The Characters Finding Out About Mc's Fwb But Instead Of It Being With A Random Demon, It's Solomon >>>>

the characters finding out about mc's fwb but instead of it being with a random demon, it's solomon >>>>

them being flabbergasted not only about the situation but that you have the arrangement with that shady sorcerer. also frustrated because of course you'd take comfort on the only other human in the devildom!

a/n: mmm yes I think most of them would have something to say about that.

➤ when they find out solomon is your fwb | the demon brothers + dateables

1k words | gn!reader | nsfw | snarky and suggestive

c/w: jealousy, non-explicit sexual content, implied voyeurism, implied threesomes/moresomes

related: reacting to you having a fwb: the demon brothers | the dateables

disappointed but not surprised: lucifer, beelzebub, diavolo

They warned you, didn't they? Solomon is the shadiest sorcerer to ever exist. He's powerful and unpredictable and he can't even be called human anymore. Why in all the Devildom did you have to pick him? You could've had literally anyone else! Unheeded warnings about not getting too close to Solomon turn into vague reminders that the demons are there to save you from that white-haired menace if you need it. Lucifer sneaks behind your back and gives him the world's scariest shovel talk, which is a little silly since this was only supposed to be a casual arrangement for comfort and intimacy. (Of course, no one realizes that you and Solomon managed to catch feels along the way.) Lucifer's thinly-veiled threats promising a painful demise should be enough to scare anyone away. None of them expect Solomon to abruptly end your casual relationship so that he can date you officially instead. He looks far too smug with himself when you hold his hand at RAD in front of the others and when he becomes a semi-regular visitor at the House of Lamentation. Your undeniable happiness is a constant reminder to the others that they underestimated both humans in the exchange program.

why didn't anyone stop them?! (yeah, they're jealous af): mammon, leviathan, satan, belphegor

This is awful. Isn't this why they were supposed to keep an eye on you, to keep you from getting mixed up with people like him?!

"Weren't you supposed to do that, Mammon?"

"Shuddup!"

They hate Solomon's guts. They don't think he deserves you. (They might not deserve you either, but you could do a hell of a lot better than him!) They roll their eyes and gag dramatically when Solomon kisses your cheek or cozies up beside you in the cafeteria at lunch. When you're not looking, they shoot daggers at him and make not-too-subtle gestures that translate roughly to I'm watching you and if you hurt them, you die. They're less subtle and more aggressive than Lucifer is, and Solomon thinks it's hilarious. He knows how lucky he is that he caught your eye first and not them. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy rubbing it in their faces just a little bit. Maybe he forgets to use a silencing charm on your bedroom door when he fucks you in the House of Lamentation. Maybe he wears low-collar shirts to show off the fresh line of marks you made around the base of his neck. He leaves a toothbrush in your ensuite bathroom and spare clothes in your closet. Sometimes you wear his clothes when you don't have class because they still smell like him. You don't notice the demons sitting beside you at breakfast twitch in their seats and suddenly lose their appetites. You feel so fortunate that you found friendship and love in the Devildom. Your friends tell you (and themselves) that they're happy for you too. You don't notice how fake their smiles are when they see you together (but Solomon does).

they're surprisingly okay with it and no one understands why: asmodeus, barbatos, simeon

They don’t know whether to blame fate or their own bad luck that brought you and Solomon together. They grudgingly admit you could do a lot worse than the white-haired menace that seems to adore you. As long as you’re happy and treated well, they don't feel it’s their place to interfere. The others might sulk and pretend they’re not disappointed, or they might be openly belligerent about it, but some of your friends still support you above all else. Asmo drags you into his room and gossips with you about Solomon while he does your nails. Tell me, you can be honest—how is he in bed with you? I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else! Oh, I bet he's so romantic, isn't he~ He’s curious about your relationship and teases you for intimate details that are too personal to share, but you know he's genuinely excited for you. Barbatos doesn’t say much about your relationship openly, but he enjoys reminding the others that if they were less distracted by their own foolishness, they wouldn’t have taken you for granted. Simeon welcomes you with open arms as a guest to Purgatory Hall when the atmosphere at the House of Lamentation grows too stifling. He does his best to make sure Solomon doesn’t completely ruin dinner when you visit in the evenings. He enjoys discussing books and your other shared interests when the sorcerer is busy; Solomon knows you're safe with the angels in his absence.

Like Asmo and Barbatos, you grow closer with Simeon as well through your mutual connections to Solomon. You might not realize what they’re up to when they try to spend more time with you outside of class, but Solomon does. Their sweet gestures of comfort linger far too long to be considered platonic, and the way desire creeps into their eyes when they gaze at you from afar would irritate him if they were anyone else. He has long, colourful pasts with both Asmo and Barbatos, and Simeon quickly became one of his trusted friends while living in the close quarters of Purgatory Hall together. It wouldn't be the first time Solomon invited one of his acquaintances for a little bit of fun in the bedroom, but that was only to share casual partners he didn’t have feelings for. The thought of sharing you with anyone else nearly drives him to violence. Time dulls those jealous impulses, and he admits how appealing it would be to watch you with one (or more) of them together. You’re so lovely in the throes of pleasure, and there's a certain thrill from watching on the sidelines. He knows they'll obey without question when he tells them how to touch you, and he can savor watching you fall apart under their hands and his sinful commands. He gets hard just imagining you crying out his name when you cum, even if one of the others is between your legs instead of him. If you admit to feeling desire for any of them, he'll discuss those delicious possibilities with you too.

