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sugako · 3 years

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after dinner special

bokuto x f!reader x hinata sum: after seeing the way his teammate looks at you, bokuto comes up with a plan to help all parties cw: 18+ only minors dni i am begging you, established relationship (bokuto x reader), slight manipulation (?? reader/bo make a secret plan to seduce hinata and he wants to so not really but idk what else to tag it as), oral (f!receiving), double pussyjob, nipple play, orgasm denial, D/s, spit roast, unprotected, hinabo if you squint extra hard wc: 4.2k a/n: finally back from the dead with this wayyy overdue fic ive been thinking about/writing for months, no edits or beta bc i'm too impatient and haven't posted in so long

Above all else, Bokuto was incredibly perceptive to other’s emotions. Among other aspects, that quality had really drawn you to him even if it wasn’t as extraordinarily overt as his confidence and enthusiasm. His perceptiveness didn’t end with you, of course, he was well-connected with his teammates, which meant when he saw the way Hinata’s eyes just barely glazed over when he met you he knew there was something more happening in his head. He watched the burning grow in Hinata after he had witnessed the two of you had, quite obviously, snuck off to another room during a get-together at Meian’s, spit still drying at the corner of your dry, puffy lips a week prior.

Even he wasn’t sure what exactly his plan was as he started up in the locker room a couple weeks later, oversharing every little detail he could recall about your body, namely when it was under him. Ignoring Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s groans for him to stop while Shugo and Oliver snickered to themselves reminiscing about their own escapades from a handful of years ago, he focused on Hinata’s reaction.

Shōyō remained uncharacteristically quiet as he rambled on about how cute your soft tits were, only speaking to quietly excuse himself to the bathroom. He was careful, but not careful enough to hide the tent in his shorts.

Not one to keep a secret, the words came tumbling from his mouth when he burst into your shared apartment.

“I think Hinata likes you!” He managed, tearing off his shoes to stumble into the hallway to wrap you in a tight hug like he did nearly every day.

“I-...what?” You choke, wrapping a tentative arm back around him and peeling away to look at him in the eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Not like… I don’t know, I think he wants to fuck you.” The smile on his face doesn’t waver, only confusing you.

“I’m not sure how to take this.” You deadpan, brows just short of knitting together. “Why…?”

“Well if you would like that I certainly wouldn’t mind.” His teeth graze over your skin as he pecks messy kisses all over your cheeks and neck.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You blankly repeat back, holding his back by his muscled shoulders to make him look you in the eyes. “Because not minding something and wanting something are very different and I just want to make sure whatever we’re about to talk about we’re just being really clear.”

Bokuto inhaled a massive breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he collected exactly what he wanted to say to you. Before he could, the smell coming from the kitchen distracted his senses, leaving him to weakly exhale and blink his eyes open. “Talk over dinner?”

The long talk over the dinner table was eventually fruitful. After he collected himself and stuffed his rumbling stomach, Bokuto was better able to explain what he had seen in Hinata. It made you recall every time you had seen him and you would be lying if you said you didn’t see it too. He wasn’t exactly a subtle person.

When it came down to it, you certainly weren’t opposed. Bokuto certainly seemed interested in the prospect of sharing you, especially with his favorite prodigy as he liked to class him. You recognized that Hinata was attractive and you had to admit that the concept of being squished between the two thick, bubbly men was alluring as long as he was truly interested.

Before the full invitation to come over for dinner - specially prepared by you - had even slipped from Bokuto’s mouth, Hinata was eagerly accepting. Part of you dreaded the entire ordeal, anxieties bubbling up about the lead up and the talking beforehand that you had foolishly agreed to do most of. Over dinner you stayed a little quieter than usual, trying to gauge Hinata’s expression and body language.

When he politely excuses himself to use the restroom after finishing, Bokuto grabs your hand across the table, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles.

“If you’re nervous we can stop right here.” He whispers, grinning softly.

You can’t help but smile back, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay,” you assure him, “I am a little nervous, but I really want to.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by the sound of the bathroom door closing and the soft pad of Hinata’s feet down the hallway. Clearing your throat, you give a reassuring smile to Bokuto, and stand to face where Hinata soon pops out of.

“Hinata, would you-”

“Shōyō is fine!” He interjects. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s fine,” you smile, ghosting your hand down his arm and resting your palm against his elbow. “Shōyō, would you mind helping me wash up in the kitchen. I feel bad asking the guest, but Kōtarō has something for you and you’ll get to it faster if I finish this.”

Hinata can feel his heart pounding behind his rib cage so hard he worries you can hear his pulse reverberating. You look so sweet with those pleading eyes staring at him, the warm touch of your fingertips sending heat to his chest.

“Of course, I don’t mind.” He nods, letting you lead him a room away to the kitchen.

“Great, thank you, this is such a big help.” You grin while placing the dirty dishes in the sink before you and handing him a dry towel. “You can just dry and put them in the cabinet in front of you.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, eyeing down your low-cut shirt as you squeeze your arms together and lean down to grab the first bowl. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you turn the tap on a little too fast and water splashes all over the front of your thin, pale dress, making the black lacy bra underneath pop.

“Whoops!” You exclaim, smiling a little too happily, feeling how his feet shift beside you. “This tap is a little loose, I always get messy and wet trying to do anything.”

