Home Workout | Wakatoshi Ushijima

home workout | wakatoshi ushijima

summary — wakatoshi works out at home. he looks hot doing it.

pairing — wakatoshi ushijima x reader

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, blowjob, cum swallowing, pet name ‘my love’

word count — 1.3k

author’s note — please listen to this audio of wakatoshi (and kuroo) breathing heavily for the most effective experience

It’s not your fault your boyfriend is totally irresistible. He’s tempting you on purpose– you’re sure of it.

You’re trying so, so hard to focus on the reality show playing on the TV, but Waktoshi is being terribly obscene. A few feet away, he’s splayed out on a yoga mat, lifting dumbbells over his head.

It’s unintentional, the way he gasps and heaves and, ever so often, groans. It’s unintentional, yet it leaves you squeezing your thighs together and biting down on your tongue because your mind is starting to wander.

If you were a better person, you’d go to any other room in the house and let him work out in peace. But you stay seated, let your eyes creep over to the titan of a man in your living room.

He’s a powerhouse in every aspect. You’d think that maybe you’d be used to it after having him in your life for so long, but your eyes widen and drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him.

Thick, hard thighs. Veined arm muscles, straining. Carved pectorals and abdomen, clenching with every movement. Corded muscle over every inch of his body–a display of pure, unwavering strength. The manifestation of years of work he’s put into the sport he plays for a living now. Wakatoshi’s tan skin gleams with droplets of sweat, too, face flushed down to his chest.

It’s terribly, horribly teasing. It’s precisely what he looks like when he’s above you, rutting his powerful hips into yours relentlessly, face morphed into a mixture of concentration and bliss. It’s what he sounds like when he pounds away at you, brings you to tears from pure bliss.

You want him. You need him. Your mouth is too empty, you decide. So you stand, shuffling over to him with an edge of guilt.

“Can you stop?” you say, standing by his mat.

He pauses, thick eyebrows furrowing. Concern quickly fills his sharp features.

“What have I done, my love?”

“You’re hot. It’s distracting me,” you tell him, crossing your chest.

His shoulders sag when it hits him he hasn’t actually done anything wrong and he chuckles, a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I apologise. Can you forgive me?”

“I will if you let me suck your dick,” you say, already sinking to your knees between his robust thighs. There’s mischief dancing behind the batting of your eyelashes, enticing your sweet boyfriend.

Wakatoshi likes to think he’s focused– it’s what he’s been told all his life, by coaches and teachers alike. His concentration never wavers, his determination ever so stable. Around you, though? He becomes entirely unrelenting.

It’s why he doesn’t stop you as you paw at his jersey shorts, smoothing a hand up his thigh, along his crotch, up to the waistband. It’s why he nods when you peer up at him for permission to pull them down his legs, no matter how simple it would be for him to ask you politely to wait until he finishes the few reps he has left.

His boxers come down and his cock, half-hard, springs upwards in its entirety. Your fingertips barely touch when they wrap around the tanned flesh which jumps when you start stroking up and down gently.

Drool pools in your mouth, your lidded eyes dropping to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect dick. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you pump up and down his veiny length until he’s rock hard and blushing and pearly rivulets of pre dribble from the slit of his tip.

That’s when you start to drag your tongue along him, from his base all the way to his head, watching attentively as his head falls back and he showcases his glistening Adam’s apple. He’s always so sensitive, falling apart at your slightest touch.

Your thumb teases his slit, smearing pre over his tip as it leaks while your tongue traces the veins that adorn his cock. And then, with a lustful hunger burning deep in your abdomen, your lips wrap around him and swallow.

You hardly give yourself a second to adjust as you take half of him without hesitation, tears welling and throat clenching as you adjust to the girthy intrusion. Wakatoshi hisses as his giant hand flies to your scalp, stopping you before you can push yourself any further.

“Easy, my love,” he says in a strained whisper.

It’s hard to take his advice when you peer up and catch the tensing of his hard muscles, the parting of his lips, and the affection that glimmers in his olive eyes. It urges you on, really.

You pull back with webs of spit connecting your lips to his cock, stomach fluttering as your boyfriend brings his hand to your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. A second later and you’re dipping your head back down to envelop your mouth around him, choosing to bob your head this time.

“Oh, f-” Wakatoshi cuts himself off with a groan, your throat so warm and tight around him that he shivers. He sighs when your free hand moves to grasp at one of his heavy balls, squeezing lightly but it’s just enough to make his cock throb in your mouth.

