#they give him his own room separate from the others until they can be sure he's not immediately dangerous

[multishipper-baby]

Having more AU and eakwynn brainrot, as expected.

[starmapz]

(more) husband!sukuna modern/non-curse au sfw & nsfw headcanons. nsfw below the cut.

❦ cw ; mdni. 18+ only. f!reader. fluff. smut. oral (f! receiving). manhandling. doggy. toys (vibrator). bondage. degradation. fingering. rough sex. based loosely on my biker ryomen sukuna x biker female reader oneshot but can be read separately.

masterlist || more husband!sukuna hcs || husband!sukuna smut oneshot

husband!sukuna who gradually grows more docile as you get older together, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t that same man who gets himself into trouble every once in a while. you still find yourself scolding him as you wrap his knuckles after a fight, sighing when he attempts to flirt his way through your obvious frustration with him. unfortunately for you, he thinks it’s hot when you scold him.

husband!sukuna who complains when you take him to concerts, but he’ll still lift you onto his shoulders to help you see over the crowd. if you bring him to a heavier genre of show, you might even catch a glimpse of a song he heard at the concert in his workout playlist.

husband!sukuna has a bad habit of spacing out. though it can be frustrating when he doesn't listen (and he does try his best, he’s actually pretty good at it), you have to give him a break because the reason he spaces out is usually because he’s admiring you.

husband!sukuna who can’t handle fighting with you. he’ll storm off and cool down but he won’t let you go to sleep angry. he’s aware he can be… difficult, to put it lightly, and regardless of how angry he is, he won’t let his own inability to communicate ruin the best thing to happen to him, his relationship with you.

husband!sukuna acts all high and mighty both around you and others but he would fall apart without you. if you go away for a work trip, expect near constant texts. of course, sukuna doesn’t do affectionate words, he won’t tell you he misses you, but you know. he’ll text you about the dumbest things just to have an excuse to text you. he’ll ask where the salt is, as though he doesn’t know and you’ll wait until you get back to tease him because you need to see his face when you do.

husband!sukuna loves to dish out constant teasing, but he hates when you tease him back. if you give him a hard time for his clingy texts, he’ll storm out of the room with a red face and avoid you until his blushing subsides. of course, he’s not really mad and you know that, he’s just embarrassed.

husband!sukuna knows you love to pester him with stupid questions and poke and prod at him for attention when he’s busy. he’ll hiss and growl and grumble through each and every irritating action, he’ll shove you away with a hand on your face and flick your forehead, but he never truly gets bothered by it. he knows your little irritating acts are done out of love.

husband!sukuna who, on very rare occasions, puts in the extra effort to be truly loving and dote on you. it usually coincides with a birthday or anniversary but he’ll get particularly soft and gentle, hands on your hips, peppering sweet kisses all over your face. he knows he isn’t the easiest man to love and makes that extra effort to show his love for you during these events.

husband!sukuna doesn’t get jealous. at least, that’s what he tells you, but you’d be a fool not to notice the way he gets possessive and quiet when others openly flirt with you in front of him. you can only imagine the glare they’re getting from the hulking man behind you.

husband!sukuna is an absolute menace when it comes to having his hands on you. at this point you aren’t even sure he’s doing it on purpose, his hands drift to inappropriate places no matter the setting. while he loves your hips and waist, he seems to mindlessly palm your ass, even right in front of your co-workers.

husband!sukuna despises chaste kisses. it’s all or nothing with this man, he will shove his tongue down your throat in front of all of your friends and there is absolutely nothing that can be done about it, lest you want him to be grumpy the rest of the night.

husband!sukuna who absolutely adores leaving hickeys and love bites on your skin. he doesn’t care that you have work, he adores the way they look on you and even more so he absolutely goes crazy for the way your face twists in pleasure when he marks your skin with them.

husband!sukuna can’t get enough of the sight of you in one of his muscle shirts. the way the arm holes give him a view of the swell of your breasts and your perky nipples show through the thin fabric? he’s practically drooling at the sight.

husband!sukuna is an absolute freak in the sheets and he revels in trying new things. if you suggest toys, he’s all over it. he’ll only buy the absolute best for his sweet wife though, anything less and he’s not interested.

husband!sukuna doesn’t beg. ever. he may have been practically groveling at your feet in hopes you would let him have control over a remote control vibrator in your panties in public but he absolutely refuses to let you say he begged for it. he claims he was just a bit pushier than usual when he asked. (he begged. he begged so much.)

husband!sukuna will talk you through your orgasm each and every time, spewing the dirtiest and nastiest things until he sees you’re close, then his words grow softer, telling you that you take him so well and practically purring that you’re a good girl.

husband!sukuna can’t get enough of your ass. he loves to fuck you from behind and palm your ass and he loves when you sit on his face. don’t kid yourself if you think he’s letting you have control though, he’ll still throw you around even when you’re on top of him.

husband!sukuna who loves to watch you suck on his fingers. he adores using his left middle and ring finger and watching you take his long fingers right up to his tattooed wedding band. it’s for the same reason that this man got really good at fingering you with his left hand.

husband!sukuna loves the nights where you let him tie you up. he adores the look of the expensive red ropes he bought just for you restraining you beneath him while that stupidly attractive tongue piercing slides through your folds. he lives to hear your whimpers and moans.

husband!sukuna who doesn’t let you out of his sight after sex. he won’t let you lift a finger. he’ll make a hot cup of tea to your liking to soothe your throat and run you a bath complete with a bath bomb and he’ll even massage your muscles, but under no circumstances will you be walking anywhere in his care.

masterlist || biker!sukuna oneshot || more husband!sukuna hcs || husband!sukuna smut oneshot

❦ a/n ; this man is still living rent-free in my head. wanted to get a lil something out while on vacation! enjoy ♡

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[risustravelogue]

Welcome, Little One

◐ summary ◑

It's the birth of your and his child.

◐ featuring ◑

Husband!Wriothesley, Husband!Alhaitham (separate), fem!reader

◐ tags & warnings ◑

Childbirth (DUH), fluffy fluff. A bit(?) self-indulgent. Wriothesley has a baby boy, while Alhaitham has a baby girl.

◐ a/n ◑

I think I'm having a baby fever.

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

If staring daggers into a blabbering businessman is counted as work, then the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide is currently busy.

Very busy.

To be fair, he has been waiting on news from the hospital regarding the birth of his child—your child.

You have been waiting for this little miracle for years now—it took you no small amount of convincing your husband to even start trying. And after he agreed to try, it took another one and a half years before you successfully got pregnant.

And now, the life both of you created together is about to arrive.

Alas, work called him while the two of you were waiting for the baby’s birth. The Iudex, with a heavy heart, had to take Wriothesley away from your side. Apparently, a businessman heard that the Duke is on the surface and demanded to meet in person today, else he’d cut off supplies to the Fortress.

So here the Duke is, having to listen to the man bragging about how he’s inheriting his father’s business and such. Wriothesley taps his feet onto the marble floor and clicks his tongue.

“Get to the point,” he growls. “I have little patience for your games. What do you want?”

The businessman replies with a sly grin. “Why, I only want to continue the arrangement between my business and yours!” he puffs. “I’ve heard that you are an adept businessman yourself, Your Grace. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to get so many Clockwork Mekas produced in a year. You must have—”

“Get. To. The point.”

“What I mean is—”

The door of the Iudex’s office suddenly swings open. Sedene comes in, shouting Wriothesley’s title while running.

“Calm down, Sedene,” Neuvillette shushes. “What is it?”

The Melusine turns to Wriothesley, gesturing with excitement.

”I got a call, Your Grace. Your wife—”

That’s all Wriothesley needs to hear. He stands up and runs out of the office, of the Palais Mermonia, all the way to the hospital downtown.

He arrives as you are ushered out in a wheelchair by a nurse, cradling a small, cloth-wrapped thing in your arms. His eyes widen when he realizes that you are holding a baby.

Your baby.

He whispers, then calls out your name. You lift your eyes, gaze meeting icy blue, and smile.

“Look, there’s Daddy,” you whisper to your newborn. Wriothesley slowly steps until he’s in front of you, and kneels on the floor to embrace his family.

“You have a baby boy,” you say to your husband, your smile widening. “Say hi.”

“Hi,” he coos. “Hi, baby. Daddy’s here.”

Wriothesley glances up to meet your gaze, and you can see tears welling up in his eyes. He leans in to give your lips a sweet kiss.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be by your side while you delivered,” he apologizes.

“Mm. No need for that, you know. All’s well,” you hum. He closes the distance between your lips again.

“I know. Thank you.”

Your husband gives his baby boy a kiss on the forehead. The baby yawns and coos, and a smile blooms on the Duke’s lips.

“I love you,” he says. “Both of you.”

It’s highly unusual to see the Acting Grand Sage pace around.

He’s usually sitting cross-legged, face buried in a book that has caught his attention, or behind his desk, lazily scribbling on official documents needing approval or review. Sure, he runs for morning exercise, but anxiously pacing around is definitely not his style.

Who can fault him, though? He’s waiting for his child to be born, after all.

Luckily, the two of you were able to rent your own room in the Bimarstan to wait for the baby’s arrival, so he doesn’t bother the other patients. You watch your husband pacing from beside your bed to the entrance of the room, pausing a second in front of the door as if he wants to leave, but he always comes back to your side to shoot a glare at your very pregnant belly—only to sigh and repeat the motions again.

“How are you feeling?” Alhaitham asks, finally.

“Still fine, love,” you say, holding back a chuckle. “I’m sure I’ll know when it starts.”

He frowns and huffs. His arms are folded in front of his chest, and he shifts his weight on his feet.

“I’m not ready,” he admits.

You smile, gesturing for him to take your hand. He obliges, intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing tight. You pull him closer and give the back of his hand a peck.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” you say. “I believe in you.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, but—”

Before he finishes speaking, you feel something flowing and your sheets getting wet.

“Uh, Haitham?”

“Yes?”

“I think my water just broke.”

—

Your screams reverberate in the delivery room. One of Alhaitham’s hands squeezes yours, while the other rests on your sweaty forehead. His expression is one of horror—he’s never heard you scream this loud. He’s read that childbirth is very painful for the mother, but seeing you undergo the experience is a truly harrowing thing.

“You can do this. I’m here,” he whispers, thumb caressing the back of your hand. “I’m here.”

You squeeze his hand and push with a pained groan. A baby’s cry echoes through the air.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor exclaims. “Congratulations!”

The nurses collectively sigh in relief. The doctor wipes down the baby and wraps her in a soft cloth, then puts her in your arms. You can feel your husband squeezing your hand even tighter as he looks down at his baby with a soft gaze.

“Oh,” he sighs. “I’m… a father now.”

The little girl opens her green eyes, and although she cannot see her parents yet, she smiles.

Alhaitham feels tears roll down his cheeks.

“She’s beautiful,” he breathes. He braves himself to caress his newborn daughter’s cheek.

She’s so soft.

A smile grows on your husband’s lips as he leans down to kiss the baby’s forehead.

“Hi, little one,” he whispers. “Welcome to the world.”

© @risustravelogue 2024 • FEEDING THIS WORK TO GENERATIVE AIs IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. • do not repost. • reblogs are precious. • feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. 💖

[jezabelle9299]

Broken Lungs S.R x FEM!Reader

CWs- Spoilers for season 5, depictions of asthma and use of a nebulizer, mentions of gunshot wounds, and health insurance not covering necessary medication.

Quick Infodump- Oxygen saturation levels should be 95-100%, lower than 93% should seek immediate help from a healthcare professional, and lower than 85% can cause severe damage to the brain because of a lack of oxygen.

Overture: Spencer is recovering from the knee surgery he needed after being shot in the field, when he sees a familiar face in the hospital being treated for an asthma attack.

A/N- This is based on my own experience with asthma, but it's different for everyone, so the relatability may vary with this one. But I was stuck at home all day because of an air quality alert so I did this instead of getting ready for the semester that starts in two weeks.

After one of his worst days in the field, Spencer ended the day in a hospital bed unable to walk. Hotch had been stabbed, and he had been shot. Both would be ok, and they were in separate hospitals to recover. The team alternated who would come to visit, and when. It usually took until the nurses kicked them out at the end of visiting hours, for them to actually leave. 

It’d been 2 days since his surgery, and the nurses had given him permission to walk around with his brace, on crutches. He’d never used them before, so he walked around the floor to the nurses’ station to get some more jell-o, and then around the hall back to his room. He allowed his curiosity (or nosiness) to get the better of him, occasionally glancing in at the people with their doors open, giving them a small smile or wave. Until he saw a familiar face. 

You’d worked for the FBI for a few years, working on the same floor as the BAU, but you weren’t in the field. You were sitting up in a hospital bed, playing solitaire in one hand, holding what looked like an oxygen mask to your face with the other. You looked up when you felt his eyes on you, and there he was, trapped in the doorway. You’d think you were hallucinating if not for the brace on his knee, and the crutches he was propping himself up on. He didn’t move from the threshold until you gave him a small wave, jumpstarting his movement into your room. 

You’d heard about Hotch’s incident, but you weren’t in the office yesterday, and since Spencer’s injury happened later in the day, you had no idea why he was here. You pulled the mask spraying (terrible tasting) medicine into your lungs from your face. You could stop for 30 seconds to see what he was here for. 