He has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning, glad that your gaze is in the sink and not on his flushed face. He doesn’t want to feel this way about his friend’s girlfriend, but it’s so hard when you’re standing so close - did you take a step toward him? when did your hip start brushing against his? - and you look so pretty.

“So, Shōyō…” you start, handing him another dish, “Kōtarō talks about you a lot, you know.”

“Really?” His voice is pitched and strained, stopping short of choking on his own words.

“Yeah, he thinks you’re great. He was so excited when you joined the team. He, uh, he pays attention, a lot more than some people give him credit for.”

Hinata nods, carefully placing the bowl in the cupboard. “He’s great, I’ve always loved watching him play.”

“He’s fun to watch,” you agree, “You know he thinks….actually, can I just ask what your type is?” The words tumble out quickly as you try to gain confidence, a small bit of worry creeping into the back of your head.

“My type?” He repeats back, pausing in his drying motions. “I don’t know if I really have one. Just anyone I feel good with. Why?” When he turns to look at you again you’re turned to face him, a small smile lighting up your features.

“That’s a good way to look at things. I only ask because, well Kōtarō seems to think you have some kind of interest in me.” You force the words to come out casually, keeping your eyes on him. Hinata sputters and chokes on his own words, the way your hand comes down over his doing absolutely nothing to help him compose himself. “There’s no good way to say this, but he was thinking you could, uh well take what you’ve been thinking about, if you want to.”

Taking a deep swallow, he took a short deep breath to clear his mind. “And what do you think?”

Tension dissipates from your body at his question. “I think I would like you to do whatever you want. Touch me, kiss me, anything. Only if you want to.”

His fists clench and unclench again, gears turning in his head as he realizes this was planned. All those stories Bokuto told, the glint in his eyes for the past few weeks, the way you put yourself on display for him all night with that sly little smirk - it was all part of some plan. A little worried voice in the back of his head told him this was too good to be true. But you were offering yourself up to him, angled forward so your tits would pop and watching him so carefully as though he were a scared animal ready to run, and he knew it had to be true.

The timid, apprehensive look he had been sporting slowly drained from his face, replaced with a much more confident and delighted one. His hands moved from his sides to dig into your waist, lifting you up onto the counter behind you.

“Don’t tease me.” He whispers hoarsely, lips ghosting over the pulse of your throat. The loose dress Bokuto had purposefully picked out for you to wear for the evening rode up as Hinata settled his thick body between your welcoming knees.

“I’m not,” you pant, “Kōtarō really wanted this.”

A shuddered sigh comes from his chest as he rests his head against your shoulder, just barely kissing the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. You fidget restlessly, trying to pull his still body closer to no avail.

“Wanna know he wants this.” He says eventually. “I trust you, I just…”

“No, no, I get it.” You say a little too abruptly, fishing around for where your phone was tossed onto the counter. With shaky hands you hurried to click it open, immediately going to your messages, scrolling to the most recent chat with Bokuto where he depicted how much he wanted to see you fucked out on his and Hinata’s cocks in vivid detail. You push the phone into his hand. “You can scroll wherever, he mentioned it before that one’s just… yeah.”

“Oh, wow.” He breathes, glancing through a few other messages from earlier in the week. Gently, he sets the phone down beside you before pulling your hips to the edge of the counter. His lips collide with the base of your throat knocking the air right from you.

You wind your fingers up in his hair as he pressed harsh kisses straight down your front, his rough hands pushing the skirt of your dress up even higher, leaving the tops of your thighs completely exposed. He keeps journeying lower until his cheek is flush to the hem of your panties. When his nose presses up against the slowly growing damp patch leaking his shoulders heave as though to hold himself back.

“And he doesn’t want us to wait up…?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know completely. Bokuto had asked to make some kind of subtle move on Hinata in private, he figured it would be less stressful for the both of you, but he hadn’t said how far to go with him, and you weren’t really sure what he was doing in some other part of the house, and Hinata’s fingers were so hot against your skin…

“No, it’s fine.” You pant, desperation evident in your voice. He doesn’t need much more, hand moving to pull the stretchy fabric you had purposefully worn to the side, his wide tongue darting out to lap up the wetness seeping from you.

With an aching whine, you lean into his touch, massaging his head and bringing him closer to you with every burning second that passes. Not that you had expected him to be inexperienced by any means, but you hadn’t expected him to be so good. He was loud, moaning against your cunt as he buried his tongue inside of you, nose tapping against your pleading clit.

The sound of your breathy whimpers and the loud slurping squelches drowned out the steps coming down the hall or the kitchen door swinging open. Bokuto stood there for a moment with a small smile, admiring how pretty you looked like this, even if he wished it were him, but he couldn’t let the moment pass him by.

“Puppy,” he sighed. The first syllable was enough to make Hinata pop off of you and stumble back to turn around, eyes hazy and drunken of the taste of you. Ignoring the hardened look in Bokuto’s eyes, you pouted sweetly, spreading your legs a little more to let him see your soiled panties.