As you bob, you take him further and further until your nose is pressed to his pelvis and the dark wiry hairs of his happy trail tickle your skin. He squeezes his eyes shut from the jolts of pleasure that travel deep into his core, his brain turning to fog from the bliss of your slippery mouth. His flesh becomes seared, the blush on his cheeks seeping down to his chest.

Your throat clicks and splutters around him–he’s so big, not meant to be taken like this, and yet you do. With wet eyes and a numb mind, you keep him shoved down your mouth as your fingers take turns fondling one of his balls at a time.

Wakatoshi thinks he’s close to passing out. He can hardly remind himself to stave off his orgasm, too busy as he’s rapt by the burning pleasure of your tongue working his cock.

You pull away, heaving for air, but it’s only to mouth at his balls and suckle at them until they’re covered in your slobber. You trail your tongue along the underside of his cock next, watching him gulp– watching him slowly fall apart.

When you swirl your tongue and suck lightly at his tip, Wakatoshi moans. His abdomen tightens, his fingers scratching at your scalp as they tangle into your roots. He’s losing all semblance of composure. You can tell, from the way his thighs tense and ragged breaths fall from his lips.

“I’m- close,” he groans, low, through clenched teeth.

You’re bobbing your head again with determination, the lewd sounds every time you lower your mouth only bringing Wakatoshi to his edge more quickly. With your hand pumping up and down simultaneously, he doesn’t stand a chance.

His cock twitches in your mouth, and with a deep, rumbling groan that shakes his entire body, he releases. His warm load spills down your throat, his muscles bulging as pleasure wracks his huge body. A Roman god succumbing.

As you pull off of him to replenish your lungs, Wakatoshi’s mind is airy. To him, one thing becomes clear, however.

He lunges forward, scooping you up with ease despite having orgasmed just a moment ago.

“Wakatoshi!” you squeal as he tosses you upon the couch. He kisses you, messy, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste himself on your tongue. It makes your head spin.

“I’d like to make sure you’ll forgive me,” he says, still breathless and blushing. His hands wander up your t-shirt, fingertips brushing at your skin making you shiver. “Will you let me return the favour, please?”

MEMORIES OF YOU

in a timeline where your presence is lacking, they do everything to keep you beside them.

a/n; i really want to know what the brothers in our current timeline are doing. how are they holding up? sorry for another long post, i felt insane (m;_ _)m. a few of them got a bit out of hand compared to others.

Lucifer plays your voicemails on repeat.

there are times when the workload gets a little bit too much now. lucifer hadn't ever noticed how much he had relied on your presence to soothe him after a stressful day; the shoulder massages and brief kisses, the comforting words, the mere company of you beside him had begun to feel like second nature.

unfortunately, you're no longer here to provide that for him, and neither is he there with you to offer a guiding hand in whatever it is you might be going through right now. the thought that you could be in danger sends a dull ache to his head, and the thought that it could be him being the one harming you is enough for him to put down his pen. no more work will be getting done today.

in moments like these—and he hates to admit they've been frequent—lucifer reaches for his d.d.d. the device feels heavy in his hand, and he has to stop himself from trying to once again call you. instead, he goes for the next closest thing.

"lucifer!" your voice is bright and cheery, it rings out clearly enough that he almost believes you've teleported right next to him. the tension of his shoulders ease as you continue, "i'm really sorry for leaving early today, but i did make breakfast before i left!"

lucifer leans his back against his chair, chuckling at the flustered sound of your delivery. it sounds as if you were running while recording this.

"there should be enough for everyone plus seconds and uh..." he can hear the quiet mumbling of your counting. "tenths for beel! again, i'm really sorry for leaving without all of us getting to eat together. i accidentally left an unfinished project back in the classroom and—oh! there's RAD! i'll see you in a bit, lucifer. tell everyone i said good morning!"

the voice message ends with a click, and he feels like the weight of the entire world is once again stacked upon his shoulders. as it always does.

with anchored fingers, he goes to tap the next voicemail when a knock on his door stops that.

"i'm comin' in," the voice from the other side warns before opening the door. mammon steps inside with a single cup balanced on his hand and places it on lucifer's desk, sparing a glance at the papers strewn across its surface. "still working?"

"it's never really done," lucifer responds, taking a sip from the cup. his eyebrow raises at the flavor. "is this barbatos' tea?"

"not really." mammon reaches out to sort the files into a neater pile. "i asked him to teach me in exchange for helpin' with castle cleanup."

it's the second time today lucifer's shoulders relax. "thank you, mammon."