You left him for two minutes. All of two minutes.

On the rare days off that you and Shoto get to spend together, it’s almost always spent curled together on the couch or in the bed, watching him work out for fun before making him cheat on his diet, anything that lets the day drip by slower than any other day of the week.

You left him to pee. That’s it. Placing the bowl of sour candy down, you slip out from his lap, give him a kiss before moving down the hall like any standard, subconscious person would.

Two. Minutes.

“Shoto, what’re you doing?”

“You like the strawberry flavor the best.”

By the time you come out, he’s got a pile of pink candy, separated by the other colors except for purple, which is in its own little pile. “You don’t like the grape flavor.”

You quirk a brow and walk back over to him, watching as he continues to segregate the candies, “baby, I would’ve been more than happy to just pick around them, you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“But you don’t like them,” he repeats, looking up at you with those doe eyes that you love to get lost in. “You look down every time you reach for one. I thought I might help ease the burden slightly.”

Burden. Your first world problem of not liking sour grape skittles should be the farthest thing from a burden to him.

But to shoto, it’s not one, and it’ll never be one; little acts of services like these aren’t new, small details just to make hour by hour tasks and privilegies just that much easier.

It’s something he’s always done. Something he’s always going to do. Because he loves you.

With a smile, you slink back into his lap, your head nuzzling against his stomach while the tv drones on about whatever he put on while you were gone. You kiss the warmth of his tummy to feel the muscles constrict under the affection, and you bury your hand into the bowl of candy right after.

“Don’t be cheeky.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum. A hand rests on your head, thumb gently rubbing over the warmth of your crown as silence fills the room once again.

Popping a skittle into your mouth, your face quickly grimaces, and he hums in acknowledgement.“Eugh,” you grumble, and he looks down at you, silently asking you what happened.

And you want to lie. Truly! It’s better for everyone if you do, just tell him you bit your tongue and let him think nothing more.

But apparently, you don’t.

“Missed a grape one,” you tease.

“….”

“Sho?”

“Spit it into my hand.”

“Sho, no-“

your tequila lips is my idea of luxury

pairing. mikage reo x gn!reader

genre. fluff & university/college rom :D 

warnings/content. 4.1k+ wc | soccer team captain!reo (giggles) | mentions of alcohol, drinking, and drunken state | public kissing (don’t ask) | minimal proofread | me and my poor attempt of banter

in which: last night left you with three hazy memories — a dare, a kiss, and the name reo mikage

If college has managed to drill one thing into your head, it’s the gospel of abstaining from weekday drinking. After all, who in their right mind willingly marches to class with a pounding headache? Certainly not you.

But if there’s also one thing college didn't prepare you for, that is ignoring that one advice it drilled into you, and the golden rule of never, ever going against your own wisdom. 

If it did, then maybe you wouldn’t find yourself seated at the table of your kitchen dorm, your elbows resting heavily on its surface and your hands cradling your throbbing head, with your fingers pressed against your temples in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pounding sensation that is making you feel like it’s your last day on earth.

And to add a splash of more chaos to the mix, you feel like your headache intensified by tenfold at the absurdity of what your roommate just told you.

“I did fucking what now?”

“You kissed Reo at the party last night! Reo freaking Mikage!”

Yup, it’s definitely your last day on earth.

“ —and we squealed so loud! We never thought you had it in you to pull shit like that!” 

Well, you didn’t either.

“Hold on, talk slowly! I kissed him?!” 

Furrowing your brows, you attempt to process the bombshell your roommate just dropped on you. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot what happened last night!”

To say that your roommate did a poor job of filling you in on what atrocity happened last night is an understatement. The only thing you managed to register from the weirdly sequenced story were two things: kiss and Reo. 

And from there, the memories of last night came rushing back to you. 

Fucking hell.

You are damned, no doubt. Of all people, it had to be Reo Mikage. Are you even allowed to say that name so casually, even in your mind? That name drips gold and glory in every letter. He’s probably the richest guy on campus, the most famous (for sure), and on top of that, he’s the captain of the goddamn soccer team. Talk about a boring and plain college life he’s living. 

And to kiss that said man in a party for a dare? You’re doomed. You’re done for. You did the worst thing imaginable. 

You should’ve known better that nothing good comes out of college parties and dumb drinking games.

You made a lot of questionable decisions in your life, that you admit. But this one probably takes the top spot.

And it all started innocently enough – with a dare. 

The kind of dare that only seems like a great idea after a few too many shots. You had been the reigning champion of beer pong for as long as you could remember, and your friends decided it was high time to knock you down a peg. The stakes were set: a dare for a dare, and you were handed the ultimatum. Win the game or face the consequences.

But as fate would have it, your well-practiced skills crumbled under the pressure, and you found yourself facing the ultimate punishment—eight shots of tequila, back-to-back, in quick succession. 

Under typical circumstances, you could easily handle that quantity, but regular situations don't account for having a crucial presentation the following day. Eight shots? It's a nightmare, considering you've reached your limit.

And so, you found yourself stumbling through the crowd with only one goal in mind: redemption.

