⤷ ok so. first of all. he doesn’t think he falls in love. he thinks he allows himself to be in love. yes. that’s the distinction. he permits the emotional vulnerability to occur. like it’s a security clearance. like the state department signed off on it. like it’s a diplomatic treaty. love with damian is not some flower blooming. it is a classified operation that got out of hand. oops
⤷ and HE’S SO IRRITATING ABOUT YOUR SAFETY. like you want to go to a concert alone and he’s like “no. the venue has three open exits and a history of overcrowding. i’ll accompany you or you’re not going.” and you’re like 😐 and he’s like 🗿
⤷ he doesn’t compliment you like a normal person. he says things like “you’re the only one with a functioning brain in this city” and “your genetic makeup is statistically superior” and “if i had to pick a partner for an international espionage mission i’d pick you.” thanks?? i think???
⤷ dude. alright. listen. you have to understand. this is a boy raised by assassins and billionaires and batman. like he’s not normal. like if you try to do something normal with him he malfunctions. like “do you want to come over and watch a movie” turns into a whole debate about the nature of narrative and also suddenly he’s ordering a projector and rearranging your furniture and asking if the lighting is optimal. like your honor. we were going to watch legally blonde. relax.
⤷ he is in love with you but he’s in denial about it for the first 3–6 business months. he doesn’t say anything. he just starts appearing. you look up and he’s already there. he claims he was “in the area.” he was not. he has never been in the area. he took a grappling hook and an imported black car and made himself be in the area.
⤷ anyways he is sooooooo in love and SOOOOOOOO bad at dealing with it. like yes he grew up training with the league of assassins but no he has not developed a single healthy coping mechanism about feelings. NONE. zero. zilch. love is the final boss. and he’s underleveled
⤷ long stares. long long long. awkwardly long. you’ll be brushing your teeth and look up and he’s just. standing there. arms crossed. watching. “you’re quite graceful. even at mundane tasks.” ok damian what the hell. brush your own teeth and stop making me blush at 7am
⤷ he’s like. weirdly formal?? like you’ll be sitting on his lap playing animal crossing and he’ll be like “you’re very dear to me.” and you’ll be like ok first of all why do you sound like an 18th century count and second of all WHY DID THAT MAKE ME BLUSH
⤷ he calls you beloved. like that’s his go-to. he does not say “babe.” he does not say “sweetie.” he says beloved like he is writing from the war trenches. LMAO. like he’s penning a letter with a quill. “my dearest beloved, war is hell. gotham is colder without you. i miss your lip balm.”
⤷ ALSO he is so clingy. but in his own damian kind of way. like he will never straight up say “i miss you” but he’ll appear outside your window at 3am because you didn’t text back. “i was in the area.” no you weren’t damian
⤷ and when you fight. oh my god you fight. hoo boy. because he’s STUBBORN. and you’re you. and he’ll say something awful and cold and you’ll slam the door and not talk for a week and he’ll act all smug but he’ll show up at your window like “are you done being dramatic?” with a single perfect peach because you once said you liked them and he never forgot. he does end up apologizing formally tho like “i was... wrong. and unkind. i apologize.”
⤷ even if you don't fight crime he will still buy you a 6000 dollar custom-made tactical suit because “i noticed you lacked proper armor.” it’s black. with little green accents. matches his. you cried. he blinked and said “there’s a grappling hook too.” you cried harder. he looked vaguely alarmed and offered you tea
⤷ lowkey kinda unpopular opinion (i think???).....buttttt once you realllyyy get to know him,,, he’s v big on touch. but only in private (!!! he doesn't do pda tbh). arm around your waist when no one’s looking. hand on your lower back. gloved fingers brushing yours like he’s not thinking about it (he is). forehead touches. pulling you into his hoodie. tucking your legs over his lap while he reads. being completely silent while you cry but holding you like he’ll kill whatever made you feel this way. because he will.
⤷ he’s not really a hearts and flowers guy. but like. he’s very much a “i broke a guy’s jaw for looking at you too long” guy. very “i memorized your class schedule and made sure no one sits next to you” guy. very “i learned how to make your favorite soup and now i’m mad you’re not impressed” guy. very “i installed a new security system in your apartment. no you don’t get a say. yes i’m keeping the passcode” guy.
dates??? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA ok. deserves its own section.
dates with him are like. war strategy. no such thing as casual with him. no. no no. no. everything is intentional. everything is curated. calculated. coordinated. he's like "i made a reservation." and it's at some place with a 3-month waitlist and a single-item menu and food that looks like pebbles. and ur like “could we not have just gotten tacos??” and he’s like “you deserve better than tacos.” .......................................................he says it in the most offhanded way but ur already spinning. ur already sending ur soul to orbit.
like it can be “i booked us fencing lessons in case you get kidnapped again” or “i acquired the rooftop of that patisserie you like because you said you liked the view.” like THANK YOU BATBOY WHAT THE FUCK
he doesn’t --> ask <-- (keyword) you out. no no no. he **TELLS*** you. “we have dinner reservations. 7 sharp. wear something warm.” and you’re like. okay??? damn?? who’s we??? and then it’s just him and you and some obscure albanian place in gotham that “reminds him of a time he interrogated someone in tirana.” romantic!!!
they’re never normal. ever. like my guy why r we eating in an exclusive rooftop garden u rented for me.... and why the actual fuck does it technically belongs to a russian ambassador ???????!!!! HHELLOO?
but also. also. as much as u go to eccentric,,, expensive,, veryyy planned out dates .. you still have dates where u sit on rooftops. you eat mangoes. you say nothing for twenty minutes because he’s comfortable in silence. because you are too. because he touches your ankle with his and that says more than anything.
⤷ he loves graphs. he’s so... annoying. he has a favorites spreadsheet for restaurants. and another for your moods. and another for gifts you've liked. u found it once. he closed the tab too fast. embarrassed. blushing. you teased him for a week.
⤷ once you cried on his shirt and apologized for it and he just. looked at you. like loooooookedddddddd at you. and said “you’re allowed to fall apart. i’ll be here when you do.” and u almost blacked out.
⤷ he talks about the future like it’s inevitable. “when we get a place.” “when we go to xyz.” “when you graduate.” he says it like there’s no version of life that doesn’t include you. like he can’t even imagine it. like it’s already written.
⤷ he doesn’t say “i’m proud of you.”
he says: “of course you did. i expected nothing less.” (but the corners of his mouth twitch and his ears turn red. he’s proud. he’s so proud.)
⤷ he gets weird about your birthday. like. insane. he pretends he doesn’t care. he acts like it’s “just another day.” but you walk into your room and there’s a leather-bound copy of your favorite book with your initials embossed in gold. and tickets to an exhibit he overheard you mention one time six months ago. and a note. handwritten. in flawless cursive. that just says: “for everything you are. - d.” stop it damian. i’m going to cry into a cupcake.
⤷ he has no chill. ZERO chill. you are sneezing and he’s like “have you had vitamin C today.” someone looks at you funny and he’s like “i’ll break their jaw.” you say you’re cold and he wordlessly hands you his cape. the WHOLE cape. you’re drowning. he does not care. he thinks it’s cute
⤷ he glares at anyone who flirts with you like he’s deciding whether to break their legs or just ruin them socially. (he will do both. eventually. he’s efficient like that.) and when you tease him for being jealous he’s like “i do not experience jealousy. i experience possessiveness.” ok medieval knight whatever
⤷ also?? he TRIES to be cool and detached but the moment you compliment him? he malfunctions. like you say “you look handsome today” and he scoffs but his ears are red. FULL tomato. “tch. you’re foolish. i look the same every day.” sir you are glowing. you are combusting
⤷ and andddd he’s so so so tender in private. like “i cleaned your shoes for you” tenderness. “i annotated your favorite book with my commentary” tenderness. “i fixed the loose button on your coat” tenderness. he will never SAY “i love you” like a normal person. he will just DO THINGS. and STARE at you. a LOT
⤷ OH and when you get sick it is OVER. done. you’re in bed and suddenly there’s like. imported raw honey. five different teas. a humidifier. night vision cameras installed in case of intruders. he is kneeling at your bedside like a knight. he won’t let you get up for water. “you are in recovery. i’ll bring it to you. stay still.” ok. nurse ratched. love you
⤷ also he pets your hair like you’re a cat. like he will gently run his fingers through it while you talk about your day. doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. you mention it and he goes “your hair calms me.” you melt. obviously. puddle on the floor. he smirks. he knows. bastard
⤷ HE KEEPS THINGS. like. a little doodle you made on a napkin? framed. the necklace you left at his place once? he wears it under his uniform. he keeps it a secret obvi. you didn’t know for 6 months. cried when you somehow found out. obviously
⤷ he texts you "do not walk home alone. wait." and then appears. literally appears. like the wind shifts and suddenly he’s there with a helmet in his hand and a scowl on his face and a thousand unspoken thoughts like “i will kill for you. i will die for you. i will beat up your physics teacher if he makes you cry again.”
⤷ he’ll buy you a 200 dollar first edition of something obscure and then be like “it’s not a gift. i just thought it should be in your collection. don’t get emotional.” meanwhile ur emotional. ur on the floor. ur sobbing in a barnes & noble tote bag. he knows. he smirks. asshole.