Mammon fills his room with trinkets.

it's hard to keep mammon from spending all his grimm without you there to stop him anymore. for a while, the habit had dampened with your absence, and his brothers had wondered if he would drop it all together until you were back. that thought lasted all but two weeks.

when he had started back up again it was his usual treks—gambling at the casino, buying luxury items he had no real need for, spending it on bets he was sure to lose—and then they shifted.

there's a pile of boxes and paper bags settled carefully inside the seats of his car—the safest area of his room. they range from big to small, all designed and painted with different colors and patterns. a few of the logos and brands repeat, and asmo is the first to take notice that they're all from the stores that you like to visit.

it's somewhere near high noon when mammon leaves the house of lamentation and late evening when he comes back home.

he lets out a silent thanks that his brothers aren't around right now. or maybe they've gotten used to his schedule for the past couple of days and have decided to give him the privacy he needs. whatever the case may be, he's grateful there's no one at the entrance to chide him again.

kicking the door closed with his foot, mammon does his best to not let the multiple shopping bags hanging on for dear life in his hands slip.

it's almost like clockwork, the way his feet leads him to your room first, as they always do. he spares only a moment to take a look around. many of the things he's bought have been tucked securely in his room, but there are times, like today, where he just wants to show them off.

"Didja know Beel keeps comin' in here to eat his snacks lately? I bought a candle to clear out the air." true to his word he pulls out a candle in an intricately designed glass jar, scented in your favorite fragrance.

though it doesn't stop there, and soon your entire table is filled to the brim with different items.

mammon takes a look at everything he's bought once before pulling out a lighter and flicks it on. a mild, familiar scent fills the air, and he hates to admit it's the most calm he's felt in weeks.

Leviathan can't stop updating you.

if there's one thing that hasn't changed, it's the frequency of your texts with levi—or more accurately, levi's texts with your d.d.d. even if it's for the most mundane thing, he doesn't hesitate to whip out the mobile device and let his fingers fly across the keypad.

no one tells him to put his phone down anymore during their meals together, and even the pit pat of the letters being pressed feels more like comforting ambient noise now. the new normal in lull of conversation topics.

sometimes, there's nothing for him to talk about. times where he doesn't leave his room, where he isn't playing a game, or watching a new anime, or reading the latest manga volume release despite the media being right at his fingertips. the house of lamentation feels like it becomes empty during those days, but he doesn't want to tell you that.

levi finds that his bathtub becomes more comforting as every day passes by. the small, slightly confined space that hugs at him from both sides feels reassuringly warm with the blankets and pillows he's stuffed in there.

still, even as he shifts into a more relaxing position, nothing beats the joy he feels tapping away at his d.d.d.

he hasn't left his room for the past five days for anything other than the usual family meals, and even the games that usually pull him in no longer grab his attention. the only thing that does is the device settled within his hands, the dim glow it admits being the only thing he can focus on.

[ have you eaten yet? if not you better get to it, beel's been clearing out the fridge so fast lately i don't even bother going to the kitchen anymore. it's straight to the store for me LOL. ]

[ there's a new anime that's releasing soon. it's based off a manga about two twins that fall from the sky and end up saving the nation that raises them. i hear it's a real tear-jerker! i'll wait until you get back though so we can watch it together. ]

eventually, even levi runs out of things to talk about, and so he reluctantly marks the end of the the conversation with a goodbye.

[ talk to you soon, i'm going to pass out. sleep well when you do! ]

he does his best to ignore the fact that the messages aren't sending.

Satan sees your name in every word.

in the beginning, satan goes through every tome within every library the devildom has to offer. there must be a way to get you back from where you've disappeared to. and while he trusts solomon to keep you safe, he wants nothing more than to be there to guarantee that safety, or better yet—not have you disappear at all.

still, after turning every archive upside-down and over, satan resigns that there's nothing more he can do but to trust the sorcerer. but he can't; the thoughts of his years right after the celestial war ended haunt him and he fears that if anyone was to jeopardize your safety the most, it would be him.

and so he throws himself into his pastime. yet even then, his eyes can only skim the pages, the words nary processing in his mind. how could they, when every term, every phrase reminds him of you?

satan's hope of losing himself within the world of a story doesn't go as planned. it hasn't been going as planned for the past couple weeks.

the spine of a book cracks open, and the coffee-stained colored pages are flipped. his finger slides over the finely inked words, and then pause just minutes in when he realizes he hasn't retained a single thing he read.

rinse and repeat, the same old pattern.

frustrated, he snaps the cover closed, the force of his action loud enough to be heard by anyone who would pass by his door.

the protagonist of the book he had picked up was described as kind and forgiving. they would brighten up every room they entered and had as much fear in their body as they had caution—which was little to none. they face many trials to bring happiness to those they love all without a care for their own well-being. satan sighs, curling in on himself from his seated position.

a strained laugh nearly leaves his throat, but he holds back. of course he would gravitate towards this book with a description like that.

with a heavy heart it tucks it back ontop of the pile of other unfinished tomes—the height of it becoming increasingly worrying—and hopes that the ending is a happy one.