“Hey Spencer, what–um, what brings you here?” He hesitated, because you’d know since the 5th floor of the FBI building was the most gossip-ridden place he’d seen since high school. Yet he had no idea you’d be here. It’s not even as if you never talked, whenever he was in the office he’d stop by your desk to talk to you. He figured that you hadn’t gotten tired of him yet because he was gone a lot, although in reality you’d never tire of hearing his voice.

“I got shot in the knee, I’ll be fine, the real question is why are you here?” You’re sure it’s on government record, something Garcia could find in two minutes if she looked, but you still didn’t like talking about it. You knew it was stupid to be embarrassed of it, but you couldn’t help it. Every time it got brought up, you felt like the dorky character in a movie carting around their inhaler all the time, the butt of some cosmic joke. 

You preferred to think of it as an inconvenience more than anything. It didn’t come up often because you weren’t in the field, and when you needed to use an inhaler, you measured your breathing long enough to get to an empty bathroom or supply closet. You’d just blame the jitters that came after on too much coffee, and no one would ask any questions. This time, the inhaler wasn’t working, the next step in medication, a small machine similar to what you were supposed to be hooked up to now, wasn’t working either. So you drove to the ER feeling like you’d just run 10 miles, and they were making you stay 36 hours to give you stronger medication in intervals. 

“No reason.” You didn’t know why you even bothered with that response. Neither did Spencer, tossing you an apathetic look. He knew how squeamish you got when attention was drawn to something that made you look vulnerable, which is why he let it slide every time you walked into a supply closet looking flushed and panicked, with a soundtrack accompanying every time you took a breath, only to come out 5 minutes later with no supplies. 

 “Ok, really? Why would you even try it, you’re hooked up to a nebulizer and your oxygen saturation is at 90. What happened?” He was using the tone he only ever broke out for interrogations and proving Morgan wrong, but you still wanted to minimize the attention drawn to this not so glamorous piece of your life. You wanted Spencer to see you as someone he could date, even someone he could love, so this was not ideal to the image you’d been trying to show at work. 

“I have gross broken lungs. It’s really no big deal.” He laughed, but there was minimal humor behind it. Like he couldn’t even fathom you thinking this was ‘no big deal’. 

“I would venture to say you being in the hospital because you were unable to breathe is a very big deal.” While you loved when Spencer got a little bit cocky, you decided it would be more fun to make the little vein in his forehead appear again. So you tossed a vague shrug.

“Well I’d say getting shot is a much bigger deal. So why don’t you sit down, eat your jello, and tell me what happened to you, while I finish this thing.” He couldn’t argue with that, because at the very least he wanted you to feel better and the medicine currently going to waste while you were talking was the only way to accomplish that, so he relented. 

He didn’t want to move your things to the floor, but they were occupying the only chair in the room, so he made himself comfortable at the foot of your bed. He always wanted to be closer to you anyway. Setting his crutches next to him and opening the small cup of jello he’d somehow been holding this whole time, he reiterated his answer from before. 

“I told you already, I got shot in the knee, went into surgery, and now other than having to use these crutches for a while, I’m fine. Just need to spend a little longer in recovery before I can go back home to minimize the risk of infection.” He took a bite of jell-o just as a show of finality, like there was nothing more to say. Like a gunshot wound was not a huge deal. 

The whirr of the machine started to slow down, the medicine sputtering instead of coming out in a steady steam, meaning you could finally be done. You set it on the table by the bed, right next to your abandoned game of solitaire, and as soon as you set it down Spencer’s attention was back on your wellbeing. 

“Ok your turn, what happened?” 

“I’ve had asthma since I was a kid, and I just got unlucky today. It’s always worse this time of year, and my inhaler wasn’t really doing anything for me. Our health insurance plan doesn’t cover the more expensive meds unless I’m in the hospital, so here I am, for the next 36 hours.” You made a point to turn your exasperated expression into a cheesy smile, hoping to convince him to stay for just a little while longer.  “But the bright side is that since you're here I don’t have to play solitaire anymore. That was getting old fast.” You grabbed the cards, giving them a quick shuffle.

“So what do you say Vegas, are you up for a round of poker?” You hoped that would distract him from fussing over you, and luckily it did. He was satisfied you were ok, and the last thing he wanted was to push you too far, and for you to ask him to leave. So he let the smile take over his face. 

“Always. But i'm not going to go easy on you just because of your- what did you call them- broken lungs?” That got a good laugh out of you. Admittedly wheezy, but still one of the most beautiful sounds in the world to him. 

“Gross, broken lungs. And I wouldn’t dream of it.” You dealt the cards, already knowing you’d lose. You didn’t even know how to play poker. But word around the office was that most of your coworkers wouldn’t play with him since he always won. But you didn’t mind, you mostly just wanted someone to hang out with, and you were overjoyed that person was Spencer. He won, of course. Only gloating a little bit at how badly he beat you, and while you were dealing the second round of cards, you couldn’t help but vocalize what had been in the back of your mind for a few minutes now. 

“Hey Spencer, could I ask you a favor?” He had a mix of worry and willingness to help all over his face. 

“Anything.”

“Could you–not tell anyone in the office? Just. You know how they are, they would make a fuss about the whole hospital thing and it’s just not necessary.” 

“Where do they think you’re going to be for the next day and a half?”

You looked down like a kid who just got caught in a lie. “I kind of told Hotch I had a cold.” Spencer just sighed in response. 

“I really do think you should let them fuss over you. You deserve it, and you know Penelope lives for that sort of thing.” That you couldn’t deny, no matter how much you disagreed with him saying you deserved to be cared for. 

“Please, Spencer?” 

“Alright, but they might walk past your room in the morning. Garcia said she was coming, and you know she’ll drag at least one person along with her.” 

“Noted. I’ll close the door in the morning. Thank you Spencer, seriously, it means a lot.” You put your hand over his and it felt like every thought he’d ever had was gone from his brain at your touch. He couldn’t believe his dumb luck at meeting someone like you. Just to be in your orbit, to see and know you, felt like it could only be accomplished by divine intervention. Selfishly, he wished that you’d be staying a little longer, so that you could both leave together. Even more selfishly, he wished that you would leave with him, and come to his apartment. There he could take care of you, make you feel special until he could finally convince you that you deserved it. Deserved everything. 

You moved your hand to start tapping it on your leg, and while Spencer knew the side effects of respiratory steroids, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something was wrong. That maybe he did something wrong. 

“Is there something on your mind?” 

“No, it’s just the jitters. I used to get them so bad when I was a kid, my parents would have to practically hold me down. It’s like I have the energy to run a mile, but I can’t actually do it. I’ll calm down in a bit, but I’m probably going to get really rambly first.” 

“I’d love to listen to you talk, and I love being on the other side of a ramble.” It was just then that a nurse came in to ask if you were feeling better, charting your vials,  reminding you that you need to take your next dose in 4 hours, and telling you that an orderly would be in to set it up then.

Just when she was getting ready to leave she turned her attention to Spencer. “I’m sorry, but I am going to need you to go back to your room Dr. Reid. You both need to get some rest.”

He reluctantly told her that he would and just as soon as he’d come in, he disappeared again. He gave you a wave when he was gathering his crutches, but no real goodbye. You of course waved back, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You really liked him, and you thought maybe he really liked you too. And yet, he only gave you a wave. 

All of the adrenaline moving through you, getting you all worked up finally won out, and stupid as it may sound, tears started to prick the corners of your eyes. Just as you closed the door to your room to get some privacy while you cried, your phone started to ring, and you couldn’t help but think; What now? You answered it without looking, and on the other side of the line was the person you wanted to hear from the most. 

“So what did you want to talk about? I have all the time in the world.”

[temis-de-leon]

Demon Brothers realizing their feelings for reader

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 2 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Requested by Romance Anon

A/N: just like in the dateables version, this feels like an extra to the other parts, so definitely check them out. Hope you enjoy this! Even if they're a little ooc...

.

Mammon

Saying that Mammon gets no respect in his own house is a given. He’s a joke amongst his brothers, a fool who only seeks metallic sheen; guilty until proven innocent.

Bluffing and throwing empty threats around is his way of maintaining at least some of his remaining dignity, even if no one buys it.

So when you, a weak dumb human, are put under his responsibility, his priority is making clear who’s in charge.

He shows his fangs and talks harshly, wasting no time in letting you know how unimportant you are to him and how many things he could and will do to you if you disobey his orders or ignore his requests.

Of course he’ll rummage through your room and see if he can sell something of yours, but soon his visits become too frequent and soon he lacks his treasure-hunting mindset.

Mammon doesn’t know what to think about the disappointment he feels when he opens the door and you’re not there, when he hears your voice in the living room talking to someone else or when you’re partnered with some faceless demon in class projects.

He keeps the insults to try and compensate for the weakness that falling in love with you carries. You have to see it, how could you not? And even if you don’t, his brothers’ little jests would give you enough hints.

It’s maddening, having you so close and so out of reach at the same time; but maybe, surely, that is his fault.

.

Leviathan

It’s so unfair.

Why does he have to be the Avatar of Envy when he is clearly the least everything among his brothers?

Well, perhaps he’s better than Mammon at some things, but still.

He knows he isn’t as imposing as Lucifer or as pretty as Asmo and he doesn’t even want to compare himself to Beel; he still remembers them all criticizing his hermit habits and his consequential soft tummy.

Staying inside his room is, undeniably, the best way to protect himself from his sin. It’s a sanctuary made for him, Henry and all of his prized possessions; he doesn’t need anything else.

And then he meets you.

You don’t force him out of his room, which makes it easier for him to come out on his own, and you don’t mock his interests either. You are empathetic, eager to explore, fun to be around… All in all, being close to you makes him feel lighthearted.

Levi cherishes you so much it doesn’t take him too long to want you as close to him as possible.

Where are you? With who? Why? Were you having a good time? Better than the moments you’ve shared with him? Do you miss him? He has something to show you, so hurry up!

He notices the change in his heart the moment you make him blush for the first time, heartbeat so fast it makes his chest tremble.

It is somewhat hopeless; he knows you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way. Why would you?

No, he’d rather not go through that pain; he’s happy being just your friend.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

.

Satan

You fascinate him.

Not like a book or a painting would, much less a cat, but like a mystery. He doesn’t understand you and that angers and fascinates him in equal amounts; it makes him want to investigate you further than he would with any other person.

He observes, taking you in as neutrally as possible, and marvels at the way you prove wrong everything he thinks he knows about humans and what he assumes about you based on that knowledge.

When he lashed his tail and bared his teeth, back then, in the darkness of his room when he still thought so lowly of you, you stood up to him and didn’t move an inch. Clearly afraid, but not backing up, facing him with determination.

You’d later tell him it was adrenaline, which picks his interest further.

His privacy is his own and he still enjoys spending time alone in his room or out in the city doing his own thing, but the desire to keep your company for himself every hour of the day grows stronger by the second.

Smiling at the mere sight of you, hearing the pounding of his heart in his ears and impatiently waiting for his phone to light up and show your name on the screen are just some of the many new changes your presence in his life has brought.

The more he feels, the more he sees himself in his novels. Whether the narrative is in his favour or not, he doesn’t know, but he’s enjoying every bit of it.

.

Asmodeus

Being called beautiful is for him as usual and natural as breathing air and drinking water, but that doesn’t mean it goes under the radar. While he lives in abundant loving words and adoring phrases, there’s never enough to satisfy him and he works hard to keep the flattery coming his way.

His body is a temple he vows to maintain and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to carry that promise.

A sleep schedule that helps his hair grow, clears his skin and makes his mind feel lighter and happier; makeup and clothes carefully selected to enhance his attractiveness; and nails perfectly filed and painted multi-coloured to express his versatility. 

Of course, not all of him is based on looks. You can’t feed a fan club just solely on a picture!

He has a Deviltube channel where he engages with his beloved followers, parties to interact with them as well and other, more intimate, reunions that bring them all impossibly closer.

He thinks, rightfully so, that no one could ever come close to what he has achieved over time.

Then again, you always manage to surprise him.

While not as beautiful as him, there’s something about you that makes it impossible for him to stop admiring you and drinking in your entire presence.

It’s not just your face or your body, or the clothes you wear or how you do your makeup if you even decide to put it on. It’s your heart and your soul and the way you make him feel more loved than anyone could’ve ever done before.

There’s not a single ounce of jealousy in his eyes whenever he looks at you. You’re not competition, but part of him.

Finally, someone to share the spotlight with.

.

Beelzebub

A common misconception people tend to believe about him is his lack of emotional capacity, although he can understand his mostly speechless and stern demeanour and his food-driven actions don’t help at all.

His mind is usually focused on one thing and one thing only and that is filling his everlasting empty stomach. How can he concentrate on anything else when its growls are easily compared to Cerberus’s roars? When he salivates until he drools or when the aching need to consume something makes his vision turn red.

While it’s sometimes difficult for him to think straight or “read the room”, as Levi says, he’s well aware of what he feels at every moment of the day. Hunger is the usual answer, but there’s also love and protection for his family and, lately, for you as well.

It’s a different type of love, one he doesn’t feel often, but he recognizes it nonetheless and accepts it as quietly as he would with any other emotion, although his reddened cheeks and darkened glance speak volumes.