⤷ but he notices everything. if you get a haircut. if your eyeliner is different. if your tone was off. if you’re chewing on your nail again. he sees it all. and he remembers. and he’s quietly doing things about it in the background. like refilling your meds or slipping snacks into your bag or hacking into your school portal and fixing a grade because “that teacher was clearly incompetent”
⤷ also. he doesn’t flirt. he argues. you’ll be like “i like this song” and he’ll be like “your taste is objectively inferior” and then buy you front row tickets to that artist’s next concert. he’ll say it’s to “broaden your cultural exposure” but he’s watching you the whole concert like you’re the show. don’t let him lie.
summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.
genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo
a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D
the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.
"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"
"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.
you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.
you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."
then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.
you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.
"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"
"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"
you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.
"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"
"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."
he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.
"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"
and he's out of the door.
was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.
at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.
after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.
"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.
there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.
he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.
"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"
you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"
"s-sure."
when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?
he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.
"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.
"t's okay."
"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.
"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"
"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.
"son of a bitch."
the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.
you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.
now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.
he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'
"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.
your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.
you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.
bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.
you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.
you kick him in the shin.
"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"i was going toー"
"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"
"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.
"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"
he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.
"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."
silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.
"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.
you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."
"i'm not confused. i like you."
"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."
"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"
"stop saying that. you don't."
"i do, and you like me tooー"
"what?!" you laugh incredulously.
'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?
you do what is necessary again.
"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.
"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."
you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.
"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"
"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."
you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.
"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"
"we're not going to break it off."
"how do you know that?"
"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"
"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."
"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."
"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."
he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."
"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.
"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."
if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.
"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."
in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.
"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"
he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.
"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."
he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.
"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."
after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.
he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.
when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.
"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."
"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."
"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."
you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.
"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"
he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."
"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."
slight nsfw. fem!reader. cursing! mdni. use of ‘my girl’. slightly (if you squint) possessive behavior (hobie calls you his)
hobie doesn’t believe in labels. they’re trite, used by society and the government to define you before you have the chance to. to manipulate you into being something that they want you to be. to make you controllable.
so he doesn’t bring them into his relationships. he’s a rockstar, so he’s had his far share of flings behind the stage. both boys and girls have gotten on their knees for him. even those who have chosen not to apply a gendered term to themselves have, too. but he never cared to call them anything before.
the ‘what are we?’ question has always made him want to keel over. commitment held him down. so he brushed it off, explaining how he didn’t believe in consistency and that he just needed to let off some steam.
he knew that it was a dick move, but he could never find it in himself to care.
and then he met you, and something in his brain switched.
he ignored it the first time he saw you, jumping amongst the crowd at one of his gigs. that draw, the pull that made him want to lean over the edge of the stage and kiss you.
for a few weeks after, you were all that was in his head. it didn’t matter how many cold showers he took, or how loud he blasted his music, or how hard he head banged. you were always there, dancing right behind his eyelids.
because he wanted you to be his, his and his alone. which was off, because this was him we were talking about. hobie brown, who swore off labels years ago.
if you hadn’t shown up to his next gig he would have been fine. maybe this was withdrawal and he could recover.
but there you were again, leaning against the guardrail front and center of the audience.
and he was fucked. so hard that he actually missed a few cues from his band mates. they nearly beat his ass for it after the show, but his drummer told him that a friend of a friend knew you, and he gave him your number.
and it was all history after that.
you never asked ‘what are we?’ you never had to. he assured you constantly, in his own hobie way, that you were loved, protected, and cared for.
hickies on your neck, his battle vest on your shoulders, his rings on your fingers. at some point you got a pretty little ‘h’ pendant to wear on a silver chain and he fucking lost it. seeing the letter of his name sittin pretty right between your breasts did something to him.
he never used the term ‘girlfriend’. that was a little too conformist for him. no, instead, he introduced you as ‘my girl’. to his band, to his fans, to his friends.
and alone, he was the same way. when you were tangled up in his sheets, squealing with each harsh snap of his hips, he grunted mine. when he couldnt make it to the bed after a hard mission, making love to you against the counter, humming your name like a prayer. when he gave you head, or you gave him head, and he was his noisy self whining his praise.
because you were his. and he was yours.
an- there’s more below the cut, but i’m actually pretty uncertain about how i wrote it. i don’t want to delete it, but i’m 50/50 about it so i’ll just hide it.
and with that change came more.
he hated valentine’s day. he hated how capitalistic that shit was, even refusing to turn on the tv just so he didn’t have to see the ads. and you laughed, because it was hobie.
so when the morning of the oh so wretched day came and he pressed a goodbye kiss to your forehead while you were still in bed, you thought it would be a normal day.
and when he knocked at your window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a bag of your favorite food you were more than surprised.
“had to show my girl some extra lovin.” he murmured against your neck when you let him in.
you hugged him close, mumbling “thank you, but are you high? what have you done to my hobie.”
and he just smirked against your skin. “what can i say, love, you make me forget myself sometimes.”
and hobie, who doesn’t believe in consistency, always kisses you goodbye, no matter who leaves first. one time he missed it and he knocked on the window of your college class. the whole class had snickered when you ran out the room to find him. he met you in a dark alleyway between buildings.
“had to get my goodbye kiss, sweets. can’t be lettin’ my girl feel lonely.”
or how he always, always texts you on long missions. your locations don’t exactly share across dimensions, so he settles for little ‘hey baby, i’m alright. found a place to calm down. all good.’ and you wait for him. and when he comes home he always rocks your world.
because you’re his girl. labels be damned. and he’s your boy.
and he doesn’t need anyone telling him how to love you.
Jzhxjsh if can I make another request, I REALLY LOVE TOOOO MUCH YOUR WRITING AND i need jealous like i need oxygen
“ if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous ” & “ you look really pretty right now ”
only free to me — leon kennedy. ughhhh i need jealous hobie too like bdjskjdks
hobie’s gaze was locked onto the spider variant talking to you. you and hobie were seated, your gaze looking up at the arrival of someone hobie now easily can say he dislikes. hobie found himself slowly reaching out for you, his leg bent up on the long bench. and by subtly tugging at your suit you were forced to slide towards him, his legs now open around you.
his gaze never shifted from the spider variant who was earning a few too many smiles from you. and it almost felt like a relief when the spider finally got called away. you wave him off, before shifting your gaze to hobie, your smile having fallen. “what was that?”
“what was what?” hobie “innocently” asks, his fingers still not having let up their grip on your suit. you look down at his connected hand. “that.”
he looks down too, a small lazy smile edging his lips, as he rubs the material by your hip between his fingertips. “you look really pretty right now…you know that?”
you give hobie a look. you were used to this. this flirting and smirking attitude. “ha ha.” you mockingly say, turning away to continue eating.
“you think i’m joking?” he raises his brows as you glance at him again. his leg around you seems to be more prominent the closer he shifts towards you.
“you’re always joking.” you remark. hobie shakes his head “don’t believe in comedy.”
“oh, that’s right.” you chuckle, unconvinced, looking back to your food. before you can place a forkful in your mouth, hobie redirects it to his as he leans close by you. you smack his hand away, but it’s too late, your foods gone.
“really? i was looking forward to that.” you mutter, frowning. hobie makes a point to eat it slowly, savouring the taste with small sounds, resulting in you elbowing his stomach.
he slightly doubles over, laughing. and just as you go to scold him, the spider variant from before taps your shoulder. “hey, sorry i didn’t get to ask before — mission report run. but uh, are you free tonight?”
you pause, eyes slightly widening. “oh, uh…yea—“
“nah.” hobie instantly cuts in, looping his arm around your shoulder so that you press more into him. “she’s busy, sorry mate.”
you shift your gaze to hobie eyes narrowing sharply in question. “aren’t you?” he asks you raising his brows pointedly.
“no, I’m sorry, I don’t know what he’s talking about — ” you begin to say to the spider variant but hobie swiftly placed his hand over your mouth, your back now having shifted to his front, his stance now straddling the bench.
“she doesn’t wanna admit it, poor thing, but she’s sick. she’s a lil embarrassed.” hobie states, looking to the spider who is eyeing the interaction with a mixture of a nod and a confused expression. you slightly struggle against his grip, but hobie just rests his chin on your shoulder, you now practically flush against him.
“I’ve told her there’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, but ya know. she likes to keep up appearances.”
“maybe another time…then.” the spider variant suggests.
“hm.” hobie just hums, silently saying ‘no’ in his head, while he fake smiles at the poor spider until he leaves.
that’s when hobie finally let’s up his grip on your mouth, as you spin to face him. “what the hell was that?”
hobie shrugs. “no, no don’t just shrug at me.” you say pointedly. “you’ve done this before. the last time that guy asked me out. I was not sick then, and i’m not sick now.” you pause, eyes narrowing. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous.”
hobie scoffs. “jealous?”
“then explain that.” you gesture in general to the interaction before.