“Kōtar-”

“You’re being greedy, don’t you think, puppy? Going ahead without me like that.” He imitates you with a fake pout, the look never quite meeting his blazing eyes. You can feel what’s coming and make no more attempt to argue. Hinata is taking in the interaction, still halfway in his own daze. “She’s great, huh, Shōyō? Pretty little pussy and she makes the best noises, especially when she’s crying for your cock.”

Hinata swallows hard, absentmindedly palming over his pants where he’s quickly grown half-hard. “Yeah, she’s, yeah no, uh she’s really great. This is still okay?”

Both of you nod quickly, reassuring him, but you remain silent for now, trying to settle before you know what’s to come.

“Totally okay as long as you’re okay.” Bokuto drops the edge in his tone to carefully watch him for a moment, assessing.

“Completely.” He agrees with a dreamy sigh.

Nodding again, Bokuto approaches the two of you. Refusing to meet his eyes you stare just ahead at the door.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, puppy, you know you’ll get what you want in the end anyway.” He jabs as he scoops you over his shoulder and gives you a gentle pat on the back of your thighs. “Let’s at least go to the living room.”

You glance back at Hinata, mouthing a silent whoops, while Bokuto leads him around the corner. Bokuto plops into the corner of the couch, back propped up by the plush arm, and maneuvering your pliable body to sit comfortably in his lap with your back pulled up flush to his chest. You’re gently pushed forward so he can peel the dress off and unclasp your bra. He’s calm for now, at least on the outside, but you can feel his heart pounding through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t need these anymore,” he hums, latching his fingers in the sides of your underwear and motioning for you to lift your hips to let him slide them off. Hooking his elbows under your knees, he pulls your thighs to your chest, high enough so that he can palm your breasts. Quietly whining, you turn your head away so you don’t have to look directly up at Hinata - not that he’d notice your face with the way your cunt was glistening under the low, soft lights of the room. “Shh,” he directs at you before glancing back up at Hinata, “go ahead, but don’t let her cum.”

With a warm grin he gets on his knees between Bokuto’s spread legs. You almost felt too exposed, all power taken from your hands, splayed open like this. Bokuto slots his chin against your shoulder and presses the softest kiss to your cheek in stark contrast to the way his rough hands are kneading and pinching your sensitive breasts.

Hinata eagerly gets back to it, lavishing your cunt with softer licks than before, making your hips shake as they seek out more friction. While your neediness grows so too does Bokuto’s grip on you.

“So pretty,” he coos, eyes glued to where Hinata was firmly pressed against you. Pride bloomed in his chest at the sight of his teammate sloppily eating out his favorite girl so enthusiastically, appreciating you so much as he should.

It’s impossible for him to not get rock hard with the way you’re grinding down into his lap and the crude, wet sounds and groans vibrating from the back of Hinata’s throat.

“Taste so good.” Hinata grumbles, pulling back and forcing his tense hips to stop rutting into the couch cushion. He feels himself making a mess in his pants, hoping that he isn’t leaking through to your nice furniture, but he can’t quite bring himself to stop either. Both Bokuto and you watch the string - you’re not sure whether it’s his spit or your own wetness - that stays connected between your slit and his puffy, glossy lips.

“Good...good job.” Bokuto sighs. You’re not sure if he’s praising you or Hinata, but you don’t have much time to think too hard about it before he releases your legs and wedges his hands under between himself and you to pull his straining cock from his pants. Mind buzzing, still a little hazy from the feeling of Hinata’s tongue, you grab out from him, pulling on the band of his pants. Truthfully, he’s not quite sure what you’re asking for but he does know how tight his balls are and how inviting your cunt looks.

Just as Bokuto is settling his cock between your ass, Hinata’s pants are slipped off, thrown to the ground. He dips his head down to take one of your breasts into his mouth, moaning around you and pressing in close so his tip catches against your clit. At your whiny cry and keening, Bokuto lets out a low, single chuckle. “Don’t let her have your cock, not all the way. You were being so greedy earlier puppy, I don’t think you deserve it yet.”

Hinata keeps his mouth firmly planted on your chest and reaches down to perfectly slip himself between the top of your folds, acutely aware of Bokuto’s heavy head just barely bumping against the base of his own cock. They’re both so thick and heavy as they rabidly hump against you, Bokuto maneuvering your body for you back and forth across both of them. Everything is warm and wet between Hinata’s mouth on your chest and Bokuto’s lips kissing down the side of your neck.

The tease of release that’s been creeping up on you for so long draws closer and closer. Hinata’s cock is catching so exactly on your swollen clit and Bokuto’s tip keeps threatening to slip past your entrance, slick dripping past your thighs.

“Gonna, ahg, cu-cum!” You manage out, hips already bouncing on their own accord against them.

“Go ahead.” Bokuto says with a shaky breath, squeezing you as tight as he could between his body and Hinata’s. One more roll of their hips has you crashing down, pleasure rolling through your body. All you can feel is warmth and overwhelming satisfaction as you twitch between their arms, creaming across their cocks. “Good girl, good girl…” you faintly hear Bokuto coo into your ear as you slump back against him.

The buzzing, quiet moment is quickly squashed as he hoists you out of his lap and onto all fours. He’s talking to Hinata and you know you should be listening, but your pussy is still throbbing and you’re trying to catch your breath.

“...okay, baby?” You catch the very end of his sentence and blink hard, desperate to refocus.