He loves you and wants you deeply, there’s no doubt about that, but he won’t act on it on impulse. As delicious as he thinks you’d be, you’re not some sort of candy ready to be chewed on in mere seconds.

Beel is impatient when it comes to his needs, yes, but he’s willing to wait for you.

Sometimes, the best meals are the ones being left to rest.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[aidaronan]

"First movie you ever saw in theaters?" Steve lounged opposite of Robin on the couch in his living room, the stereo on low, spitting out Madonna on the local radio station.

"Oh, that's easy." Robin bit off part of a licorice. "Freaky Friday. I remember because I was terrified for weeks that I'd end up switching places with my mom and have to, like, balance a checkbook or something."

Steve laughed, separating m&ms in his hand. "You still don't know how to balance a checkbook, do you?"

"Like you do." Robin playfully glared at him. "Okay, here's a good one. First kiss."

Steve ate the sole blue m&m first, a grin spreading across his face because he usually lied about his first kiss, but he didn't have to. Not with Robin. "Camp Stronghold when I was nine. We met up in the boathouse after lights out to trade contraband."

"Contraband, huh?" Robin raised her brows.

"Candy. I swear my parents loaded me up like I was going to prison. 'This is as good as cash in there, Steven.' I think my dad wanted me to network or something. Because, you know, I was totally gonna start a small business with a group of eight-year-olds."

Robin snickered. "And the kiss?"

"Ah. I didn't actually want candy. I just wanted this kid to like me so bad, and I didn't know why until we were there in the dark tripping into each other because we couldn't see. I had all these butterflies, and we were standing close enough that I could feel the heat off his sunburn in the air." Steve could still picture it. The way he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face. "Then he kissed me, just this quick peck on the lips before he turned tail and ran. I left the boathouse with a Snickers and one massive first crush."

"Did anything else happen?" Robin asked.

"No. It was the last week of camp and I think he freaked himself out over it. I don't know. He didn't even really say bye to me after we climbed off the bus to meet our parents. Never saw him again. I honestly never even thought to get his name."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I just hope he's doing okay, you know? That he's got people in his life that make him feel like he's allowed."

Robin looked at him softly, reaching out to give his ankle a squeeze. "Hey, you never know. You might run into him again someday. Maybe he's your soulmate or something."

"Please. I think you're pretty obviously my soulmate." Steve nudged Robin with his foot. "But I guess he could settle for 2nd place."

"Oh, there's a toast for sure." Snacks tumbling off her lap, Robin reached for her can of Coke on the coffee table and raised it as high as she could reach. "To both of us finding our 2nd places."

"Cheers to that." Steve thrust his own Coke into the air.

____

It felt like a big cosmic joke that Steve would be in a boathouse when he realized who Eddie Munson had been all that time. Eddie had looked so different when he'd transferred into Hawkins that Steve had never even given him a second look, not during their shared classes, not during any of those cafeteria tirades. Not during the numerous occasions where he gave the kids rides to D&D.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!"

It was the eyes that finally pulled back the curtain and cut away all those in-between years. Steve had never been close enough to clock them, but he couldn't deny them now. Not at such close range, Eddie holding a broken bottle against his neck, trembling with so much fear that Steve worried he might actually use it.

Dropping the oar from his own shaking hands, Steve said the only thing he could think to say.

"Well, this brings back memories."

Eddie didn't respond, the fear in the air drawing out every second, making it feel infinite. Behind them and in another universe, Dustin said a bunch of stuff Steve barely heard for the pounding in his ears. He watched beads of sweat roll down Eddie's forehead and waited for something to give.

Like clouds fat with rain, Eddie finally broke open, tension draining out of him, arm and weapon dropping to his side. He exhaled a shaky breath, maintaining eye contact, his expression too complicated for Steve to fully read.

Steve was about to say something else when Eddie finally spoke, cocking his head to the side and leveling Steve with a look.

"And here I spent all these years thinking you forgot."

[creamflix]

biker! veritas ratio x female reader x biker! aventurine; 18+ content (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS dni or follow, you'll be blocked), threesome, dub-con/cnc (u fw them heavy!!), sub!reader, overstimulation, p in v, creampies, voyeurism, sadistic aventurine, throttle play ??, spanking, ratio's implied to wear his helmet most of the time, fucking on a bike !!, oral (f. & m. receiving, separate), backshots <3, possessive aventurine & ratio — wc: 4.4k words.... goodnight – masterlist here ☆～（ゝ。∂）

you hadn’t realized the kind of place you’d walked into. sure, it was a bar, and it had that rough, edgy vibe — but you figured it was just the usual crowd. 

not somewhere dangerous. 

not the kind of place that’d have people staring at you the moment you crossed the threshold, their gazes lingering just a little too long, drinking you in like you were the freshest thing they’d seen in weeks.

you made your way to the counter, trying to brush off the feeling, thinking maybe you were imagining it. not until two sets of eyes — one mismatched, sharp as a predator’s; the other hidden behind a reflective visor — fixed on you from across the room.

you perched at the bar, awkwardly flagging down the bartender. “just a drink,” you muttered, too focused on finding some normalcy in the situation to realize what was happening behind you.

aventurine noticed first, of course. leaned back in his seat, legs stretched out, looking like he owned the damn place. sandy-blond hair falling just right over his brow, magenta and cyan eyes gleaming with interest. “what do we have here…” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. the smirk on his lips grew wider as he watched you fumble for your drink, completely unaware of how much danger you were in.

meanwhile, ratio observed from the other end of the bar. much more stoic, controlled, his hands resting elegantly over a glass of dark liquor. underneath that pristine helmet of his, he watched with calculated focus, analyzing every little detail — the way your fingers drummed nervously against the counter, the way your eyes darted around, clearly out of your element. “an unexpected visitor,” he mused under his breath, his voice smooth and articulate. “curious… what brings someone like you here, i wonder?”

aventurine didn’t waste time. he pushed off from his seat and sauntered over, his presence magnetic, drawing attention even if you weren’t aware of it yet. he slid into the space beside you, leaning an arm against the counter as his eyes flickered down your form. “you lost, sweetheart?” his voice was playful, teasing, but there was an edge to it — a warning, if you were paying attention. but of course, you weren’t.

you glanced at him, offering a small smile. “uh, no… just stopping in for a drink.”

“mm, is that right?” aventurine’s smirk widened. “you sure you’re in the right place? this isn’t exactly your kind of scene, is it?”

“i’m fine,” you replied, trying to dismiss the way he was looking at you, though something about it made your pulse quicken.

“oh, i don’t know,” he drawled, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “something tells me you might need a little guidance… lucky for you, i’m feeling generous tonight.”

before you could respond, a deeper voice interrupted, smooth and calculated — ratio’s, as he approached from the other side. “aventurine,” he greeted coolly, giving the man a pointed glance before turning to you. his posture was formal, upright, even in a place like this. “forgive my associate here; he can be… overzealous.” his words were polite, even as he reached out, brushing his gloved fingers along your wrist, a subtle touch that sent a shiver through you. “it seems you may have walked into the wrong establishment, miss. this place… is not for the uninitiated.”

you blinked, feeling caught between them. “i — i was just —”

“oh, we know,” aventurine interrupted, his voice laced with amusement as he slid even closer. “but that’s okay. we like your type. a little out of place, a little lost… it’s cute.”

ratio’s gaze darkened beneath his helmet’s visor, but he didn’t move to correct aventurine. instead, he tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping into a softer, more intimate tone. “he’s correct, you know. there are eyes on you already… many of the patrons here wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone so… unaware.” his gloved fingers pressed more firmly against your wrist, a silent claim. “but fortunately for you… you’ve caught our attention first.”

“and we don’t plan on letting anyone else near you,” aventurine added, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, his lips almost brushing your skin. “not when we’ve got plans of our own…”

your heart raced. “i should probably leave —”

“oh, you’re not leaving,” aventurine’s grin turned feral as he tightened his grip on your waist. “not until we’ve had our fun with you.”

“he’s right,” ratio agreed, his composure still intact, but his voice holding a dangerous edge now. “you wouldn’t make it very far on your own, i’m afraid. but stay with us, and we’ll ensure you’re… well taken care of.”

the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. something in you knew that you should leave, that you shouldn’t be entertaining this. but when they both stepped closer, flanking you on either side, their combined presence overwhelming, intoxicating… you couldn’t resist.

aventurine chuckled, his voice a low purr as he leaned in. “let’s take this outside, baby. wouldn’t want to make too much of a scene in here, now would we?”

ratio’s hand slipped to your lower back, guiding you as he led the way. “yes, discretion is key… at least for the moment.”

they ushered you out of the bar, and the night air hit you like a jolt, the reality of what was happening sinking in — only for a second. because when you saw their bikes parked in the dim glow of the streetlights, your breath caught. aventurine’s bike was all flair and flash, gleaming with chrome and covered in gambling-themed motifs. ratio’s, on the other hand, was sleek, almost academic in its precision, an owl emblem etched into the side along with laurel detailing.

"hop on," aventurine’s voice had dropped an octave, thick with promise. he leaned back against his bike, one hand resting on the throttle as he gestured for you to come closer. "we’re gonna make this fun for you, baby. just follow our lead."

ratio’s fingers brushed the small of your back, his voice calm but commanding. "you may find this… unconventional. but i assure you, the pleasure you’ll experience is far beyond anything you could imagine."

you hesitated, glancing between them — part of you still thinking you could back out. but aventurine gave a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming under the streetlights as he reached for your waist, pulling you toward him. "trust me," he purred, lips brushing your ear. "by the time we’re done, you won’t want to leave."

you found yourself being pressed between them, the weight of aventurine behind you, ratio in front. ratio’s gloved hands slid down your sides, almost too formal in their movements, but the second he felt your body tense against him, his composure cracked just a little. "you’re trembling," he observed quietly, his voice still smooth but lower now. "are you nervous, or is it anticipation?"

aventurine chuckled, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips tracing teasing patterns along your skin. "either way… we’re gonna make you forget everything else."

you didn’t have time to respond before ratio leaned closer, his helmet pressed to your forehead. "feel the engine," he murmured, turning the key in his bike. the motor rumbled to life, vibrations thrumming through your legs, making you gasp. "that’s just the beginning."

aventurine revved his bike’s engine next, the low growl of it matching his own as he kissed along your neck, his hand sliding down between your thighs. "yeah, baby… feel that? we’re just getting started."

ratio’s formal tone slipped, the edge in his voice now fully breaking. "fuck… you’re going to feel so fucking good when we’re inside you."

you’re still pinned between the two bikes, engines purring beneath you, the vibrations from each one subtly teasing your already sensitive body. aventurine's sly smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as his hands roam possessively over you, but your eyes keep drifting back to ratio, that mysterious helmet of his, hiding his face.

"what’s the matter, sweetheart?" aventurine drawls, fingers brushing down your sides with that teasing edge. "distracted by our dear ratio? don’t worry, he’s not always such a stick in the mud."

your heart skips a beat when ratio steps forward, silent as ever. his gloved hand slowly lifts, fingers moving to the clasp on the side of his helmet, and you hold your breath. the metallic click echoes in the cool night air as he pulls the helmet free, revealing sharp features, lips slightly parted as if about to speak, and those piercing eyes that seem to take you apart in one look. the sight of him, so unexpectedly gorgeous, knocks the air from your lungs.

“like what you see?” aventurine teases, but there’s an edge in his voice now, a sharpness that wasn't there before. his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back into him as he leans in to whisper against your ear. “she’s staring a bit too long, don’t you think, ratio?”

ratio’s eyes stay locked on yours, expression calm and composed, but there’s something darker brewing beneath. "i don’t mind," he says quietly, voice smooth but edged with something dangerous. "though," he continues, eyes flicking to aventurine, "we wouldn’t want to break such a pretty thing, would we?"

aventurine chuckles darkly, "no, but she needs to learn not to be so distracted when i’m right here." without warning, his gloved hand comes down on your ass, the sharp sting of the leather making you gasp. "keep your eyes on both of us, sweetheart." he spanks you again, harder this time, causing you to jolt forward with the impact. "can’t let you forget about me."

"easy," ratio murmurs, frowning slightly as he watches aventurine. "don’t want to leave marks, not yet."

aventurine laughs, though his eyes darken with jealousy, and his hand finally loosens its grip. “fine, fine,” he mutters, stepping back. “but don’t take too long — i don’t share well.”

ratio’s gaze softens just a touch, his hands coming to rest on your trembling thighs. he moves you carefully, positioning you so your bare thighs straddle his bike. "hold on," he whispers, placing his helmet on your head before you even realize what’s happening. the scent of him fills your senses, intoxicating, while the visor cuts off your vision, leaving you in the dark, left to feel instead of see.

“you’re mine now,” ratio whispers, voice vibrating through the helmet. you feel his warm breath against your core, his lips brushing the sensitive skin before he presses a kiss there, teasingly slow. his tongue flicks out, the wet heat of his mouth sending jolts of pleasure through you as he starts to eat you out with a calculated precision that leaves you gasping.

and then, you hear it — the bike’s throttle. ratio’s hand rests casually on the handle, fingers playing with the throttle as he revs the engine, each vibration from the bike’s motor sending shudders through your core, right where his mouth is. the combination of his tongue lapping at you and the engine vibrating beneath your pussy has you a writhing mess in seconds.