Or maybe it was the tequila that whispered that goal into your ear, urging you to prove yourself. It was hard to tell. 

And in that hazy state, your eyes had locked onto a figure that seemed to glow amidst the dim lights of the party. Reo Mikage, a name that resonated through campus like a melody, stood there, his presence magnetic and his smile dangerously alluring.

Without much thought, you approached the poseur table he was located at.

“Are you single?” you asked him the second you got close enough for him to hear. Fortunately, he wasn't surrounded by his usual crowd.

Now, what happened to ‘hello’? To ‘are you having fun?’ That question is too straightforward for a conversation starter, isn't it? 

“Yeah? Yes, I mean.” Reo replied, confusion evident in his tone.

“Okay good, listen.” Stepping closer, you caught him off guard, and he instinctively took a step back. His movement prompted a questioning look from you, tinged with a hint of concern because it was one step, yet he backed away for three. Little did you know, your proximity was affecting him more than the alcohol he'd consumed.

Undeterred and tequila-fueled, you continued. “I really don't want to drink those abominations in liquid form my friends dared me, so may you find it in your good heart to let me kiss the shit out of you so I’m saved.”

What the hell did he just hear? “Kiss the shit out of me…?”

“Yeah.” So, he heard you right. He’s not making it up. Good, he thinks.

“What do I get in return?”

“Lunch? My treat.” 

Did you just offer a multimillionaire heir a lunch and promise it's on you? At this point, you're not drunk — you're certifiably crazy.

“Hmm, sounds good. Alright, please do show me how the shit out of me can be kissed by you.”

In the face of his agreement, you rolled your eyes at his mocking tone. But there was no time for second-guessing; this was your moment.

Grasping the front of his shirt, you tugged him closer. You saw how his eyes widened at what you did before it broke out to a boyish grin. A breath passed, and then — the two of you collided.

In the electrified space between heartbeats, your lips found each other hungrily. His breath mingled with yours, a shared exchange of anticipation as your mouths moved in sync, exploring each other with an urgency that defied logic.

The taste of tequila still lingered, a faint reminder of the daring choice that had led you here. But it was the heat, the fervor, that consumed you both. Your bodies pressed together, the proximity sparking flames of need that danced through your veins.

His fingers found purchase at your waist, the touch igniting a trail of sensation that sent shivers down your spine. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, and a moan rose out of your throat as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth, a delicious tug that blurred the lines between who was kissing whom.

You pulled back from the kiss first, and a protest almost climbed Reo’s throat. But he knew better than to step in unwarranted, instead, he settled with savoring the image of your flushed state. Even in these neon blaring lights, Reo could discern your state with your heavy panting. Was it because of the alcohol? Or him? He hopes it’s the latter.

“That was… fuck. Thank your friends for the dare for me, yeah?”

And that’s how it all ended — with a kiss far from innocent.

Now here you are, nursing a splitting headache as you trudged across campus, textbooks clutched to your chest, trying to shake off the remnants of last night's debauchery. The taste of regret was heavy on your tongue—not just from the hangover, but from the events that led up to it.

In your slightly inebriated mind, the plan made sense. Kiss the hottest guy at the party, and you'd show your friends that you were up to the challenge. It was akin to hitting two birds with one stone: escaping the impending liquor onslaught and salvaging your pride. 

At the time, it sounded good – sounded like a winning strategy. But now? You want to bang your head against the wall for even thinking it made sense. And you’d do it if it weren’t for your phone buzzing in your pocket interrupting your self-loathing.

Last night for Reo was enchanting, to say the least. 

It was like a spark in the darkness, an unexpected surge of joy that he found himself smirking at the memory, reliving the sensation of your lips in his.

Last night might have been the spark, but it wasn't where it all began for Reo. 

Before you approached him at the party, he remembered you from freshman year. It was hard not to—especially when he recalled the exact moment. He perfectly remembers how you looked him dead in the eye and quipped,“Why waste your time on that sport if your aim is as off as a blindfolded archer? The goal's over there, genius. Not me.” after his supposed goal went astray and hit you in the back.

Well, he took that personally— word for word. And within a year, he had risen to become the best player on the team.

Now add that memory to the daring kiss you shared last night? There was no way Reo would be forgetting you anytime soon. He was now on a mission to make sure that you remembered him as vividly as he remembered you.

Good thing you owe him lunch, and an even better thing that he spotted you just now on a bench near the field he was on. He chuckled to himself at the coincidence, he wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. 

Reo, with his pragmatic and business-oriented mindset, was perhaps one of the last people on earth to put faith in notions like fate. But maybe he can make an exception to that philosophy if it’s you. 

Because right now, this whole thing felt like a mischievous wink from the cosmos, giving Reo a shot at something he had only dared to imagine. Wasting no more chances, he pulled out his phone.

[Today, 8:32 AM]

Is this Y/N?  This is Reo, by the way.

From his vantage point, he saw you reach for your phone immediately after he hit send. The widening of your eyes and the hint of surprise as you read his message didn't go unnoticed.

Cute. Peering down to his phone, he snorted with laughter at your response.

y/n: No. You’ve got the wrong number. [8:33 AM] Your friend confirmed it’s yours, though :P [8:33 AM] Also, I can see you typing. [8:34 AM]

Your eyes immediately scanned the whole field in search of the possible source of your college life’s impending doom. After a few seconds of looking with furrowed brows and a crinkled nose, there – you saw him, with his head slightly cocked to the side and his arms crossed over his chest, grinning at your display of reaction to his messages.