“W-wait, what? Sorry, I just-”

“It’s okay, puppy,” he rubs a soothing hand down your back, slowly bringing you back to reality. “Need a second?”

You shake your head, the last of the fog slipping away. Before you, you see Hinata, his rigid cock slicked up by you only a few inches from your face. “I’m okay now, can you just say that again?”

“‘Course,” he grins, teasing your entrance, “I said I’m going to take your pretty pussy from back here and Shōyō is going to use your mouth. If you want.”

Wiggling your hips back to meet his and craning your neck up to look at Hinata you give a deft nod.

“I do, I want that.” You sigh.

Trembling with excitement, already so riled up from feeling you cum against him, Hinata shuffles the last bit forward. He’s pretty and much thicker than you had imagined. The tight strain of scattered veins and his heavy balls tell you all you need to know about how pent up he obviously is. Reaching out with palms still a bit shaky, you helped to reel him in the rest of the way with welcoming, parted lips.

You wrapped your fingers tightly around where you couldn’t quite reach, sloppily taking more and more of him with each bob of your head. His salty precum meshed with what was leftover of your own mess, the taste making you moan around his length.

Bokuto was trying to move slower now, recognizing that you were easily slipping, but the way you rocked your body back and forth bumping against his sensitive, reddened tip, he couldn’t hold back much more. Digging his fingers into your hip, he eased the motions of your body, lining himself up, resisting from plowing into you at full force.

“Ready?” He asks, nearly whining. At the sound of his voice, you pull off from Hinata, letting your quickly tiring jaw grow slack.

“Uh-huh.” You barely heave out before wrapping your lips around him again. So sure you can take both at once and not falter, you ramp back up to your original pace, slobbering down his cock, the click of your quick motions echoing around your head. Unfortunately for your ego, you’re dead wrong.

Bokuto wastes no time drilling himself into you, setting a bruising pace straight from the beginning. It’s all you can do to loudly moan around Hinata’s cock, still stuffed in your mouth by the slight pistoning of his hips, the way Bokuto is ramming you forward only forcing him deeper down your throat.

As you gag, sputter, and moan down his length, drool dripping onto the already soiled cushions below, Hinata feels the pressure building and building in his core. Electricity tingles down his limbs, aided by the fucked out look in your pretty eyes. He doesn’t even have to move now with the way Bokuto is railing you against him. He wonders if you realize he’s close when you suck a little tight, cheeks hollowing as you take a little more of him, the hand that had been working his base coming down to lightly hold his swollen balls.

You don’t know. At this point, you’re moving on autopilot, simply trying your best. Your brain doesn’t know where to focus - Hinata filling out your mouth or Bokuto as he purposely alternates between hitting against your spongy spot and deep inside of you. It’s all a mess of spit, sweat, and cum, but you don’t think you’ve felt the rush of pleasure that comes with being used so well by more than one person.

Bokuto doesn’t know how much longer he can last. You’re clamping around, cunt fluttering each time his digs in a little deep or Hinata’s cock twitches against your tongue. He can tell by the scrunched up expression on his friend’s face that he can’t last much longer and he doesn’t blame him. Between fucking against your pussy and being wrapped up in your pretty mouth, no one really could. He’s determined to hold out though, a little spark of competition lighting up his chest. When Bokuto’s strokes suddenly slow you groan again, the vibrations dragging a stuttered moan from Hinata’s pretty lips.

“Gonna, hngh, uh gonna cum.” He sputters out, hips quivering as he tries to hold back from fucking too far back into your throat. At that, Bokuto’s hips speed up again, forcing a little whimpered cry, muffled by the cock in your mouth, from you. Still, you force yourself to focus on Hinata, sucking him dry as soon as the first spurt of cum hits the back of your throat.

He cums fast and hard and a lot. It’s seeping out from your lips, making him messier than he already was until he’s pulling his softening length from your mouth and flopping back against the couch, gently rubbing your arm while he catches his breath. With a heavy grin, Bokuto shoves a hand between your shoulder blades, knocking you into Hinata’s lap. Somewhat in vain, you try to clean him off between the pitchy mewls and cries that you breathe out while Bokuto chases his own release.

In no time, he’s there again, his own pressure built up as high as it could just before he burst inside of you. He fucks himself raw, your tight hole sucking him in, his cum only making it easier to slip in and out of you. Knowing he’ll finish when he’s completely spent, you lie limp in Hinata’s lap and he lazily wraps a hand around the back of your neck, soothing the leftover tension. You recognize Bokuto’s nearly done when his cock stops twitching and his hips slot against yours with some finality just before he slumps over you.

Whining when he slips out, even soft his cock is still a tight squeeze, you fall all the way against the couch, legs giving out at last. He falls back against the back, moving your legs to sit on top of his thighs and massaging them with great care. Completely spent and drifting half-asleep you just barely hear him.

“So,” he starts, head lolling toward Hinata who’s still lightly working his fingers against your upper back, “Dinner next week?”

#bokuto x reader #hinata x reader #bokuto smut #hinata smut #bokuto x you #hinata x you #hq smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo smut #bokuto kotaro smut #hq x reader

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

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When Clary meets Ash (Fan Fic)

Hey :) this is how I imagine Clary and Ash's reunion (after the events of TDA) in the fic I am currently writing.

