

Text

Waist and Want

Pairing : Han Jisung x fem!Reader

Genre: smut

Word count:2.2k

Warning: dry humping, teasing,dirty talk,orgasm,slight degradation,teasing.

Summary: You and Jisung are still new to this whole relationship thing—sweet, shy, and a little unsure. But one teasing moment with his tiny waist turns into something hot, messy, and unforgettable.

A/n: Still obsessed with rat challenge minsung ahhh.

You never meant to make it a thing.

It started with one innocent glance. Maybe two. Okay, maybe three. But that’s hardly obsession, right? Everyone looks at their boyfriend—especially when said boyfriend has a tiny, unfairly attractive waist that makes oversized hoodies and low-hanging joggers a lethal combo.

You didn’t choose this life. His waist chose you.And now here you are, four and a half months into your relationship, lying beside him on the couch while some anime plays in the background—one you’re supposed to be watching but haven’t absorbed a single scene of. Your attention is elsewhere. Specifically, on the soft rise and fall of Jisung’s exposed waist where his hoodie has ridden up, revealing a delicious strip of skin. His joggers hang loose on his hips like gravity’s doing you a personal favor. And to top it all off, he’s got one arm thrown lazily behind his head, stretching slightly, which just makes everything worse.

You swallow. Hard.

“You’re staring,” Jisung says suddenly, without looking away from the screen.

You jerk your head up like a guilty kid caught stealing snacks. “What? No, I’m not.”

He finally turns to look at you—wide brown eyes, flushed cheeks, the softest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Mhm,” he hums, tilting his head. “You totally are.”

You scramble for an excuse. “I was… admiring your… anime collection?”

He snorts. “Nice try. But you’ve been burning holes into my waist for the past twenty minutes.”

You blink. “You— You noticed?”

Jisung grins, teeth showing this time, proud and cocky like he’s just won something. “I always notice. You do it all the time. Especially when I’m shirtless. Or stretching. Or reaching for the top shelf.”

Heat floods your face, and you cover it with your hands. “Oh my god.”

“Wait,” he laughs, sitting up a bit. “Are you seriously embarrassed right now?”

“I didn’t mean to be that obvious!”

“Oh, baby,” he chuckles, tugging your hands away from your face. “You’re adorable. And a little bit of a perv, huh?”

You groan, falling back against the cushion. “You make it hard not to be. That stupid tiny waist of yours…”

Jisung’s brows rise, clearly enjoying this. “So it is the waist, huh? That’s what gets you all flustered?”

You make a noise of protest, but it’s already too late. The truth’s out.

He slides closer, gaze locked on yours, and you swear his smirk gets just a little darker. “Show me.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you like it that much…” he shrugs, fingers curling under the hem of his hoodie and lifting it slightly, “go ahead.”

You sit frozen, heart pounding.

He’s teasing. He has to be.

But then he lifts his hoodie a little higher—just enough to reveal more of that soft, toned skin, the faint line that dips down beneath his waistband—and smirks like he knows he’s winning.

“Don’t act shy now,” he murmurs. “You’ve already been undressing me with your eyes all evening.”

Your brain short circuits.You swallow thickly. “You’re evil.”

He grins, leaning in until his face is just inches from yours. “Nah. I’m just finally giving you what you clearly want.”

Your gaze drops to his waist again—how could it not? The smooth skin, the dip of his hip bones, the soft curve just above the waistband of those dangerously low joggers. It’s like a siren call and you’re helpless to resist.

When your fingers twitch toward him, he catches your wrist mid-air, eyes gleaming. “Ask nicely.”

You look up at him, breath catching at the way he’s watching you—like you’re something he wants to devour slowly, one teasing bite at a time.

“Can I…” You swallow again, voice softer this time. “Can I touch you?”

His smile softens, and something warmer flickers behind his gaze. “Yeah, baby,” he says gently, “you can touch.”

You hesitate only a moment before letting your fingers trace along the curve of his waist, slow and reverent. His skin is warm, smooth, and tight over lean muscle, and it feels exactly as good as you imagined—maybe even better. You let your touch drift lower, just above the waistband of his joggers, and you hear his breath hitch slightly.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re really into this, huh?”

You nod, too focused to answer properly. “You have no idea.”

Your hands move around to his sides, thumbs brushing the sensitive spot just above his hipbones. His body tenses under your touch, but he doesn’t stop you—if anything, he arches into it, teasing himself into your hands like he wants you to worship him.And you do.

You press a kiss to his waist. Then another. And another, slower this time, letting your lips linger just long enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath. You feel his fingers slide into your hair, not guiding, just feeling you, letting you do whatever the hell you want.

“You’re insane,” he whispers, voice ragged. “Fucking crazy for my waist…”

You bite him. Just a soft nip at first, right over the line of his hip, and his grip in your hair tightens.

“Shit—” he gasps, looking down at you with wide, dazed eyes. “Okay. That was… dangerous.”

You smirk against his skin, pressing another kiss to the same spot. “Thought you liked dangerous.”

“Not when it’s turning me on this fast,” he mutters.

You pull back slightly, hands resting on either side of his waist. “You always talk this much when you’re turned on?”

“Only when my girlfriend’s being a goddamn menace,” he fires back, breathless. “Seriously, who obsesses over waists?”

You roll your eyes and mutter, “I could ride this waist like a fuckin’ pony.”

The words slip out before you can stop them.

And the moment they do, silence falls. Thick. Heavy. Jisung stares at you, eyes wide, mouth parted.

You freeze.

“I— That came out wrong,” you blurt, horrified. “I mean—no, I mean I meant it but I didn’t mean to say it out loud—”

He’s already laughing—choking on it, actually. His whole body shaking, his face buried in his hands as he wheezes, “Oh my god, I’m gonna die.”

“Don’t laugh!” you whine, slapping his arm. “I was trying to be sexy!”

He grins at you through laughter, eyes crinkled with joy. “Baby, that was the sexiest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“You’re such a little shit.”

“And you’re obsessed with my waist. I think we’re even.”

He leans in again, this time with a kiss—soft, deep, lingering. When he pulls back, his voice drops low and rough.

“Go on then,” he whispers, sliding your hand down his waist. “Ride it.”

You straddle him before your brain can catch up, knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. His hoodie is bunched halfway up his stomach, putting that sinful waist on full display. And it’s everything — tight, narrow, warm under your hands, moving slightly with every breath he takes like he knows exactly what it’s doing to you.

“God, your waist,” you whisper, dragging your hands over it. “It’s so perfect, Jisung—fuck.”

You lower yourself just enough to feel the line of it press between your legs, right above his bulge. Your clothed pussy meets firm muscle, and you roll your hips slowly—rubbing yourself against his bare skin through your panties, breath catching at the friction.

He watches you, stunned, as if he doesn’t quite believe what you’re doing.

“You’re humping my waist,” he murmurs, eyes wide, lips parted.

You nod, biting your lip. “I fantasize about this all the time. Clinging to it. Grinding on it. Feeling every muscle tighten when you moan.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, but it dies in his throat the moment you start moving again—slow, deliberate rolls of your hips, soaking his skin through the lace of your panties. You moan softly, letting it slip out, high and needy.

“Shit,” he mutters, hands gripping the couch cushions. “Fuck, baby, keep talking.”

“I wanna come like this,” you pant. “Just using your waist. Wanna ruin it. Leave marks. I’ll ride it like it’s the only thing that gets me off—”

That’s the breaking point.

A low growl tears from his throat, and suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you down his body until your soaked panties land right on top of his bulge. He bucks his hips once, grinding into you hard.

“You’re gonna come,” he grits out, “but not on my fucking waist.”

You gasp, thighs shaking. “Jisung—”

“You’re gonna come on me,” he growls, already rolling his hips up, grinding his hard length right against your clit through the fabric. “You wanna be filthy? Then be filthy.”

You whimper, body jerking with every grind. The pressure is insane — hot, hard, relentless.

“You feel that?” he breathes, voice ragged. “That’s my cock. And you’re grinding on it like you can’t get enough.”

You moan, forehead pressed to his as you move harder, chasing every ounce of friction between your soaked panties and his thick bulge. Your nails dig into his hoodie, your thighs quivering from how sensitive you already feel. And he just lies there—soaking it in, eyes burning, hands glued to your hips, guiding you over him like he’s fucking you through his clothes.

“Look at you,” he huffs, teeth grazing your jaw. “Wrecking yourself just from this.”

“You started it,” you whisper, lips brushing his. “Lying there in your stupid hoodie�� your tiny anime waist… fuck, I couldn’t help it.”

He groans like he’s about to explode.

“You’re such a problem,” he growls, tilting his hips up again, grinding slow and deep until you cry out. “You’ve been fantasizing about this? Rubbing all over me while I just let you use me like some fucking toy?”

You whimper, nodding frantically. “Yes—yes, fuck—”

“Then do it,” he says, breath hot against your ear. “Get off on me.”

His words push you closer to the edge. You’re dripping, panties sticking to you, the only thing separating your swollen clit from the thick heat of his cock is one pathetic layer of cotton. He keeps moving, keeps bucking up into you, grinding deeper with every shift.

You can barely breathe. “I’m gonna—fuck, Jisung, I’m gonna—”

“Come on,” he whispers, voice so tender and rough all at once it nearly breaks you. “Make a mess, baby. Right here, just like this.”

It hits you hard. You tense up, legs shaking, hips stuttering as the orgasm rushes through you—loud, gasping, twitching on top of him as you cry out his name and fall into his chest.

He holds you close, letting you ride it out. His hands stroke your back, soft and grounding.

You’re still gasping for air, body trembling from the aftershocks as your orgasm fades slowly. You’re draped over him, weak and spent, and his hands move soothingly across your back, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough, but still teasing. “Coming apart just from grinding me .That’s all it took? You’re so fucking sensitive.”

His fingers trail over your skin, brushing softly as his chest rises and falls beneath you, and you feel that familiar knot of frustration building deep inside again.

“You really lost control,” he adds, his breath hot in your ear. “All because of this.” His hands slide down, pressing against his own waist, feeling the muscle beneath. “Is it really this easy for you? Just to come undone from me?”

You groan, biting your lip, desperate for more. “Shut up,” you whisper, but it’s weak. “You know it’s not like that…”

But his voice is a teasing growl now. “Oh, I think I do. You were practically begging to grind on me, to feel me. I could’ve just laid here, and you would’ve come again.”

You lift your head, a mix of embarrassment and arousal heating your face. “I didn’t beg.”

“Hmm.” He chuckles low, a teasing glint in his eyes as he pulls you back against him. “You might not have said it, but you showed me. You don’t even need to say the words, baby. You’re already giving it all away just by touching me.”

He pauses for a second, studying your flushed face with a half-amused smirk.

“Next time, I’m making you beg,” he whispers.

You can feel the heat of your face, the pulsing need between your legs still lingering as he holds you close. He doesn’t let go, his teasing grin never fading .

“Jisung, stop,” you whisper, voice soft amd shy but desperate.

He chuckles softly, brushing your hair from your face gently. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his words a low caress. “But for now, well will take a break.... Let you rest… maybe later I’ll let you really beg.”