Your searching eyes transformed into bewilderment the instant he stood up, making his way toward you. Realizing that the two of you couldn’t be seen together under any circumstances to avoid igniting unnecessary gossip, your fingers danced over the screen of your phone, rapidly firing off messages that inundated his notifications.

y/n: what do you need are you trying to approach me stop right there stop walking!!!! everyone's looking i swear to god [8:37 AM]

Your frantic typing, however, seemed to make no impact. As if on a mission, Reo continued walking closer to you with the most annoyingly confident grin on his lips. His gaze was locked onto you, unwavering and undeterred.

Even from the distance that separates you two, you could make out what he was wearing. And you were damn sure, it was the sluttiest piece of clothing a man could wear.

The divine must really have its favorites, it seems. Because while you looked like hell had taken up residence on your head from last night’s festivities, he looked too sinful for a sunny morning in his compression shirt. 

No one should look that damn good at 8 AM—it's practically criminal and a slap in the face to regular college students like you.

As Reo closed the distance between you, you could practically feel the weight of all those curious eyes fixated on the scene. Were they looking at him? You? Or both? The thought alone made you want to sink into the ground and disappear.

“Hi.” 

Hi? You’re hyperventilating from the attention the two of you are getting and he quips a hi? 

“What do you need?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady amid the prying gazes of onlookers.

Reo's grin remained stubbornly intact, seemingly oblivious to the audience around you. “I’m here to collect a favor you owe me!” he declared with an enthusiasm that felt almost out of place in this surreal moment.

He can’t be seriously asking you to buy him lunch, right? What does he even eat? A5 Wagyu steak? There’s no way your student budget can afford that.

“I don’t remember owing you anything.”

“Really? I’ll remind you then, you offered to buy me lunch last night before you grabbed my collar and kissed m–”

“Finish that sentence, and lunch is not the only thing you’ll get from me.”

Your threat hung heavy in the air, your words loaded with a blend of annoyance and embarrassment that had settled on your cheeks.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” and yet, ever undeterred from your hostility, Reo's voice took on a smug, teasing tone that matched the twinkle in his eye.

This guy. “You're a bit annoying, don’t you think?”

“No, I don't think I am,” he countered, “And I also don't think that's how you should speak to someone who, and I quote, found it in their good heart to kiss you and save you from eight shots of tequila, though.”

Reo was on a mission, that much was clear. And quoting your exact words from last night seemed to be one of his tactics to ensure you remembered him and that kiss you shared. 

And lucky him, it looks like it’s working like a charm in which the telltale warmth in your cheeks revealed. Unfortunately for you, your simmering frustration combined with a throbbing headache could either launch you into a one-way ticket to expulsion or earn you a potential criminal record.

May the universe and all the saints grant you patience, because the overwhelming urge to wipe that damn grin off his face is slowly overtaking your senses.

You glanced at your watch, calculating whether you had enough time to wrap up your presentation before considering lunch. “Fine. Text me the location,” you conceded, your tone reluctantly agreeable. “I have a presentation to do first. I'll meet you there before noon.”

It might turn out to be a questionable financial decision to let him choose the lunch spot, but you were sticking to your word. You still owed him, after all.

“Sure. Good luck on your presentation. I’m sure you’ll devour the shit out of it.” 

His playful tone, quoting your own words again back at you, made your eyes roll in a mix of annoyance and flustered embarrassment.

Reo, on the other hand, seems like he’s having the time of his life with your reactions.

Someone can’t wait for lunch time, it seems. And clearly, that’s not you but a certain purple-haired.

If anyone were to observe Reo in this moment, they might easily mistake his fidgeting for the anxious prelude to a first Tinder meet up. Of course, that would be utterly absurd, considering he was simply awaiting someone's arrival, who happened to owe him a wholesome meal.

The little bell above the restaurant's entrance jingled, drawing Reo's attention like a magnet. 

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you walk in, much to his surprise. Seemingly fresh and put-together now, you appeared quite different from the disarrayed figure he had spotted on the field earlier. 

Your smile, which now adorned your face as you exchanged pleasantries with the hostess, seemed to hint that your presentation had gone well, and perhaps the remnants of last night’s headache were subsiding.

Casually dressed yet carrying an air of understated confidence, you navigated the room with ease. His eyes followed you as you moved, taking in the subtle sway of your hair, the way your lips curved into polite smiles for familiar faces. He observed this scene unfolding before him, almost as if he were watching a scene from one of those romcom movies.

When your gaze finally settled on him, Reo could feel the heat making its way to his neck that he hoped his collar was hiding well.

The moment you settled into your seat, you wasted no time in addressing the metaphorical elephant in the room. “I’m sorry I put you in that position last night,” you blurted out.

Conversation starters were not your strong suit, Reo noted with an inward chuckle. Last night's shameless question was understandable, given the influence of alcohol, but in the clear light of day, your choice of conversation openers left much to be desired.

“It’s fine,” he replied with a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a faint smile of reassurance. He raised his left hand to catch the waiter's attention, subtly signaling for the menu. “Glad it was me, actually,” he mumbled more to himself than to you, his own unfiltered thought taking him by surprise.