"fuck," you gasp, voice muffled inside the helmet, but ratio doesn’t let up. he’s merciless, the vibrations from the bike sync with his tongue, alternating between slow, teasing laps and deep, firm strokes. every time the engine roars, the sensation triples, and you’re thrown into the kind of pleasure that leaves you delirious.

“how’s that feel, sweetheart?” aventurine’s voice breaks through, and you feel his presence behind you again, his hands running down your back before he grips your ass, fingers digging in as he spreads you wider for ratio. “don’t forget, the harder you throttle,” he purrs, “the harder we fuck you.”

ratio slows down, just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to let you cum. “go on,” he murmurs against your soaked core. “show us how much you want it.”

with trembling hands, you reach for the throttle, fingers curling around it as you start to twist. immediately, the engine roars to life again, the powerful vibrations rocking through your body, and ratio’s tongue dives in deeper, his mouth working you over until you’re panting. your hips jerk forward, desperate for more.

“harder,” aventurine hisses, smacking your ass again. “you wanna get fucked, right? throttle it harder.”

you obey, twisting the throttle even more, the engine’s roar becoming deafening as your body is wracked with vibrations. ratio’s hands grip your thighs tighter, his tongue flicking over your clit in rapid strokes until you’re on the verge of breaking. the pleasure builds, higher and higher, until you can’t hold back anymore.

you let out a choked moan, body shuddering as you finally cum, the engine purring beneath you as ratio keeps his mouth on you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you’re left trembling, barely able to stay upright.

but they’re not done with you yet.

“good girl,” aventurine murmurs approvingly, pulling you back against his chest. he lifts you off ratio’s bike and turns you to face his own. you’re still shaking, but aventurine holds you steady as he positions you on his bike, your legs spread wide over the seat. “now, let’s see how fast you can ride.”

ratio steps behind you, letting your back rest against his chest as he helps guide you down onto aventurine’s cock. the stretch makes you cry out, but ratio’s hand is already on your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as aventurine thrusts up into you.

“that’s it,” ratio murmurs against your ear, his leather jacket cool against your burning skin. “ride him like you’re on the open road.”

aventurine’s thrusts are deep and hard, and with each one, the bike beneath you rocks, the motion sending shockwaves through your body. ratio’s hands are everywhere — your tits, your clit, pulling and teasing until you’re nothing but a mess between them.

"you want more?" aventurine growls, slamming into you faster. "then throttle it. show me how fast you want it."

your hands, shaky but desperate for more, reach for the throttle again, twisting it hard. the engine roars, and aventurine follows suit, his thrusts becoming brutal as he fucks you on the bike. ratio keeps you steady, whispering filthy encouragements into your ear while his hands drive you to another orgasm.

ratio’s hands are still on your trembling body, keeping you steady as aventurine cums inside you with a guttural groan. the sound of his breathless chuckle fills your ears as he pulls out, leaving you empty and sensitive. the bike's engine continues to rumble beneath you, continuing it’s brutal teasing of overstimulating you.

you feel ratio behind you, his presence quieter than aventurine's but just as potent. he’s helped you through every wave of pleasure, and now, despite his quiet demeanor, you know he’s still holding back. his gloved hand brushes your side tenderly, as if he doesn’t want to impose.

"ratio," you whisper, voice shaky but determined. you turn your head to meet his gaze, his dark eyes full of restraint. despite the filthy scene surrounding the two of you, his gaze remains calm — too calm for someone who hasn’t had his own share yet.

he raises an eyebrow, clearly confused by your soft call of his name. aventurine, on the other hand, is leaning back against his bike, amused, probably expecting you to collapse from exhaustion. but you have other plans.

before ratio can respond, you sink down onto your knees in front of him, your eyes locking with his as your hands reach for his belt. his breath hitches, and for the first time, you see his composure crack.

“what are you…” he begins, but his voice falters when you unzip his pants and pull him free. his cock is already hard, and the moment you wrap your hand around him, his knees nearly buckle. “you don’t have to —”

“i want to,” you cut him off with a small smile, and that’s all it takes. ratio’s eyes darken, his lips parting as he watches you in stunned silence.

you give him a slow, teasing stroke, and his head falls back, exposing the line of his throat. you’re entranced by the sight of him losing that usual control—his carefully constructed facade crumbling as you start to take him in your mouth. the warmth of your lips envelops him, and the deep groan that escapes ratio’s throat is nothing short of divine.

"fuck," he curses under his breath, the curse slipping from his lips, so unlike his usual refined speech. it’s clear that you’ve unraveled him completely. his hands come to rest on your head, fingers weaving into your hair but not pushing, not guiding — he’s letting you set the pace, the control entirely in your hands.

“she’s a quick learner, isn’t she?” aventurine's voice cuts through, and you feel his presence behind you once more. ratio’s eyes open, briefly meeting aventurine's amused smirk before focusing back on you, pupils blown wide with desire.

aventurine kneels behind you, his hands trailing down your back, but his attention is on ratio now. "you don’t have to be so shy, man," he teases, giving your ass a playful smack. “enjoy her, yeah? she’s already decided how she wants to worship you."

you can feel ratio’s body tense beneath your hands, his breathing labored as your mouth works his cock with practiced ease. but the moment aventurine’s leather-clad hand connects with your skin, the sting sends a shiver through you that you can’t suppress.

ratio’s hands tighten in your hair as you moan around him, and the sound pushes him further toward the edge. “you’re — fuck — unreal,” he groans, voice heavy with need.

aventurine’s hands wander, one of them gripping your waist while the other spanks you again, harder this time. you whimper, the vibrations traveling through your throat, making ratio gasp above you. “that’s it,” aventurine purrs, leaning in close enough that you feel his hot breath against your skin. “keep making those pretty noises for him.”

you can hear ratio’s breathing becoming more ragged, his hips jerking slightly as he tries to keep himself under control, but you’re relentless. you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper until his grip on your hair tightens, and for a second, it seems like he’s going to lose it completely.

but then, aventurine’s cock presses against you from behind, and the sudden stretch makes you cry out around ratio. aventurine doesn’t wait, doesn’t ask. he thrusts into you with a low groan, the wet, filthy sounds of him fucking you mixing with the ragged sounds of ratio’s breath.

"fuck," aventurine growls, his hands gripping your waist tight. “so tight. you’re perfect, baby.”

ratio watches, his expression torn between pleasure and frustration. “aventurine,” he says, voice tight as his hand pulls you closer to his hips. “you’ll break her.”

aventurine only chuckles darkly, leaning over you as his hips snap into yours. “don’t worry,” he murmurs, “i’ll make sure she’s still pretty when i’m done with her.”

you’re caught between them — ratio’s cock in your mouth, aventurine pounding into you from behind, and every nerve in your body alight with sensation. ratio’s hands tremble as he grips your head, groaning as you take him deeper.

“fuck… you’re going to make me —” ratio starts, but aventurine interrupts with a sharp thrust that makes you whimper around ratio’s cock.

“do it,” aventurine purrs, hand coming down hard on your ass again. "cum for her. she’s begging for it, look at her.”

ratio’s jaw clenches, his restraint snapping as he thrusts into your mouth, the wet sound of you gagging on him the last thing he needs to fall apart. with a deep groan, he cums down your throat, his hands keeping you still as he fills your mouth. you swallow everything, your tongue still working him through it as his body trembles above you.

as soon as ratio is spent, aventurine pulls you back into him, his cock still driving into you mercilessly. your body feels weak, overwhelmed, but aventurine doesn’t let up. "you look so good with your mouth full, baby," he growls, thrusting harder. "now let me finish what we started.”

ratio watches, chest still heaving as aventurine slams into you one last time, his rough hands gripping your waist as he cums deep inside you with a low, satisfied growl. the aftershocks ripple through your body, leaving you gasping, completely wrecked.

aventurine finally pulls out, his hands sliding over your skin one last time before he steps back with a satisfied smirk. "what’d i tell you?" he says to ratio, still catching his breath. "this pretty thing’s all ours now."

ratio’s eyes meet yours, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he brushes your hair back from your face. "you were perfect," he whispers, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. and in that moment, despite the chaos, you know you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

the air around you is heavy with the aftermath of your sinful rendezvous. aventurine’s hands are still warm on your skin as he chuckles softly, satisfied with the way your body shivers. he runs a gloved hand along your back, soothing the marks he left, while ratio gently helps you to your feet, his touch far more careful.

“easy now,” ratio murmurs, voice calm but filled with concern. his strong arms steady you, and despite everything, he’s still the gentleman between the two. aventurine leans back against his bike, a grin pulling at his lips as he watches you two.

“took it like a champ, didn’t she?” aventurine hums, brushing the hair from your sweaty face. his eyes roam over your body, lingering on the marks both of them left behind. “can’t leave her like this, though. let’s get her nice and cozy.”

with surprising tenderness, aventurine pulls his leather jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s too big, swallowing your frame in warmth, but the weight of it feels grounding. it smells like him — leather and smoke, mixed with something heady and masculine. he adjusts the collar, winking at you as he does.

ratio shakes his head at aventurine’s theatrics, but even he can’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. he turns back to you, carefully brushing your face with the back of his knuckles. “you did well,” he says, his voice low and soothing. "now let's get you patched up."

you can’t help but feel the rush of heat at how gentle he is after all they’ve put you through. ratio’s hand slides under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “you should rest,” he adds, though his eyes glimmer with a possessiveness that mirrors aventurine's.

aventurine’s eyes, however, are full of mischief. as he fixes your jacket, he slips something from the ground into his pocket — your hair tie, one you hadn’t noticed had fallen off in the heat of it all. "just a keepsake," he says when you give him a questioning look, smirking as he taps the pocket where he’s placed it. "something to remember our pretty little thing by."

“aventurine,” ratio sighs, rolling his eyes. but he doesn’t argue—he knows better. instead, ratio reaches behind him and, without another word, takes off his signature helmet, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, his voice soft, but there’s a firm insistence in his tone. “you’re mine now, so take it.”

the weight of his helmet in your hands feels significant, far more than just an accessory. it’s his claim on you, and when you look up at him, his eyes are unwavering. aventurine watches with a satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying the moment.

“looks good on you already,” aventurine murmurs, leaning in to place his sunglasses on your face as well, the reflective lenses hiding your wide, dazed eyes. "now everyone will know exactly who you belong to."

your breath hitches as you realize you’re draped in their things — ratio’s helmet under your arm, aventurine’s sunglasses on your face, and his jacket keeping you warm. they’ve marked you in every way possible, and the thought makes your heart pound in your chest.

“our little pretty thing,” aventurine whispers in your ear, his lips brushing your skin. “whether you like it or not.”

but the truth is, you love it. the way they claim you, the way they’ve made sure every single person will know you belong to them — there’s no denying the thrill that rushes through you at the thought.

it’s been some time since that night, but every memory is still vivid in your mind. you stand outside the same bar, the one you unknowingly stumbled into before. only this time, you're far from oblivious.

ratio’s helmet is tucked under your arm, aventurine’s sunglasses perched on your face, and his leather jacket still hangs from your shoulders. the second you step into the bar, heads turn, but instead of the lingering stares and lewd comments, there’s a palpable tension in the air.

people recognize you now.

you walk through the crowd, the loud chatter of the bar quieting as bikers move out of your way. their eyes drop to the helmet, the sunglasses, and they shrink back, knowing exactly who you belong to. they’ve all heard the stories — two of the most notorious bikers in the scene have already laid their claim on you. and no one dares mess with you now.

you catch a glimpse of aventurine leaning against the bar, his signature grin flashing the moment he spots you. beside him, ratio is seated with his usual calm demeanor, but the second he sees his helmet in your hand, a small smirk tugs at his lips.

you make your way toward them, and aventurine stands to greet you, pulling you into a quick embrace. “look who’s back,” he purrs, his fingers brushing the edge of the jacket. “wearing our gifts so well.”

ratio’s eyes lock with yours, the faintest trace of pride in his gaze as he gestures for you to sit beside him. “took you long enough,” he says, voice smooth. “i was beginning to think you forgot about us.”

you shake your head, settling in between them, feeling their warmth and protection. “never,” you reply softly, a smile playing on your lips. “how could i?”

the rest of the bar knows better than to get too close — because you aren’t just anyone anymore. you’re ratio and aventurine’s pretty little thing, and the whole world knows it.

this was rotting in my drafts for a while, and only on reading @sugoroo 's satosugu fanfic i was given enough motivation to fine-tune this (˵ •̀▽•́ ˵ ) make sure u check out her work/s too <3

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[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream trying not to get caught that they're dating you. 

Mark Lee

Oh this one's hard for both of you. Whenever you're around Mark's face lights up. LIKE. He's just there glancing at you nonstop, and just smiling and giggling randomly. He thinks that he's being slick but he's not, everyone is convinced that he had eye-fucked you the moment you enter the room. Sometimes he's more bold like when you're alone in the kitchen, it'll be a perfect opportunity for him to sneak up on you and hug you while no one's around. 