Asmodeus can't stop talking about you.

without your presence, asmo delves himself deep into his social circles. it takes his mind off of how concerned he is about your well-being; he doesn't need to keep himself awake thinking on how much he misses you or how you might be missing him and the rest of his brothers.

well, at least he thinks he's taking his mind off of things. it's hard for anyone to put a word in once asmo starts opening his mouth, especially when the only thing that leaves from his parted lips every other sentence is your name.

if it wasn't evident in his conversations then it's evident in the way his shampoo has been swapped out for a fragrance you had always been more privy to, or the way his style has slightly shifted towards what style you like to wear. he picks up your habits like it's his own even if he doesn't notice it.

"oh, you'll never believe what they did next!" asmo laughs, his sing-song voice ringing above even the loud blasting of music from the party speakers.

one of the demons closest to him leans in closer, a sparkle in her eyes as she continues listening to his story. a story that he's been telling for the past two hours since they sat down. "what happens next?" she pries, genuinely curious.

the stories continue on for the rest of the night, until the music dies down and the crowd thins out. the female demon is still by asmo's side, a yawn leaves her lips and he mimics the notion.

asmo blinks, eyes trailing to the watch she wears loosely around her wrist. "oh! i didn't realize it was so late, sorry to keep you here for so long."

"not at all!" she smiles, waving her hand. "thank you for telling me such interesting stories! it's the most fun i've had this week. it's obvious you must care for this person a lot."

it's only when she says that does asmo realize you were the only topic of his conversation this entire night. a smile creeps to his lips before he can help it. it's the first time in a long while that he's thought of you without fearing about how you might be doing.

because it's you. and you're always getting out of every situation the world throws you in.

Beelzebub gravitates towards the food you eat.

alongside belphie, beel—like everyone else—makes regular visits to your room. it becomes his primary hangout spot now outside of his own shared bedroom and so the snack stash that you usually keep in a drawer under your desk has recently expanded.

it practically bursts at some points from how much he tries to stuff in there on some days, but it's always empty again by the end of the week. sometimes he finds items that he didn't buy settled on the top of the rest snacks, though they always seem to be foods that you enjoyed nibbling on.

he misses the food that you used to cook for everyone at the house of lamentation, and no matter how good simeon's cooking might be, it just isn't the same. still, he does his best to replicate it sometimes. maybe by the time you get back he can surprise you with a home-cooked meal... if he doesn't eat it first.

it's usually mammon or asmo that walks through the doors with half a dozen bags grasped in white knuckled grips, not beel, but here he is. in contrast to his older brothers, though, beels bags aren't filled with clothing or make-up, but food.

"are you sure you don't need help with that?" belphie asks, a little more than concerned at how even with how wide the doors are to the house of lamentation he was barely able to fit through the opening.

"it's fine," beel shakes his head. "this is nothing."

they make their trek to the kitchen with little difficulty. as beel said, those bags really did feel like they weighed nothing. "what do you think we should try making?"

"hmm," beel looks over their ingredients. they hadn't really thought that far ahead. whatever was on sale, they bought. "how about shadow pork ragu pasta?"

thankfully, with belphie's ability to keep himself conscious, he helps beel from continuously 'taste testing' their creation. it goes well until they're half-way through and the door opens, a head of blonde hair popping inside.

"i thought i smelled something here, what are you two doing? it's not your turn tonight for dinner duty." one look at the dish they're making though and satan gives a nod of understanding. it's the dish you had made for belphegor some time ago. "need some help?"

satan's help is very much needed as belphie was on his last winks and that meant there would be no one to keep beel in check either. by the time the pasta was finished there's five-too-many more servings than intended on the counter and four more demons surrounding it.

seems like they won't be having dinner in the dining hall today.

Belphegor takes your room as his own.

there's no other room in the house of lamentation that's as comforting as yours—that's simply a unanimous fact. and with the absence of your presence now, it's also the only place belphie can go to feel the closest to you.

he spends more time in your room now than he does in his shared room with beel and the attic combined. there are days where mammon sneaks inside during the night only to already find the twins loitering around, laying on your bed or sitting at the table having a snack (or at least, beel's definition of a snack).

while belphie admits he likes the time he spends in your room alone, he feels more at peace when his brothers decide to join as well, uninvited or not. it makes the days feel like they've gone back to normalcy, when you're still here and they can just relax in each other's company.