“What?”

“What?”

Before you could even attempt to untangle the verbal knot, the waiter arrived with the menus, saving Reo from any further explanations. He observed as the waiter acknowledged you, a smile exchanged between you two. It seemed you were a regular here, and he found himself intrigued by yet another layer of your personality.

“You know him?” Reo inquired, nodding toward the departing waiter.

“Oh, I'm a regular here. It's my favorite place,” you explained with a hint of fondness.

“What are the chances? It's mine too.” 

Your eyes narrowed in playful disbelief, seemingly not buying the idea of someone like Reo enjoying a meal at a diner like this. “You?”

You admit you were surprised when he texted you of this place being his choice of dining. You were totally gearing up for him to suggest some fancy French or Italian joint where you'd need to take out a loan just to cover the bill. After all, people like him should be dining on caviar and foie gras. But then he texted you this choice, and maybe he's more down-to-earth than you thought. Or maybe he just knows where the good food is. It's hard to believe either, though.

Challenged, Reo insisted, “Yes. Me.”

“Alright, what are you having then? I’m ordering their famous pesto pasta—surely you know what that is, right?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. 

“Of course, I do.” Reo was basically lying through his teeth, at this point. But he couldn’t back down from his claim. And what? Admit that it's his first time here and the only reason he chose this was because he often sees you eating here? Not a chance.

“Why don’t you order for us then?”

With no turning back, he quipped, “Sure thing,” before signaling for a server. He sensed your amused gaze on him, and a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

“We’ll have two orders of your pesto pasta, please.”

“Uhm sir, we don’t serve pasta here.”

You let out a laugh, and Reo swears he could almost hear the birds chirping in the background.

Maybe a bit of embarrassment was a fair trade for that sound, he mused.

Lunch, for you, was not so bad and not quite the disaster you initially imagined.

Not until, out of nowhere, Reo brought up your embarrassing escapade from last night, “Was it because of that incident in freshman year that you approached me last night?”

“Freshman year?” you echoed, momentarily thrown off track. “Did we ever have a class together? Because I genuinely can't picture myself willingly signing up for economics or any finance-related course.”

“No, we didn't share any classes. And what's wrong with those courses? They're actually quite enjoyable.”

Yeah, if your idea of fun is spending hours deciphering graphs and balancing budgets. Enjoyable if you think that analyzing the stock market is the pinnacle of excitement.

“I don’t remember you from freshman year, though.” you admitted.

Reo's disbelief was palpable as he leaned back in his chair, a smug grin settling in. “You told me I suck at soccer a couple of years ago. Ring any bells? It was on the field.”

“I did fucking what now again?” You briefly questioned your past choices – or the lack of recollection thereof. Were you perpetually in a tipsy daze during your time at university? How could you miss every brash choice you made? Your brazen mouth could indeed get you into unforeseen trouble one day, that much is very clear.

“And here I was, thinking you kissed me on that dare as payback for me accidentally hitting you with a soccer ball.” Reo chuckled at your surprise, leaning back further.

“No,” you retorted, shaking your head slightly. “I did it because the dare was to kiss someone we found hot at the party.”

Oh. “So you think I’m hot?”

“My drunk self sure did.”

“Well, and what does your sober self think now?”

Clearly, this banter was a game both of you were more than willing to play. With a pointed gaze, you focused on Reo, a slow grin tugging at your lips. The effect on Reo was almost instantaneous—his throat cleared awkwardly, and his confident grin faltering.

“My sober self thinks my drunk self is absolutely right.” 

You infused the word ‘absolutely’ with a nonchalant drawl, noting the flush creeping up Reo’s cheeks. His composure seemed to waver, and he hastily reached for his drink, downing it within seconds. 

Satisfied that you managed to wipe his confident grin, you pressed on, “Are you blushing?”

“No,” Reo responded a bit too quickly, his voice a tad higher than usual. “It’s a bit hot in here.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” You chuckled at his flimsy excuse, your eyes catching the telltale shade of red tinting his ears and neck. Reo is easy to fluster as it is for him to do so, you noted. “Let’s get out of here, let me just pay.” 

Just as you were about to signal a waiter, Reo halted you with his words, “It’s done.”

“Done?”

“I gave them my card before you arrived.”

What the fuck. “But the favor…”

Reo's smirk reappeared, a gleam of triumph in those amethyst orbs. “Looks like you still owe me a date.”

“A lunch,” you corrected him, but Reo shrugged nonchalantly, a playful ‘same thing’ expression on his face.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he mimicked your tone, “Let me walk you to your next class.” He offered, rising from his seat as you did.

“Thank you, but absolutely no.”

“Why not?” 

Reo must be really oblivious to his fame, it seems. “Just because. Also, don’t you have practice?”

“I do, but ten more minutes with you sounds better.” 

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to charm you. “Are you slacking off, captain? Looks like my freshman self was right about your soccer skills after all.”

“I’m not slacking off, I just know my priorities.” and there it was again, that grin and that stare. Whether it was the tequila or just him, Reo really had a way of pulling you into his orbit.

Bashful, and at a loss for better retorts, you looked away. “Next time.”

“So there’s a next time, then?” he innocently asks, clearly fishing for another affirmation.