It's Chapter 5 of "The new Shadowhunter Academy" (Ao3 link to the full fic is here but don't click or skip Chapter 4 if you are not in for Kitty sexy times).

Thanks to @amchara for providing beta work and to @blaidr for letting me bounce my ideas off him.

To give you context, Ash met Dru in Faerie and they exchanged their numbers. Clary seized the opportunity to obtain Ash's number from Dru and write him the following text message:

“Hey, Ash. Dru gave me your number and please don’t be angry with her, I am very strong headed and there was absolutely no way she could have refused. I am Clary. You may have heard of me. I am your late father’s sister. That’s right, your aunt. You can call me whatever you like. Emma told me what you did in Thule, how you saved her. How you saved everyone. That was very brave of you. In a way, both of us were faced with a very difficult choice and made the same. Doing what we thought was right. I would love to meet you and tell you about my mother – your grandmother – or just talk about anything. It can be things totally unrelated to the Shadow world. Hobbies, movies, books and games we like. You can pick the time and place. Neutral territory. Hope to see you soon. Clary.”

This is what happens following the text:

*****

Clary wrapped her oversized woolen coat tighter around herself, as she made her way through the crowded streets of Manhattan. The route was familiar. She took it almost every week to meet up with her parabatai and have what they called their “mundane hour”. They talked about everything, from Clary’s art to the latest TV shows they had binge watched. No topic was off the table, save for anything related to Shadowhunter duties, and the Shadow world in general. As co-head of the New York Institute and since recently, artist owning her own gallery, her weeks were very busy so she looked forward to those rare and precious moments when she could escape with Simon. Her heart rate seemed to accelerate with each of her steps, and it didn’t help that she also had the strange feeling she was being observed. When she reached her destination, she took a deep breath and opened the double glass doors leading her inside the coffee shop. She and Simon had their regular routine there, and her gaze went automatically to their usual spot, near the large windows.

A broad-shouldered jock with a baseball jacket was already sitting there, speaking loudly to his cheerleader girlfriend. Two of his friends were standing next to him, mock punching his muscular arms. It made her realize that Ash probably never had this. High school friends and romance. Ash. She was still struggling to figure out why he had asked her to meet up at this place, at the exact time she usually got there with Simon. Was it him being considerate, a clumsy way to make her feel comfortable in familiar surroundings? Or was it a warning? I know your habits, and precisely where you take your coffee, when and with whom.

Her gaze swept over the crowded room - her heart seemed to have moved up her throat, the frantic pulse almost choking her - and zeroed on a tall, white blond haired boy ordering coffee at the counter, standing with his back to Clary. She sucked in a breath. Ash. He was fully clothed in black - Dru had told her that was his usual style - and huge headphones were covering his ears. She slowly and cautiously approached him and when she was close enough, put a tentative hand on his elbow. “Ash,” she whispered. The boy glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes quizzical and… it was not Ash.

She mumbled an apology.

“Clary,” said a voice coming from behind, and she froze. It was not a boy’s but a man’s voice, the sound beautiful and ethereal. She just stood there for a few seconds before she slowly turned.

What had she expected? Merely a taller version of the young boy with pointy ears and a sour expression that she had met three years before, dressed in the same refined velvet clothing threaded with gold that identified him as fey royalty?

If so, she had clearly been mistaken.

She blinked a few times to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks. He was tall, as she had anticipated (Sebastian had been after all). At least two heads taller than her and probably taller than Jace. But he was also very different from the Ash of her memories, from the sketches she had drawn of him after they had crossed paths. He had amazingly grown into his features, his face now the best combination of the Seelie Queen and Sebastian’s. As if he had picked the most alluring colours of the palette. And the result was… Stunning. Clary’s hand twitched, aching for a pencil.

He was not dressed in black, but in plain blue jeans and he had stuffed his hands in a very elegant, long pale gray cashmere coat. His white blond hair and pointy ears were concealed under a deep green beanie, the same colour as the scarf around his neck.

He arched a silvery eyebrow at Clary, his expression bemused, and she realized she was staring.

“Clary, seriously?” he said, his gently scolding tone at odds with his enchanting voice. “This guy isn't even half as good looking as me." He glanced pointedly at the patron in question, who was gaping at him, and shrugged. "No offense, dude,” Ash added as an afterthought.

He turned his attention to the barista. She was beautiful, dark skinned with long braided hair and pouty lips. “Hello, gorgeous. We’ll have a double espresso with oat milk and a dash of cinnamon for the lady and a plain black coffee for me.”

Clary stifled a gasp and tried to hide her discomfort. He knew exactly how she took her coffee, and she didn’t know how she felt about this.

The pretty barista nodded eagerly, her cheeks red and her big dark eyes dreamy as she stared at Ash. “Why don’t you… Go sit at your table and I’ll bring you your beverages when they are ready?” the girl offered enthusiastically. The long line of patrons that had formed behind Clary and Ash would probably disagree but she didn’t seem to care.

“That would be lovely,” Ash said in his euphonious voice. “And so are you.” He winked at her, and Clary wondered if she would need to catch her while she swooned. He paid before Clary even had a chance to reach for her purse.