You shiver at the thought, knowing full well that, despite the teasing, you wouldn’t have it any other way and that u have entered a new territory in your relationship.

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starsinthesky5 · 2 days ago

Note

Do Joe and Songbird have any pet peeves about the other person or just little thing that they do that get on each others nerves?

Obviously we know they’re obsessed with each other, but everyone gets a little irritated when you spend so much time together, especially living together. I think even their bickering would be cute. Like an old married couple already.

a/n: this is adorable

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

ohhh they definitely do. like they’re madly in love, fully obsessed, but they’re also in each other’s space 24/7—sharing bathrooms, kitchen routines, sleep schedules. so of course there are little things that drive them nuts, but it’s the kind of irritation that’s endearing—never serious, always laced with affection. their bickering sounds like background music, soft and familiar, like two people who couldn’t imagine life without each other.

she’s got a little running list in her notes app called “joe burrow crimes (affectionate)” because for all his golden retriever charm and quiet softness, the man is not without his little habits that drive her up a wall. but like…lovingly. with a kiss and an eye roll.

he leaves his socks everywhere. seriously. bedroom floor, couch cushions, sometimes even under the kitchen table. she’s convinced they multiply like what the hell, how does he have so many pairs? “are you shedding?” she teases while tossing them into the laundry basket with mock offense.

he doesn’t fully close cabinets. just leaves them cracked open. she’s like, “what is this, a horror movie? close the door, burrow,”.

he steals her skincare. but only the expensive stuff. and when she calls him out, he acts like he has no idea what she’s talking about while using her eye cream right in front of her.

he has a specific sigh when she’s running late. not mean or impatient—just this soft, put-upon exhale that says “i love you, but we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago,”. she always catches it and goes, “don’t sigh at me, quarterback,” which makes him grin.

his alarms. he sets four. and he snoozes all of them. she’ll be blissfully asleep and then—brr-brr-brr—cue him fumbling blindly for his phone, muttering, “just five more minutes,”.

“you said that ten minutes ago,”.

“no i didn’t,”.

“i have time stamps, sir,”.

and somehow, somehow, she’s always the one fully awake, groggy and grumpy, while he’s dozing off again with his face in her shoulder.

joe’s got a short list of pet peeves about her, and they’re all wrapped in that boyish, lovesick frustration—the kind where he’s pretending to be annoyed but his eyes are literally heart-shaped the whole time. like he’ll mutter something under his breath, but then immediately pull her into his lap or kiss the top of her head like he can’t stay fake-mad even if he tried.

she’s a chronic light-leaver-on-er. like they’ll get into bed and he’ll have to do a whole lap around the house turning things off. “i swear, you’re afraid of the dark and just won’t admit it,”.

she talks to herself constantly. like full-on commentary—narrating her skincare routine, whispering lyrics while she scrolls, talking herself through what to eat like it’s a high-stakes debate. he’ll walk into the room and be like, “are you on the phone?” and she’ll go, “no, just chatting with my brain.” drives him insane in the cutest way. he'll say, “baby, who are you even talking to?”. and she'll say, “myself. i’m a delight,”.

she hoards mugs. he once opened the dishwasher and counted seven of her mugs, all half-drunk, scattered from different days. “you’re running a cafe in secret, aren’t you?”.

she never finishes TV shows. they’ll be five episodes in and then she just…moves on. “we are not starting another series until we finish the last one,” he’ll say, and she’ll smile like, “sure,” before playing the pilot of something completely new.

she never puts her phone on the charger. and it’s always when they’re about to go out or need directions. “my phone’s on 2%!” she’ll gasp. joe just closes his eyes and breathes real slow, already plugging it in for her. “it’s like you want to live on the edge,”.

but the thing is? every pet peeve ends with a kiss on the cheek or a smirk across the room. they tease each other, roll their eyes, poke and prod—but it’s never cruel. they’re those people who bicker while folding laundry or doing the dishes, all while staying so ridiculously in sync. it’s old-married-couple energy, for sure—half flirt, half roast, all love.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #yail asks #yail #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow fic #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fan fic #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #joeburrow #joey b

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augustsblossom · 3 hours ago

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main mark grayson x full viltrumite fem reader, when reader is sent from viltrum after nolan failed to try and convince mark to join the viltrum empire but she ended up falling in love with him.

can you add some angst and fluff also a bit smut if ur comfortable pls.

thank you.

love this so much hope u like it !

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ main! Mark Grayson x fem viltrumite reader

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ a/n: forgive me if this is AWFUL I haven’t wrote fics in years so I’m still rusty and trying to find my groove again, this is also super short and rushed because again I’m just trying to get back into writing! If you liked this one I can def make a part 2 just lmk! Inbox me if you wanna see anything else <3 take care pookies mwah

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ WARNINGS: angst (not that good lol), swearing, annnddd that should be it

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ ALSO: please forgive me if I get anything wrong in this! I haven’t completely finished Invincible so I may have gotten some things messed up plus I’m not too good with keeping up with lore and information so pls correct me if needed! And this isn’t proof read but act like it is

————————————————————————

Nolan betraying Viltrium was the worst news the planet could receive. He was one of their strongest soldiers, but not strong enough to conquer earth? It didn’t make sense to the viltrumites.

They genuinely believe they were done for, so after finding out Nolan betrayed them they sent you. To be fair, Nolan TRIED, and when I say try I mean convince his son Mark to join the viltrum empire to continue taking over planets and growing stronger. So, being here now your job was to go to Earth and bring back Mark, Invincible.

You absolutely hated Earth like no doubt, and rightfully so because they are such a weak planet, so you were hoping it was gonna be light work to obtain mark and go home.

well.

Never say never right !

The plan was simple, disguise yourself and build a relationship with Mark Grayson to then basically sweet talk him into joining your empire. Super easy right?

Absolutely not.

Mark was a sweet talker himself. You met him in class when you asked a question about one of the assignments, and he was a sweetheart about it.

After completing the assignment you guys talked more, and got to the point where you were being invited to his home. Debbie oh so adored you. You were kind, gorgeous and respectful so of course you get brownie points from his mom!

The mission got complicated when his sweet talking was working a bit too well. Being a viltrumite, you weren’t entirely used to human emotion. Someone caring about you the way Mark did felt so foreign, you felt wrong for thinking about it the way you did.

Your friendship grew even stronger, you two were inseparable. Everything you did was together and for each other

You knew you were deep in shit when you’d catch yourself staring at Mark. While he was focused in class or explains Seance Dog for the 10 millionth time, you adored him. And oh were you so wrong about this being an easy mission

You knew you had to end it and tell him the truth before it got farther. It hurt you hurting him.

You practiced it over and over, telling him he should come with you back home, be apart of the viltrium empire and be together once and for all.

After a day of hanging out you guys finally got back to his place. You greeted Debbie as usual, knowing it most likely will be your last time. You absolutely hated the fact you even got yourself in this situation. You were supposed to simply get him to Viltrium and now you’re day dreaming about him being your boyfriend? Cmon girl.

You walked in behind Mark and shut his door, locking it and taking a deep breath before turning to look at him. He sat comfortably on the bed as he was already looking at you, sensing you were upset.

“You know… you’ve been really weird lately” Mark started.

“I mean, if there’s anything wrong or if I did anything I wanna know.”

You took another deep breath, preparing for the worst statement you can ever say.

“I’m a Viltriumite Mark.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only noise was the neighborhood kids playing outside and Debbie watching tv. Mark was as still as ever almost like he wasn’t breathing, he kept quiet

“I know you’re invincible. I know your father is Omni-Man. I know all of it.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat before going again

“Your father betrayed us Mark. We need you at Viltrium. Be with me at home where we can be this happy but better, we’ll have everything”

You were almost pleading with him. Scratch that, you were pleading with him.

Your eyes widened as you saw tears building in Marks eyes. He’s never cried in front of you, like ever.

“…This is why you came here? So you can get me for my dads fuck up? You used me and made me believe you were a normal friend I could have just so you can get me to join your damn empire?”

Marks voice raised with so much pain behind it, you never believed you would feel “bad” for a human but look at you now.

“No, mark you don’t understand”

He cut you off abruptly

“No YOU dont understand! Do you know how much I’ve cared about you helped you loved you? God you made me get feeling for a fucking spy”

And look at the monster you created for yourself. You truly only had one job, yet you made an innocent superhero fall in love with you for your own dirty work and fucked it all up. I guess you can say you finally understand why Nolan did what he did.

#invincible #mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible smut

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onmyyan · 1 day ago

Text

Beast Of The Bayou

A/N: Something different for y'all, now this isn't an x reader, I know shocking coming from me, but I had this idea in my head for a while for a slasher/romance set in 1980's Louisiana and this is our first chapter, a long one, an introduction to the town of Sion and one of its resident members, Adelaide Cadieux, a troubled 23 year old with a dark past, and and even darker future. feedback welcome and appreciated, comments fuel me, hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: CHILD NEGLECT, ABUSE FROM PARENT, SWEARING, BLOOD, DARK CONTENT, UNHAPPY MC (AT FIRST)

Sion, Louisiana, the looming town was always cradled in a thick haze of warm clouds, every morning a heavy fog rolled in over the swamps, giving the whole place the vibe of isolation and the unknown. It had everything from an oversaturated neon shopping mall with sour-faced teenaged employees sneaking reefer in between shifts, to murky emerald swamps with downed trees and gators lurking just below the fog waiting for their next meal, somewhere between all this chaos lived Adelaide Cadieux a 23-year-old woman with sun-kissed skin, dotted in a constellation of scars, her eyes, almond-shaped and honey brown seemed to have permanent bags underneath them.

This was because while growing up, she spent many long insomnia-filled nights with her eyes glued to the small TV in her living room. Reruns of old boxing matches looping one after another, there was something about watching humans in their prime, it truly fascinated her, the primal brutality, the blood flying across the mats with every well-placed strike, she was permanently hooked after the first fight she caught, it was a night she'd snuck into the living room after her pops passed out on the sofa, bottle clutched tight in his hands, she was certain if a fire broke out right then and there, the only thing that man would grab was his bottle, watching her and her mother burn and lighting his cigar on the flames. "Never waste a smoke, hein? (huh?)" she could hear him say it, that slow southern drawl spitting out words like venom.

She inherited a lot of things from her father, the unfathomably deep well of anger in her chest was the main thing though, that and his hair. God she hated her hair growing up, it made her look like him, and that was something that made her stomach ache like she drank spoiled milk.

That was mostly the reason she kept it short as an adult, cropped in a pixie cut and bleached a pale white blonde, the regular bleaching kept her wild curls at bay, straightening the usually untamed tufts, she hated having it long when she was younger, how the loose black curls stuck to her skin during summer nights, the final straw on the matter came in the form of Elodie Parks.