“Next time, I’m paying.” 

“Got that.” Reo mindlessly agreed. He’s just happy there’s a next time, honestly. “Let me walk you out, at least.”

Both of you left the restaurant, walking side by side in companionable silence. After a few moments, you decided to break the quietude that had settled between you.

“I guess we're parting ways here,” you remarked, your voice carrying a hint of finality.

Reo’s disappointment was evident, though he tried to mask it. “Sure. Thank you for the meal.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “What are you thanking me for? You paid for it.”

“Let me rephrase it then, thank you for introducing me to this place. I’ve clearly been missing out,” he beams.

“You're welcome, Mr. Fine Dining.”

As you walked a few steps ahead of Reo, you turned your head to look back at him, seemingly remembering something to tell him. “Oh, by the way,” you start, a teasing smile making its way to your lips, “I’m glad it was you too.”

With that, you took one last glance at his starstruck expression before parting ways, leaving him with a lingering smile.

Maybe something good does come out of stupid college parties and dumb drinking games – in the form of someone with enchanting smiles and magnetic purple eyes, that is.

And now, for sure, with or without the tequila haze, there’s not a single chance you’re forgetting Reo Mikage anytime soon. 

note. he makes me ill ( i love him very much and this is purely self-indulgent because i need him like air).

you started dating kita shinsuke your second year of high school.

you met him at the beginning of the school year when you asked him for help with your math homework. he happily obliged, and by the end of it he had earned your phone number.

the next few weeks were filled with late nights texting each other, talking about nothing at all. you learned his favorite color, and you told him about your favorite songs. he asked you to be his girlfriend a month after.

that was eight years ago. red is still his favorite color, and he still has your favorite songs on his playlist.

the first two years of your relationship was filled with tests, study sessions under his grandma’s blossom tree, and many volleyball matches. you never missed a game, not even the far away ones. always in the crowd to cheer him on while he gave you a small smile, ears red and cheeks pink.

kita picked you up for your first date in a old farm truck. you heard him coming yards away as the engine hummed through the neighborhood. the paint chipped and exhaust sputtering as he parked in the driveway, palms a little sweaty as he fixed his hair in the rear view. he about jumped out of his skin when he saw that you were already at his door. he still drives that truck, using it for chores and deliveries, but you’ll never say no to a ride when he asks.

that same truck got the two of you into trouble. the sound alone made it almost impossible to stay out late, cutting sneaky last minute kisses on your front porch short. one particular night, you had begged your mom to let you stay out late, to which she agreed as long as you were home by midnight. at 11:59, in a fit of giggles, the two of you came racing into the driveway.

kita pulled you in for a kiss, only to be illuminated by the the kitchen light flicking on. you jumped out of the truck, running into the house with a dopey grin on your face while you made up an excuse to your mom, blaming non existent traffic for slowing you down.

kita wasn’t off the hook either that night. gran heard him coming from down the road, waiting for him in her rocker with raised eyebrows.

after graduation, the two of you spent every moment you could together. delivering kita snacks while he worked in the fields, having picnics under the stars, even joining his friends on trips to the lake.

when it was time to head to university, kita was the first to offer to help you pack. he calmed your nerves and dried your tears, promising to be there for you whenever you needed.

he called you every day while you were at university, even traveling to see you between holidays.

after you got your degree, gran so graciously offered to let you live with her. your family had moved away, and you couldn’t bear to be away from kita any longer. you spent your days at work, only to come home and enjoy dinner cooked by gran with the man who had your entire heart.

as if you had any more to give, kita asked for the rest of your heart at the end of harvest a couple years ago, proposing with a family ring that he had been saving. you could only nod as tears streamed down your face, being spun around under the evening sun. kita didn’t even change, still wearing the work pants and stained t shirt, dusty boots and sun hat that he donned earlier that morning. he couldn’t wait any longer.

your wedding was everything you could have imagined. full of friends and family, dancing and food. kita spent weeks with his friends fixing up the yard, making it fit for a queen and her king on their big day. lights hung from the trees, flowers from your garden littering the grass and tables, all while your friends laughed and sang along to soundtrack to your love.

three years later, you and kita sit in the back yard after dinner in an attempt to cool off after a long day preparing for harvest. the summer sun hung low in the air while you filled kita in on the phone call you had with your mother.

“she found a few boxes of my things,” you sighed. “stuff from school, photos and things. i told her to set them aside.”

“anything good?” kita’s back is on the grass, and his feet are flat on the ground. the knees of his pants are soiled brown from the fields.

“photo albums, note books, random odds and ends i think. i’ll grab them from her eventually,” you pick at the blades of grass at your feet. “i’m sure we could have a good laugh at some of them.”

your husbands mud stained hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“do ya remember when i first brought ya home to gran?”

you smile. it was an absolute disaster.

“i thought i would never be welcomed back,” you laugh, and kita snorts.

“she loves ya too much,” he closes his eyes as you play with his hands. “what did ya break again? a plate?”

“a drinking glass,” you nod. the memory is as vivid as ever. you had offered to help with dinner, but while you were turning to grab a hot pad you ended up knocking a drinking glass off of the counter. you apologized over and over, no matter how much gran waved you off and assured you that it wasn’t a big deal. i’ve got a cupboard full of them, she said.