“he’s a dick.” hobie says. “no he’s not.” you answer easily. “he may be thick headed sometimes, but everyone here knows how nice he is. so, come on, what’s your next excuse.”
hobie’s eyes narrow as you cross your arms. you raise your brows waiting. “if you aren’t gonna say anything, then imma go apologise to him and explain that i’m free — ”
this time hobie cuts you off by tugging you closer and grabbing your chin, his lips smashing against yours. you gasp into his mouth, as you’re tipped back, your back forcing to arch as he holds you against him. his seating position made it easier to control the movements.
your seating position made it hard. hobie used that to his advantage as his hands found your waist, his lips wrapping around your lower and sucking. he then begins to slightly shake his head his lips brushing yours. “but you aren’t free…ya wouldnt wanna lie now would ya?”
you’re shocked, and all that comes out of your mouth is “but i don’t have plans tonight.”
hobie chuckles, licking at your lower lip slowly as he makes sure you stay close. “i don’t mean ‘schedule’ wise, love…” his mouth opens against your own, panting breathes mixing. “i mean you aren’t free to anyone but me…”
• First two letters of your last name
• First vowel of your first name
• Third letter of your middle name (or parent’s first name if you don’t have a middle name
• Last consonant of your last name
• Add IEL or EL to the end!
• First two letters of your last name
• First vowel of your first name
• Third letter of your middle name (or parent’s first name if you don’t have a middle name
• Last consonant of your last name
• Add IEL or EL to the end!
thinking about best friend?hobie who always has an arm looped around your neck, putting his whole body weight against your side until you’re forced to shove him off you. but he’d manage to tug you back by a grip to your clothes, his chin now resting against your shoulder, your back partially pressed against his front, as you’d chuckle, muttering “hobie, get off me”. he would choose not to hear you as his calloused fingers would move to play with hair. friendship pda would describe you both — just hobie — rather well. his sly touches he claims as ‘friendly’. it’s normal for a friend to kiss a friend on the neck. it’s normal for a friend to have you sit between his legs. all things normal, that are in fact far from it. that guy who had asked you out, suddenly can’t make it? hobie shrugs it off, saying what a dick he is, while simultaneously linking your fingers with his. he needs you close, especially after a hard mission. you’re his friend, you should kiss his cuts better. that’s what friends do. and if his hands begins to slip down to your inner thigh, your brows shouldn’t furrow like that, he’s a friend comforting you. and shh, yes his hand is moving lower, and yes he’s now leaving marks on your neck. marks everyone else can see. but no he doesn’t have a crush, and neither do you. you’re just best friends. and there’s nothing wrong with hobie’s touches. there’s nothing wrong with his lingering gazes. your best friend hobie. your close friend. don’t pay mind to labels even as his lips are nearing yours…
Tha hazbin hotel brainrot is so strong, your writing is so good im kicking feet hsujsjsn
May i request a Lucifer X reader where they are pining so badly for each other and ends up in a situation where they are very close to one another? Like the classic " oh shit we're stuck in a small space together and so close" or "whoops tripped and fell now I'm pinning you down and panicking" kind of thing but it's really all up to you <3 and then they end up just full on making out lol, cause yearning,,
(I simply need making out fics with the short king he's taking over my brain😭)
Thanks for requesting!! I had a lot of fun with this one :) Hope you enjoy!
Also, I only realised when I went to post this that this ask didn't specify a f!reader, but I thought it did so just a warning for you guys. It's not too specific but... not entirely gender neutral.
This probably borderlines smut, so... minors DNI.
Lucifer x f!reader
PART II
You had been Lucifer's secretary for many years now, joining him just after the disappearance of his ex-wife Lilith when he had decided he needed more help with his duties. You had been there for some of the worst years of his life, assisting him through the highs and lows of being the King of Hell, had seen him at his worst, and at his best. You had helped guide him from the deepest depths of depression, and for that he was eternally grateful, batting away the darkness with a smile enchanting enough to light up the dingiest corners of Hell. He truly didn't know what he would do without you, and today that was evermore apparent.
It had been a long day, and Lucifer found himself sat at his large desk, dark bags sitting heavy underneath his tired and bloodshot eyes, jacket and hat discarded and head resting in his hands as he tried to focus on the mountains of paperwork scattered along his ornate desk. He had been stuck in this position for hours, and he could feel his back creak and something in his neck twinge whenever he shifted. He truly desired nothing more than to crawl into bed, but he had duties that he couldn't just abandon.
A soft knock at his door signals your presence, and only his gaze lifts when you enter, tray in hand and that familiar comforting smile adorned on your rosy lips. Your smile morphs into something more fond as you approach the hunched man, who runs his hands through his disheveled locks and leans back in his plush chair, hands rubbing at the tiredness of his eyes and dragging down his cheeks. He looked tired, he looked weary, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his shirt wrinkled and rolled to his elbows, blonde locks falling across his forehead. You always loved when he looked a little disheveled, appreciating his strong forearms that flexed as he clenched his hands into his hair. It was more rugged than he ever let himself look in any other situation, and you couldn't get enough. You had to fight a frown at seeing how utterly exhausted he was, however, not enjoying the darkness encircling his bright eyes. He didn't hide these things from you, he had no need to; you wouldn't threaten his power at seeing this display of weakness, you would just smile and offer reassurance, appearing with a cup of steaming tea to quell his nerves.
"Good evening, sir." You place the tray against the edge of the desk, trying not to disturb any of the numerous documents that lay strewn about, though you doubted there was any system to the disarray.
"'Evening." He leans further back in his chair, watching you tiredly as you shuffle some of his papers to the side. "How many times do I need to tell you not to call me that? We're good friends, 'Your Royal Highness' is more than fine.''
"Apologies, 'Your Majesty'." You attempt a curtsy, though that was hard with the tight pencil skirt you had chosen to wear today. He laughs at your efforts, taking the steaming tea from your hands with a grateful nod, sighing as the scolding liquid reaches his lips.
"You're marvellous, you know? I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I brought you some tea." You back-hand his compliment away, as you always did, gaze turning to try and decipher some of his scrawling writing. You always found it easier to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks by confusing yourself with his work, that method hadn't failed you yet.
"You're here on a Friday night, looking after some tired old sod, when I'm sure you had many potential plans to go to." His gaze travels up from your hip that you had propped against the desk to tidy some books, up past the curve of your waist, the swell of your chest, gaze lingering a little too long on the collarbone that peaked from beneath your blouse, before finally resting on your face. He stares again, sipping slowly from his cup, far too long for a boss to appreciate an employee, mapping the curve of your brows, the light downturn of your lips as you tried to read something on the desk, the way your hair cascaded around your features. He was tired, he usually controlled himself better. "I wish you'd take a weekend off some time."
Your gaze finally returns to him, satisfied with the state of his desk and you lean back, both hands gripping the desk ledge. "Hypocritical coming from you, don't you think? When did you last have a weekend off?"
"Hmm," He hums, finishing his drink and placing it onto his desk. He rolls his neck in an effort to rid of the crick that was increasingly bothering him. You notice, you frown. "If I am nothing else, call me a hypocrite. You should be out - I don't want to see you here tomorrow night, I want to see you on Sunday morning with a horrendous hangover and stories to tell me."
You laugh, the King of Hell instructing you to go and shirk off your responsibilities and get smashed? Only Lucifer would tell an employee that.
"We both know that won't happen." You grin, taking the opportunity to reach forward and push some of his blonde locks back from his forehead, attempting to push them back into their usual immaculate style. He swallows tightly as you do, having to fight himself from leaning into your touch. You were so gentle, and that fond smile remained etched onto your face as you did so, and God he wanted you to keep caressing his face until he fell asleep right then and there. "Come on now Luci, this place would fall apart without me."
"I can cope one day without you." He bluffs, leaning heavily onto his right armrest and closer to you, legs crossing as he fully relaxes - work didn't matter right now, you did.
"You're so sure?" You shift your stance, and he notices in his peripheral how your tight skirt lifted slightly, exposing more of your milky thigh.
"Not at all." His confidence in the statement has you laughing lightly, the King of Hell grinning up at you and admitting how royally screwed he would be without you. "In fact, I'd probably be dead the next time you walked into work. But wouldn't that be a fun story?"
"I would much rather you be alive." You slowly leave your position leant against the desk, deciding enough was enough as he winces again and rubs at a sore spot in his neck. "I do quite enjoy your company, you know."
Your hands suddenly fall against his shoulders, and he lurches in his seat, shrinking away from the cold pads of your fingers that pressed delicately against either of his shoulder blades.
"Uh-" His voice is uncharacteristically high pitched, and he has to clear his throat to stop it from breaking embarrassingly. "Y/N, what are you-" His fingers grip at his thighs as your fingers move, pressing firmly against his worn muscles. Oh heavens, that felt good.
"You've been rubbing your neck since I walked through the door." You explain, completely focussed on your task at hand and unaware of the red hue that was steadily growing on Lucifer's rosy cheeks. "You need to give yourself a break."
This was rather a bold move from yourself, but you were nothing if not opportunistic. That's how you landed this job in the first place. Your hands work steadily, finally reaching the centre of his back and gliding your thumbs up his spine, up the centre of his neck, and directly into the base of his skull. His head rocks forward lightly at the movement and he groans at the action. You continue to work at his neck, and he remains sat, eyes closed tightly, clawed hands nearly tearing through his own trousers, bruising his own thighs, feeling as though he were back in Heaven. He could feel how close you were, the heat of your body wafting across his neck and shoulders as you worked, and he had to concentrate immensely to control the sounds that wanted to escape his throat. He had nearly combusted on the spot when he had audibly groaned, but you hadn't commented on it, for which he was eternally grateful.