Elodie had set her sights on Addie one day in the small locker room just before soccer practice, picking on the tall girl was something Elodie liked to do a lot, first was the usual routine, mocking her height, her quietness, her poorness, her appearance; "Oh, pauvre chérie, (poor dear) You try so hard, it's almost... cute. Almost." A crowd of teenage girls, Addie's supposed peers began to crowd the scene, circling like a pack of wolves, trapping her in on all sides, she felt her chest tighten uncomfortably at the close proximity, their faces blurring into twisted sinister expressions, Addie did her best to ignore the brunette-haired girl much to Elodie's aggravation. Sucking her teeth, Addie shook her head slightly, she begins to lace up her soccer cleats with more force than necessary, the only sign of her growing irritation.

Elodie, not satisfied with the lack of reaction began to dig deeper, circling her like a shark that smelled blood, "You know Adelaide, you'd be a lot prettier if you took a brush to that rat's nest on your head, hein? (huh)" Her voice had a saccharine sweetness as she berated Addie. "That's if you could even brush through that mess, poor thing." Addie didn't care about the taunts, she was used to them, and worse having grown up in the public school system of Louisiana. What made her turn around and finally address Elodie, was the last mistake of a comment she spat; "Besides, aren't you dykes supposed to have short hair?"

Addie felt her temper flash like a lightning fire, the veins in her temple throbbed, Elodie sounded a little too much like her father for her taste,

so like always she didn't think, she moved. Before anyone could blink Addie was kicking her cleated foot into Elodie's shin, the brunette crumpling to the ground in a sobbing heap, her green eyes full of tears as she cradled her bruised flesh, a crimson splotch began to appear on her high gym sock where she'd been kicked; "Miséricorde!" (Mercy!) you psycho bitch-" Addie didn't let her finish, instead balling her fist, cocking back, and throwing all her strength into the other girl's face, her fist landed harshly on the girl's left cheekbone, not once but twice in rapid succession, Thunk! Thunk! Addie's calloused knuckles split the skin of Elodie's cheek, and blood began pooling down her tear-stained face.

The pack of girls that had once been circling the scene dispersed in fear, now, in Addie's opinion anyway, dramatically crowding around the sobbing Elodie, who held her face, blood spilling between her manicured fingertips.

This earned Addie a month's worth of suspension and a swift backhand from her father when she was sent home early, "You trynna' ruin your life?" he yelled shaking Adelaide by her shoulders, he didn't wait for her response before pushing her away, "Stay in that damn room for the rest of the night, I better not see your face until the sun comes up."

She did her best to avoid him during the break from school, having long ago memorized his schedule for this exact purpose. She spent her time by the water, sometimes from dusk till dawn just watching the stillness of the bayou, getting lost in the subtle ripples dancing across the green surface, catching fireflies in her hands and letting them go, she spent so much time on that overgrown dock that the gators began to get used to her presence, showing themselves when they felt like it, just watching her, she often wondered what went on in their heads.

She liked watching the local wildlife do its thing. They seemed so content with their place in the world, doing what they pleased when they wanted, storm or shine, she envied them a bit but mostly admired their free nature.

The morning of her first day back, her father burst into her room, quietly mumbling about her being old enough to take herself to school, he tossed her the keys to his beat-up old Ford F150 leaving without another word. She took it as his way of apologizing for his violent reaction to her suspension.

She'd stared long and hard in the mirror, gazing at her reflection until her eyes went blurry, she hated what she saw, her breath began to quicken the longer she stared, and all she could hear were the taunts Elodie had hurled at her, and all she could see was her father's disappointed gaze staring back at her. Addie sees her pupils dilate, the brown of her iris almost completely disappearing, her chest heaving as she lifts a pair of sharp steel kitchen sheers to her head, tapping the cool metal against her temple before roughly tugging at her shoulder-length hair, fisting a handful of long black curls in her left hand, she began cutting and hacking away at it with her right.

By the time she was done, she hardly recognized herself, and suddenly she could breathe again. She steadied her breathing, angling her head in every direction, she liked how different she looked.

It was only after catching a last-minute Billy Idol music video on MTV, that she decided to bleach it with peroxide, lightening it until it was a dusty white, the curls straightening out from the harsh chemical treatment. With a head full of wet hair, she began to dress, her clothes feeling different as she slid them on. "Come on now Adelaide you gon' be late!" she hears her mother yell from the kitchen, "Yea'," she responds over the blaring radio, she tugs on an oversized Cramps T-shirt she'd scored over her impromptu break from school, and draped over that, a long red men's flannel, her jeans baggy and ripped at the knees, hiding her body, just the way she liked, always on the defensive, she enjoyed something she could move in, the leather boots she wore were a precious hand-me-down from her mother Antoinette. They made her feel stronger, stronger than any fight had ever done, and it was there in that moment, fifteen minutes late for her first day back, she swore to herself she'd get out of this town no matter what, away from all the bullshit, away from her father's unyielding gaze of disappointment, from her mother's never-ending worry, from this nothingness inside her.

It was then and there she decided nothing she did in this town mattered because she fully intended to leave it in the dust and never look back.

Her mama's nickname for her, 'Trouble', seemed to stick around her whole life. It followed her, even as a young one, she was getting into fist fights with the boys in her class over who got to play the knight during recess, always ready for a brawl, and scared of nothin'.

Her mother Antoinette Cadieux knew Addie would be a handful from how difficult her birth was, it was a home birth, and Antoinette had only her trusted Doula by her side, Beau said he didn't have the stomach for this kind of thing, leaving shortly after she'd gone into labor, the Doula, Maggie, wiped at Antoinette's sweaty brow with a wet cloth, breathing with her, Addie took her time entering the world, arriving a week later than anticipated, at 5:55 am on November 1st, the rain was heavy, hard and relentless the night Adelaide first opened her eyes and let out a fierce cry, stormy and wild, tree branches smacking against the windows, the wind pounding against the front door angrily. Some say the lights of the bayou could be seen hovering over the old Cadieux house that morning.

She was born to a mother who had to work three shifts a day as a nurse to keep the lights on, and her father, Beau Cadieux, was bitter as he was useless, an old drunkard with hate for the world that ran deep, so deep it bled out and infected everything about him, if you asked Beau he'd have an endless list in which the world has slighted him, screwed him over, and this poison, this anger, it infected his family.

Addie's oldest memory of Beau is holding a bowie knife to her mother's throat for burning the gumbo the day he'd gotten fired from his job, he was a volatile man with little advice to offer her other than, "This world's gon' tear apart a no good troublemaking fool like you Adelaide." he'd slur, before leaving the house in a storm of loud footsteps, curses leaving his whiskey-soaked lips, this often left the young girl home alone, Addie kept busy though, learning to cook for herself and survive without parental supervision, being raised by the singers of Depeche Mode and The Smiths, their lyrics and melodies a comfort during the stormy nights her mother was working a triple shift at the hospital, her father was down at the local bar drinking his sorrows away, Addie quickly began to enjoy being alone, finding the solitude a cold comforting blanket.

When she wasn't watching the dark skies of Sion pass her by, or sneaking food to the strays in her neighborhood, she was planted firmly before the living room television, eyes wide as she watched the furious and fast-paced movements from the fighters dancing around the ring, this channel was one of the only things her rickety old TV got without static, watching the fights gave her something to focus her rage on at first, but it didn't take long for that to not be enough, in five minutes she'd transformed her small living room into a makeshift gym, dragging her twin bed mattress out from her bedroom, the tattered fabric of the corners getting caught on the floorboards, she stood it against the wall, walking over to her house entrance, she props open the busted screen door with her hip, grabbing two heavy decorative crawfish statues from her mothers garden, the stone hot to the touch from being on the porch all day, palming one in each hand, it took a few moments of fumbling to work out the awkward grip but eventually she got it, with that she began to look over her shoulder at the television screen, she'd mimic the moves of the boxers with the weights in her hands, fists striking her upturned mattress with anger and passion, she did this until she was out of breath, dripping in sweat, arms burning from the exertion, she'd go on like this for hours, until her fingers were raw, until all she could feel was the pain she was responsible for.

It was the only thing that soothed the tsunami of hate and burning anger she'd known since she could remember.

On evenings she had the lonely house to herself, she'd spend all night pounding at her old used mattress so long, the sun would be rising by the time she stopped, not that you could see it with the heavy fog that seemed to lurk over the town like a ghost haunting an old house.

She'd go until all the anger and rage she had at the world dissipated, until the heat in her chest died down, even if only for a moment. Those few seconds after practice where the world was just her throbbing knuckles and her pounding heart, that's what she chased after. That rage served her well in the rough town of Sion though, most kids were meaner than shit, looking to prove something to their classmates by picking on anyone they sniffed out as different, they tried in vain to bully the reserved girl during her adolescence, be it for her tall height as she stood at 5'10 in middle school, bulkier than most of the boys in her grade, or the fact that she simply ignored their taunts, she was targeted.

There was one thing she was grateful to inherit from her father, he got tired of her coming home bloodied and bruised so he taught her how to fight one night, he was impatient and mean about it sure, but it was the one time they came close to bonding over anything. Her anger mixed with that small desperate part of her still begging for his approval made for a deadly combination, the worse off she left the other guy at the end of a fight, the better, in her eyes anyway.

She loved fighting, lived for it, the thrill, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she couldn't get enough of it. If someone so much as looked at her the wrong way on the wrong day, well let's say she's been thrown in juvie for aggravated battery once or twice.

She moved out of her mother's house at 19, unable to take the misery of her parents any longer, she packed her bags and left in the middle of the night, walking the streets of Sion with nothing but a duffel bag across her shoulders, She found herself knocking on the one person's door she knew she could count on, Jessica Vidrine.

She was a girl Addie had met in 10th grade, after the whole Elodie incident she didn't have many people lining up to hang out, all except Jessica, She'd been partnered with her for a science project, and instead of acting weary around her like most of her classmates, she treated her with kindness, no fear in sight, like she was a normal person. It immediately put her on Addie's good side, which turned out to be a good thing for them both, they both got a friend, and Addie got to direct her anger somewhere, the assholes who tried to screw with Jessica.

Jessica was a sweet redheaded girl with vibrant green eyes and a kind, dorky sort of grin, she wore thick coke bottom glasses, something that got her teased before she started handing out with Addie, no one messed with her anymore, not since she started being seen with 'Psycho Adelaide', the rumor that she was a headcase started going around after she brutalized Elodie back in 10th grade, anyone who knew her was smart enough not to mess with her, especially now that she grew into her muscles.

After high school Addie skipped college, she had no desire to go through any more hellish school than she already had, instead, she started working as soon as she could, and eventually, she settled as a bartender at Hex's, the dark southern gothic bar sat square on the main street of Sion, she liked it there, she could dress how she wanted and they played good music. She had a few coworkers she liked, but Harry Lebasque had to be her favorite, he was a grumpy bastard, way too young to have the hardened stare he held, she liked him because he didn't ask questions, didn't bother her with small talk, whenever the quiet male would speak it was always something worthwhile. It was the first night of Mardi Gras and she was working the mid-shift at the bar, wiping down the counter she watched the clock, counting down the seconds until she was relieved by Harry.

When he finally showed up she didn't bother to say anything instead handing him the keys for the night, and patting him on the shoulder.