Huang Renjun

Renjun is much much bolder than Mark. He'll try his best to have physical touch with you subtly. Like when you're greeting the members one by one with a hug, he has to make sure to leave an extra squeeze on you before you two separate. Or when he's passing by you while you're sitting on the sofa, he'll be the type to ruffle your hair. If you two are seated together, he'll hold your hands under the table or places his hands on your thighs. 

Lee Jeno

Jeno is great with hiding his relationship with you because he's an introvert. But it'll pique curiousity when he's always on his phone and is smiling widely, sometimes he even lets out a small chuckle. Whenever he's asked who he's talking to, he'll say that he just found a funny video something like that. And he just never gets caught because he has your contact saved with something you and him only understands or maybe an emoji to be more secretive. 

Lee Haechan

Haechan's eyes never lies, so I feel like he's not subtle about his relationship with you. Like his eyes just never leave yours. He'll glance at you at any opportunity that he can find and it's obvious because he turns his head at your direction!! Sometimes when your eyes meets his, he'll either: look away embarrassed or be bold enough to wink at you. If you hit back by giving him a wink, he'll be left blushing red. (his members are going to ask why is he so red.) 

Na Jaemin

Jaemin feel like he's more secretive now that he has his own place, so you just usually hang around at his place. But whenever he's with his members and he's calling you, he's not subtle that he's dating someone, it's just who he is dating is a secret from them. And that's because he calls you with endearments, "Love, sunshine, baby, my love." whatever call sign as long as it's not your name so that you two wouldn't be caught.

Zhong Chenle

Oh Chenle would be the type to dragging other members into the mess. Especially Dreamies. He'll be the type to ask them to cover up for him whenever you two go out on dates. Or if he did get caught, he'll be brush it off, "What do you mean a girl? That was Jaemin-hyung, why would I be with a girl?" he's the king of lies and excuses and it sounds so convincing because Jaemin will pull up and say, "yeah that was me." 

Park Jisung

This one takes the cake because no one will know that he's dating someone until the dating news will be published online. WDYM JISUNG OUR PRECIOUS YOUNGEST IS DATING YOU ?????? When did this happened !?!?! I feel like dating Jisung is so casual because it's like hanging out with a friend and the members wouldn't find it malicious that you two are close. He probably isn't that talkative and just, "do I really need to tell you guys about my love life?" 

[bananami]

A Day in the Nanami Household

a/n: this one is for the anon that asked for more papamin content. i went full domestic house, wife (gn), and kids. clearly im delusional and have thought about this way too much. and i didn't proof read it. sue me. i would do ungodly things to marry and have children with this man.

Mornings

They go one of two ways: perfectly smooth or absolute chaos. On mornings that things go according to plan you and Kento get up earlier than the kids to have coffee or tea. Some mornings Kento will even order breakfast to the house (a scone and croissant that you'll split between the both of you, five glazed munchkins for Nobara, a chocolate donut for Yuji, and a blueberry muffin for Megumi). Megumi is usually the first one up and will make his own way downstairs to where he knows you and Kento will be sitting on the couch watching the morning news. He's usually still tired and will curl his little body up on one of your laps and probably fall back asleep for another twenty minutes or so. Nobara is typically the next to wake up and Yuji will almost always have to be dragged out of bed. If the kids aren't being too difficult they'll get dressed easily and eat breakfast quickly and without complaint. Kento will help buckle them into their booster seats and kiss you goodbye before getting in his own car to drive to work. Nobara and Yuji will almost always laugh, make kissing noises, or yell eeeewwww!! from the back of the car, while Megumi waves goodbye to Kento until he can no longer see his dad's car. He'll always ask "is dad going to work?" and you'll always answer yes, and Yuji or Nobara will always follow up with "can I go to work with dad?" and you'll always answer no. They'll get out of the car easily, without any push back or crying, and you'll demand a hug and kiss from each of them. Yuji will cling on the longest, and he'll always add in that he's really really gonna miss you today.

On rougher mornings, you or Kento are typically already running behind. The both of you can tell it isn't going to be a good morning when one of the kids comes down complaining about something or when no one wakes up on their own. You have to practically bribe them to get up and get ready for school. Nobara will hate every hair style Kento tries to do on her, and finally he'll give up and ask to trade kids with you. Megumi's eyes will be watery all morning and he'll stop you every five minutes to whisper "can I stay home with you today?" and it'll break your heart every time to tell him no. Some days you do break and keep him home, and Kento will make fun of you for breaking so easy. The breakfast he ordered ahead will be delayed or cancelled altogether, so you'll have to make breakfast. And then of course all three of them want something completely different to eat, Yuji wants eggs and bacon, and Nobara wants pancakes, and Megumi wants cereal (oh and also to stay home *cue waterworks*). Everyone will get a poptart and be happy about it. If he has time, Kento will usually offer to drive the kids to school because he can see you growing frustrated, especially if one of them is sick or Megumi is having separation anxiety. Really bad mornings is when one of them is sick and crying, one is throwing a fit over not wanting to go to school, and the other is running around the living room refusing to put their shoes on because they think it's funny. Kento will use his dad voice, and that's usually where they all fall in line. From there, they'll get in the car, you'll help buckle them in, and you'll make sure you give your husband a kiss before he leaves. Megumi will try and ask one last time to stay home.

Afternoons

Kento works from home two out of three days of the week. It's those days that you two are able to work in any moments of intimacy. Those are your favorite days. Kento takes an hour lunch break. Sometimes you'll eat lunch, sometimes you are lunch (Kento hates when you describe it this way). Sometimes you just force him to cuddle with you on the couch (those are usually after the bad mornings). When Megumi wins the morning fights and gets to stay home, he sticks to your side the whole day. He'll ask to be picked up, or constantly be holding your hand, or he'll wrap his arms around your leg and make it near impossible for you to get anything done around the house. You've brought it up to his therapist and she assures you it's natural for him to have those moments given the situation you and Kento adopted him from. That reminder to yourself usually has you cuddling with him instead on the sofa all day. But he likes the days that Kento is also home because he likes to make lunch for him with you. Kento acts like those are the best lunches ever, you 'lie' and say Megumi made it all by himself, and Megumi lights up from the praise he gets from his dad after.

Sometimes, on days where the rest of the week has been really hard, Kento will cash in a day of PTO or use a sick day to stay home with you. He'll say it's because he wants to help you out around the house, but it's almost always because he just misses spending time with you without the kids around, as selfish as that may seem. Nothing will get done around the house. You'll spend all day in bed or on the couch watching tv, sometimes you'll step out for a lunch date together, and you're only rule with one another is that you don't talk about the kids unless it's absolutely necessary. At some point Kento will attempt to seduce you and you're not sure why you say attempt because he absolutely will. On more than one occasion the two of you have almost been late to pick up the kids. Their favorite days are when you and Kento are both there to pick them up.

Evenings

Yuji is usually the first one jumping into the car and throwing himself at the both of you, yapping on and on about his day at school. The three of them like to listen to whatever four songs they're currently hyperfixated on on repeat the whole ride home. And they'll sing them loudly and really badly until you pull into the drive way. Nobara will jump out of the car and run straight upstairs to take a bath because she doesn't like to smell bad and she needs to immediately wash the school germs off of her. Kento or you will start on dinner or make the decision to order in if neither of you feel up to cooking. The kids always want pizza or Asian food if you choose to order in. While one of you cooks, the other sits down with the kids to do homework. Kento is better at it and much more patient with them when it comes to homework, so you usually opt to cook.

Nobara is a total daddy's girl. For at least an hour a night she will lay on Kento's chest while he reads or sits on his iPad. But when he gets up to get everyone ready for bed she immediately is switching sides, asking for you to help her pick out her school clothes and braid her hair so it's curly in the morning. Then when it's time to tuck them in, she'll switch sides once again, demanding that Kento carry her to bed and check all the dark spots of her room for monsters. Kento will make a show of it, which you'll call him a dork for later. Megumi will sit up in his bed patiently waiting for the both of you to come in and say goodnight all the while Yuji is jumping up and down on his own bed stating that he is not tired and can't go to sleep just yet. Some nights it takes a while to get Yuji to settle down. More often than not, Yuji wakes up in the middle of the night crying (the night terrors are apparently also an expected symptom of his trauma prior to the adoption), and if he doesn't get up to come to lay in yours and Kento's bed then Megumi will get up and you'll find them laying in Yuji's twin together the next morning.

Every single night, you and Kento spend at least an hour together talking about your days or just relaxing in each other's company. You two debrief and plan for tomorrow together, or if it's Friday you plan out the weekend and when you'll make time for just the two of you. Kento is the perfect father and husband, and you never fail to remind him of this every night. And it doesn't matter how chaotic the mornings start because the nights always end the same way, with the two of you (and sometimes Yuji) laying together in awe of the life you built together.

[dira333]

Dream - Shouto Todoroki

The two pink lines don’t lie. Positive. You’re pregnant.

“Pinch me,” you say. Shouto looks like you’ve asked him to belly dance instead.

“Why?” His hands reach for your hips, caressing the soft skin there. “That hurts.”

You laugh. “This feels like a dream, I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“But I don’t wanna pinch you,” he’s actually pouting now, his thumbs digging into the meat underneath your skin, always one to hold on tight.

“Fine,” you sigh exaggeratedly, “I’m gonna do it myself.” 

And you pinch your own, just a teeny tiny bit, but it proves the point. This is real.

-

No more work until after the baby is born. You can finally start sleeping in.

But that doesn’t matter when your body still remembers your usual wake up time.

“Pinch me,” you groan in the morning, unable to roll over with all that added weight. “I’m still dreaming, right?”

“Nope,” Shouto confirms, kissing you as slowly and lazily as he pleases, almost making you fall asleep again. 

Someone else has a different idea though, the kick well-aimed and hearty. You groan.

“Little you wants me to get up.”

“Why is it always little you when she’s misbehaving?” Shouto pouts, taking his sweet time to help you get up. He knows you’d be lost without him pulling you upright.

“You really have to ask?” You gasp, out of breath after that endeavor. Now you only have to manage peeing and getting dressed. Wow, what a life.

-

“Look what I got,” Rei hands over a package. “I couldn’t contain myself when I saw it.”

It’s a dress, the tiniest of tiny dresses, the soft fabric embroidered with bright red strawberries. 

“It’s so cute!” You fawn over it, but there’s a voice nibbling at the back of your head, a voice that doesn’t want to be silenced. “But will it fit her? I mean, I was pretty heavy when I was born and this one’s the smallest size.”

“Oh, they had it in a ton of different sizes,” Rei waves off your worries. “Besides, it’s more important that she’s healthy than how big she turns out, right? Do you want to look at Shouto's baby pictures? I found them while cleaning up and he was adorable.”

Like you’d ever say no to that. 

And it’s fun, watching him grow bigger in all those pictures, but the voice doesn’t stop nibbling just as much as the little one doesn’t stop kicking.

You remember your own pictures, still waiting on the copies from your mom.

You remember the comments, meant well, sure, but hurtful nonetheless .

Will your daughter get her father’s beauty? His size, in more ways than one?

What will she look like, you think over making dinner.

Will she have his hair, his eyes, his smile? 

That night you dream of her, or what she could be. A redheaded beauty with grey eyes or white hair over those startling turquoise.

You don’t dare to ask for a pinch. Not yet, at least.

-

3000 kilometers separate you from your family. 

Most of the time it doesn’t bother you that much. Not with the technology you have nowadays, and the closeness you’ve found within the Todoroki family. 

But then you’re in the delivery room, scared and helpless, and your hand reaches for that of your mother, not expecting to find Rei’s.

“I’m here,” she says, patting your hand. “I’m here.”

“Me too,” Shouto points out from your other side, flashing his famous pout. “Your parents called. They’re staying up, waiting for updates.”

3000 kilometers don’t feel that big anymore.

-

“Pinch me,” you ask, holding onto a tiny fist, the little girl that owns it sleeping soundly on your chest. “Am I dreaming?”

It’s Rei who pinches your wrist with a smile on her face, Shouto too absorbed in the presence of his daughter to do anything else.

“I will give you two some time,” she excuses herself with a smile, leaving you in the reality you crafted yourself.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Shouto asks once the door’s closed, caressing the full head of black hair with the back of his pointer finger, not daring to touch her lest he might hurt her.

She is. No matter the weight, no matter the hair, no matter the eyes.

-

“Say hi to Mama,” Shouto asks, lifting a small fist with his bigger hand as you emerge from the bathroom, your body still steaming from the bath.

The little one doesn’t care, too busy drooling on his naked chest.

Shouto pouts, the switch in his mood too sudden to be accidental.

“What?” You laugh, still in the door.

“She just farted,” he complains. “How can she make such a smell?”

“Baby, that’s not a fart,” you explain, careful not to step closer. “That’s her diaper.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” you grin. “And you’re on diaper duty. Remember? You said you’d take care of everything until it was time for feeding, so…”

He looks down at his daughter, seemingly contemplating his life for a second.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

You’re not sure which one of you he means. But you’ll take that compliment any day.

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[uplatterme]

all out?

—sub!scara/dom!reader, amab!reader | office sex, exhibitionism

—not beta read so excuse some mistakes if there are any TT

honestly, scaramouche should have seen this coming.

he stares at his empty cabinet, dumbfounded that there’s nothing inside it. surely not…

the balladeer wants to scream. just his luck, that it happened today too, when there’s a meeting scheduled that he cannot skip.