After several minutes, that both felt like an eternity of torture and mere seconds of bliss for Lucifer, you pull your hands back, finishing with one final carding of your fingers through the short tufts of hair at his nape. His eyes open blearily at the loss of contact, blinking heavily as he watches you gather the tray into your arms, adorning his empty cup, and a stack of paperwork.
"Y/N what are you- absolutely not, leave those here." He reaches for the papers now stacked on your tray, and you lift it higher out of his reach unless he stood. He realises his dilemma, firmly rooted into his seat unless he wanted to make an incredibly embarrassing and inappropriate reveal.
"It's only the menial stuff I do sometimes." You step away from the desk slowly, heels clicking as you go. "Besides, it's barely made a dent. I'll have them finished and with you tomorrow morning."
"You should be sleeping." He warns, leaning his elbows against his desk and watching you leave.
"No no." You mock, pausing with a hand on the handle to the door. "We should be up and having fun, making embarrassing stories to share tomorrow. I, for one, can't wait to hear about the hilarious tales of Lucifer and his mountains of paperwork. I'll make sure my story is juicy, these accounting papers are always full of gossip." You lie plainly, and Lucifer shakes his head with a grin.
"Thank you." He calls as you open the door. "I mean it."
"I always have you to thank for a wild Friday night." You grin, finally leaving through the door you had entered from with a bow of your head.
Lucifer sinks into his seat, sighing heavily as the room plunges into silence once again. He stares at the papers that still littered his desk - you had lied, you had taken a sizeable amount. Your presence had helped, and your fingers had fully relaxed the tight muscles in his back and neck, and he felt immensely better than he had mere minutes before. However, you had created an entirely new problem. He shifts at the uncomfortable tightness to his trousers, hands dragging through his hair as he thought, hard. There was no point sitting here if he wasn't able to focus. He raises from his seat, cursing his inability to man up and just tell you how he felt.
Bathroom first, and then he would focus on his paperwork.
---
A month later, Lucifer had been in charge of organising a fancy ball with some incredibly important guests - the 7 Sins of Hell and a smattering of other Royal households, as well as general persons of influence from all 7 rings. The event was to be held in the Pride ring, and as soon as it had been organised he had practically pleaded with you to attend. You hadn't been able to go to the previous events, being stuck in the Pride ring due to your human-soul. Lucifer had been ecstatic when he realised you could attend, and had nearly cried when you had agreed to go with him. Not as a date, no, definitely not, but as friends.
"We're late!" Your voice shouts as you hurry through the door to Lucifer's office, heels in one hand and your purse in the other. Your eyes land on Lucifer, who was stood fiddling with his tie in front of a mirror on the wall, forked tongue stuck out as he concentrated. "Luci, the driver's outside."
"I know, I know." He stresses, finishing off his tie and attempting to smooth down the lapels of his jacket, finally turning towards you as he arranged his cuff sleeves. "It's fine, he'll w-wait-" He stutters as his eyes finally land on you, pupils widening significantly as he forces out "for us."
You never really dolled yourself up that much, usually wearing typical office attire, and sometimes even wearing casual clothes if you were in the office particularly late. Tonight, you had gone full out - you pretended it was because of the nerves about being around such powerful figures in Hell, in reality, you wanted to impress Lucifer, you likely wouldn't get another opportunity to doll yourself up so much again, and you wanted to make the most of it. Even if nothing happened, you wanted to prove you could be just as beautiful as the Overlords and Royalty he frequented.
As you stand, hesitantly, reapplying your rouge lipstick with your small compact mirror and fluffing your hair, Lucifer stands star-struck, eyes glued to your figure. You wore an elegant black velvet dress that clasped around the back of your neck. The elegant midnight coloured dress hugged your torso tightly, and Lucifer's gaze hovered heavily. The fabric was tight and emphasised your curves, with the neckline dipping down sinfully low and exposing the rivulet between your breasts, a beautiful ruby jewel hanging from a silver chain right between the valley of your breasts, the dress cinched tightly at your waist and fell elegantly from your hips. He could see one of your smooth legs from a slit in the side of the dress. You close the mirror and pop it back into your silver purse, smiling brightly at the stunned man.
"My- Y/N you look stunning." Lucifer compliments, leaning back against his desk as he finishes clasping his cuff links. "A vision. Dare I say, I'll be having to fight away the suitors all evening."
You blush furiously, thankful for the makeup that covered your cheeks. He pauses, swallowing thickly as you bend down to begin fastening your shoes.
"Please stay away from Asmodeus."
You laugh as you continue to fiddle with your shoes, glancing up at him as you tie the clasp. "You flatterer. Should I expect to see you pulling these moves on all the girls there tonight?"
You jest, but Lucifer is so enraptured by you he cannot help but feel insulted you would even think he would entertain the notion of other women. He speaks quietly, watching you struggle to gain your balance as you try and put on the other heel. "Not at all."
He didn't know what compelled him to do it, maybe it was the way you wobbled as you tried to get into your second shoe, likely it was the fact he'd already had two glasses of wine to quell his nerves, but before he realises it he's kneeling in front of you and grasping your ankle in a feather-light grip.
You freeze as his hands replace your own, sliding your foot easily into your heel as your hand comes to rest on his shoulder to regain your balance. He works slowly, gently fixing the clasp of your elegant heel, head turning up towards you and smiling up at you. Your breath catches in your throat, Lucifers hands resting against your ankle and calf, disarming you with a charming smile and lidded eyes, and kneeling directly in front of you. His hand slides up your calf as he lets you go, standing back to his full height easily, now a little shorter than you with your heels properly on.
"T-Thank you." You breathe, fixing the slit of your dress that had become creased. Your own hands reach forward, straightening his tie and smoothing down his collar. "You look very handsome yourself."
He smiles, self-satisfied, as you fix his collar, and then immediately schools his expression to hide his awe-struck grin when he realises you were actually looking at him. "Thank you, thank you." He chirps, cane materialising in his left hand and twirling it, trying to distract himself from how close you were, and how absolutely beautiful you looked. "I think we'll make quite an entrance. Don't you?" He offers you his right arm, and you take it with a grateful nod as you both leave the office and head towards the taxi. "That is, if you manage to walk down all those stairs with those stilts under your feet."
"I'm excellent in heels." You defend, rather enjoying the way your arm brushes against his chest as you walk, the smell of his expensive cologne reaching your nose. "We'll have a problem if you start drinking, you can barely stand straight after a bottle of wine, and I certainly can't carry you home in these heels."
"Oh? You're insulting my drinking skills? What about the time I had to come and collect you from a party I wasn't even invited to, to teleport you home? I could barely understand you through the phone." He clears his throat, raising his voice high and slurring his words mockingly. "Luci- I-I'm not drunk, BUT-"
You whack his shoulder, remembering the night perfectly, and utterly mortified he had had to guide you home after you'd had a few too many. "Shut up, you're no better at holding your drink."
He laughs, and you feel the rumble of his chest against your forearm. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see."
---
It had been several months since the party, and Lucifer was growing increasingly frustrated at his inability to make any sort of move on you. Hell, he hadn't even kissed your hand, which was something he had had to do to more people than he could count. He was desperate to make his feelings known, and yet was utterly paralysed whenever the opportunity arose for him to express them. It didn't help that ever since his stunt with your heel, you had become more emboldened with your flirting attempts, but he always doubted whether your words and actions were actually meant flirtatiously, or if he was just romanticising all of your interactions in his own head.
The party had been... uneventful. True to his predictions, Lucifer had been having to whisk you away from attempted suitors all night, and at one point had grown so irate at a particular demon's attempts he had placed a hand at the small of your back and refused to remove it until the demon had thoroughly gotten the point and left the conversation. The event had only made him realise his feelings more for you, being positively furious that he couldn't just tell the other demon's you were his, and to piss off back to whatever Ring they had come from. The next passing months had been nothing short of torture as he grappled with whether to confess, or not.
Despite his wishes, things had carried on as normal, and it was absolutely maddening. He had even spoken to Charlie about his dilemma, but she hadn't been much help, just shrieking at him excitedly through the phone. He had been so desperate he had nearly asked Asmodeus for help, but he had quickly decided against that after remembering some of the stunts he had pulled in their younger years.
Now, he sat back at his desk at 2am, frowning after realising he didn't have all the documents he needed. His hat and jacket were once again discarded, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows in his signature 'I am having a bad day' fashion.
"Y/N!" He calls, and your head pokes out from a filing cupboard you had been tasked with organising. He smiles at you, a hand running through his hair as he sits back. "Can you please find me the letter we got from Wrath about the expenses for that new armament shop? I think it was sent by a Mr. Pennine."
"Yep!" You chirp, disappearing back into the cupboard with the sounds of shuffling papers increasing. Lucifer scans the document in his hands, patiently awaiting the file.
He hears a thump, and a groan, and he straightens in his chair, trying to see what you were doing.
"I've found it." You emerge, rubbing the base of your spine with a wince. An airy laugh falls form his lips.
"What did you do?"
"It's on a high shelf that I can't reach - I fell trying to climb and get it."