It was another stormy night in Sion, the thick clouds and sprinkles of rain did little to nothing to deter the locals from their Mardi Gras festivities, as she walked the short walk home from the bar, she allowed herself to be swept up in the sights and sounds of the city, every inch possible was decorated in purple, gold, and green, performers roamed the streets in traditional costumes, a clown masked stranger handed her a flower as she passed him, watching her walk away until the crowd absorbed him.

She thumbed the single Louisiana Iris, stopping at a small cart selling freshly fried desserts, she grabbed a greasy bag for her and Jessica, then headed home to her small second-floor apartment.

The main celebrations in New Orleans, about an hour away from her town, seemed tame compared to what the locals in Sion did. The young adults found at Sion University were a special breed, drinking until they couldn't, snorting their parent's medicine cabinet, throwing empty glass bottles at pedestrians' feet as they passed by in their cars, doing donuts in their pickup trucks so hard their cars went on two wheels, the fact that the cops didn't give a rats ass about the debauchery that went on didn't help much.

Addie, now twenty-three, both enjoyed and disliked the holiday and the taste of chaos it brought to her town. Her favorite way to spend it was in her second-story apartment, people watching from her living room window. A small crooked grin stretches across her scared face as she observes the growing decadence in the street. She could smell the catfish po'boys from up here, her legs hung outside the window, dangling in the stormy hot winds of Sion.

She was barefoot enjoying the warm wind on her exposed skin, her hand dipping into the greasy white bag in her lap, it was full of pipping hot sugar-coated beignets sitting squarely on her thighs, she heard the jingle of her front door, and didn't even need to look to know it was Jessica, the frizzy-haired redhead coming over every Mardi Gras like clockwork to watch the large parade go by her street.

"Aye Yi Yi, Jessie! You grab the bubbles?" Adelaide asks, her cajun accent thick as she eats a beignet, the powdered sugar sticking to the corners of her full lips. "Mais yeah! it's the good stuff too." Jessica replies taking off her long green coat and hanging it by the front door. She joins Addie by the window pushing her glasses up on her large nose. "Whoo whee! Them college boys goin' crazy this year hein?(huh)" Addie says sucking her teeth at the sight of a rowdy group of fraternity brothers "They that crazy at school hm?" Addie opens the bottle of cheap champagne taking a large swig, her face turning bitter at the taste of the liquor, Jessica gives a weak laugh wincing at the sight of her classmates below them, "faut pas demander." (You shouldn't ask.) She responds weakly.

Addie sucks her teeth, "And them boys messin' with ya again hein? (huh?)"

Jessia sighed weighing her options, she could try to lie to Adelaide, a doomed task, or she could tell her the truth, but she knew where that would lead.

"The years almost over Addie, just forget about it." Jessica tries to dismiss her friend's concern by grabbing a beignet and quickly shoving it in her mouth, but Addie's not having it. She nods her head before taking another swig and suddenly launching the mostly full bottle toward the group of rowdy men. The glass shatters in an explosion of liquid causing them to erupt in drunken screams, they begin shouting obscenities at Adelaide, stumbling over one another.

Before Addie could respond a woman smeared with what looked to be red paint burst through the crowd, the people around her were too busy drinking and indulging to pay her any mind, she was in a short bright purple sequin dress, and something about her seemed so familiar, she looked around frantically before taking off deeper down main street.

"Did you see that?" Addie says her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah, I saw you lose your shit on those guys- damnit Addie."

"No there was a woman-"

"There's tons of drunk people stumbling around I'm sure it was nothing."

"Hm," Addie says staring in the direction the familiar-faced woman ran off to. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong about that situation but figured it was out of her hands so she brushed it off, and continued to enjoy her night.

#yananswers #yandere #yandere slasher x oc #yandere x oc #oc #my ocs #original character #slasher fic #slasher x oc #Various x oc

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seleneprince · 10 days ago

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Jason Todd suddenly having a stepmother and three additional younger siblings out of nowhere, moved into the same house as him. Knowing damn well something is fishy about this marriage, specially coming from the new Mrs Wayne, but not saying anything because Bruce told him to not intervene.

Jason resenting the woman at first, but being uncapable of feeling the same way about the kids, who apparently think he's cool and drag him into playing with them, and well, he can't say no. He doesn't have the heart.

Jason noticing the oldest seems wary of him for some reason, as if she doesn't trust him, but eventually warming up to him when he perseveres in getting her out of her shell.

Jason adoring the three of them, encouraging them to call him "big bro Jay", but having a special bond with the oldest girl, who soon enough becomes his partner in crime in the family. Sneaking out to the kitchen to eat more dessert than they were allowed to, falling asleep together, chasing each other around the manor, playing pranks on the adults. Even getting grounded together.

Jason soaking up all the admiration and affection she shows him, and viceversa. Both low-key teaming up to complain about Dick being kinda an asshole to them. Promising the girl that he'll never leave her, and if she ever needs anything, she can count on "big bro Jay" to help her.

Jason learning even to like his stepmother, who makes homemade snacks for when he goes out with Batman, ruffles his hair while calling him cute nicknames and inviting him to eat at the table with her and her kids as well, as if he's her child too. And he feels guilty but god, he wants it so badly

Jason doubting himself more often that he'd like, admitting once to his beloved little sister that he doesn't feel like he'll ever be like Dick Grayson, only for her to look at him directly in the eyes all confidently and say "You're right, because you're better than him." His eyes getting wet out of sudden and hugging her tightly, as if her warmth alone can erase all his suffering. And it does.

Jason picking them up from school, scaring the shit out of anyone who messes with his little siblings. Carrying their backpacks for them. Telling them that if they ever feel threatened or even worried, don't do anything themselves, tell him instead. Let big bro take care of it.

Jason promising his little sister that he'll always love her, no matter what, and that he'll come back to them even if it costs him. Swearing up and down that he won't ever break her heart.

"We're family, little wing. Nothing can change that. You'll always be my babysister."

Jason loving his little sister more than anything, with all his heart...until his last breath. Dying with the realisation that he broke his promise.

Jason crawling his way back, forever changed. Forever mutated into someone else he barely recognises sometimes. Coming back to Gotham with hands stained in blood and the new weight of his sins on his shoulders. The pain, the fury and the revenge burning his soul until the boy he once was is nothing but ashes.

Jason returning to the manor, painfully aware of the darkness he now carries. That infects his being. Noticing everyone looking at him with wariness, like a bomb about to explode...except someone.

Jason seeing again those familiar eyes, full of warmth and longing, that he thought would never see again. There's no fear in her, no reluctance. No, worst. She's happy. Her eyes light up and runs to him, a bit wary in her steps, but her joy overshadowing everything else. She's unsure, but still reaches out. She still sees the boy who left, not the monster that came back.

Jason feeling too tainted and too guilty to even face her properly, ignoring the pang in his chest at her heartbroken face when he brushes her off. Telling himself he doesn't deserve her affection, not anymore. That he will just corrupt her, curse her by sticking close. Convincing himself that it's for her own good. Because that's what a big brother does. Protecting his little siblings from anything...even from himself.

Jason putting distance between them, pushing her away as much as he can, over and over until he realises she's moving on. That she no longer seeks him out, instead going on with her life and growing up. He's so glad, and so, so proud of her even if he doesn't tell her it fucking breaks him but what he's supposed to do?

Jason still spending time with the rest of the family because it's different with them. They already accepted the boy he once was is dead. They went through shit themselves to somewhat understand his own. They're all soldiers in their own ways, under the bat's shadow. There's no innocence to protect there, no one he can dissapoint. No one that he cares anyway.

Jason convinced that she's safe and better off without him, swallowing the poison threatening to spill out from his mouth when he catches Duke getting cozy with her in all too familiar way, biting his tongue as he looks the other way. That was his spot first, she used to be his, it's not fair it's not fucking fair

Jason forcing himself to not think about it every day....and then seeing her battered body crashed in a dark alley, on top of a car. Covered in bruises and blood and broken. Unresponsive. Not breathing. And he has no fucking idea what happened. Or how. Or why. No one knows, no one can tell him, there's no one to ask. All he knows is that his little sister fell from a fucking window and must've been bleeding alone there until she blacked out. Alone and battered, dying in silence.

Jason realising, with a heartcrushing force, that he fucked up. Astronomically. And it's too late now.

#i swear to god this was supposed to be short #just a couple of sentences to add into jason and neglected daughter dynamic before and after his death #but i'm a dramatic bitch and got carried away #this was the result #well shit #something about jason just brings the angst out #jason todd x reader #yandere jason todd x reader #platonic yandere jason todd x reader #yandere jason todd x neglected daughter #yandere batfam x reader #platonic yandere batfam x reader #platonic yandere jason todd #yandere dc x reader #neglected family! darlings au

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fumifooms · 1 year ago

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Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.

His grey hairs are so earned

#Chilchuck tims #dungeon meshi #analysis #HAPPY CHILCHUCK DAY #You know what yeah understandable have a good day #Alcohol be a ticket straight to chilling out town I suppose #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Thinking on if I should split my family masterpost into diff posts for max reach hmm #I’m def editing in the second page into that post that “I’ve got three people to think of here” sounds sooo much like that’s #how he’d think about it in a family setting as well. He works so hard for them 🥺#I could have put 100 pics on this post to justify everything I mentioned but this is a speedrun for a reason. I’m planning so many #compilations rn i need a break from rereading lol #He’s just here to do his work!! He just wanna do his work!!!#I’m always rotating him in my brain like rotisserie chicken :( Hopefully this doesn’t sound disjointed or insane to average readers #He’s always on his guard so he has a short fuse and his type of humor & liking for snarky remarks doesn’t help #Also bc he knows nothing lasts he has a very work hard play hard mentality where ‘dying doing something you love. Like drinking’#is nice in his opinion #This post makes it all sound so dry. Chilchuck is so messy thinking about him is thrilling I swear. This is concise but at what cost…#OH ALSO he has weird self-hate issues where he really values his skills but devalues himself on a personal level.#‘I am a coward. I only care about myself. I cheated on my wife (lying for no reason)’ etc etc #Can’t disappoint people and make them leave you if they already have no expectations and esteem of you 😏💡#Laws are important to him bc he knows how bad punishment is if you break them and how they’re the key to getting better rights

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luna-the-cretar · 3 months ago

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One thing that I feel is too heavily slept on is that Virgil CANONICALLY says shit like “I have daddy energy” to Jericho. I know he’s a scary gross demon crow man, but also…he’s kinda silly sometimes. He’s a bit of a goofy goober.

Like, I highly doubt he does it often, but I can 100% see him doing it from time to time to confuse the ever-loving fuck out of Jericho (and everyone else whenever he responds verbally).

Virgil: I bet I could yeet that baby off the catherdral

Jericho: Virgil what the fuck are you talking about

Virgil: skibidi rizz Ohio

Jericho: *extremely confused scarecrow noises*

#for the record I still don’t know what the fuck skibidi is supposed to mean #I’ve barely grasped that rizz is short for charisma #I also have no idea what the fuck aura means now #fuck I feel like my mom whenever she hears us older three talk #I swear my sister is speaking another language and it changes too fast for me to decipher it #I’ve just been using context clues for these new slang terms lol #someone please explain to me what negative aura is tho. I’m so confused #legends of avantris #edge of midnight #jericho sticks #virgil eom #istg tho if any of yall try explaining yeet to me i will hunt you down #/lh /hj

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graylinesspam · 4 months ago

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The kid commander.