"mammon stop clinging to me, dammit! you're the one who wanted to watch a horror movie!" levi pulls away from his older brother as much as possible, holding a container of popcorn above his head to prevent it from spilling all over the floor and dirtying your carpet.

satan's groans are louder than any of their yelling, "quiet down! i can't focus on what the characters are saying! and beel your chewing too loud!"

"sorry," comes the prompt reply followed by even more chewing.

asmo leans his back on the bed frame, head tilting to the side in order to get a better view of belphie's face under the dim light of the monitor. "having fun?"

"what do you think?" he groans, pushing his head further into your pillow.

and while belphie can't see the expression asmo makes, he has a good prediction that he's grinning. "i think you're having fun. after all, you haven't kicked any of us out yet."

"it's not my room," he replies.

"but you know everyone would gladly leave if it meant you felt more comfortable."

the youngest brother turns his back. "you guys are too loud, i'm going to sleep."

"yes, yes, sleep well, belphie," asmo quips. "have nice dreams."

and he does.

even over the loud noises of his brothers yelling and the muffled sounds coming from the speakers of the tv, belphie finds that he hasn't fallen into a sleep this deep since you disappeared. and while morning comes eventually, he treasures the dream with you in it for as long as he can.

"Stop that, Suna."

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything."

You read the same line of your notes for the fifth time before slowly closing your eyes and trying to deflect the gaze burning into the back of your head.

He sighs, loud and long. "Woe is me."

There's a rustle of linen as he rolls over.

"Ignored. Abandoned." His tone is flat. "The loneliest boyfriend in the world."

There's a quiet scratching sound and you can picture him dragging his fingers along the wall in boredom; you suppress a smile.

"Not even called my real name," he says in mock hopelessness.

He sighs louder. "It's like I don't even exist."

"Rintarō," you reply, trying to focus back on your notes again. "You're not helping."

More rustling and you feel a hand grabbing at the back of your chair.

"Kuroo needs this repor--" the word cuts off in a gasp as the chair is dragged away from your desk. "Rintarō!"

You hop out of the chair the moment before he reaches for you and turn around to see his ridiculously flexible and strong torso hanging over the side of the bed, eyes narrowed at you in frustration at your evasion.

"So you'd rather make Kuroo happy than take care of your boyfriend?" He tsks and shakes his head. "Not very considerate."

"I would be happy to," you try to pull your chair back but he's still got a firm grip on it and he's much stronger, "if my boyfriend," you quickly dance out of reach as he tries to grab you again, "would let me finish the work for my job. You know...So I don't get fired. Rintarō! Give me back my chair."

"Come get it," he replies with a sly smile.

"Damn you and your stupid athlete's body," you mutter and squat awkwardly at your desk.

"Funny...You said that last night, too, but with a much different tone."

"I'm ignoring you," you sing-song reply.

He huffs and there's a moment of quiet before the unmistakable sound of him climbing out of bed.

You move a moment too late.

"Rin--PUT ME DOWN!" You scramble for a grip on your desk but he's already swept you off the ground, carrying you to the bed. "I HAVE to finish this!"

"Relax." He rolls his eyes as he puts you in bed, goes right back to your desk, and brings your computer back, grabbing the lap desk and neatly arranging the workstation on your legs before climbing-crawling over you and wrapping his ridiculously large body around every bit of you he can. He tucks the blanket around you both. "There. See? Now we can both get what we want."

You don't try to hide your smile as you watch him settle down and snuggle into you, content.

"Stop that," he quips, eyes still closed.

In affectionate mocking you reply "stop what? I'm not doing anything."

He buries his face against your side muttering "you're lucky I love you."

With a grin you turn your attention back to your work. "Yeah,

I am."

Could you write some domestic fluff headcanons for Solomon x GN!MC like you did with Lucifer?

Thanks in advance!

I got you. I feel like I bully this man so much in my posts, so it was nice to spend three full pages just affectionately thinking about Solomon. I adore him so much. I kind of set these in Nightbringer times just for the purpose of MC actually living with Solomon, but I didn't really touch on anything too specific to that era - because I probably could have gone on way longer. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Domestic fluff headcanons (Solomon)

(Solomon x gn!MC)

Word Count: +1800

Solomon adores spending time with you, but he also likes having a separate room. Solomon is used to being alone, and he appreciates time to himself. The man loves his space, but that makes it even more special to him when he shares a bed with you. Solomon can’t always express how happy he is to have you there. In his mind, it was always okay that he was alone so often in his younger years. Somehow, he often “forgets” (suppresses) that there were long periods of his life where he wasn’t just alone – he was lonely. Being with you makes him wonder if maybe he can avoid that desperate, painful loneliness for the rest of his life.