Lucifer laughs properly this time, already beginning to stand from his seat and head towards you, shoulders shaking as he does.
"It's not funny."
"I think you'll find it's hilarious." He grins, walking past you and into the small storage cupboard. "Right, where is it?" He glances around the cupboard with an eyebrow raised. He hated this kind of menial work, and was frankly terrible at locating things within this jumbled mess. "I have no clue how this system works."
"Hmm, filing has never been your strong suit." You hum, appearing behind him, having to press close in the small space. A hand appears in his peripheral, motioning over his shoulder to a shelf even he would have to climb to reach. He sighs, releasing a breath as he places a foot against an unsteady shelving unit.
"Yes, another one of my many limitations. Thankfully you're so good at finding things for me." He grins over his shoulder at you, hauling himself up until he's at eye level with the correct shelf. You stand beneath him, arms outstretched tentatively, just in case.
"If I fall, I fully expect you to save me." He comments, brows furrowed as he sifts through the files, looking for a 'Mr Pennine' to catch his eye. When he does find it, he wafts the document about his head, calling down to your worried expression. "Seems I'm doing a better job than my own assistant."
You cock your head at him, taking a small step back as he readies to climb down. "Truly, don't even know why I'm here sometimes-"
You hear a worrying creak as his foot lands on the next shelf down, and his gaze locks with yours for a mere moment before the shelf breaks and he plummets to the ground. He lands on you with a yell, flattening you against the floor and opposite wall and sprawled across your lap in a heap. The whole cupboard shakes with the fall, and the door slams shut with surprising force, plunging the room into darkness.
Lucifer groans, pushing himself back up onto his knees, rubbing an elbow tenderly as he attempts to stand, back smacking into another shelf as he tries to back up. You groan as well, hunched against the wall and thoroughly winded, not entirely sure what had happened.
"Y/N! I'm so sorry, are you alright?!" Lucifer attempts to bend down to reach you, glowing eyes staring at you through the darkness, but his back smacks against another shelf. He stands there, half-hunched, useless as you try and push yourself to your feet, clinging onto a shelf to haul you upright. He can feel you moving against his legs, the cupboard really not meant to house two bodies, and when you finally stand your body presses far too close to his for comfort. He smacks the cupboard door harshly, hoping that the lock hadn't fully sealed from the outside, but the hinges remain firm. "Oh, fuck." He groans, leaning back against a shelf and staring down at you, one hand still pressed pathetically against the door. "Looks like we're trapped."
You, on the other hand, are unable to see anything except the glowing pair of amber and ruby eyes staring down at you, not possessing the enhanced vision Lucifer did. Your hands search the walls aimlessly, and you attempt to press yourself back into the opposite wall to try and create some space. Despite both of your best efforts, you can still feel the heat emanating from his body, barely inches of space between you. "Can you portal us out?" You question desperately, blinking furiously to try and see more of your surroundings.
"There isn't enough room."
You both plunge into silence, and you wring your hands together nervously. Who would find you? When was the next person scheduled to meet Lucifer? It was 2am, who else would be awake at this time? God, he was so close, you could feel his breath fanning across your forehead and hair. You rub at a saw spot near your temple, having smacked into a shelf during Lucifer's rapid decent.
A hand lands against the side of your face without warning, and you jerk at the unexpected contact in the darkness.
"Sorry!" Lucifer draws his hand back as quickly as he had placed it, returning it to his side and flexing his fingers. "I forget you can't see as well." His hand approaches much more slowly, fingers carding your hair away from your face. "I was just trying to check your head, you hit it pretty hard when I fell on you. When I said I expected you to save me, I didn't mean to sacrifice yourself as my landing pad."
"That's what I'm here for." You joke, missing the contact as he withdraws his hand, satisfied that the skin hadn't broken. "I'm fine, don't worry." You smile despite the darkness, knowing he could see.
"We'll be fine." He assures, though he wasn't sure if he was talking to you or himself, he laughs to himself, trying to dispel the anxiety in his chest. "Someone will find us soon."
You hum, doubting him very much. All you could do was wait.
God-knows how long you had spent in that closet, but it didn't take long before you were unbuttoning the first few buttons of your blouse and complaining about the heat. Lucifer hadn't been his normal chatty self, and instead leant heavily against the shelves behind him, hands gripping at the shelves that ran along either wall to prevent himself from reaching out towards you. You were so close, so warm and smelling so sweat pressed against him, all it would take was an inch of moment, barely a lift of a finger, and he'd be able to pull you close, to draw you towards his chest just like he had dreamed about for years now. It didn't help that you kept shifting your weight from foot to foot, feet aching from the amount of time you had just had to stand still, seemingly completely unaware of the way it made your hip rub against his pelvis.
He was a sweating, panicking mess, and he had twisted his torso uncomfortably, back hunched, to prevent the effects of your movements on him pressing against you. He could see your innocent expression through the darkness, the way your eyes searched blindly in the cramped space, and he wanted nothing more than to reach forward and press his lips against your neck, and not stop until someone found you the next morning.
But, he was a gentleman, and he had control, despite what his body was doing of its own accord, and so he gripped the shelving either side of your head and tried desperately to think about other things.
That was until you tried to lean against the shelf to your left, causing your thigh to rub the slowly growing bulge he had been desperately trying to hide. Lucifer's breath hitches in the darkness.
"Are you okay?" You ask, having picked up on his quickened breathing. You couldn't see him at all despite the amber eyes that flicked around the room incessantly, but you could feel his legs pressing against yours, and you could faintly feel the presence of an arm close to your head. When his amber irises land on you, you have a perfect view of the way they dilate, and you furrow your brows. "Is there something wrong?"
"God, would you stop moving." His voice was tight, straining in his throat as he tried his best to remain composed. He was fully aware you weren't even doing anything, but a love-sick pining man pressed so close up against his crush for so long? Who could blame a man for growing flustered.
You shift, attempting to lean towards him to see what was wrong, but two hands are suddenly on your hips and pushing you away from him and back into the shelf behind you, grip vice-like over the fabric of your trousers. You can feel his ragged breath against your forehead. "Heaven, please stop."
"What are you-" You go to argue, but the way his grip tightens against your hips has you halting. You stare for a moment, and it takes you far too long to put the pieces together in your mind: the dilated pupils, the shaky breaths, the way he pushes you away from his hips. Oh.
"Sir, it's okay-"
"Please stop talking." He practically begs, face a fiery red and really wishing for death right about now. "I'm sorry. It's inappropriate. You keep moving and you're so close. You don't have to work for me again after this, I'll understand-"
"Lucifer," You interrupt his rambling, hands coming to rest atop his own on your hips, sliding them up his forearms and resting atop the junction of his elbow. "you know you're the densest man I've ever met."
No response greets you for a moment.
"I said I'm sorry, you don't have to insult me too."
The hurt in his voice has your face twisting into a sympathetic smile. He really was oblivious.
"I'm insulting you, because there's an opportunity right in front of you, and you're not taking it."
You can hear the way his breathing deepens. "What do you-"
You lean forward, impossibly closer, chest pressing against his own. You can feel the way he gasps at the contact. He still has a hold of your hips, pining them away from him like a man burned.
"I'm going to die." He suddenly blurts, his breaths short and panting. His composure was slipping. "You're going to kill me if you keep doing that."
"I'd much prefer it if you didn't die." One of your hands slides up from his arm to his shoulder, burrowing into the fabric there. A high sound catches in Lucifer's throat, and you grin. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you kissed me like I've been inviting you to for the past few years."
His mind runs blank, nothing but the sound of his heart beat ricocheting between his ears. You wanted this? You wanted him?
"I don't think you understand." He stutters out, arms beginning to end their fight and allowing you to inch closer to him. "I don't want this, I want you. D-Dates-" He falters as your hand travels up his neck to the tufts of hair at the back of his head, gently scratching at his scalp. "and cheesy stuff, not just... filing cupboards."
He'd die if he got to have you only for a few hours, and then had to live the rest of his life returning to mere friendship. He would starve to death.
"It's about time you asked."
"You really want this?" He asks, voice small. His breathing was getting harder.
"Yes." You breathe. "I have for a long time."
That was all the indication he needed, and his lips crashed against yours as his hands enveloped your waist and dragged you flush against him. You gasped at the suddenness, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips atop yours in a delicate, passionate, kiss. One of his large hands remains at the small of your back, keeping you pressed against him as the other travelled up your spine, cradling the back of your head and holding you steady as he presses into you. He groans as your fingers tighten in his hair, both of your hands winding around his neck as you push up into him.
He pulls away for breath, his hot breath fanning your cheeks as he pants. You can see his eyes, half-lidded but impossibly bright, pupils the largest you had ever seen them, staring directly into your own. "Do you have any idea how crazy you've driven me over the past years?" He asks rhetorically, voice low and husky. You don't have a chance to answer before he's kissing you again, a hand gripping at your jaw and neck as he tilts his head, his brows furrowing as he pours all his concentration into the kiss. He kisses like a man starved, like a man who depended on your lungs for oxygen, like a man who would die if he separated for a moment too long. His forked tongue slides against your bottom lip and you open your mouth without question. He licks into your mouth with giddy enthusiasm, groaning into you as his tongue finally slips into your mouth, groaning louder as you submit, tugging at his hair and allowing him to push you back into the door with a thud.