Ahsoka stands on the bridge of the ship watching the fighters scream past. Watching the plasma bolts bloom into smoking plumes of flame when they puncture a hull.

She relays instructions to the bridge crew. A steadiness in her voice that has no right being there. Men scurry around her. Rushing from one station to another. Carrying out her orders.

She is laying siege to a another vessel. Raining fire upon it. Hemming it in with her fighters. Breaking the hull open little by little. Putting just enough pressure on it so that the crew will surrender.

It's a dangerous game. Applying violence to someone without the intention of killing them. It's a lot like torture. If your subject was a ship instead of a body. Breaking it in the nonvital places so it can still recover enough to tell you what you want to hear.

She waves a hand to the closest CO as she gives her next order. Not bothering to so much as step away from the place she's chosen to stand. The place that gives her an optimal view of the battleground.

Skywalker is out there in his fighter somewhere. Still very much a part of this battle. But not leading it. Doing his favorite thing instead. Flying recklessly through enemy space confusing them into flying poorly and getting themselves killed.

"Sir, we're receiving a transmission from the enemy ship." A member of the comm crew shouts.

"Put them through." She says, stifling a self satisfied smile and tucking her arms behind her back in a regulation at easy stance.

The Separatist commander's face appears on the screen, looking like he might have been tossed around a bit.

"This is Commander Tano of the 501st legion of the Grand Army of the Republic." Ahsoka introduces herself according to protocal.

"Who? Where's Skywalker?" the man on the screen demands.

"The General has seeded command to me. I think you'll find I am more than capable of discussing the terms of your surrender." She sounds unaffected by the insult.

"I-I-I will not be surrendering to some child." He sounds almost too confused to be really angry. But plenty offended.

"Then perhaps we should give you more time to consider it." Before the man has time to protest Ahsoka raises a hand. The transmission cuts out abruptly. The fool's confused face frozen momentarily in shock as the signal breaks.

She doesn't flinch as the battle continues to rage around her. Her own men far outnumber the enemy. Their fighters have been beaten back behind their frigate already. Which is already smoldering all over, virtually without shields and on it's last leg. They have minutes until this battle is over. Whether by surrender or distruction.

Rex knows Ahsoka is hoping for surrender. Whatever her bravado says, she is a jedi at heart. But her also knows that she will blow the enemy ship to rubble, if she must.

Ahsoka cares about bringing her men home. Cares about it more than winning the war. More than enjoying the power trip she's indulging in now. With her shoulders broad and her chin up. Every man in the room following her word.

Not just because they have to. Because they are experiencing this all with her. She is leading them to victory and they know it.

The comms officer makes another announcement as another desk jockey in greys brings her a steaming cup. Ahsoka gestures with one hand and accepts the cup with the other.

"I will discuss the terms of my surrender." The Separatist grits out through his teeth.

"Excellent, we'll begin."

#I don't know what this is #I swear Ahsoka was supposed to be cute in this #but then the spirit of the badass 13yrold that yearns inside me took control #so badass ahsoka it is #Ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #captain rex #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #TCW #sw tcw #short fic #now this is a true one shot #like by the old definition #I wrote this in one sitting and i am not editing it #You can have it raw

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jamiesfootball · 3 months ago

Text

Word Game Wednesday

Tight

Ted smiled, but the expression felt too tight, like pulling a sweater out for winter only to realize it didn’t fit anymore.

“I’m going to level with you, Greg. Reason I’m here is because an old friend of mine used to make it a habit to swing by for his own meetings. Never spoke much about them, and I didn’t want to pry, but I could tell they really helped. So when I heard the news about my–“

Ted fumbled. For all that the English language was full to the brim with eccentricities and curveballs, he didn’t think that any one of them had been made that could precisely capture the Mancunian-shaped space in his life.

“Jamie,” Greg finished for him.

Shoot, maybe it was that simple.

“Yeah,” Ted said wistfully. “My Jamie. When I heard about– anyways, after that I started looking around. Found out you folks had added a night for friends and family, so I thought I’d make like that fella on The Bear and see what’s what. Maybe grab a pamphlet. I don’t know how I got my nights mixed up, but I walked in expecting an AA meeting. I wasn’t expecting this.“

He gestured at the sandwich board, although did it still bear that name if it wasn't loitering outside a sandwich shop?

The board didn’t have an answer for that. What it did have to say, in white block letters, was:

Survivors of Domestic Violence every other Tuesday 7pm - 9pm

#fic: relapsed #ted lasso #jamie tartt #i swear by the time this was-supposed-to-be-short fic is done I'll have posted all of it in snippets #writing snippet

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obey-me-headquarters · 2 years ago

Note

hi! could u perhaps write about mc accidentally finding out about the boys’ hard limits? like, just something that triggers their fight or flight response. maybe like inflecting severe pain or something. idk… thank you and sorry if u can’t!

Summary: Reader finds out where their demons' hard limits lie.

Warning/kinks: Degradation, Mirror play, bondage, sensory deprivation, punishment, spanking (with your hand and with a paddle), public play (? You're at an orgy, so everyone around you is consenting), food play, safeword use. In general, there's some panic on the boys' part as they realize that they don't like what you're doing. Along with some of them holding in their safeword for a bit, but you reprimand them for it.

Word count: 8,500+

Reader is completely gender natural and their genital isn't described.

Lucifer:

You know that Lucifer has complicated feelings when it comes to his body. He hates that he's missing a set of wings, but he wouldn't go back in time and stop himself from tearing them out. Yet his preference towards wearing as many layers as possible stems from more of a fear of being vulnerable than a lack of confidence in his body.

If anything, he's a bit overconfident in his physical appearance, if someone were to ask you.

("Is it really overconfidence, or simply knowing what I'm worth?"

"It's overconfidence Luci, my beautiful stupidity prideful demon.")

Using mirror play in the bedroom has proven to be an excellent way to break down Lucifer's walls. Whenever the demon struggled to get into subspace all it took was bringing out a mirror and having him nakedly kneel in front of it while you remained fully clothed for him to fall straight into subspace.

Something about him being so vulnerable while you remained untouched and fully clothed did something to him. Made him feel small and submissive. You didn't quite understand, but you definitely saw the appeal.

So, when Lucifer struggled to get into subspace one evening. When collars and putting him over your knee didn't do the trick, you brought out the mirror. It was full length and wide, able to reflect nearly half of the entire room, but you doubt that Lucifer would pay much attention to anything besides you or himself.

As you place Lucifer in front of the mirror he snaps at you, barring his teeth into a snarl and you know that tonight is going to be a difficult fight of trying to get him to relax enough to slip into subspace.

That proves true when you watch Lucifer struggle to fall into subspace. His pride battling his desire to be vulnerable and let you take control, you watch as he relaxes, before tensing up and snarling, before relaxing again, creating a vicious cycle.

Determined to break it, you decide to try something else that always makes Lucifer squirmy and lightheaded:

Degradation

"God, you're pathetic," you hiss as you pace around the demon. "Look at you, snarling at your own reflection like a wild animal. You know, sometimes I think you're no better than a wild animal with how much you fly off the handle."

Lucifer blushes at your words, but his pride is still roaming, and it doesn't let himself relax just yet.

"How dare-"

"Shut up!" You snap, wrapping a hand around Lucifer's mouth to silence him.

"Shut your dirty, lying, cheating mouth! How dare you think you can talk like you have something worthwhile to say."

Lucifer's breath catches in his throat, as the haze of vulnerability starts to creep up on him. Seeing his desire spark in his eyes you smirk and continue.

"Come on Luci. We both know that you never said anything worthwhile in your life. That at the end of the day, you're worthless. No, no, you're less than worthless. You only seem to make everything worst, don't you?"

Lucifer feels his pride crumble at your words, washing away as he starts to feel truly insignificant.

"You can never do anything right, can you? Not for Diavolo, not for your brothers, and certainly not for me."

The mention of disappointing Diavolo and his brothers strikes something inside of Lucifer, something he wasn't prepared to feel. Yet before he can examine what he's feeling, you continue.

"You're constantly fucking up, disappointing everyone around you. I wonder how long it'll be before everyone around you sees what I see. Do you know what I see Luci?"

Breath catching in his throat, Lucifer shakes his head.

You raise his chin with your index finger and direct it to the mirror, and Lucifer flinches when he sees himself.

He knows he would look vulnerable, and normally he would take great delight in how small and weak he looks compared to you, but coupled with your words, instead of feeling small and submissive and safe in your gaze, he feels like dirt. Normally when he drops down into subspace he feels soft and cared for, now he can't help but feel worthless and exposed.

Your sneer doesn't help as you take in the kneeling demon.

"Ugh, look at you. Can you believe that you used to be considered the star of the Celestial Realm?" You grab onto Lucifer's chin and force him to look at himself in the mirror.

"Well, can you?" You demand.

"N-no." He asks barely a whisper as tears spring to his eyes.

Immediately your hand drops from his chin as you stare at your demon in alarm. You're used to Lucifer being shy, especially as you break his pride down, you're used to his tears, but you never heard your demon sound so broken before.

"Luci, darling, are you ok?" You ask softly.

"I, I can't believe that I used to be the star of the Celestial Realm, Master. I am, sniff, I am worthless." Lucifer ignores your concern as he continues to cry, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Immediately you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest. "Hey, hey, shhhhh. It's ok baby. I don't think you're worthless. Demonus, ok? Demonus, the scene is done, it's over." You repeat your safeword a few times so Lucifer knows that the scene is over.

As you continue to hold Lucifer against you, mumbling praise and assurances slowly the demon starts to calm down. When his tears finally stop he leans away from you for a moment to catch his breath.

"Sorry, I- sorry. I don't know what came over him." He says, looking everywhere but your face or the mirror.

"It's ok sweetheart, you know you never have to apologize for needing to stop the scene. You know that right?"

"Yes, I'm aware. I just, didn't expect to react that way."

"If you're willing, do you mind telling me what caused it?"

Lucifer sighs and collapses back into your hold, and you think for a moment that he's going to shrug the whole scene off, but after a beat of silence he answers:

"It was the degradation. Normally I like it, love it even. But as I fell into subspace, hearing you talk about me like that made me feel vulnerable, and not in a good way."

Blinking, you will your tears away for now. Later, when tensions are lower, and everything isn't so raw the two of you will have a more in-depth conversation about this and will be able to apologize. Now your demon needs you.

"Thank you so much for telling me, baby. I just want you to know that I didn't mean a word of what I said. I, and I'm sure everyone else, rely heavily on you. We don't think you're worthless at all."

"I know," Lucifer states, a bit of his prideful overconfidence returning.

"Now, why don't the two of us stop laying on the floor and listen to a few of my records instead? I got this new one that curses those who listen to it to sing until their throat bleeds." Lucifer stands, reaching out a hand to pull you up.

It's a bit silly, seeing the still naked demon being so confident, but you hold all teasing remarks as you follow along.