“Come,” he said in a commanding tone, as he made his way to Clary and Simon's usual table. This was unnerving.

The jock seated there paused in the middle of his conversation with his girlfriend when he saw Ash stand casually next to him. Clary braced herself for a heated exchange, but she should have known better.

“You want to sit somewhere else,” Ash said evenly, one hand inside the pocket of his designer coat and the other stretched out in front of him as he studied his fingernails.

“I want to sit somewhere else,” the jock repeated in a monotonous voice, his gaze blank. He stood, as if in a trance, and his girlfriend and friends followed him, puzzled, to an empty table at the far end of the room.

Ash drew a chair for Clary and she sat. He did the same, opposite her. He pulled off his beanie, and shook his silvery hair, like a crown of liquid white gold. He wasn’t dressed for the part but he had never looked more like a prince.

“Ash… please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Your mind tricks.”

He cocked his head and observed her, his face unreadable, for what seemed like an endless minute.

“You’ve been my aunt for what? Five minutes? And you’re already trying to boss me around?”

“I am not trying to boss you around, Ash. Simply asking you not to abuse your powers.”

A shadow flickered across his green eyes.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Clary. I spend much more time and energy holding back than using my powers. If I did let go, trust me, you would know.”

Clary opened her mouth to reply but was cut short as the barista popped in front of them and placed the mugs on the table. She slid a paper napkin to Ash, her phone number scribbled on it. Clary tried not to roll her eyes, as Ash flashed his dazzling smile at the girl, who almost tripped on her own feet as she returned to the counter.

Clary lifted her cup to her lips and paused, as she caught sight of the cinnamon powder floating on the surface. She put it down.

“What about this?" She pointed at her coffee mug and waved around them. “ What is it, if not a show of power? What are you trying to tell me? That you know everything about me? That you’ve been spying on me?”

Ash pulled on a fake shocked expression, mouth open and green eyes wide in mock innocence. “Spying on you? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Ash. The evidence is right here.” She lifted her cup abruptly, and hot liquid splashed out of it. “You know exactly how I like it. When I take it, where I take it.”

Ash’s mouth twitched. “Where did you pick up these lines? From the script of some lame X-rated movie?”

“Adult movies have storylines?” Clary asked, arching her eyebrows.

“Of course they do. Where do you think the Grimm Brothers took their inspiration from?”

He grabbed the paper napkin and started mopping the coffee she had spilled on the table. The blue ink faded and the barista’s phone number vanished.

“You lost that girl’s number,” Clary noted.

Ash shrugged. “I have a girlfriend now.”

Right. Drusilla Blackthorn. From the moment she had met her, Clary had known that the smart and quiet turquoise-eyed girl would someday turn heads.

Clary knew that Dru hadn’t really confirmed their relationship status yet, but it was neither the time nor place to broach the subject with Ash. She was, after all, on a mission to win over her nephew and had not been doing a very good job so far.

A young lanky boy with pink hair and piercings covering his skin walked by and dropped a glossy flyer of the upcoming Mortal Instruments concert on the table between them. Clary hid a smile. It reminded her...

“I have something for you.” She said as she fumbled inside her bag and took out the drawing she had made of Jocelyn, Luke and herself, in front of Luke’s upstate farm (before it was turned into the new Shadowhunter Academy) and laid it on the table.

Ash looked at it hesitantly, like a kid who really wanted to grab the candy but was afraid there was a mouse trap under it. He hunched his shoulders forward and clasped his hands under the table, as if to keep himself from temptation.

“I recognize your art. I like it. I also appreciate Julian Blackthorn’s but I may not be as objective where… one of the subjects of his drawings is concerned.”

“You’ve seen my art?”

He leaned back on his chair, crossing his long arms behind his head. Somehow, he managed to make it look graceful.

“Which Shadowhunter hasn’t? I noticed that you often drew Jace with angel wings.”

“Yes. That’s how he used to appear to me. In recurring dreams.”

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Jace. In your dreams.”

“Who else would it be?”

“Someone who looks like him, but who actually has wings.”

“You mean Kit.”

Ash shrugged. “It would make more sense.” His gaze flickered back to the drawing, which still lay on the table, untouched. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“So do you”, Clary blurted before she could take it back.

Ash shot her an unfathomable look.

“How is she?” She asked.

“You mean, the Seelie Queen? You tell me. You must see her more often than I do.”

“Well, not really. I am not that involved in politics, even though Alec is Consul. Julian Blackthorn is the one who deals with her most of the time. She appears to have... a fondness for him.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Clary’s mouth quirked up.

“I am glad you are getting along with the Blackthorns. They are such an incredibly strong and talented family.”

“They are.” He turned his face away, but not before she could see the expression of longing plain on his delicate features.

She swallowed. She was painfully reminded that Ash never had a shot at a happy family. Born of a political union, and dragged here and there, though interdimensional portals, by people more interested in his powers than anything else he had to offer as a person. And judging by how Dru talked about Ash, he had a lot to offer.

“I imagine it must have been awful living in Thule… But what you did for Emma and Julian back there... if it hadn’t been for you…”

“I don’t want to talk about Thule,” he interrupted her. “Can I borrow this?” He asked, his long fingers brushing the Mortal Instruments concert flyer.