“fuck.”

the harbinger walks through the chilling halls of the zapolyarny palace. the cold has never bothered him in any shape or form, yet today proves to be an exception.

there are lower-ranked fatui passing by, hastily running off, not wanting to meet his gaze. an action that he isn’t unfamiliar to.

he hisses and stops when a certain ginger blemishes his view.

“looks like someone’s having a bad day!” he greets.

for a moment there, scaramouche thinks that he’s caught red-handed. not until he realizes that the youngest harbinger couldn’t have possibly seen through his facade.

“you’re deafeningly loud.” he bites back, continuing his steps despite the aching in his lower half.

“ah, still the same as ever. not that im surprised.” he says, chuckling echoing through the halls.

“the meeting’s to start in a few, although the director and the overseer hasn’t arrived yet.” tartaglia informs.

he flushes at the mention of your title, the one behind this problem that he’s facing right now.

“hello?” he calls out.

“can you learn to shut up just at least once?!” he yells.

currently, he sits on the chair provided for him, next to pulcinella and sandrone. as long as he doesn’t get seated next to that blue-haired freak, he considers any situation to be pleasant.

the door opens with a slam and the rest of the harbingers bow their head as greeting. there you stand, that folder you always carry in your arms and a pen between your fingers.

that’s when the memories comes back to him.

flashes of each time you’ve ripped his underwear with those fingers of yours, the scene claws into his brain as he bows down his head in unison with the others.

it was fine the first time. it was only a one-time thing, after all.

oh, how naive he was thinking that.

he then realizes that it wasn’t a one-time thing, seeing as there’s none of them left in his cabinet, forced to attend this meeting with his cock slapping against his thigh each time he walks.

it’s embarrassing. he seethes at your voice, talking about some topic that he couldn’t give a shit about. he adores when your tone is like that, commanding and strict. the more you speak, the more the harbinger wants to cave in.

his cock presses hardly to his shorts, begging for any kind of attention. unfortunately, he’s forced to endure it. to sit there in agony while he stares at you, giving out orders.

oh, how he wishes that you bend him against the table right now.

he can see it visibly twitch from underneath his clothing. if you were to see this, what would you have done? scaramouche’s imagination runs wild, thinking of how you’d make him take your cock. overusing his body and milking him dry. a doll, whose only purpose is to serve you.

“balladeer?” he snaps back to reality, hearing you mention him.

he bites back a needy whine, feeling everyone’s attention now centered on him.

“yeah?” he spit out, his eyes meeting with yours.

“you’ll be sent off to a separate mission, is that all right with you?”

god, you could ask him to do anything and he’d agree.

“sure.”

when the meeting ends, his body was moving on its own, moving towards you to grab you and pinning you to the wall.

“you! you better take care of this!” he shouts.

you were confused at first but it didn’t take you long to see his cock fully outlined through his tight shorts.

“why should i? you’re the one who decided to attend this meeting like that.”

he groans. he does not have the time for any of your teasing right now.

“you kept tearing through—just, ugh!

fuck me already!”

his voice echoes throughout the room. he would have never expected this kind of situation to happen but he needed you so badly. he’s been hot and bothered ever since this morning.

he lets out a relieved groan once he feels his abdomen pressing on the table.

then, next comes the sound of his shorts being ripped apart. he would have complained about your tendency to tear through his clothes but all the complaints in his head goes away once he feels your fingers digging inside of him.

“hnngghh—fuck, finally. only thing you’re fucking good for—oh god!”

“shit, shit, shit!”

his face presses up on his hands, far too drunk as drool goes down his chin. he’s loving each movement inside of him, the satisfaction and pleasure you give are intoxicating him and he wants more.

his body squirms, his feet constantly misplacing themselves on the floor. his dick leaking precum as you stroke it at a pace, leaving him panting and breathing like a dog who had just gone for a run.

“look at you, all loose already…your body’s just made for fucking, isn’t it? always wanting to prove something when you can just show everybody how much of a cumdump you are.”

scara grunts at your insult (praise?), wanting to spit back something to defend himself. but his body is then shifted around, his back laying on the cold table as you took no time in penetrating his hole.

his mouth is left wide open by the stretch. it burns but god, he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pain. the pain that would soon then transition into pleasure by each. single. thrust.

pounding into him mercilessly, his mouth being covered by his own mouth to desperately hide his cries from enjoying it too much, smiling underneath.

eventually, he just decides to let go. his hands reaching up to fondle his own chest, playing with his nipples while you shape him into your own cocksleeve, his leg up as you wanted better access into fucking him as much as you can.

scara’s so damn loud. of course, he doesn’t notice it. nor does he notice a certain redhead blushing needing to do a double take to see if he’s seeing the right thing.

“f-fill me up! fuck, please!”

“haaah—! more, more!”

after a while, those sentences are no longer coherent as he’s turned to just moaning and whimpering, slurring his words that you can barely understand.

the table is a cum-filled mess, his dick spurting out white as his eyes roll back the furthest they can into his head.

and yet, he doesn’t stop.

even better, he’s started to match your rhythm and grind himself onto you.

there’s a bit of a swelling in his belly from your cum and yet that isn’t seen as a blockade.

each thrust, your cum slipping out of him and back into him and the warm feeling of your stickiness is just enough to send him over the edge.

in the end, he’s left with a satisfied smile. laughing and chuckling while struggling to breathe, his walls aching and not sure if he wants more or to just stop moving for as long as he can.

one thing’s for sure though,

he’s completely forgotten that his shorts are torn apart.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Love Game

DI!Single!Dad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You hear a glimpse of Leon's relationship with his daughter. And later he makes you a proposal you just can't refuse

Warnings: mild sexual content, still minors dni, brief phone sex, allusions to sex, Leon has a mouth on his as always, bit of soft!dom leon, mostly Leon being a soft dad on this one, foul language (as always), no use of y/n

WC: 3k

A/N: so I'm totally in love with this dynamic! And yalls support was insane. I literally wrote two separate drafts of a continuation of these two and whichever I finished first was gonna be posted, so the light smut one won bc I'm tired atm and didn't feel like sitting in front of my computer for 6 hours🙃 so this short part will have a second part to it with full spicy time. And another standalone part with these two (coffee and other things) having some more spicy time is also in the works, so stay tuned. Besitos <3

Universe Masterlist

Leon blinked slowly, his eyes now starting to grow sore from staring at the bright computer screen for so long. But he just hadn't had time to finish this stupid report. Sure, he has had two whole days to get it done, but with a tiny human clinging to his arm every waking minute, it was a bit more complicated than he thought. But he couldn't possibly ignore his little girl when he barely had the time to be with her without having to worry about stopping some mad scientist with too much time in their hands. He didn't mind though. His little girl was more important than anything else. 

Still, he took advantage of the little window of time he had now. He had given Isabella dinner a little over an hour ago. Then left her in the dining room to finish her homework. She had always been a smart girl, responsible with her homework, she never fussed when he asked her to do it, so it didn't worry him in the slightest to leave her to do her own thing. She tended to get distracted when he was around anyway. 

Though, maybe an hour had gone by when he heard tiny feet pad bare through the wood floors and he saw a mess of chocolate brown strands sticking from its bun peek above his computer screen. He slowly lowered the screen until it was almost shut and he was met with a pair of sapphire eyes that were a replica of his own. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Daddy." She took a step closer to him, her eyes big like she wanted to ask him something. 

Leon sat up fully, setting his laptop aside and nodded at her, giving her his full attention now. "What's up bee?" 

"Can I.. uhm.. I can play with your switch now?" She asked, dark lashes batting as she fiddled with her hands. As if she had to give him puppy dog eyes for him to say yes. He kept his face serious though. 

"You wanna play on my switch?" She nodded. He ran his fingers over his light stubble as if he was thinking real hard, he pursed his lips in thought. "I dunno hun, did you finish your homework?" 

"How did you know I had homework?" She asked with an adorable frown on her face, it took Leon all of his willpower not to break then. 

"Well I do now." He slipped a smile and she pouted. He couldn't help but chuckle at his little girl. He took her in his arms and sat her on his lap. "Well I knew before. Wanna know how?" 

Her head perked up. "How?" 

Leon leaned into her ear with a smile, "'Cause dads know everything about their little girls." He pressed a kiss to the side of her hair and set her back on her feet. "But yeah, Miss Pretty Teacher told me." 

"That's cheating!" She whipped her head around with a gasp and glared at him. He again couldn't hide his laugh. 

"Yeah alright, you caught me," he raised his hands up at her in surrender. "You can play on the switch for a bit. Do you remember how to turn it on?" 

Izzy proudly nodded and skipped over to the large TV hooked up to the living room. The TV had been on, nothing playing, but just on, since Leon had intended to play some white noise in the background but never actually loaded up anything. He switched to the right input as he watched Izzy turn on the Switch. It took her a second to remember how, but she was happily skipping back to the couch with the controllers as the loading screen came up before Leon could get up to help. He shook his head to himself, but he puffed out a breath when Izzy jumped on his lap, rather hard, the little girl giggling when he groaned. 

"Jesus Christ, when did you get so big?" He chuckled, fixing her on his lap so she wouldn't fall and watched as she scrolled through the games until she found Mario Kart. 

"I turned seven in October, remember?" She piped up, genuinely reminding him of such an important date, as if he would ever forget. He nodded. 

"I know, Izzy. I took you to Dave and Busters with Amara, remember?" 

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. That was fun. We should go again sometime! Please daddy?" She turned her head to look at him with this smile on her face and her big blue eyes. 

God, what did he ever do to deserve this kid? 

He pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded. 

"'Course. I'll talk to Amara's mom, okay?" 

He watched as Izzy excitedly nodded and cheered happily before she got lost in the game in front of her. He didn't mind her having screen time. It wasn't like she had an iPad glued to her face twenty-four-seven. He let her play once or twice a week, and maybe a third if he was feeling like playing with her. And she was more than happy to spend that time with her dad. 

Tonight he wasn't really feeling playing, so he watched her do her best. To her, she was the biggest winner there ever was, throwing turtle shells and bombs at practically nothing and hitting the wall with every curve, but she had fun with it, so he let her be, cheering her on whenever she finished a race, even if it was in ninth or eighth place. 

Maybe thirty minutes had passed when he felt his phone buzz beside him. He took his eyes away from the colorful screen to look at his phone. It lit up with a text, and his smile grew wide at the name. 

My pretty teacher. 

He grabbed his phone and quickly opened the conversation. You had been texting back and forth all day, for days now, after what he considered a perfect first date, but he just hadn't gotten around to match your schedule to plan another date. So you had resorted to texting and maybe calling once here and there. But God, he was really missing you right about now.

My pretty teacher: sorry, I went to dinner with my mom and sister. And I just got home. Hru? 

He bit his lip as he attempted to type into his phone one handed. 

Me: It's fine. I'm ok. With izzy. 

My pretty teacher: awww🥰 

Me: Can you call? I'm texting with one hand at the moment. 

You saw the message, and he could see the three text bubbles appear and disappear. Until they didn't come back. He mentally grimaced at himself, maybe the idea of talking to him while Isabella was there made you uncomfortable? Shit. He hadn't thought about that. Christ, he hadn't dated in so long he had forgotten that being a single dad wasn't exactly the biggest turn on. No matter how much one liked kids. 

His anxiety riddled brain stopped racing when he saw your contact name pop up on his screen as his phone started ringing. He grinned to himself. He glanced at Izzy— her full attention was still on her game, he shrugged and answered the call. He set his phone down, still having one ear bud in from when he was working on his laptop. 

"Hey Miss." He spoke first, his heart racing in his chest a bit. 

"Hi Leon." He could hear the smile in your voice. That shy smile he thought was the prettiest thing. 

"You busy?" He asked, still a bit worried he was interrupting you in the middle of something. Though the indistinct sound of TV playing in the background let him know that maybe you weren't that busy. 

"Not really. I got home a little bit ago so I was just about to run myself a bath." You answered, walking back and forth between your bedroom and the bathroom connected to it. "You?"

Leon tried his hardest not to think about your words too much. Not right now. 

"Nah. Just watching Izzy play on my switch. She's kicking ass in Mario Kart." He heard you blurt out a giggle, which made him chuckle, but what made him actually laugh was Izzy shooting him a frown over her shoulder. 

"Daddy, that's a no-no word." 

Leon snapped his head down at Izzy and he frowned, not sure if he heard her correctly, "What's that bee?" 

"I said that's a bad word."

"What is?" 

"Ass." 

Leon almost snorted at the way she said the word. With a frown and her lips pursed. He didn't care if she said bad words or not. He sure as hell said them all the time, but he encouraged her not to repeat what he said, in front of other people, at least. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

"So don't say it. I'm an adult. I can say them." When she kept looking at him, he placed a hand on top of her head and —gently— turned her head back towards the TV screen, despite her protest. "Keep playing your game, Isabella. Or you can't sit on my lap anymore." 

All Leon could hear was you attempting to muffle your laughter, but he could hear your giggles loud and clear. He only rolled his eyes, but he had a tiny smile of his own. 

"C'mon don't laugh, being a parent is hard. Are you the one teaching her this no-no bull— B.S?" He caught himself, closing his eyes when you laughed even more, now not even bothering to hide it. 