Mammon:

You wanted to do so much to Mammon that it became a question of not what you'll do to him, but what he'll allow you to do to him.

And it turns out Mammon will allow you to do a lot.

Hence the list. After a very exciting night of thinking about every fantasy, kink, and wet dream you ever had, you came up with a list of what you wanted to do with Mammon, and are currently in the process of working through that list.

A lot of things on the list Mammon never tried (or heard about) before, which took a lot of talking, and a lot of easing him into certain kinks. The very kink you're trying out tonight being one he never tried before.

You gather up everything you'll need for tonight. A blindfold, noise-canceling headphones, and a pair of chains. You're a bit excited that the blindfold and headphones are magic, meaning that cut off all light and noise, as it was basically impossible to find a human realm blindfold that blocks out all light.

You could tell Mammon was getting excited too by the way he keeps eyeing the items, but in his usual Mammon way, he keeps that fact to himself.

It's adorable how he rushes to lay against the headboard at your command, as he's usually a bit of a brat and drags his feet before obeying your orders.

The chains are the first thing to go, seeing as Mammon and you were intimately familiar with them. As you lean over to secure the right cuff Mammon steals a kiss, leaning upward his lips ghosts over your cheek. With a grin, you pin him to the bed.

"Greedy boy~ we haven't even gotten started and yet you're already teasing."

"Guess it's just in my nature to be a little greedy." He teases back.

Rolling your eyes you give him one last real kiss on the lips before cuffing him to the bedframe. As you back to enjoy your work you can't help but feel giddy.

Pulling out the blindfold and headphones you turn to your demon with a grin as you present them both to him.

"Blindfold or headphones first?"

Mammon looks a bit caught off guard at being asked his preference, before eyeing them both critically. After a beat, he answers: "The headphones, I want the extra time to see you."

You huff at the flirt, not believing just how bold your demon can get under the right circumstances. (The circumstances being chained to the bed as you lay on top of him.) Leaning down you place the headphones around his ears and give him a moment to adjust.

"Wow, this is really weird! Woah! I can't even hear my voice! Am I being loud? I feel loud!"

Rolling your eyes you lean down and tap Mammon twice against the forehead - the signal you two came up with when you want to check in.

"I'm really to go! Just give me one last moment to look into your eyes -" Mammon stares into your eyes unblinking for a solid five seconds "- I'm good to go!"

Wrapping the blindfold around his head you plunge your demon into darkness.

And it is incredibly weird for Mammon. As a demon he has pretty good night vision, so even in complete darkness he can make out shapes pretty well. So being in complete darkness takes him a moment to get used to.

The warmth of your body grounds him, and it doesn't take long before he's relaxing into the plush bed.

Shimmy downwards, you try to make yourself comfortable sitting between Mammon's legs, sitting right in front of his cock. Leaning down you give the half hard cock a puff of air and watch as Mammon jumps at the sensation.

"Th-that felt weird. It felt like, a lot? Even though it was so little?" Mammon mumbles, and you wonder if you're going to get a rubbing commentary the entire night.

Maybe you should have added a gag to your myriad of tools.

Wrapping your hands around your demon's dick you begin to slowly pump it. Mammon gasps at the feeling, before moaning and leaning into your touch. Your touch is light and extremely slow, but the demon has always been extremely sensitive and it doesn't take much before he's nearly spilling.

"I'm cumming-"

Your hands fly away at his words, and he growls in annoyance. With a grin, he can't see you bounce off of the bed and begin looking through your toy chest. Normally Mammon would be peaking over, curious about what you'll pick out. But seeing as he can't currently do that, you grin as you realize that you're going to completely surprise him with whatever you pick.

As Mammon comes down from his high he realizes that you're no longer on the bed. The warmth he previously felt emulating from you is gone, and his heart quickens as he realizes that he's alone.

"Hey, what's the big idea? Where'd you go?" Mammon calls out.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics, too busy with shifting through the toy box. "In a minute, Mamms, I'm just getting a few toys." You answer, half forgetting that he can't currently hear. Mammon was just so loud, so responsive, that you momentarily let it slip from your mind that he didn't actually expect a response from you, and couldn't receive one.

Mammon tries his best to calm down. Surely you're just messing with him, right? Wanting to make him crack and beg for your touch? You do like to make him beg. Yup, that's it. You were just teasing him.

You are still definitely in the room with him.

Right?

Seconds become minutes to Mammon as he strains his ears to hear you. Normally he knew exactly where you were and what you were doing, even when he was kneeling and staring at the ground his demon senses allow him to hear everything. Now he has no idea where you are or what you're doing.

"Ok, fine, fine! I give! Can you please touch me?" Mammon whines.

Picking up the fleshlight you want to use on him you intend to do just that. Only to realize that the demon forgot to clean it. Gagging you put the toy aside to clean later, and decide to punish your demon by continuing to ignore him by looking through the toy box.

"Come on, please." His voice takes on a real edge of desperation as he starts to spiral.

What if you left? What if you got bored of him and decided that you didn't want to play with him anymore? Is he all alone, begging to an empty room because he wasn't good enough? He begins to fight against his chains in earnest now, instead of the teasing, testing pulls he's used to. But he finds that they're locked up tight and that he can't break out of them.

Will you hear his safeword if he says it?

Finally finding a suitable and clean toy you stand up and stretch. Glancing over at your boyfriend, you notice that he's strangely calm as he's no longer begging or struggling against the chains. You believe that he's just pouting and the second you touch him he'll start whining about you taking forever.

Before you can reach him, Mammon mumbles out a soft, broken, "Goldie".

Dropping the toy in your hand you rush over to him and immediately remove the headphones before moving onto the blindfold.

"Hey, hey it's alright. I'm right here." You mumble, hands shaking as you lean up to undo the cuffs.

Mammon has never safeworded before, and you're kinda panicking at the moment, but you do your best to remain calm as you rush to take off the chains.

The second Mammon lays eyes on you he lunges at you, pinning you to the bed in a hug. His arms are firm, yet they shake as they hold you. It takes you a moment to realize that the wetness you feel on your neck is from Mammon, but once you do you coo in sympathy.

"I thought you left me," Mammon whispers into your chest.

Blinking back tears you lean down to kiss the demon's forehead.

"I would never leave you alone like that Mamms. I just wanted to get a toy from the toy chest. I'm sorry, I should have communicated that to you."

"It's alright just... I don't think blindfolds and noise-canceling headphones are for me."

"That's OK, that's alright. Sometimes we're going to find stuff we don't like."

Levi:

Levi is an extremely obedient sub. In your many months of dating each other he never once received a punishment. You two set out rules together, with him not being allowed to touch himself without your permission and him being required to leave his room and go to RAD a certain number of times each month.

You had expected a rule to be broken at least once, so you were very surprised to see that it never was. Levi was just obedient, and even when he didn't want to do the thing you ordered him to do, he did it. (Even with an excessive bit of whining)

So you were content to never punish your scaly demon.

Levi wasn't.

"Why do you never punish me," Levi asks, pouting in his bathtub. His face is partially hidden by the pillow he's clenching to his chest.

"Because you never actually break a rule or be a brat?"

"Hmmmmm," Levi pouts. "It's not fair! You punish the others! Yet you never punish me. Is it because you don't want to? Because you could never bring yourself to punish a gross otaku like me?"

Holding back a laugh you crawl into the bathtub. Really, only your Levi could be envious of those you've punished.

"Well, if you're so interested in being punished, why don't you do something bad?"

Levi's eyes snap towards yours, like he never actually considered that option. "Gahhhh?!? Be, be bad? How could I, wouldn't you hate me forever?!"

Softening you reach across the tub to cup Levi's face in your hands. Moving his shocked face towards yours you pepper his face in kisses.

"Nope! Levi, I could never hate you." You say softly, stopping your kissing momentarily to gaze sincerely at your boyfriend.

Levi blushes at the look and hides his face in the pillow that's currently squished between you two.

"O-ok, if you say you wouldn't hate me, I'll, I'll try being bad!"

You walk towards Levi's room with a pep in your step, excited to continue playing the new RPG the demon recently brought. You only stopped playing last night as your eyes burned too much for you to continue looking at the screen.

As you cheerfully open the door to Levi's room you immediately notice that something is off about the demon. Instead of excitedly smiling at you and handing a controller over to you, he's curled up on his gaming chair and nervously fidgeting with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"What's wrong?" You ask. Standing over your boyfriend you check him over. Did Mammon steal something of his again? Was an anime he liked canceled?

Levi shakes off your concern and reaches for a controller. "N-nothing is wrong! We don't we start playing?"

He shoves the controller into your hand before scurrying off to turn on the game console. Unsure of what else to do to help your nervous demon you follow along, thinking that he'll open up once you start playing.

As the title screen of the game pops up you see Levi nervously staring at you in the corner of your eye, and you debate asking again if he's alright. Before you're able the title sequence stops and you press the "play" button. A column of saves pops up, and in your confusion, you momentarily forget about Levi's nervousness completely.

"Levi, where's my save?" You ask, flicking between the different saves, yours mysteriously gone.

"Oh well. Um. I sorta maybe, deleted it?" He says in a whisper so quiet you have to strain to hear it.

Snapping your head towards him you watch as Levi nervously fidgets. His left arm is covering his face in a classic sign of Levi's nervousness as a blush paints his cheeks.

Wait. Blush?

All of a sudden your previous conversation about punishment from yesterday comes back to you. You honestly didn't believe that Levi would gather up the courage to do something "bad", so you're momentarily impressed that he did.

All previous concerns about your save fly out the window, as you're sure that Levi backed up the save and is only pretending to have deleted it to elicit this punishment. Stalking forward you wrap your arms around your demon's shoulders and force him to face you.

"Oh, did you know? I didn't know my little demon could be so.... naughty~" You tease.

Levi's face darkens, at both your close proximity and your words. His mouth opens to defend himself but no words make it out. You watch as Levi reboots himself as you teasingly rub circles onto his shoulders.

As moments pass by and Levi is nowhere closer to calming down, you decide to pick up the lead again. "Does my demon want to be punished? Is that it? Were you sitting here in your room wondering what you could do to make me mad and pull you over my knee?"

Wordlessly Levi nods and confirmation, and you can't help but laugh a little. Even when being punished your demon can't help but be good for you.

Returning to your chair once again, you pat your chair and pat your thighs expectingly. Rushing to comply Levi lays across your thighs, and you give him a warning smack of what's to come.

"Ah!" Levi cries out, more in surprise than any real pain, as it will take a lot more than a little smack to hurt a demon Iike him.

It's not the first time you had Levi over your knee, though the previous times were more to explore a curiosity than for a punishment. Yet the previous experiences fill you with confidence, as you know where to smack to tease him, and where to smack that will cause him real pain.

As Levi gets himself situated on your lap you pull down his pants in one quick motion, jeans and all. The demon shivers as cold air meets his rear and you laugh at the pout he gives you in response.

Testing out the waters you give the bare ass a firm smack, and delight in the way Levi flinches at being caught off guard.

"Ah hmmm!" Levi moans, thrusting back for more.

"I expect you to count and thank me after each hit Levi-chan." You say sternly.

"O-one! Thank you, Master!"