His hand falls from your neck, resuming its place against your hip, thumbs pressing dangerously into your hip bones and pinning you against the wall. You gasp against him as his fingers inch their way beneath the bottom of your blouse, pressing harshly into your supple skin as he sucks the air from your lungs.
You feel dizzy when he pulls away again, and as you catch your haggard breath he ducks his head to graze his lips against your throat. He peppers kisses beneath your ear as a hand slides down to grasp the curve of your ass, the other continuing to pin your hips against the door as he presses his hips flush against your own, rolling his hips lightly. He delves down lower, tongue snaking its way down towards the junction between your neck and shoulder, his fangs nipping at your skin as he presses hot open-mouthed kisses against your pulse point.
"Oh-" You gasp, hands clinging onto his broad shoulders as he corrals you against the doorframe. You tilt your head up and to the side, exposing your neck to him as he hums happily. He finds the spot he wants and presses his teeth harshly against your skin, suckling hungrily and lapping at the bruising skin with his tongue. You groan, a hand gripping his hair as he rolls his hips up, biting into your shoulder as he moans. He grinds against you, continuing to lavish your throat with his eyes closed happily, moaning and groaning into your skin. His breath catches when you roll your hips down to meet his thrusts, and he whimpers when you tug at his hair painfully when he abuses one spot on your neck too much.
"Sir-" You gasp, and suddenly his lips are withdrawn from your neck, and his wide lidded eyes are staring directly into your own. Both of your breathing is ragged as you anticipate his next move, heart in your throat.
"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" His hips still against your own, and you whine trying to rub against him, but he pins you in place and rests his lips against your ear, whispering, begging, against your ear. "How many more times do I need to?"
You shudder at his hot breath, hands uselessly clinging to the collar of his ruffled shirt. "Just once more."
"Say," A kiss, pressed heavily against the underside of your jaw. "my" Another kiss, hot against the column of your throat. "name." Another, lavished between your collarbones right at the hollow of your throat. You gasp at the staggering sensation, his tongue wet and hot across your collarbone.
"Lucifer." You gasp, voice high and airy. He rewards you with a grin and a fierce kiss against your lips, pressing your head back into the doorframe. You moan his name again, and his hips rock up into yours involuntarily.
"It's unfair, the effect you have." Lucifer whispers, hands sliding up your sides and beginning to unbutton your blouse. He presses a kiss at the corner of your lips as you help him with the unbuttoning. "That massage you gave me?" You can feel his breath against your lips, and you have to fight not to lean forward into him as he gently pushes your blouse from your shoulders, warm hands sliding down your arms and the fabric bunching at your elbows, not quite falling all the way. "I had to take care of myself afterwards." He tuts against your lips, each purse of his lips pressing a ghost of a kiss to your own, but not quite giving what you wanted. A knee presses between your legs as he delves his tongue into your mouth, and you're too distracted to notice until he rolls his hips into your leg and pushes his thigh up against you. His claws dig at the tender flesh of your sides, leaving light scratches as he returns to your lips, grinning against you as you gasp and whine.
"You're not so innocent." You gasp as he leaves your bruising lips to return to his path down your neck, know able to reach your shoulders and chest, which he takes full advantage of. A hand grasps your thigh firmly and hikes your leg up and around his waist. "You constantly unbutton your shirts around me, stare at me with those eyes, leave your hand on me the entire ball and don't do anything about it. How could I resist?"
"Well, I'm doing something about it now." His voice was infuriatingly giddy, his hand grabs at your thigh through the fabric of your trousers, and he internally wishes you had chosen to wear one of your skirts today. His hips roll into yours at the new angle, and he stutters at the pleasure.
"The ball was not my fault." He presses a bruising kiss against your lips, biting down gently as he pulls away. Murmuring against your ear, you can feel the smile on his lips as he talks. "You have no idea what was going through my head that night. If I had my way, I wouldn't have gotten up from my knees for hours."
The way his silky voice hissed at the last word was downright sinful, and you're too distracted by your own thoughts to realise he had ducked his head back down to your chest.
"Luci." You gasp as he travels lower, peppering kisses down the valley of your breasts, murmuring against your skin, hands sliding lower and lower and tongue chasing them down to your naval. A finger pulls playfully at the front of your bra. Oh no, he couldn't win the upper hand that easily.
Gaining confidence, and determined not to let him be his usual cocksure self, you grasp him by the collar of his shirt. "Don't be unfair." You reprimand. He doesn't protest when you lower yourself to the floor, pulling him beneath you and straddling his hips. The cupboard was just big enough for him to lay down if he bent his knees, and you grin down at him as his hands grip your thighs tightly.
Your hands rest against his chest, and you can feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he stares up at you, his fingers flexing against your thighs when you refuse to move. He tries to roll his hips up into you, but you lift yourself just out of his reach.
"Don't do this." He whines, but you only grin down at him, leaning impossibly closer until your chest presses against his. You wish you could see the blush to his cheeks, the parting of his mouth around those little gaps, but instead you settle for staring into his blown pupils.
"Whatever do you mean?" You feign ignorance, shifting lightly and revelling in the way his eyes widened and his claws dug painfully into your skin. You press a kiss against his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
A noise traps itself in his throat, you kiss against his jaw, his chin, the other corner of his mouth.
"Sweetheart," He moans, trying to tilt his head to catch your lips with his own. You roll your hips to distract him, and he hisses unhappily. He stares up at you with big puppy-dog eyes, a world away from the confidence he had felt at having his way with you earlier. "please."
"Good." You purr, and he whines when you finally kiss him properly, hips lowering onto him and palms sliding up his chest. You pull away and immediately begin kissing at the underside of his jaw, leaving your own trail of hickeys down the column of his throat. He squirms beneath you, breathing heavy and voice high-pitched as you kiss down his chest, pulling his collar to the side and grazing your teeth along the top of his peck.
One of his hands guide your hips against him, and he jerks his hips, the buckle of his belt biting cooly into the hot skin of your stomach. The other hand lies flat against your back, caressing your spine and sides and pulling you closer, trying to guide you back towards his lips.
He had thought he was in heaven before, but with you above him, he could barely contain himself.
Your hands pull at his hair, tugging at his scalp as you bite into the tense muscle of his shoulder. He closes his eyes painfully tight, muttering incoherently as his fingers flex against you. Your pace was beginning to quicken, and you moan against his shoulder as he whimpers and whines.
"Ngh- wait, stop." His voice breaks around the syllables. He grasps your hips tightly, knuckles white as his claws dig dangerously into the skin at your hips. "Not too fast."
"Another one of your many limitations?" You grin against his neck, feeling the way his chest heaved beneath your hands.
"Hmm," He hums, bleary eyed and uncomfortably hot, warm hand cupping your jaw and bringing your face up to meet his. "You have a way of exposing those."
You give in to what he wants, allowing him to slip his tongue back into your mouth, a hand cupping the back of your head and tangling into your hair, pulling you close and making sure you couldn't get away. You rest against him, revelling in the moment, losing your breath and humming against one another's lips.
Just as you go to move your hips, a hand planting itself against his chest to help your movement, light spills into the cupboard, and you freeze, lips detaching and staring wide-eyed at the shadowy figure stood in the cupboard doorway. You blink furiously, trying to readjust to the harsh light, but Lucifer is quicker to recover and pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to hide your bra from view.
He glares at the worker who remains standing dumbly with a hand on the door handle. Lucifer's hair was a mess, sticking out in every conceivable direction, his cheeks flushed a flaming red, shirt tugged halfway down his chest, with a smattering of lipstick across his lips and jaw, and blossoming bruises dancing across his neck and chest. You weren't in a much better state.
His eyes blaze red.
"Come back in an hour. Close the door."
The worker immediately slams the door shut, plunging the cupboard back into darkness.
Your shoulders begin to shake, laughter bubbling from your throat as you tuck your head into Lucifer's chest. He sighs, resting his head back against the floor and eyes returning to their normal complexion. When you finally compose yourself, you push yourself up with your elbows, grinning down at Lucifer with a cheeky smile.
"Maybe I was too harsh." He mutters, a hand coming up to cup your jaw. He grins cheekily, eyes shining in the darkness. "Where were we?"
Headcanons of genya With a chubby lover please? I Just think genya woul looveee thiccer Girls
Hiii, thank you for the request, I am sorry this is a shot fanfic or whatever u wanna call it but over all I hope u enjoy it, and for everyone who is reading this, you are beautiful just the way you are, and don't need to change for anything or anyone <3
Gender wouldn't be specified ( in some parts)
Ignore my spelling mistakes, Im a fast writter so sometimes I don't notice some miss-spellings and sorry this is a bit rushed!
Overall, enjoy <33
Warnings : maybe some body shaming? ( no details at all but just a lil warning)
Okay so first things first, no matter the body shape or anything, he is still blushing SO HARD around you, regardles of the gender.