This man has had a long, kind of rough life. Sometimes that means nightmares or ruminating on his past late into the night (on top of any day-to-day stressors). When he can overcome his embarrassment about you seeing him in a vulnerable or fragile state (because some nights he can’t), he will ask to crawl into your bed. If you aren’t awake, he’ll either sleep on a chair in your room or on the floor – at least until you inevitably tell him that it’s fine to sleep in your bed if you’re already asleep. No matter how difficult the night is, Solomon feels a noticeable amount of relief when he wakes up to your voice or your touch – even more so when he wakes up in your arms.

Solomon is pretty good about knocking before entering your room, but that’s only because he requests the same from you. He’s not an innocent man, and he would be mortified if you just walked in on him during something he had intended to be private.

Solomon will not go to bed if he expects you home and you haven’t arrived yet. He worries about you so much, and no matter how much he teaches you, he’s started to realize that he’ll always be protective of you. He’ll text early on in your lateness, but if you don’t respond to his texts and no one has eyes on you, he’ll call after an hour or so. If there’s no response after that, he’ll go through his magical options to get in contact with you. Please don’t let your D.D.D. die, basically.

I imagine MC’s phone dying during a party and them not noticing until after they were already outside the club. You wanted to text Solomon and let him know that you were heading home, but your phone was dead, and Mammon and Asmo were still inside. It was a nice night, and it was only a half hour walk home. You’d be fine. When you walked through the door, Solomon gave Asmo a quick “they just came home,” before he walked up to you and pulled you into his arms. You didn’t get a long look at his eyes, but the mixture of relief and fear they held simultaneously was evident. Solomon couldn’t let go of you the rest of the night. He even joined you in the shower.

Solomon takes so much pride in telling people that he has to leave or head home because “Mc is waiting for me.” He knows the others must be so jealous that he gets to return home to you and that he’s the person you return home to. However, he feels so guilty when you actually are waiting for him. He hates to leave his adorable apprentice waiting. You’d think that guilt would make him do that less, but he’s busy and a bit forgetful, so it happens more often than he wants it to.

He understands if you don’t or can’t wait up for him when he’s home late, and he doesn’t resent you for it. However, especially if he thinks you took special care to plan out a romantic night or if you are really nice (saving his food so it’s easy to reheat whenever he gets home and leaving a cute cat post-it note complete with a sweet message and a little heart on top, chilling a bottle of demonus for him, tidying up his desk that he left a mess – even by his standards – earlier that morning, running him a magic bath that will stay warm all night, or leaving a bouquet of flowers in a vase on his bedstand), he will be so grumpy the following day. Don’t get me wrong, he appreciates you, and he’s so happy, but he’s mad at himself and anyone who made him late. He’ll at least do his best to smile around you and thank you for being the best human to exist. To distract you from his grumpiness, he will kiss you a lot that day: soft, tender kisses where his lips linger on your skin; affectionately trailing his lips over your neck between whispered words; and even possessive, hungry kisses – especially in front of someone else who he blames for him being out so late.

The only thing you let Solomon make without complaint are drinks – which are close enough to potions that they somehow don’t kill you. He’ll make you coffee, cocktails, and tea. (Starbucks who?) I can’t explain why, but I feel like Solomon cannot make you a bowl of tomato soup that won’t hurt your intestines, but he can make you a delicious honey vanilla lavender frappe or a muddled blueberry vodka lemonade. Something about the actual cooking food bit just makes that sick, pretty head of his just think “yeah, I should improvise this badly.” Your smile is infectious when you enjoy a drink that he’s made for you.

Unfortunately, despite your pleas for him to not cook, Solomon still does it. Even worse, he blows up the kitchen or creates unimaginable messes every few months. He knows he’s not allowed to cook because according to you, his food is “inedible,” and “a biohazard unfit for consumption.” But he wants to get better until you can finally trust his food, so he has to practice. One day, he wants to make food that you want to eat, which is why he keeps offering you his culinary abominations. He’s not there yet.

When you have a bad day, Solomon will hold you, offer to cook you dinner and get rejected, and ask how he can help you feel better. If you want a distraction, he’ll have a game, movie, or show ready for you in a minute. He’ll order food in or take you out to eat. Anything you want, he’ll do his best to give it to you.