Grinning you continue, giving your demon a few more smacks. You didn't give him a number on purpose, as you want to see how many smacks it'll take before his ass is a bright red and he's sobbing out for mercy.

As his ass gets redder and redder Levi begins to squirm against you, thrusting his hips against your thighs. You sigh in response, deep and disappointed, and the sound snaps Levi out of his pleasure filled hazy.

"No grinding against me. This is a punishment, remember? You're not supposed to be enjoying this."

Your tone is harsh, and it sends Levi flinching. You never sounded so.... frustrated in a scene before. Levi is used to you being teasing and gentle, always there with a soft word and a teasing touch. The idea of you being upset with him sends him spiraling.

Tensing up Levi tries his hardest to sit still and obey you, believing that maybe if he shows you that he can be good, and is willing to listen to your commands, you'll praise him. (You'll still want him.)

The next few swings of your fast, delivered before Levi has the chance to count them individually. Because of this, he miscounts them.

"Fifteen, s-sixteen, seventeen! Th-thank you, master."

Slowly, as Levi catches his breath your hand trails upward before suddenly wrapping tightly around his hair. Pulling him upward you lean down to whisper in your best Disappointed Dom voice: "Are you sure you counted right?"

Levi feels his heart stop at your words. He did, right?! He wouldn't miscount - didn't mean to miscount! He swears! It was an accident-

Slowly you watch as Levi's breath starts to stutter, stopping completely before gasping in and out. Immediately you drop your hold and Levi begins to hyperventilate against you.

"Sorry, I'm s-sorry. Didn't -gasp- didn't mean to! Sorry!"

Instantly you pick the demon up and hold his back towards his chest, hopeful that the extra room will allow him to calm down, as you begin mumbling praise into his ear.

"Hey, hey, it's ok! I'm not angry, I promise! There's no need to be sorry, it's ok, I forgive you."

Eventually, Levi gets his breathing under control, and he collapses against you once he does. Shifting him slightly, you pull him into your chest and he immediately buries his face into your neck. You continue to whisper praise as you being to gently stroke his back, allowing Levi the time to compose himself.

"I'm sorry." Is the first thing he says when he does.

"I know baby, I know. There's nothing to apologize for, though, you know that right? When I was disappointed that was only a part of the scene, right? Like when you sometimes pretend to not like something when you do."

Mutely you feel Leve nod against you.

"I, I didn't actually delete your save. I have it backed up on my computer."

"I know, sweetheart, I know." You whisper before leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"How about this, we continue sitting here for a bit longer, and then we both get something to eat and drink. Then we have a little chat about the scene before loading up my save?"

Levi grumbles at the idea of actually having to talk about what happened, but he nods against you once.

"Good boy. That's my good boy."

Satan:

You hold up a pair of handcuffs and Satan grins.

You two haven't played around with the idea of bondage much, there were other kinks that you wanted to try out first. Sure, you toyed around with pinning his hands down to the bed or ordering him to sit still while you edged him. But you two have yet to use any tool to bind him.

A distinct click echoes throughout the room as you fasten the cuff to his right hand before moving to his left. His hands are looped around the bedframe, stopping him from reaching down to touch himself or you as you play with him.

A wise choice seeing as you plan to edge him until he's sobbing.

The first edge passes through him well, only resulting in a choked-off groan before you give him a few moments to calm down. As you do Satan begins to pull at the handcuffs, testing out their strength.

As he pulls his hands back and forth he feels his heartbeat pick up for a different reason. A looming sense of dread slowly starts to creep in, but before he can focus on it you begin to stroke his dick once again.

Arousal floods through his system once again, but so does anxiety. As he chases his denied relief once more he pulls against the handcuffs, flinching when they make a loud clicking noise as they scrape against the headboard.

When you shift away to allow him to cool off the anxiety settles in replacing all thoughts of arousal. He begins to fight earnestly against the handcuffs, pushing and pulling them, trying to will them to break. But they're strong cuffs, made out of demon-resistant metal and almost impossible to break.

In your mind all you can see is Satan shaking against the bed, sneaking out the pleasure you've denied him. But in Satan's, he's reliving an experience he hasn't felt in thousands of years: entrapment.

Memories of heavy chains wrapping around his body, caging him in and denying his escape as he withers and shakes in rage. Memories of dark closets and being chained to this very same bed as he screamed out curses and profanities until his throat bleed.

He thought he was past this stage of his life, where he was angry and trapped. Caged like a wild animal.

"S-SHAKESPEARE!" Satan growls out your safeword - a safeword that has never been used before.

It takes you a second to realize what he said, but once you do you're on him in an instant. Reaching up you fumble with the keys to the handcuffs as Satan struggles beneath you. You whisper praise and assurances as you unlock the cuffs, but you doubt he can hear you.

The moment he's free Satan flinches backward, his back hitting the wall as he scrambles to get away from you. His eyes are wide, his pupils are pinpricks as he studies the world around him. Akin to a wild, caged animal he crotches down like he's preparing to lunge, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You know he wouldn't attack you, yet you do your best to look passive as you raise your hands in surrender.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, Satan comes back to himself. He seems to realize where he is, and what's going on, as he composes himself.

"Baby, are you ok?" You ask in a low, gentle tone.

And Satan breaks.

He completely shatters as he rushes into your arms. You barely have time to realize what's going on before you feel your chest wetten as Satan begins to sob.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." You mumble, hands lightly touching Satan's head. When he leans into the touch you begin gently petting him.

"It's, sniff, it's ok. You didn't know I would react like that. I didn't even know I would react like that."

"Still, I saw you struggling against the handcuffs, I should have checked up on you."

Satan doesn't know what to say to that, too tired to try to argue with you so he simply hums in response. After a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence, your hands threading through his hair, he leans up and rubs the remainder of the tears out of his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather we do something else?" You ask, rubbing circles into his back.

"Can we read a bit first?" Satan asks, and on a normal day he would cringe at how timid he sounds, but he's too tired to care right now.

One day he'll tell you about his "childhood". About this memories of chains and ropes, of dark rooms and confined spaces, of rage and curses.

But now he just wants you to hold him as the two of you pour over a good murder mystery, him free to move around and shift, and you with your hands wrapped around his waist.

Asmo:

You and Asmo tried nearly every kink known to man, and even some only known to demons. So you know when Asmo's limits lie, and he knows yours. You know when he's fake whining to get a rise out of you, and when his cries border on actually "too much", you can tell the difference between pleasure tears and pain tears, and after many many conversations you know what kinks he absolutely wouldn't want to try under any circumstances.

Fortunately, polygamy wasn't one of them.

It wasn't often the two of you invited another into your bed, you could entertain each other just fine. But sometimes you wanted to see Asmo dom another person, or Asmo wanted to show off his skills next to a less experienced sub, and gangbangs were just fun! You only had two hands, and sometimes you wanted to see Asmo be taken apart by a dozen.

The orgy the two of you are going to tonight didn't have a "main character", but it was hosted by a prominent sex toy brand owner, and Asmo said that the snack bar was "to die for". So you decided to give it a try.

Asmo was being a brat the whole car ride over, pawing at your jacket and trying to kiss you. Trying to save the poor Uber driver you tell your demon to behave, but Asmo only giggles in response as he tries, and fails, to undo your buttons.

You hope that once you got to the orgy Asmo would settle down, but he's committed to being a brat. As you hand over your coat to the door demon, Asmo rushes ahead of you and sits down onto the lap of a demon he knows, who is very clearly in the middle of having their dick sucked by another attendee.

He tries to persuade them to let him take over and replace their sub's spot, but you're able to pull Asmo away by his collar and onto your lap.

For one glorious moment, you believe that this calms your demon down enough to start behaving, as he quiets down once as he gets settled. It wasn't long after that another demon started up a conversation with you, asking if you were the legendary exchange student, and how you felt about RAD.

While you talked Asmo absentmindedly sucks on your fingers. He tries squirming against your lap, but one smack to his thigh was a clear message for him to calm down.

Or so you thought.

When Asmo continues to grind against you and begins adding teeth to his sucking, you snap. If he was so determined to be punished tonight, he would get punished.

Rising you stand before Asmo wearing your best Disappointed Dom look. He giggles at the look, clearly happy that he thinks he's getting what he wants. That is a public spanking.

You have different plans though, and you walk towards a corner of the room no one is standing near. Snapping your fingers at the corner you command your demon:

"Asmo, over here now."

Asmo rushes off the couch to obey as he skips over. He eyes you a curious look as you force him to his knees, obviously not expecting his punishment to be somewhere so out of the way and private. You pay it no mind, and when he sinks to the floor and assumes a standard kneeling position you give him another command:

"You're not to move, and unless it's your safeword you're not allowed to speak either until I say your punishment is over."

He pouts as he feels the command take hold, staring up at you with pleading eyes. But you don't allow yourself to be swayed.

"Since you were so determined to be a brat and not be patient, this is your punishment. When I think you're finally to sit still I will release you."

You give him one last pat on the head before making your way back to the couch.

As you resume your conversation with the other demon about RAD, more demons start to join in. Some are curious about your life as an exchange student while others are more concerned with the reason why you're here.

A bold demon leaned in close and whispered something in your ear, causing you to blush and gently swat their arm. After that it was like the other demons suddenly remember that they were at an orgy and not a press conference, and began cuddling up to you.

All the while Asmo stews from his spot kneeling in the corner. At first, he was upset at you for hiding him, but now that you're getting more and more attention a prickle of envy runs through him. Not at you, but at the demons now vying for your attention. You should be focused on him - even if it was to punish him.

Normally Asmo wouldn't mind you getting cozy with a few other demons, under different circumstances he would have been delighted to sit back and watch as you had your way with a few of them. Now? When he's hidden away in a corner, forgotten?

Something stings in Asmo, and he desperately tries to whine out for your attention, but the command stops him. All that leaves him is the wheeze of his chest as he desperately tries to force words out of his mouth. Your safeword was on the tip of his tongue, and if you two were alone he wouldn't hesitate to say it, but something about being in a room full of demons stop him.

He's the Avatar the lust, and this is barely a punishment, what would the other demons say if they saw him use his safeword just because he was put into a corner? He knows that safewording isn't a sign of weakness, but he can't shake the thought of what rumors might follow him if he shows vulnerability.

But when he sees a demon crawl into your lap, and you kiss them on the lips, he can't help but yell out a desperate "Majolish"!

Immediately you push the demon out of your lap and rush toward Asmo. Your knees hit the ground with a loud thud but you pay it no mind you kneel before the now sobbing demon.

"All commands are over! Asmo are you ok, what happened?!"

Asmo doesn't waste a second as his arms shot around you and pull you close. As he sobs into your chest your hands slowly wrap around your demon, trying to piece together what went wrong. You don't get must time to think before Asmo's lips are on yours, kissing you desperately, which you quickly return with enthusiasm. Asmo calms down once you make it clear that you desire him, slumping into your chest.

When you break for air you timidly look around the room and breathe a sigh of relief as you notice that the surrounding demons are making an effort not you look in your direction. As you make eye contact with a demon they mouth out a "side room" while pointing at a closed door.