“Sure.”

She watched as he started folding the paper, realizing with a jolt of surprise that he was making an origami and wondering what shape would come out of it. It was odd seeing him doing such an innocuous thing, as if he was not a faerie prince with a heavy heritage and a giant target on his back, but an ordinary boy. She remembered what Emma had told her of her encounter with Ash in a nightclub in Thule. The way he had shown no interest, playing a video game in a corner of the room, while Sebastian was committing atrocities. Had he really been as indifferent as he looked?

“Ash, we don’t need to talk about Thule if you don’t want to, but if I can help you… If there is anything I can do-”

“Why?” He looked up sharply. “Are you able to create a rune that could undo the things I saw?” His tone was even, but his delicate fingers had started slightly shaking and he suddenly dropped the paper - his work unfinished - to fold his hands under the table to hide it. From that moment, she knew.

“No…” Clary said, drawing the word out. “But trust me, coming from someone whose memory has been tampered with... it’s not a solution.”

“I said undo. Not forget.” He snapped. “I am not such a coward that I would choose blissful ignorance over knowledge.”

He caught himself, blinking, then clenched his jaw and looked away. As if he was ashamed he had allowed himself to show any emotion at all. But Clary had managed to catch a glimpse of what lay underneath the mask and wanted nothing more than to see the rest of it.

“I don’t think you are a coward,” she said.

He looked over at her, a silver eyebrow raised. “I let it all happen, didn’t I? I didn’t lift a finger.”

“Because you couldn’t. Sebastian would have killed you. And you, Ash, are just like me. A survivor.”

He snorted and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back on his chair. He had stretched out his long legs and Clary realized that he was tapping a foot nervously next to hers.

“Wrong. I could have. I chose not to. Because I am selfish. I don’t care about other people’s fate.”

His face split into a lazy, wicked grin. Clary could see Sebastian’s influence in his leer, but she wouldn't let it deceive her. Just as she wasn't fooled by his laid-back demeanor.

“I think it’s the opposite, actually. I think it’s because you care too much. It’s not death you are afraid of. The thing is, you have such a tender heart, you need to protect it from an affliction far greater than any physical pain you could endure. So you’d rather lie to yourself and pretend you feel nothing.”

From the long conversations she had with Tessa about her ancestors, Clary knew of a Fairchild boy who had been too compassionate for his own good. And he had been surrounded by loyal friends and loving parents, even though he had shut himself, putting on a facade while burying his grief in alcohol. Ash never had that kind of support. Throughout his life, he was left to figure things out on his own. If he was as empathetic as Clary thought he was, Ash probably had no other choice but to deal with his sensitivity alone. It was a miracle he had turned out the way he did.

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said after a moment. The ghost of a smile was still playing on his lips but something had passed across his eyes. “Then again, you are an artist. You seek beauty in the ugly. You find colors on a blank page. I admire your faith, but in this case, there is nothing to see.”

Clary jutted her chin stubbornly and they held each other’s gaze - his green eyes glittering in amusement and hers dead serious - in a staring contest.

“Still,” he said when he finally broke, first. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I am sorry.”

Clary softened. “Don’t be. I am glad you are finally showing your true self. You don’t need to wear your mask around me, Ash.”

He chuckled. “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

“It’s funny that you would quote Oscar Wilde.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Just another thing you share in common with a Fairchild I heard stories about.”

“Clary,” he said in a gently reproving tone. Her name sounded like a caress in his melodious voice. “Are you being purposefully cryptic to arouse my curiosity?”

She moved closer, so she was sitting at the edge of her chair, and leaned forward, hands folded over the table.

“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she whispered. “Let me in. Shed all pretense.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he whispered back in confidence, leaning closer still so that their faces were inches from each other. “It’s like fabric that burns and melts into skin. If you peel it off, the skin goes with it.” He grimaced, reclining on his chair. “It won’t be a pretty sight. I don’t think even my level of hotness could sustain it.”

“Ash…” Clary said, sensing that she finally had an opening to say what she had been brooding over ever since she had learnt of Ash’s return from that forsaken land. “I wanted to tell you… I am sorry.”

Ash’s green eyes widened.

“Sorry for what?”

“I should have looked for you. I should not have given up on you.”

Ash’s jaw clenched and he looked away. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do. Seb-...Ash, we...”

“What did you just call me?” He snarled. His eyes snapped back to her, suddenly cold as ice.

“Sorry, Ash. What I meant to say is… we are family."

“I already have a family.”

“I know that you care about Janus…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he cut her off.

“And we don’t need to. I just wanted you to know… I understand that he’s been like a father to you, and I don’t plan on moving against him, unless he strikes first or makes it impossible for me to overlook his actions.”

“Because of me?”

“Of course, because of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Ash… You are my nephew, my blood. You may not feel the same way about me, but that’s how I feel about you. I want you to know that, if things go wrong, for any reason, you can always turn to me. My home is your home.”

“What you are actually telling me is, Ash, if I kill the one person who has ever really cared about you - and it might definitely come to that - you can always grab my hand, still sticky and warm from his blood. Well, how nice of you. To quote Oscar Wilde again, true friends stab you in the front.”