When Solomon has a bad day, he will return home and immediately find you so he can bury himself in your arms. If you are working at a desk, he will worm his way onto your lap and just nuzzle against your chest or neck. He’ll try not to disturb you, but once you’re done, he would appreciate your undivided attention.

This man loves being held so much. If it’s just you and him, he’ll occasionally do the grabby hands thing with his arms outstretched, waiting for you to hug him.

Also, we’re going to address the manspreading. This dude – this absolute bro – does not stop doing that around you, either. If you want to sit, you have two options: either you sit between his legs, or you teach him a damn lesson about keeping his legs open (by straddling his lap and forcing his legs together with your thighs). Both of those are just going to encourage him to continue, but at least you get to sit and fluster him slightly the first few times.

Solomon’s erratic sleep schedule means that, some days, he’s heading to bed when you’re getting up – sometimes vice versa if you’re playing it a little fast and loose yourself. On those days he likes to give you a kiss good morning/night before either of you finally go to sleep. If your schedules can’t align, he’s going to squeeze out whatever affection he can get from you.

Sometimes he wakes up before you and wants to get you up. He either can’t bring himself to wake you because you look so cute, or if he can, he does it with such a gentle touch. That sweet voice will call out your name, and his fingers will graze your face or arm in soft, slow motions. If only he could save this image of you for his eyes only.

Solomon tests out his love magic on you in the privacy of your home. He also uses you to practice his seductive speechcraft. The fact that no one else can walk in on the two of you is a big plus. As much as he adores experimenting on you and seducing you, there are times when he can’t stand the idea of anyone else seeing your flustered face. Also, if his love magic goes wrong, he doesn’t want anyone else to be around. Who knows what could happen.

I feel like Solomon keeps a stock of MC’s favorite snacks in the house. He does this with scented candles and soap, too.

Solomon will keep the house cool – or at least his room. If for some reason, you have a problem with it, he will – in typical flirty sorcerer fashion – offer to warm you up. If it seems to be a consistent issue in his room, he will buy a sweater or cardigan specifically for you to wear in there. He will not be made to be warm in his own room – but he’ll be damned if you’re uncomfortable.

MC covers Solomon with blankets or their jacket when he falls asleep on the couch. They will wake him or just carry him to bed if he falls asleep at his desk so that he doesn’t wake up sore. He’s so old – his muscles and joints aren’t what they used to be. He always leans into your touch in his sleep.

This is self-indulgent and related to an MC from one of my Asmo stories, but MC gave Solomon an oversized GILF (gosh I love frogs) shirt, and he sleeps in it a lot. He gets super embarrassed if anyone else sees him in it. It’s one of the few things you gave him that he won’t show off until everyone understands how NB (Nightbringer – not non-binary, but I mean?) Barbatos feels.

Solomon loves singing along or dancing to human world music with you. It’s something that feels special between the two of you. There’s something so lighthearted and sweet about those moments; Solomon can’t feel the weight of his sins when you’re smiling through a song and swaying to the music. He’ll get especially giddy if you sing love songs to him.

Genuinely, Solomon is so happy to live with you, and he’ll try to express that often. I don’t know if he could get through a day without telling you he loves you. To him, you are his home now. When you’re gone, he starts to feel lost. Wherever he goes, whatever happens, he wants to return to you every time in every world on every timeline.

cute old man in your area

other ver

୨♡୧ UMBRELLA — suna x reader. sfw. fluff.

requested by sage ( deactivated :'( ) for my rin round up event!

the one day you forget to stuff your umbrella into the side of your backpack, it rains.

not a light drizzle that would be mildly annoying at most, but the kind of rainfall that you can hear pelting against the windows—the kind that you definitely don’t want to walk home in.

you let out a huff at seeing the time. it’s later than you should be leaving and you can’t help but think that maybe you would have missed the rain if you had left an hour earlier like you normally do on any other weekday. there’s no telling how long it’ll be before it lets up, so, unfortunately, you’ll be stuck in this building until the weather clears up enough for you to make a run for it.

instead of making every minute feel painstakingly longer by watching puddles form on the sidewalk beyond the door, you turn on your heel with the intention of killing time by watching something on your phone. though, before you can make it to one of the many tables, your path is blocked by a broad body. when you look up, you’re met with unmistakable grayish-yellow eyes. 