Understanding that this must be some type of aftercare room, or simply a private room couples can retreat into, you quickly pull Asmo up and lead him into the room. As you make it through the doorway you relax as you see that no one else is in there and gently push Amso onto the bed.

"Asmo, sweetheart, darling, we don't have to talk about what happened right away, but I do want to make you feel better. Can you please tell me if there's anything I can do?"

Asmo, whose been holding your hand in a death grip slowly nods as his other hand wipes at his tears.

"Yeah, yes of course. Just can you, can you hold me for a bit?" His voice gets quieter at the end. "Maybe tell me you love me?"

It's rare to see Asmo so shaken up, even after using his safeword, and something breaks inside of you. But you're determined to focus on him, and you nod.

"Of course baby, scout over."

Asmo does as he's told and you're quick to pull him into a tight hug before you begin to slowly rock him back and forth. All the while whispering praise into his ear about how much you adore him, and how beautiful he is.

Beel:

It seemed so simple when you suggested the idea: why not mix two of Beel's biggest pleasures and bring food into the bedroom?

You haven't had much experience with food play before, but after doing some research (watching porn on DevilHub and writing down things you found hot), you were confident you could make food sexy.

After discussing what will happen in the scene, you and Beel come up with a game plan. Beel was a bit worried about not being able to focus on sex when he was eating, so you proposed a solution: you will command Beel to sit still and tease him with food from Madam Screams. When he's a good boy and shows patience, you'll reward him by feeding him a piece of food and then stroking his dick. Trapping in a cycle of wanting pleasure, and being hungry.

The start of the scene went according to plan, with Beel able to control himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you. You dangle a curly fry in front of his face, and Beel drools at the sight.

Teasing him you press the fry against his lips and tell him by a good boy and hold it there. Like a dog, Beel obeys and holds the treat against his lips and makes no move to bite. While your other hand sinks to the edge of his boxers.

Palming his dick Beel lets out a guttural groan, the motion causing the fry to ever so slightly push past his lips and he gets a slight taste of the slaty goodness before you rip it away. The glutton barely has time to mourn that loss before he sinks into pleasure once more as you pull his dick out of his underwear.

Already hard and dripping Beel's dick bounces against his stomach, and you coo in delight.

"Oh baby, you're already so wet for me. Excited already?"

Beel moans in response, unable to think clearly as it was growing harder to think through the pleasure filled haze of his mind.

Wrapping your hand around your dick you give it a firm tug, just how he likes it. All thoughts of food and hunger spill out of his mind as you begin playing with his dick.

Until you press the curly fry against his nose and he breathes in the scent. Hunger overtakes him once more as he tries to lunge for it, but you move it away before he's able. Pressing a firm finger against his slit Beel groans as he's stuck in a tug of war between his two different desires. Food, and sex.

As you deny him his treat once again a growl rumbles through his chest and you pause. Beel has never growled like that during sex before. Smiling you continue to jack him off, but Beel is less excited about his rough growl. He normally tries so hard to keep his hunger rage away from you, what if he loses control?

You don't give him much time to worry about concern as you pump him toward an orgasm. Yet the moment Beel feels like he's going to tip over, your hands retreat and he's left wanting.

As a reward you pop the fry into the demon's panting mouth and he instantly inhales it. But it doesn't provide him much relief as he just feels hungrier.

Beel is used to fighting off his hunger and he's used to you edging him. But dealing with both at once? It's an overwhelming, all encompassing desire he never felt before.

And he's not sure if he likes it.

As you lean down to touch his dick once again Beel lets out a throaty whine, sounding more desperate than you ever heard him before. Horny, but worried you glance up at your gentle giant.

"Are you doing alright, buddy?"

"Hungry- no, horny. I can't, I don't know. I want to stop." He rushes out the last part quickly, but you hear it all the same.

"Oh! OK, alright. Yeah, we can stop no problem. Um, which one do you want first? Do you want me to get you off first or do you want to eat first?"

Beel moans hopelessly at the question, and you mentally berate yourself for even asking. It's not like he can't do both at once.

Shoving a handful of fries into his mouth you begin pumping his dick in earnest now, determined to actually get him off this time. Every time Beel moans in hunger you're quick to feed him more food, and Beel is treated to the sensation of eating while getting pleasure.

It doesn't take long for him to cum, shooting into your hands and getting a bit of your chin as he does. As he breathes out a sigh of relief he lays boneless against you, and you remember to finally undo the sit still command you previously placed on him.

Patting his back with one hand the other reaches over to grab a nearby drink and you hand it to him to help wash down the food. After he downs it one gulp he leans back to give you a dopey, but incredibly fond look.

"That was nice. I liked it when you feed me while jacking me off."

Grinning at the honesty, you lean in and kiss your demon.

"Thank you. I liked how desperate you were and how to relied on me to give you everything you wanted. What about the teasing?"

"I.... didn't like that. I was afraid I'll get too needy and hurt you." Beel says the last part ashamed and you're quick to lean up to give him another kiss.

"I get that, it seemed like a lot. If you want to do this again I would tease you again, I promise."

Beel grins, and you momentarily mourn your wallet at how much food you'll be buying in the future. But that fond look is enough to banish all mournful thoughts in an instant.

"I'll like that."

- Belphie:

Belphie being a brat isn't a new development for you. He's been a brat since the first time you bedded him. Which resulted in a lot of punishments. A lot.

You almost believe that Belphie prefers to be punished than his regular scenes, and that makes you want to up the ante and show him a real punishment is like. Maybe you'll finally convince him to be obedient for once.

So you got a new toy you wanted to try with him, a paddle. It's a thick, strong paddle. Made in the Devildom because you don't think a human realm one will survive Belphie's ass.

Yet the demon doesn't so much as cower when you present the toy to him after he caused you to sleep in and miss class again. Well, you'll show him. You'll have him pleading for mercy in no time.

The Avatar of Sloth, true to his name, doesn't put up any type of a fight as you pull him across your lap. Only grinning when you pull his pants down and you notice that he's not wearing any underwear.

"You were really committed to being a brat today, weren't you?" You tease, giving the demon a quick pop on the ass with the paddle.

Belphie moans at the sensation, and giggles a cheeky "no". Wasting no time with foreplay you get right into business by delivering a fury of blows to the demon's plush. You don't bother to tell him to count them, knowing that he wouldn't, or that he'll miscount on purpose.

Moaning at the feeling Belphie arches his back as he leans into the swatting, enjoying the pushing sensation.

Yet, as time continues and you keep hitting and his ass gets redder and redder Belphie starts to feel weird..... tender. You normally don't cause him to feel this raw until much later in his punishment. When both of your hands sting with the amount of blows you dealt, the two of you are out of breath and ready to tear each other's clothes off.

As you strike down the paddle once again, Belphie feels something he hasn't felt in a very long time:

Pain

Sure, your spankings hurt before. But it was more of a force, a push, a physical reaction to movement than any real kind of pain.

And Belphie is not prepared to handle real pain. As the spoiled youngest of the Avatars, he's used to not having to lift a finger. This made your punishments even more exciting as Belphie felt the closest he did to pain he felt in a long time, without actually crossing over into actual pain.

He may not be as physically resistant as Beel or Lucifer, but he's still an Avatar, a high class demon who can take a lot before anything even fazes him.

Which makes this situation laughable.

A simple human like you, causing him, a ruler of the Devildom, pain? It's impossible, it should be impossible.

Yet here he is, forcing back tears as a flimsy wooden paddle causes him pain he hasn't felt since the Celestial War. He wants to laugh, but he wants to cry even more.

The safeword is on the tip of his tongue, but he refuses to cave. He's been spanked dozens of times before, why should he admit defeat over a stupid paddle? He knows you'll disagree with him framing it like that, but you're too busy creating welts on his ass to argue with Belphie's mind.

When you show no signs of stopping or slowing down, Belphie starts to crack. For once he just wants a punishment to be over and for him to apologize and for you to hold him in your arms.

When you strike down once more, Belphie cries out a "No!" That's a little too desperate, a little too panicked, that snaps you out of your rhythm

"Baby?" You ask, placing the paddle next to you. "Are you ok? Do you need a breather?" You know not to suggest stopping, as Belphie will scoff at the notion before edging you on, but something about the way he's flinching makes you want to pause the scene for a moment.

"No," Belphie sniffs, hand reaching upward to rub the tears out of his. "No I'm fine, keep going." He insits, but you notice the way he leans away from you as he says it. Belphie may be a brat, he may pretend to huff and hate punishments, but he never shifted away from you during a scene pause.

Placing down the paddle beside you, you host Belphie up and press him against your chest. The moment you do he's hiding his face in your shirt, an act of shyness that's out of character for the demon.

"Belphie, baby, are you ok? We can stop if you want to."

Belphie sniffles against your shift and you raise your hands to rub comforting circles into his skin.

"I'm fine, just.... I'm not letting a stupid paddle break me." He mumbles out the last part, but you're able to catch the gist of it and you frown.

"You know that's now how that works. You're not admitting defeat, or saying you're not strong enough if you use your safeword."

Believe grumbles out a response you don't catch, but you doubt he's agreeing with you. Shifting his head upwards you create eye contact between the two of you, and don't relent until he's staring into your eyes.

"What if I didn't want to do something and so I used our safeword? Am I breaking then?"

Belphie pouts, knowing that he'll never think any less of you if you were to use the safeword. So reluctantly he shakes his head.

"Well, why's it any different for you? Because you're a demon?"

He flashes pink at being so easily read, and he keeps his mouth shut as he shrinks down.

"No, but......" Belphie trails off, unsure of what to say. Smiling softly you lean forward to press a kiss into his lips, one he's quick to mirror.

"Alrighty, so no more holding in your safeword, ok?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Belphie nods before cuddling up to you. As you lay down with your arms wrapped around him, careful to shift him so his tender ass isn't touching anything, you begin stroking his hair. In the following silence, all that can be heard is the steady rise and fall of both of your chests before Belphie says determined:

"I'm going to burn that paddle though."

#obey me #obey me smut #obeymesmut #obey me dom!reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me Beel #obey me belphie #my post #i swear this post was SUPPOSED to be short and sweet.#a little break while i work on my OTHER incredibly long fic #but then i kept thinking about Satan getting flashbacks to when he was tied up in NB and i had to write it #why i didnt just post my original short thoughts and then add Satan's part in a reblog #idk.#and since i written a mini fic for satan OBVIOUSLY i had to do it for the rest of the brothers!!#ok but ive been working on this for a few days. when i had a bit of freetime ill write a brothers part #the actual order i wrote these in was Satan. Asmo. Lucifer. Mammons and Levis got mixed up because i went inbetween them whenever i got #tired of working on their part #then Beel and then Belphie #idk if that like. shows lol #anyways. um. thank you for the ask!!!#i obviously thought about it really hard lol #i actually planned on having Beel safeword too and have him call Red #because in my mind you explained te concept of safewords to Beel and started off with red yellow green #and Beel just never bothered to create a new one #i actually didnt think ill do well at writing food play because im not personally into it but like. i kinda like it?#some of these didnt follow the prompty exactly bc i got tireddddd lol

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