“ya know what she told me after i dropped ya off that night?”

“bubble wrap her next time?”

“no,” he playfully flicks your leg. “she said how much she liked ya, how she thought ya had great manners. she loved how sweet ya were too,” he says. “gran told me that night that i would never be bored with ya,”

you grin. “and gave you been bored?”

“not recently,” he teases. “i have never been bored with you. i love sharin’ this life with ya, no matter what we’re doin’,” he sits up next to you and wraps his arm around you.

“even dishes?” you rest your head on his shoulder and he chuckles. as long as you’ve known him, that’s been his least favorite chore.

“even dishes,” he nods and takes a sip from his glass. “do ya wanna go for a drive?”

you eye his truck, still as faded and beat up as the first time you saw it. except of course for the scratch on the tailgate from when you tried to drive it for the first time.

“always, shin. where are we heading tonight?” you dust off your legs and his before you walk towards the driveway.

“i didn’t have anywhere in mind,” he opens the door for you, as always, shutting it before walking to the drivers side. “is that alright?”

“it’s perfect,” you look out towards the fields, now slightly golden from the sinking sun. the irrigation sprinklers would be going off soon. “maybe we can stop by gran. i have some things from the garden to give her,”

kita nods, placing his hand on your thigh. the middle seat between the two of you won’t be empty for long. usually after a few minutes, you slide over to sit right next to him.

the two of you pull out of the driveway and down the road, taking in the farm land around you. rows and rows of corn, grass, wheat, and rice. some fields of livestock, some empty for the season. kita drives with one hand, and you can’t help but smile when the light catches his sparkling wedding band as it shines against his tan fingers.

you don’t know how you got so incredibly lucky all of those years ago. you’ve never wanted anyone else. no matter what, no matter where, you’re always going to choose kita. the man who holds your bags for you, picks you a flower on his walk from the fields, the man who has a polaroid of you on the dash of his truck.

the man who has loved you fully from the start.

a/n: I'm pretty sure I had this prompt in my inbox ages ago but it got swallowed by the internet void.

➤ getting cockblocked at the HoL | azra x gn!reader

0.5k words | nsfw | oral sex

The warm, syrupy pleasure of your impending orgasm dissipates suddenly when Azra lifts his head from between your legs with a rumbling growl. Your fingers slip through his curls and you raise your head off the pillow to glance down at him. "Hey, are you—?" You're panting a little, but then you finally realize what's got him so worked up: the front door of the House of Lamentation slams shut and you hear the indistinct voices of the demon brothers returning home early from RAD. Shit.

"I'm sorry, we were supposed to have more time." You scratch your fingers lightly against his scalp in apology and his eyes flutter closed when he leans into your palm. The menacing growl softens into a purr instead. It's not that he's unwelcome here, not exactly. Sometimes it's easier if you can keep him and certain demons from crossing paths—it really ruins the mood once they start bickering.

He glances up at you and you can tell he's still a little annoyed by the interruption. "I don't care if you don't." He kisses your palm and flicks out his tongue playfully to lick the same spot. "Whatever you want, babe."

Your thighs are still slung over his shoulders and trembling slightly from the pleasure simmering in your belly. His eyes are dark and glittering with lust, and his lips are shiny from spit and slick. His thumbs trace little circles around the jut of your hip bones. He turns his head and kisses your thigh, and your restraint crumbles. "Don't stop."

He looks genuinely surprised for a moment, but the expression passes and his mouth curls into a smirk. He runs his tongue along his teeth so you can see his fangs, and you know he's doing it on purpose just to tease you. "Mm, I was hoping you'd say that."

He sits up and lowers your legs back to the mattress. His hands tighten on your hips and then the world shifts as he flips you onto your stomach. He coaxes you to your knees, and you look back over your shoulder just in time to see him lower his head. "Try and keep quiet, yeah?" he murmurs, his warm breath fanning across the swell of your ass. You exhale shakily and release a stuttered moan as his fingers spread you wide for him. "Don't want the others hearing us. All your pretty noises are mine, aren't they?"

Your face grows warm from the insinuation that you might be a little loud in bed, but then his tongue traces your hole and your body shivers. Desire courses through your veins all over again and your fingers clench the sheets to brace yourself. "Oh, fuck—!" The vibration of his chuckle ripples up your body from between your legs. You bite down onto the pillow just in time to muffle your shout as his greedy tongue snakes its way inside you.

Cherish You Forever | Kyojuro Rengoku x f!Reader

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Content Warning: Mention of night terrors, Kyojuro survives but he retired yay, Kyojuro being a loving husband T^T

Word Count: 1.3k

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You awoke upon hearing a loud crash coming from outside your room and sat up immediately. The lamp was turned off and it was still dark outside. The sound of crickets signaled that it was still the middle of the night—or, at the very least, early morning before the sun rose.

You touched the space next to you to wake up your husband, fearing that it was a burglar. Your husband, however, was not in your shared futon. You instantly realized what had occurred: your husband was awake and probably made that sound.

You left your warm futon and made your way out to look for your husband, worried. You tried hard not to make any noise with your steps, worried of startling your husband. It was not difficult to find him because the kitchen door was wide open.

When you peeked inside, you saw your husband kneeling and scooping something up from the floor. His cane was resting against the counter.