"I have to! I have a swear jar, I'm sorry. I gotta set an example." 

He actually laughed at this, remembering the mouth you had on you when he had you on his bed. 

"Yeah, well, you weren't so pure and innocent when you were screaming—" He caught himself again, his own eyes widening when he remembered Isabella was right there and he sighed out softly. "Give me an hour and I'll give you the answer you deserve, Miss." 

You stayed quiet for a second, not because he offended you, but because you needed a second to breathe and control the heat that flashed between your legs at his insinuation. You exhaled deeply before responding. 

"You're what again? Playing Switch with Izzy? 

Leon hummed in response. "She is. She's sitting on my lap so I'm being forced to watch." 

"I'm not forcing you!"

"On your game, Isabella. Stop listening to my conversation." 

"Does she have her own Switch or something?" You asked, now sitting on the edge of your bathtub as hot water poured from the faucet. 

"No. It's my Switch. But I leave it in the living room so she can play sometimes." He answered you with a shrug you obviously couldn't see. 

You chuckled softly, "How old are you again?" 

"Thirty-eight, but that's besides the point. I barely have time to use the thing. I mostly bought it for Izzy." He wasn't lying— entirely. He sometimes played, late at night by himself when he wanted to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. He would choose to play a game to blow off steam instead of getting drunk with his little girl sleeping in the next room or passing out drunk at some shitty bar. 

"I'm very convinced by that." You snorted, making him sigh out at you.

"Hmph. Whatever. You wouldn't understand how cathartic throwing green turtle shells at tiny cars can be." 

"Oh I bet." 

"Daddy?" You heard Isabella's voice through the phone and your heart warmed.

Leon looked down at Izzy, "Yeah?" 

"Who are you talking to?" She asked with genuine curiosity, her very glorious race tournament now over and her attention was on him. 

He heard you go silent, most likely having heard the little girl and he sighed out, his eyes landing up on the ceiling for a second as he thought of his answer. 

"Just a friend, bee." He ultimately decided on that answer. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being with you, not at all, but Izzy was still young, and even he knew there had to be a proper introduction of you outside of your teacher role. He actually wanted to do this the right way.

"You fuck my brains out last week and I'm just a friend now?" He heard you comment in his ear and he groaned out. 

"C'mon, that's not fair." He leaned back into the couch, his forearm over his eyes now as he basically had two women all over him, pressing him with way too many questions for his liking. 

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Leon. I get it." There was humor in your voice, lightheartedness and even though he couldn't see you, he had a feeling you had that gentle smile on your lips. That eased the pressure on his chest. 

"Listen sweetheart, it's almost Izzy's bedtime," His eyes were on Izzy now, and with his eyes he was nudging at her to start wrapping up her game. She pouted, but didn't otherwise fuss. "Call you in an hour?" 

You both had this dumb, lovesick smile on your face, if only you could see the other.

"I'll be up."

The warm water, the foaming body wash and the intoxicating smell of your favorite candle had done wonders to relax you. When you left the bathtub you felt like a whole new person. Though there still this tug of butterflies in your stomach as you anxiously waited for Leon to call you. 

You sat on the edge of the tub, warm and fluffy robe wrapped around your naked body as you mindlessly scrolled through your social media for a little while before you decided to check out for the night. You nearly slipped right off the tile when your phone buzzed and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. 

"Hey, sorry about, y’know, earlier. Izzy and I are like that." You smiled at the sound of Leon's voice, now a bit hushed but more relaxed and carefree, like he now could say whatever the fuck he wanted. 

"It's okay. It was cute, hearing how you talk to her. You're sweet." You smiled to yourself, and you could hear him breathe out a soft laugh, most likely a bit flustered by your words, but he otherwise didn't show it. "You put her to sleep though?" 

"Yeah, I stayed with her 'til she fell asleep. I'm in my bedroom now, about to take a shower." He said the words slowly, with purpose, like he wanted you to think about it like he had been thinking about you, taking that bath. "So, you take your bath yet?" 

"Yeah, it was nice. I definitely needed it. I could've used some company though." You bit your lip, testing his reaction. There was silence, then he hummed. 

"Yeah? That so?" Now it was your turn to hum in agreement, your legs instinctively closing as you tried to soothe the ache between your thighs. "I'm sure you could've. Would've been nice to have someone hold you, right? Have someone leave kisses on your wet skin, say how good you're doing while getting your pretty pussy fingered?" 

You couldn't hold back the moan that left your throat at his words, and your free hand instantly traveled down, stopping at your belly. 

"Oh, that's a sound I'll never get tired of hearing. Fuck, you're already moaning for me and I'm not even there to give you a reason." He exhaled out a chuckle, his hardening cock starting to press against his sweatpants. 

"Fuck, I really wish you were here." You sighed out, your hand itching closer towards your already wet cunt, but you knew it wasn't your touch you ached for. It was Leon's. 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

You whined softly, your phone almost slipping off your grip as your head fell to the side. "Leon…" 

"Tell me." 

"Because… I really, really, need you to touch me, hold me, ugh— I just need you to fuck me, Leon." 

Leon clenched his fist as his side, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he listened to your desperate words, and the sound shot straight to his cock. Fuck, he'd be lying if he said he didn't need you, too. 

"Goddamn baby," He grunted softly, his hand now brushing the front of his sweats, where his cock strained against the material, and he tried to muffle the sound between his teeth, but you heard it anyway. "You have no fucking idea how much I've been wanting to ruin that pussy of yours again. It's actually driving me crazy." 

You shuddered, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable. "I really want to see you too, baby." 

Leon closed his eyes, biting his lip raw as he thought fuck it. He could explain in the morning. 

"Fuck it, just fuck it. Wanna take the drive here? I swear I'll give you exactly what you need and it'll be so worth it." 

You'd like to think you were a rational person, you always thought things through twice, three times if necessary. You didn't take risks, much less acted in a way that could be considered immoral, but for Leon? Fuck, for that man you would become the biggest whore in this world if it meant he would take you just one more time. 

"Be there in thirty." 

Fuck it. 

Sneak peek of A Love Game Part II, coming soon

His lips were hard on your own, messy on your jaw, like he didn't know which part he wanted to kiss more. Your fingers were entangled in his perfectly soft honey brown strands, already melting under his touch. His hand came up under your jaw to grip your face in place, long fingers sprawled out over your neck. He pulled you back by your face and his eyes were hard on you, with this mixture of authority and utter need to fuck you. He could be both. 

"This is how this is gonna be. I'm going to throw you on that bed and fuck you the way you deserve. But I better not hear a single fucking sound leave those pretty lips of yours. Not tonight. Got it?"

Stay tuned for upcoming parts lovelies. Besitos<3

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: by the fireplace, replica / timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

notes: pink pepper (top), chestnut accord (heart), vanilla (base)

description: embers of burning firewood, billowing smoke and flushing warmth

disclaimer(s): N/A

wc: 1.06k

warning(s): big fat super domestic makeout!!!!! slightly touchy so ig suggestive?? not sure but i think ushiwaka might be a little ooc at times oops... IDC this took THREE FUCKING REDOS im TIRED

Wakatoshi has always wanted a fireplace. The prospect of burning firewood crackling in a dimly lit room seeming like some infinitely gentle blanket is what he confesses to you in bed with his back pressed up against your chest, your hands squeezing and massaging at the knots in his shoulders.

"It would be nice, I like the smell of firewood." His head tilts back to meet your gaze, and you giggle, fingers pressing meitculously into the flesh of his back. The mattress dips when you squeeze a spot, just in the curve that connects his neck and his shoulders, as he finally loosens up with a content sigh, the tension in his body released in an instant.

"Fixed it?"

"Fixed it."

Wakatoshi smiles, leaning back into you until his entire body is sprawled on top of yours. He takes your hand, wrapped around his torso, and holds it tight against the little area of his chest that his heart occupies. His hair is a mess of olive green on your chest, disheveled as you run your other hand through it, pressing your fingers into his scalp and rubbing strands against each other between the pads of your fingertips. His heart beats steadily beneath your palm, and he sighs in satisfaction.

"What would you ever do without me?"

He breathes out a chuckle at your question, bringing your hand from his chest to his lips. His thumb plays with your knuckles, and your hand in his hair crawls down to his jaw, fingers tracing nothings into his cheek instead. You feel Wakatoshi's weight shift, rolling around to press his chest flush with your torso, his head resting in the dip of your ribcage. For somebody who wants a fireplace for the smell of firewood, he sure encapsulates it already, toasty spices and woody chestnuts filling your senses when he pulls himself up for a kiss.

Wakatoshi's father once told him what his name meant, to be young and to be sharp. Wakatoshi trains and plays with a wildfire in his eyes, smashes hits through opposing teams with blazing flames coursing through his body. Scalding passion, burning diligence, so hot that surrounding air burns away into suffocating smoke.

Yet his lips meet yours like the crackling of wood in a fireplace, nibbling at you softly like occasional sparks that fly out when things run a little too hot. The burning sting of his hands hitting leather volleyballs is nothing but a dull glow of warmth that emanates from his palms, spreading to your face from his fingers that push strands of hair from your forehead. His droning exhale sends tremors through your body, and when he parts his lips against yours, you can feel his fingers rolling and rubbing at the hem of his shirt that drapes over your frame.

Greedy, wanting more, like the radiating heat of fire that spreads across a cold room.

Your waist takes the shape of his palm when his hand slithers its way beneath your shirt, drawing circles into your skin. His knee presses into the mattress between your legs, holding himself up just enough to give your chest room to heave up and down in rhythmic rises and falls. His hand squeezes the flesh of your waist, the cold promise ring on his finger sending a jolt up your body. It pulls a sharp inhale from you, and rips a stutter from Wakatoshi's throat. The kind of stutter that begs for your lips to stay on his, and for your heart to push even harder against his own, until he's sure that they will never separate. A feverishly lovesick stutter, so much so that the heat of Wakatoshi's fire is spilling everywhere, with nothing to contain it.

When your hand joins his beneath your shirt, two rings come together with a metallic clink as your fingers meet Wakatoshi's, holding them tight between your knuckles. They follow his hand to the grooves of your ribcage, his thumb pushing gently into the underside of your chest. When he swallows the sigh of his name that escapes your lungs, Wakatoshi thinks that this must have been what he was made for. His fingers were made to swipe lines and etch shapes into your skin, his legs made to trap you in his embrace, his mouth made to press against yours for as long as you please.

He almost whines when your head pushes upwards, before detaching from him to breathe. Your other hand pulls his head towards you, his pulse pumping into your palm as you press your lips into his jaw, peppering kisses down to his neck. He hums at the sensation, lowering his body onto yours as he nuzzles his face into the pillow beside your head. Your fingers run through his hair, relishing in the softness of the strands that slip between your knuckles. His chest is flush against yours, head turning to press his nose against the side of your neck, where his mumbles send tingles down your spine as your hand shifts to hold his head close to you.

"Can't live without you. I love you."

In the darkness of your room, all that remain are Wakatoshi's soft exhales into your pulse as he drifts to sleep, one arm inside your shirt and the other laid above your head. You absentmindedly push a kiss into his head, and he shifts in his slumber, his lips curling into a serene smile. Beneath his eyelids, fleeting images of you pass by. The first time you cry out his first name instead of his last, the first time his lips learn of yours, the first time his blazing sharpness is mellowed out for something gentler. He watches you like some vintage film, shoved into the depths of his heart, not to be seen by any other eyes but his own.

"I love you too, Toshi. So much."

Wakatoshi is a wildfire, smoke and ash rising from his feet, sending people running from his blaze. You are the only person daring enough to be engulfed by his radiance, only to find that his inferno is mellow as a candle on a shelf, sweet as toasted vanilla pods, gentle as a paintbrush drawing outlines on a blank canvas. And although you're still open to getting the fireplace that Wakatoshi has always wanted, you think he's warm enough to beat out a fire any day.

author's note:

guys i really hope i did domestic ushiwaka justice because this took way too long to write up and i don't know why :( i legit had to rewrite like three whole times and i was about to smash my head into my laptop trying to keep going because im in a BLOCK it's super annoying BUT i needed ushiwaka brainrot and this was my take LOLOL

guys i love ushiwaka sm :(

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @akaakeis @iiwaijime @fiannee @afyrian @catsoupki

ok love u guys see u next fic bye bye

[godslino]

2:45a.m. | minho established relationship. fluff. dad!minho.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k summary: when a storm hits, minho makes sure your daughter is able to fall back asleep

· · · ♡ masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

You’re not sure what wakes you first: the crack of thunder or the resulting cry.

Your entire body jolts, the room painted in a flash of white that disappears just as quickly as it came. The weather report had stated that there would be a storm, however ones this bad were uncommon, especially in Seoul.

Another cry. It crackles through the baby monitor on the nightstand at the same time it echoes off of the walls of the other room. You move to kick the covers off when an arm stops you, warm and heavy where it’s thrown over your waist. You instantly relax into the touch, sighing when the tip of a nose brushes against the shell of your ear.

“I got her,” Minho mumbles, his voice raspy with sleep.

“It’s okay. You have an early morning, I can do it.” You argue, but make no move to get up.