If anyone would ever make a comment about your curves or weight, he would 100% jump in, defending you and most likey yelling at the person who said smt bad / made you uncomfortable
Even if you are dating or not, he would give you some of his food, I think that as we know from taisho era secrets, he didn't eat anything for some time so imagine him giving u his portions while in butterfly estate, and just imagine his bright red face as he is giving u food.. Or he would sometimes just leave it in your room/by ur bedside ( depends if you work there and have ur room, or you are a slayer and just pass by)
One of his favorite things to do is lie in your lap 100%%%, but he is a shy boy as we know so he would first need to build up the confidence to ask you.. And then some more to lie on ur lap ( if you accept)
Now, if you are a girl, from time to time he would like to lie on your chest, hugging your waits, giving soft squizes on ur stomach plush, showing you just how much he loves you as he leaves soft kisses anywere he can ( tho keep in mind this would be after a pot of time making him more comftable w pyh. Affection and all)
Overall a shy, protective and loving boyfriend who would get in a fight w anyone or anything who says snt bad abt your weight <33
HE IS SO CUTEEEE
Thank you for reading! <33
i was thinking if I should accualy start making oneshots / fanfics abt how the headcannons would look like as a story.. Soo...
( im putting answers simple because i hate when pull looks like " OMG YESSS ❤️❤️❤️😍😍" / "EW NO 🤢🤢" because i always feek bad if I wanna choose "no" for the answer :')))
I’ve seen alot of genya fans reblog my work so I got y’all 🤞
Bf!Genya who before dating you never knew how to talk to you so he just stared. You would catch him gazing at you sometimes, this habit seemed to stick with him even after you started dating. You may think he’s looking somewhere else but he’s really staring at you thinking about how lucky he is to stand beside you.
Bf!Genya despite how long you two been dating, will always ask for permission to give you a kiss. He always hesitated still scared to push himself despite your reassurance. Either way he’s comforted whenever you do confirm knowing you want to embrace him to.
Bf!Genya who’s favorite place to kiss you is either your forehead, head doesn’t know why but he feels there something so intimiate about it. Genya always feels a kiss on the forehead can represent the trust, how much trust he has in your relationship and you as a person. You can always tell how’s he feeling from a simple kiss and it means everything to him.
Bf!Genya who never had a good idea how to spend valentines day with somebody, and he never thought hr have the chance to look for something to buy somebody. When he googles "perfect gifts for valentines day" he's so torn between his options he ends up buying everything on that list instead.
Bf!Genya who likes to take you to the shooting range with him. He enjoys teaching you about his gun and how to aim it while your there, it makes him have a little pride in his talent. Although when you die accompany him, he tends to miss more shots distracted by gazing at you despite seeing you every day.
Bf!Genya who loves when you run your fingers through his hair. His shoulders automatically drop down and his muscle relax immediately. He ended up picking this up and doing the same to you, when you both laying in bed he’ll slowly begins running his fingers through your hair. Hoping you feel the same level of relaxation you gave to him.
Bf!Genya who just can’t get the hang of math, and will ask you to help him when something comes up surrounding it. Sometimes he may genuinely ask you for help, but you’ve caught on that sometimes he’ll use it as an excuse just to spend as much time with you as he can.
Bf!Genya who in general dislikes PDA, but learns to tolerate it if you do. He’ll push himself into locking pinkies or holding hands when you’re out in public, a small hug to greet you when he sees you as well. Maybe just maybe if he’s feeling risky he’ll peck your cheek as well.
Bf!Genya who really likes to hug you whether he’s in public or in private. He likes feeling you close to him, it brings him a sense of security and comfort so you’re not surprised when you feel his arms slink around your chest. Whether it’s early morning or the dead if the night Genya needs to atleast embrace you one time.
Bf!Genya who eventually opens up about his past and his broken ties with his older brother. He’s bottled up his feelings for the longest time with you being there to let him really express what he was holding in the back of his mind is meaningful to him. He trust you to tell you something very personal to him meaning he values you in his life.
Bf!Genya who never likes to wake up early in the mornings and will keep you in bed with him until he wakes up. He grumble when you try to leave, slowly wrapping his arms around you getting tighter bit by bit in hopes you give in and lay down in bed with him instead.
Bf!Genya who in reality is just a big sweetheart trying his best to show you that he loves you.
a little smut, nsfw, established relationship-ish, eating out, feelings, very hot, i think i out did myself tbh, selfship coded. divider by @/saradika
Your heart slams in your chest with each step you take. You shouldn't be awake this late. You shouldn't be tiptoeing down the hallway. You shouldn't be wrapped in a robe with nothing underneath.
And yet…
The floorboards creak, almost as if they're laughing at you. Shaming you into going back to your room. But you've already gone two nights wishing you were doing what you're doing now. Tomorrow both of you go out on new missions, it has to be tonight.
You reach his door and slide it open, step inside, and close it before you can second guess yourself.
The room is small, very similar to yours down the hall. A small window lets the moonlight in, bathing his futon in a cool glow. The night breeze makes the small candle on his table flicker, and shadows jump across the wall.
And then there's him.
His back is turned towards you, his shirt, halfway unbuttoned, slides down his biceps. His upper back, his shoulder blades, his traps, his scars, the rippling muscles that have been trained and honed for years… you take a sharp breath in.
He looks over his shoulder, you don't know what he was expecting but his scowl quickly turns into surprise. His eyebrows raise, his mouth slightly parts, and even in the dim light you see the dusting of pink completely wash over his face and neck.
He doesn't turn towards you, instead standing perfectly still like you're a ghost. And you don't move either. As bold as you were feeling before you didn't think past getting through the door.
Your face warms.
The man in front of you opens his mouth and closes it, his mind reeling at your sudden presence in his room.
The two of you are together, you've never called him your boyfriend out loud, mostly because he feels like more than that. You've battled together, you've cried together, you've kissed and pledged to protect each other no matter the cost. But tonight you crave something different, something more. There's a heat inside of you that only burns for him and you want him to feel it.
You whisper his name, “Genya…”
It wakes his body up and he finally moves. He adjusts his pants as he turns, his shirt still clinging to his biceps and your hungry eyes devour him. The scars across his chest and his pecs, and his abs and his collarbone.
He finishes taking off his shirt, his forearms flexing when finally freed.
You press your legs together. He can not have you this bothered from just the sight of him. A sight you've seen before, you remind yourself, but here you are practically dripping.
“I know it's late,” you start but he immediately jumps in.
“It's okay.” There's an eagerness hidden in his voice.
You take a step deeper into his room playing with the hem of your sleeve, “Tomorrow we're both leaving on separate missions, and—” you look up at him “—I need you.”
His face turns red, deeper than you've ever seen, but you reach out for his hand and he gives it to you. You pull him closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours almost as if he's trying his hardest not to look at the rest of your body.
Your hands start to sweat, “We don't have to do anything you don't want to. I can go back to my room if this is too fast.”
God, where is the confidence you had walking down the hall?
“No! I mean, no. I don't want you to leave.”
“What do you want then?” you try to ask as sultry as possible but the crack in your voice exposes just how vulnerable you feel.
His hand holding yours tightens, begging you not to go, but no words come out of his mouth.
“If you can't tell me what you want, can you show me?”
His shoulders relax and he exhales. He pulls you closer to him with a small nod.
He guides your hands to his chest, laying your palms against his warm skin and you can feel how fast his heart is beating.
Your fingertips glide down his sternum until they reach a scar. The knotted skin is proof of a battle won, proof of how strong he is and how hard he fights. Your lips gently press against the scar and Genya groans.
He's looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. Their path tracing from your eyes down to your lips. His hand gently cups your face, he's so careful with you always, and he leans down to you. Stopping himself a breath away from your lips.
“Kiss me, Genya. Pleas—”
His lips capture yours and your eyes flutter shut. Your back arches, pushing your body into his and you both moan.
It's sweet at first, a small push and pull. But each second gets hungrier, more passionate. His tongue licks along yours as you wind your arms around his neck.
His lips are so soft. The drag against yours is intoxicating, and you can feel your head start to spin. Each touch makes your hotter, every push and pull has your body grinding against his. Wanting to be closer. Needing to feel more.
You bite his bottom lip and playfully pull away, taking a step back.
His chest is heaving, each breath moving his whole body and his pants are struggling to keep him contained.
His head spins as he looks down at you, and the robe that you're wearing. The knot around your waist has loosened, the neckline no longer tight against your neck. It's slipped down your shoulders.
And it's then he realizes that there's nothing underneath. The only thing between him and your perfect naked body is one measly piece of fabric.
You pick up the two ends of the bow tie and hold them out in front of you. Offering them to him. His mouth goes dry, and every word disappears from his brain, along with every other brain function. He forgets how to breathe.
He falls to his knees in front of you, gently taking the ends of the bow from you. But he hesitates.
“Genya,” he wishes to hear you say his name over and over again in that sweet tone. Your fingers run along the side of his mohawk, down the back of his head and then around to his chin, gently lifting it up. “I want you to see me.”
He bites his lip. God, does he want to see too.
He pulls at the bow, watching as it slowly unravels. He pulls the knot apart, and with it the robe reveals you to him as it falls off of your shoulders to the floor.
His mind and body are unable to comprehend the beauty that you are. The curves of your waist, the thicknesses of your thighs, the small dips in your hips, the soft curls between your legs, and then that's not even everything. His eyes trail back up to your breasts, perfect and round and beautiful and he's going to explode.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his lips aching to kiss every inch of exposed skin.