"Kyojuro-sama?" You called out his name softly as you turned on the light switch.

Kyojuro glared over his shoulder, a dark circle beneath his eye apparent. He stopped picking up the shattered porcelain cup he had dropped on the floor.

You snatched a rag from the kitchen counter and crouched next to him, helping him in picking up the fragments of the cup.

"Another night terror, dear?" You asked calmly as you wrapped the pieces and tossed them into the trash bin. You took his hands in yours and lifted him up, gave him his walking stick. Kyojuro kept his gaze fixed on the ground and did not respond to the question you asked. "Why don't you wait in the dining room, hm? I'll make you a cup of tea, yeah?"

You let go of his hands and went to make the tea, filling one of the kettles and boiling it on the the stove. A strong arm wrapped around your shoulder as you switched on the the stove. Kyojuro sighed and leaned his chin against on top of your head.

"I'm sorry," he croaked out, "It was your favorite cup, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah but they still sell it in town. It doesn't matter, dear." You turned around, staring up at your beautiful husband.

Kyojuro kept his eye on you while his hand placed yours on his left cheek, near his eyepatch. Your lips tugged up in a small smile.

When you first met Kyojuro, you were curious about what had happened to his left eye. However, you did not dare to ask him about it. You had only recently met. You didn't want to be impolite, especially with your parents, his father, and Senjuro in the room. After all, you'd be marrying the man in a year. You had plenty of opportunity to get to know him.

Kyojuro only told you about his left eye incident on your first night as newlyweds. He let you open his yukata and his eyepatch. You uncovered what was beneath the patch after a year together. Deep scars sewn over his blind eye, as well as a massive scar on his abdomen. Kyojuro kept his gaze fixed on you as you stroked your gentle finger over his battle scars.

Then he told you about what happened while he was a Hashira. He was almost killed by an 'Upper Rank Demon,' but he was lucky since dawn was approaching and the demon fled. He had to go through numerous treatments to heal his wounds. Kyojuro's recovery was challenging, especially when he began having night terrors regarding his near-death experience. The ease with which the demon's hand pushed into his abdomen, the pain he felt when he was carried back in a stretcher, the moment he saw his late mother and realized he was about to join her in the afterlife. Kyojuro, who was half-blind and forced to walk with a walking stick, had no choice but to retire from the corps. That's when his father came up with the proposal of matching him with you, a daughter of an old acquaintance.

Nothing had ever prepared Kyojuro for the moment you told him he was strong and beautiful despite his wounds. He still got flustered now, even with the fact that you've been married for two years.

You caressed his cheek and drew him in closer, kissing the tip of his nose softly. Kyojuro's brow furrowed, and his nose pricked. You laughed and lightly slapped his chest.

"Go wait in the dining room, dear. I'll bring you tea."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The water was quickly brought to a boil. You put some tea leaves in a teapot and filled it with hot water. You carried the teapot and two cups to your dining room on a tray.

Kyojuro sat on the tatami floor, his legs hidden beneath the warm kotatsu table. He appeared to be feeling better, with a faint smile on his lips as he watched you sit down next to him and place the tray on the table.

"So," you started, "how are you feeling?"

"Much better, now you're here." Kyojuro answered. He got back to his usual cheerful tone, though not as loud. Understandable, since the two of you just woke up in the middle of the night.

You sighed and hugged his torso from the side. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Of course I didn't want to disturb you." Kyojuro kissed the top of your head. "Besides, this is something I've grown accustomed to."

"I know, but I still want to be there for you, I want to help you."

"(Y/N), dear, you're already helping me. I lost my career, I had no idea where to go, what to do. You gave me a reason to keep living."

You looked up to your husband, waiting if he wanted to continue talking.

"You were supportive when I said I wanted to study history, hoping that I can be a teacher someday. You always take care of me when I'm sick, or helping me when I'm struggling to do something... even if I say I can do it on my own. You befriend my ex colleagues. Tengen and his wives, Sanemi and Giyuu, even young Kamado. You were so patient whenever I had my night terrors, holding me in your arms until I calmed down. You do it every time, for two years until it got better lately. You've done a lot of things to help me already, (Y/N)."

You hummed, not really knowing how to respond to Kyojuro.

"I used to feel pathetic, defeated, useless. All because of these," Kyojuro waved his hand, motioning to his body, "But now I see it as a blessing. Because without these injuries, I wouldn't have marry you, the best partner I could ever asked for."

"Kyojuro... sama..."

"I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm going to cherish you forever, even in the afterlife, even in our next life." Kyojuro lifted up your chin and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips.

You slowly took off Kyojuro's eyepatch and kissed his left eye, before you kissed his nose again. He giggled and pecked your forehead.

"I don't know where you learn to speak like that." You covered your face out of embarrassment.

"Ah... Tengen, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," you patted his cheek and turned to the teapot. "Come on, let's drink our tea and get back to bed."

"I'm not sleepy yet, though."

"We can talk until we fall asleep."

Kyojuro grinned from ear to ear, "I would love that."

You poured the tea into each of your cups and the two of you drank in silence. It was comfortable, it felt right.

"Oh, by the way..."

Kyojuro turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

"I love you too, Kyojuro-sama. Always will."

────────────────────────────────────────── I wrote this at one am bcs i'm under the weather and i miss Kyojuro T^T

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