Minho doesn’t respond, instead he knocks a kiss to your temple and tightens the blanket around you once he’s out of bed. You hear the soft pads of his feet against the floor and crack one eye open just in time to see him slip out of the room, his voice floating into the hallway, ‘Uh oh, what happened to the princess?’

The way the crying stops almost immediately is proof enough that it was a good thing Minho went in place of you. Seola is a fussy baby; she cries loud and wants incessantly—more than the usual ten month old. She can’t go anywhere without her elephant binky and hates wearing hats, if she doesn’t like a food she’ll snap her lips shut and turn her head until her face is pressed into the back of the high chair, when she’s angry she shakes a tiny fist in your direction and pounds it against your arm. But perhaps the most difficult thing, the one that has you wanting to pull your hair out most of the time, is that sometimes the only way to calm her down is if Minho is the one to do it.

A part of you always knew that your baby would favor Minho, as funny as it sounds. When you first got pregnant, one of the things the two of you were most excited for was being able to feel the baby kicking. Minho sang to your belly every night after you first broke the news, even as you laughed and told him that he or she didn’t have ears yet.

“So?” he questioned, glaring at you from where he had his head pressed against the bare skin of your stomach.

“You also know you don’t have to lift my shirt up, right?”

“Yeah? Well then I can’t do this,” he’d said before blowing a raspberry straight onto your belly button. His laughter then quickly turned into a string of apologies as he came to the realization that the sound might have been too loud, his hand rubbing soothing circles along the lower part of your stomach while you watched with fond eyes.

Minho never missed a night. He made sure that he was always home before you went to bed when he could be, oftentimes fighting with his manager to be let out early or skip practice entirely, promising to show up early the next day and put in the work on his own time. On the nights where he couldn’t make it or the two of you were separated by distance that made him want to give it all up, he called and made you press the speaker into your gradually hardening baby bump.

You and Minho found out that you were having a girl on the day of the first snow. The two of you watched with tear-filled eyes as the ultrasound technician pointed to the monitor in excitement, her smile detectable even beneath the mask she had covering her face.

“Congratulations! It’s a girl!”

Minho called his mom first. Her shouts of joy were so loud that he had to hold the phone away from his ear, his smile the brightest that you’d ever seen. Pride. He was so proud of his little family that he thought his heart might burst.

You called your parents next, and Minho held the phone up so that the two of you could give them the news through the camera, his free hand squeezing yours tightly as you cried and told them that you couldn’t wait for them to come visit once the baby came.

The members were last, all seven of them piled on top of one another on the couch in the practice room, Hyunjin and Changbin fighting over the fact that ‘I can’t see, asshole!’ and ‘You’re tall enough just stand in the back!’

Finding out the gender of the baby made everything more real. Bows and dresses and frilly socks—every time Minho came back to the apartment he had a shopping bag hanging from his arm. He spent most of the time on his phone looking at baby things and stuff that was completely unnecessary.

“What about this?” he asked, pointing his phone down to where your head was resting in his lap.

“Minho,” you scolded, glancing up at him with furrowed eyebrows, “I am not buying a booger straw for the baby.”

“It’s not a booger straw—”

“That is one hundred percent a booger straw. You literally have to suck the boogers out of their nose. Can’t we just buy a nasal suction like normal people?”

“What if it’s not efficient enough? I hate when my nose is stuffy, what more our baby? She won’t even be able to communicate with us, I feel so bad for her.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over your face as Minho continued to explain in thorough detail why a booger straw was a necessity in that very moment, even though your due date was still months away.

As time passed and your stomach grew, so did the nerves Minho had about not being present enough. With the nature of his career, it was hard for him to not feel like he wasn’t excessively absent most of the time. Stress took a toll on him, mentally and physically. It wore him thin until the circles under his eyes were the worst you’d ever seen and his mornings couldn’t start without a mandatory dosage of ibuprofen to dull the headache he had the minute he woke up.

Minho was doubtful. He had dreams that his daughter wouldn’t know who he was and that his moments with her would be spent through a phone call rather than with his arms wrapped around her tiny body. He felt like he had already failed a million times without ever even having the chance to prove himself.

On the night the baby kicked for the first time, Minho came home late.

Pregnancy fatigue had taken its toll on you that day. You’d remained in bed, too nauseated to move and aching throughout the entire expanse of your back. Minho worried the moment he woke up, but you’d urged him that you were okay and sent him on his way to the company, practically begging him to leave rather than to deal with another earful from his manager about absences. Luckily for you, his mom was able to come over, and you let her dote on you as well as cook and clean as much as she pleased.

You’d fallen asleep early, your stomach full of homemade food and blankets freshly washed, leaving Minho in a frazzled state because you hadn’t picked up his calls for his nightly belly-singing session. To top it all off, dance practice ran late because of a last minute formation change that needed to be perfected before the next day’s performance.

When he finally made it home, Minho booked it to the bedroom, dropping to his knees next to the bed to place his hands on your stomach as you slept peacefully on your side, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow.

Sometimes, unbeknownst to you, Minho would wake in the middle of the night and talk to your stomach, talk to the baby. It was a little self-indulgent, some alone time for him to speak all of his worries, fears, hopes, and dreams out into the world. That night, it was just them again. Just Minho and the baby.

“I’m home,” he’d said quietly, rubbing soft circles into the material of your shirt, “Daddy’s sorry he’s late. It’s snowing outside, so I couldn't drive too fast.” He waited a few seconds before starting to sing, his voice soft, quiet enough that he wouldn’t wake you up:

펄, 펄, 눈이 옵니다

peol, peol, the snow is falling

하늘에서 눈이 옵니다

the snow is falling from the sky

하늘 나라 선녀님들이

the heavenly seonyeos

송이 송이 하얀 솜을

the white cotton

자꾸 자꾸 뿌려 줍니다

it keeps sprinkling

Minho had moved forward once he was done, resting his cheek against your stomach as gently as possible. He let his eyes focus on the snow falling outside the window, the city covered in a thin blanket of white.

“You’re gonna need a name soon, huh?” he asked, lightly drumming his fingers against your belly. “We found out you were a girl on the first snow, did you know that? My little snow girl. My—wait. Seola means snow girl. That’s pretty, right? Do you like that?”

Minho, not expecting a response, nearly screamed when he felt the softest of thumps against the skin of your stomach, just beneath the palm of his hand.

“What—” Kick.

“B-Babe.” He said, louder this time, sitting up straight to stare at your stomach with wide eyes. You stirred awake, shifting slightly to crack an eye open.

“Minho? You’re home? What are you—”

“Has she been kicking?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself up to rest your back against the headboard. “No, of course not, I would’ve told you if she did. Why? Did something—” You were cut off by the strongest kick yet, your hand flying to your stomach.

“Seola.” Minho had said again, his voice cracking halfway through when another kick came before he could even finish speaking.

From that moment on, Minho knew in his heart that your daughter’s name was always meant to be Seola. He’d talk endlessly about how he would always treat the first snow of the year like a second birthday, and he’d always make it a point to say her name whenever he was talking or singing to your belly.

Much like now, with his back turned to you, Minho’s voice is still as gentle as ever.

“Sometimes when the air is angry it makes electricity,” he says, swaying back and forth as Seola rests her cheek against his shoulder. Her eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep as Minho talks to soothe her back to bed. “And then the lightning makes the air really really hot, and it goes boom.” He pats her back a few times, shushing her when she brings a fist up to her face to rub it angrily. He hums a soft melody, something nonsensical, quiet enough to lull her to sleep but also loud enough to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the window.

You watch as he lays her back in her crib, black hair fanned out around her head as he places a warm hand on her stomach to keep some added weight on her body until he’s certain she’s sleeping deeply.

“Oh look,” you say from the doorway, making him jump, “You bored her back to sleep.”

Minho laughs, light and airy, walking over to wrap his arms around you and rest his cheek against your head.

“Jealous that she likes my voice more?”

Minho’s voice, still deep with sleep, rumbles beneath his chest, right where you have your face pressed into it. You take a deep breath, inhaling him as best as you can, his cologne mixing with the smell of baby powder and Seola’s soap.

“No, I just wish you would come back to bed now and bore me to sleep too.”

A hand runs up and down your back, Minho’s adam's apple bobs when he swallows too hard. “I wouldn’t have to if you stayed there like I told you to.”

“I just wanted to check on you,” you sigh, “Also it’s nice to see the two of you together. I don’t get to see it a lot, y’know?”

Minho stills on his feet, and you pull back in time to catch the ghost of a frown on his face.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “I know. I’m—fuck, I have to be gone tomorrow too.” He runs a hand through his hair, and you can practically see the guilt worming its way into his head.

Determined to stop the inevitable self-loathing, you bring your hands up to cup his face, your thumbs running gently along the corners of his mouth. He melts into the touch immediately, closing his eyes and exhaling out of his nose.

“That’s not what I meant. I just like to cherish the time we have when all three of us are together, that’s all. This isn’t a ‘you versus me’ thing, okay? This is me and you making do with what we have.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah I know. Me and you.”

“Always.” You smile, leaning up to press your lips together.

With the thunder no longer rumbling overhead and the rain lighter than it had been earlier, you and Minho deem it safe enough to retreat into your bedroom without running the risk of Seola being woken up again.

“Do you want me to explain the force of gravity?” He whispers, playful but weak where his fatigue is starting to seep into his bones.

You laugh and tuck your face into his neck, his arms tightening around you on instinct. When you don’t answer, he knows that he doesn’t have to speak for you to drift off to sleep; knows that no matter what you’ll always be at home tucked into his side, and eventually lets sleep overtake him too.

When morning hits the sky is cloudy and the room is painted in a pale gray. The spot next to you is cold, sheets still tousled from sleep where Minho had been. You frown, glancing at the baby monitor on the nightstand that’s oddly quiet. It’s not normal for you to wake without the sounds of Seola beating your internal clock to it.

Your confusion only grows when you step into the hallway, the sounds of light snoring drifting out from the nursery. When you breach the doorway, you stop short, your heart doubling in size at the sight before you.

Minho is there, slumped against the side of the crib, his head leaning on one of the slats of wood and his arm shoved through the gap, Seola’s hand wrapped tightly around his finger. He must’ve gotten worried at some point in the night, scared that the rain would wake her again.

You inch forward to kneel beside him, running a hand through his hair and smiling when the touch makes his nose twitch. Seola’s own does the same when she sleeps, a little mole on the tip of her right nostril, just like her dad has on his left nostril. A direct reflection of one another; of love in its purest form.

On the floor beside him, Minho’s phone lays open:

To: Chan [2:45a.m.]

I won’t be in later

Find a way to manage without me

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[air--so--sweet]

I found out from the production designer's website and an interview he did that the basement kitchen is actually the 'kid's lounge', a space the siblings created for themselves.

And I've been obsessed with it ever since because I feel it gives us more of an idea about what the umbrellas childhoods were like.

Because, okay there's the slightly extravagant things like the pool table and foozball table, but most of it is very simple. A hifi system and a collection of cassettes and CDs (I bet Luther was only allowed have a record collection as part of his special treatment as Number One), what looks like board games and some toys in what used to be the butcher shops fridges and there's another toy next to the hifi system that looks similar to some of the ones we see in Five's room.

And in the scene where Allison and Diego fight Cha Cha we see art supplies as well.

These are just basic things most kids would grow up with but the umbrellas had to create a secret place, away from their father, to have them. It's just desperately sad.

But I also find it kind of beautiful that they worked together to make a place for themselves and I like to imagine the process of it coming together. Them scavenging furniture from the unused academy rooms. One of them finds the table in storage room, or the attic maybe, and then over the next few weeks they manage to take chairs from different rooms until they can all sit at the table together. Coming home from Griddy's one night (sneaking out became a lot easier once they had a separate entrance that their dad didn't know about) they spot an armchair and a sofa left out on the sidewalk and they don't look in too bad a condition so Five jumps back with the armchair while the others carry the sofa home (Five was still getting the hang of jumping with objects, the sofa was still a bit too big for him to manage). Grace catches them stealing food to take downstairs one day and she mentions it to Pogo (who knows about the room since it's right next to his own room, but he chooses to turn a blind eye) and suddenly there's a fridge in the room and Grace makes sure it and the cupboards are always fully stocked, even after the kids are gone (we see Five make a sandwich here when he comes back from the apocalypse). Hargreeves never interacts with Grace much and doesn't pay much attention to the food orders she makes as long as she stays in budget so some extra loaves of bread or jars of peanut butter won't catch his attention.

And Hargreeves never found out about the room because There's no reason for him to go to the basement, the only things in the basement are Pogo's room (so telling that there are 42 bedrooms in the academy but Pogo is relegated to the basement) and a utilitiy room. Viktor's cell is also in the basement but it's accessed by a separate elevator so Hargreeves wouldn't pass the kid's lounge to get to it.

You can tell how important the space was to the siblings as well because of how they use it in adulthood.

It's where they all go when Five returns and where they hangout when in the academy (we see them in the living room too but mostly for family meetings).

When Viktor comes to invite the others to his concert he comes through the butcher shop entrance.

It's where Klaus gathers his brothers when he tells them that he spoke to Reginald the night before.

And, even when he was the only one left living in the academy, Luther ate breakfast there.

It's the only part of the academy they feel is truly theirs and theirs alone. It's their safe place.