“so the rumors are true,” suna starts, eyeing you up and down before meeting your gaze once more with a playful smirk. “you’re bound to this school and can’t ever leave.”

in all the time you’ve known suna, you don’t think you’ve heard one serious thing come out of his mouth. you can’t be sure if it’s just you or if he’s always so flippant. you roll your eyes, shaking your head at his dumb statement. “it’s raining and i don’t want to get wet.”

suna raises his eyebrows. “no umbrella? i thought you were always prepared.”

there he goes again, taunting you like it’s a game. it’s been this way since high school and back then you’d respond to his jokes with jabs of your own. it’s never bothered you a great deal but right now, all you want is to go home and suna reminding you that you can’t serves as the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“don’t you have anything better to do than stand here and make fun of my oversight?” you look past him, eyes scanning the lobby for a suitable spot to spend who knows how long.

something about your tone makes suna’s grin fade. it’s not jesting like usual and he’s afraid that the hint of exhaustion he hears in your words has to do with him. joking around with you is much less fun when you aren’t in on it—especially if his teasing has truly struck a nerve.

suna would never consider himself to be well-versed in kind gestures, but he thinks that he might have some way to make up for overstepping.

“i guess i could walk you home,” he offers. there’s a glint of doubt in your eyes as you stare at him. he isn’t sure if it’s because the suggestion is strange coming from him or if you think he’s no better suited to brave the weather than you are. suna can’t do much about that first one, but to prove that he can in fact get you home dry, he pulls out the umbrella from the mesh holding of his backpack and holds it up beside him. “i have an umbrella.”

part of you feels like a fifteen minute walk with suna—someone you would barely consider a friend—is bound to be at least a little bit awkward but a larger part of you is willing to put up with that if it means you can finally get off this campus. “fine. but only because i really want to get home.”

“of course.” suna nods. he steps past you to push open the heavy door, pressing the button to extend the umbrella. the waterproof canopy shields his dark hair from the rain and he jerks his head to the side in a silent gesture for you to follow him.

you do, careful to step close enough so that you’re also under the umbrella but not so close that you’re bumping shoulders with him. “it’s this way,” you point in the direction of your apartment building.

suna nods again and sets off, pacing his steps so that they’re in line with yours. other than the rain hitting the canopy and the sound of your footsteps, it’s silent. you cross your arms and shy away from the edge of the umbrella where water is dripping. it brings you a little closer to suna but the warmth emanating from him is preferable to the sleeve of your sweater getting soaked.

“so,” suna’s smooth voice cuts through the silence, “what were you doing at the sports center?”

you can’t stop your head from turning to look at him, though, his gaze is still focused ahead. seems like that point you made earlier suna never having anything serious to say no longer stands. you’re sure he’s trying to ward off the awkward air surrounding the two of you. you’re sure he’s just trying to be nice, that he doesn’t really care what you were up to, but you answer him anyway. “oh, i was interviewing for a job at the front desk.”

suna’s lips part as he readies to respond with one of his usual quips—something like being able to bother you more often if you get the position—but he quickly presses them closed. he’ll end up running you away if he keeps at it so frequently and that’s the last thing he wants. even though it may not seem like it, suna likes having you around. he likes it a lot.

so he settles for, “that’s cool.”

“the description actually sounds pretty boring.” sitting behind a desk, answering calls, and constantly being around student athletes isn’t exactly your idea of fun but working on campus is convenient and you need the money so you’re hoping for a call back with good news.

“i don’t know,” suna starts, finally turning his gaze to you. there’s a sparkle of playfulness in his eyes. “watching atsumu flirt and fumble is pretty entertaining. it’s like a neverending show.”

the mental image of atsumu flaunting his position as the volleyball team’s setter in an attempt to impress a crowd and maybe walk away with someone’s number makes you chuckle. “okay, that does sound kinda funny.”

your laugh catches suna a bit off guard but aside from his initial surprise, he finds it pretty. sure, he’s heard it plenty of times in passing before, though, never this close. and he’s never been the reason behind your laugh. it’s probably a little silly, but he thinks it sounds even sweeter when he’s the one who caused it.

the rest of your walk is highlighted by natural conversation; questions from you about volleyball and questions from suna about your extracurriculars. it’s uneventful and utterly normal and the exact opposite of what you would expect from suna. although, you don’t dislike it. in fact, you think you could get used to it.

time passes a lot faster in suna’s company and before you know it, you’re standing outside your building. it’s quiet again as suna holds the umbrella over you while you enter your pin to unlock the main door. an automated click sounds through the air and you pull on the handle so it doesn’t lock again. awkwardly, you turn to face suna. “thanks… for walking with me. and sharing your umbrella.”

he dramatically gasps, pressing his free hand to his chest in yet another show of theatrics. “was that a thank you i heard?”

suna is almost sure he’s taken it too far again before you smile.

“don’t get used to it,” you tell him as you step into the dry lobby of your building. before the door closes, you raise your hand in a wave. “bye, suna.”

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