You step closer, running your fingers through Genya's hair.
“Yours.”
A shiver runs down his spine. He can’t speak, he can barely breathe. But he’s never wanted anything more in his life. The need to touch you, to feel your skin under his hands. To kiss and touch and devour.
His hands pull at your hips, he needs you closer. Needs every inch of space between your bodies erased.
His breath is warm against the bare skin of your thigh and it sends a shudder to your core. He kisses up your thigh. You can’t take your eyes off him, the drag of his lips gets slower until he’s ravenous and his eyes become fiendish. He’s getting drunk on the taste of your skin. The promise of ambrosia soon coating his lips has shut his brain down and his body, his instincts, are taking control.
Calloused hands slide up your leg, and he bites the inside of your thigh as he guides one of your legs over his shoulder. He pants when he sees the way your folds glisten for him.
“Fuck,” he whispers to himself before looking back up to meet your gaze.
The darkness in his eyes makes your heart pound in your chest. You’ve seen a similar look hidden deep in his irises when killing demons, but this is something entirely different. A need to consume, to drown, to never see the morning if it means that this paradise is lost to him.
You try not to lose your footing as his tongue pushes through your folds. You moan his name and his hands wrap around your body, holding you in place, anchoring you as he goes deeper. Every swipe of his tongue makes your heart beat faster and faster until your hands fall to his shoulders. The thick muscle moves under your palms as his greed destroys you.
You want to feel him deeper. You want to take every inch of him into your body and pray to the gods above that sent him to you. Your hand grabs onto his hair, balling it up in your fists as you wait on the edge of release. You can’t believe you waited this long for him, to have this man between your legs, to give him the final piece of yourself. You’ve always belonged to him, mind, body, and soul.
The band inside of you snaps and stars blot your eyes. You say his name over and over and over until your throat is sore and your body stops shaking. Your legs can barely hold you up as you come down from your high.
Genya smirks against your skin. Your release coats his lips and you can tell he’s very proud of himself. Especially when his hold tightens and the room is suddenly tilting.
Your back is pressed into his futon and before you can say anything he climbs over you, and kisses you. His tongue swipes along your lips asking for entry and you savor the taste of your release on his lips.
His body grinds against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck. You can feel the heat of him, the weight of his body against your chest, the hardness of his cock pressing into your stomach. All of him, you want all of him.
He anchors himself on his elbows, taking another look at you splayed out below him. His eyes search your face before he descends upon you again and your hands discover every dip and valley of muscled back until the candle in his room drowns itself in wax.
Category: Enemies to lovers, slow burn romance, angst and fluff.
Warnings: Manga spoilers (if you squint), mentions of death, blood and injury and swearing.
Prologue
Kanae-sama and Shinobu-sama had taken you in as a child after a demon attack had brutally slaughtered your parents. From that day on, you harboured a deep resentment towards the foul creatures that had caused so much pain and suffering, not just to you but to countless others as well.
Despite the trauma you had endured, your gratitude towards the Kocho family never wavered. They had taken you in, provided you with a loving home, and helped you heal from the devastating loss of your parents.
While Kanao was timid and obedient, you were more like a replica of Kanae-sama’s personality - kind, loving, and easy-going, except when it came to your deep-seated resentment towards demons.
genya x reader, 1.4k, genya is taller than you, fluff, fem reader, maybe unsafe swimming practices, divider by saradika
“How did you hear about this again?”
Genya’s hand is in yours as you lead him along a dark path. The trees and bushes towering over you are bathed in nothing but the light of the stars as their leaves dance in the wind.
“The little old ladies in town told me about it. They said that it’s a town tradition to go, so we have to!”
You hold his hand a little tighter, asking him to trust you.
You’re only here for a small mission but you quickly came to love this small town and all of its people; the grandmas who pile food on your plate, the kids who run up to you to hold your hand, and the streets that make you feel like you're walking home.
You smile remembering the faces of the women who told you about the town’s unique lore, their whispers and giggles had followed you all week as they watched you and Genya patrol the town together. They saw you hang off his every word, how your heart flutters every time he looks at you for too long, and how his face turns red every time you catch him.
He looks at you as if you molded the sun in your two hands and you look at him as if he hand-carved every crater on the moon. How could they not notice?
But what you neglect to tell Genya is what the town’s folklore actually says.
The dirt path slowly gives way to sand as you continue to walk and the stars guide you until you hear the faint sound of waves crashing.
The path straightens out in front of you and your breath hitches in your throat.
The sea meets the horizon in an explosion of stars, interstellar colors dance across the water that crashes along the rocky beach, and with each break of waves a bright blue sparkle dances along the sand. The blue sparkle glows so brightly, you’ve never seen anything like it.
“Wow,” you sigh with wonder. Your body feels lighter than it has in years, the beauty catches you off guard and you can hardly take your eyes off of the crashing waves.
Genya squeezes your hand tightly and your gaze turns to him. He opens his mouth but he doesn't have the words he wants to say yet. There's a familiar feeling in his chest, like an old memory waking up from a thousand years of slumber.
“Come on, let's get closer!”
You let go of his hand and run towards the beach, your arms held out to your sides like a little kid running toward the ocean for the first time.
And his memory comes flooding back.
His mother sits along the banks of the river that runs near his childhood home. The sun casts shadows through leaves onto her hair as she mends the holes in his younger brother's clothing. Most of his siblings are all playing in the shallow water, their giggles and shouts bouncing off of the river's surface, but Koto, his youngest brother, sleeps gently in Genya’s lap.
“Genya,” his mother calls, remembering the sound of her voice for the first time in a long time. He takes a deep breath in and watches you reach the glowing water's edge. “Genya, my wish for you is to find someone who shows you what it’s like to have wonder. You and your brother take care of our family so well, you both grew up so fast. You’ll meet someone—”
The tiny version of himself cuts her off, “Like a wife?” Baby Genya’s eyes pop open, his face growing more and more red, and his mother chuckles to herself
“Something like that,” she smiles at him and Genya looks down at his sleeping brother in his lap. “I can take Koto,” she motions to him. puts down her sewing as the Shinazugawa sisters come running up, begging to play with him.
“Come on Genya!” “The water is so cold!” “You have to play with us!”
Another nod from his mother and he gives in. Sumi pulls at his hand while Teiko runs ahead of them, her arms spread out to her sides before she jumps in the water.
The sun from that day fades and he sees you smile at him.
You extend a hand to him, inviting him to join you.
He’s heard the tales of this beach, and even the old wives tale the women have probably told you. He takes a deep breath and exhales.
Wonder, huh?
He kicks off his shoes and gives you a dastardly smile, one that you're soon to regret.
“Genya, what are you—”
He runs at you, catching you off guard. This mountain of a man gets to you in mere seconds and throws you onto his shoulder. You scream and laugh as he continues running into the water, each glowing step getting slower and slower as the water rises. Every splash he makes in the water glows brighter blue.
“The water’s freezing!” you squeal as the bioluminescent waves splash against your heels.
He takes one final step, “Better hold your breath!” He laughs before dunking you both underwater.
You surface quickly and realize the water is only waist deep, you keep your shoulders under the water. The night air touching your wet clothes is colder than the water now.
Genya surfaces and flips his hair back, the sea sparkle illuminating his face with a beautiful blue glow. He takes your hand in the water and pulls you to him and in turn you wrap your arms around his neck, not letting your nerves have any say in this moment. You’ve never been this bold with each other, hugging quickly or poking at him or sleeping on his shoulder is the closest you've been. But now you're face to face.
You playfully slap at his chest for dunking you, stirring up the water and with it and even more blue blossoms around you. You don't have the heart to chastise him, even as pretend, so you just laugh. And he joins in, his head falling back in true laughter.
Watching him laugh, the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners and how each laugh comes with rippling blue waves… you don't think you've ever felt this happy in your whole life.
His laughter slows and he sighs your name, bliss leaking out of his every pore. His hand rises out of the water and he cups your neck.
Any last nerves you had melt away just looking at his face. This is the man that you… You stop yourself. Maybe you shouldn't say it yet, even in your own head. But the man that you like very much, and the two of you are floating in the ocean together, not a care in the world.
Your breathing starts to match his as the two of you fall into sync. Your eyes map out every feature of his face, committing it to memory as his eyes fall to your lips.
Genya’s face starts turning red, the glowing algae gives him away, but you're sure that it's doing the same for you. Letting him see every imperfection you have, every scar and doubt and negative thing about you. And he's here anyway. His heart is so close to yours that you can practically feel it beating in time with yours.
His lips are soft against yours as you breathe him in. A culmination of everything you've ever felt for him being poured out under this night sky. Your arms tighten around him, holding onto him with everything you have. Your ache to be closer, your desire to have him all to yourself, to give him every piece of yourself and watch him cradle it, and then to do the same for him. He’s desperate to keep you close, arms sliding around your waist and holding you so tightly.
His lips pull against yours as the waves continue to crash, the illuminated ocean guiding your way back to his lips over and over again, your body finding its new path home.
Your first kiss with him will always taste like the salt of the sea.
It is said that lovers who bathe in the blue sea sparkle together will have their love story written in the stars, for two lovers who take the plunge together are bound to become soulmates and live out the rest of their days together, in this life and the next.