“That’s not what I am-”

“Clary,” Ash interrupted as he stood. “Do not make me choose between you and him. Because…” Looking down at her, he swallowed hard, as if the words pained him. “Because you will lose.”

She knew exactly what he was telling her. Because they were the same in that way. Ruthless, even with their own blood, when it came to protecting their loved ones. If I had to choose between killing him and you, I would not hesitate. I would end you. Yet, despite his cold statement, despite his sharp and resolved tone, his eyes seemed to carry a deep regret.

“Ash, I understand what you're saying and I swear I am not trying to make you pick a side”, Clary said, suddenly desperate, as she mirrored him and stood. “Please don’t go. I am sorry I brought it up. We will stop talking about him. Starting now.”

“This was a bad idea. Never try to contact me again.” He drew his green beanie from the pocket of his coat and put it back on. He turned and strode toward the exit. She grabbed the family drawing that still lay on the table, stuffed it in her bag and followed him, half-running, as he was quickly losing here with his long legs.

“Ash! Please. Give me another chance. I am so sorry.”

He paused right outside the coffee shop, closed his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be. It didn’t change what I had planned to tell you anyway. I don’t want to know anything about you or your mother. I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said, and he whipped his head around to look at her in surprise. “I know you were under house arrest. You probably had to break out of whichever place they were holding you in to come here. You wouldn’t have done that unless you wanted something. Something from me. Tell me, Ash. Tell me what it is.”

He turned his face away so she could not see his expression. A full minute passed and she had almost given up on receiving an answer, when he finally spoke.

“My fa… Sebastian. How different do you think he would have been if not for the demon blood?”

“Oh. Ash.” she whispered. She brought her knuckle against her sternum instinctively, as if to cover the gaping whole in her chest. “I saw him, you know. The brother I should have had. The father that should have raised you. If only for a few minutes.” She paused to bite back tears. “In those few minutes, he told us how to get rid of the Endarkened and said he was sorry. It’s not much to go for, but… that’s not all. I have recurring dreams of the green eyed boy that was robbed from us. And I know in my heart he would have been the best brother a sister could ever dream of.”

He was still looking away and she could see the sharp line, the stubborn set of his jaw. She wanted to hug him, to tell him she would not fail him again. That they could mourn her brother, his father, together. That he didn’t need to bear the anger at everything that was wasted alone.

He finally turned to look at her. A tear had escaped to run freely down his cheek. He had completely shed off his mask, and what Clary saw was like a stab in her gut. She shivered. Wordlessly, he reached for his deep green scarf and tied it gingerly around her neck. The way Sebastian had when they had walked down the streets of Paris. Ash looked nothing like her brother had then. His green eyes held an infinite sadness that spoke of a grief deeper, older than the short years of his life.

“It doesn’t change anything.” He said - she hadn’t imagined his beautiful voice could sound so hollow - and turned to leave.

“Ash, wait.” She grabbed him by the elbow and he froze. His eyes widened as his gaze zeroed on the fingers covering his coat, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She realized she had never touched him before.

“Clary, what do you want from me?” He asked in a tired voice.

“I just want to get to know you.”

“Trust me, you don’t. I am not the brother who was stolen from you. I cannot replace him. If anything, I am just like Sebastian was before me... my father’s broken toy. There is no way to fix me.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” she said, almost frantic. “And I don’t want to find my brother's replacement, I want to get to know you! Ash. The real Ash.”

“I already told you. That’s not happening. Don’t ever try to contact me again. I am serious.”

“So that’s it?” She tried not to sound too whiny but panic was eating away at her stomach and she thought she would throw up. “You went through all this trouble spying on me, learning how I take my coffee to simply disappear from my life from one moment to the next?”

He gazed at her for a moment, his expression unfathomable. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I was not spying on you, Clary. I was merely following your stalker.”

“What? You were… protecting me?”

“Take care of yourself, Clary.”

He said as he stepped away from her and vanished into the crowd.

****

Clary threw herself in Jace’s arms as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom at the New York Institute. He froze, then started stroking her hair in a soothing gesture.

“Clary, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Tell me, Clary. What is it?”

She pulled away and wiped tears with the back of her hand. Jace’s face was a mask of shock. Clary couldn’t blame him. She almost never cried.

“I messed up.”

“What did you mess up?”

She walked to the bed and sat on the mattress. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. “Ash. I met up with him earlier today.”

Jace tensed and his hands clenched into fists. “WHAT- Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have insisted on coming.”

“Damn right, I would have. And I would have been right, too. Look at you, you look miserable.”

“It’s my fault,” she said in a small voice. “I pushed him too far.”

Jace sighed and came to sit next to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I am sure you did nothing wrong, Clary.”

“I thought- When I showed him the drawing… the way he looked at it, Jace. He is not indifferent. He cares.”

“What drawing?”

“The one I made of the family,” she said absently, as she grabbed her bag and started fumbling inside.

She sucked in a sharp breath. The drawing wasn’t there. Peeking out in its stead, and folded out of the flyer of the Mortal Instruments concert, were origami faerie wings. The Fairchild family symbol.

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 3 years

Text

Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 3

Welcome to Part 3! You've made it this far? I'm impressed. Thank you for sticking around. This is quite the long chapter so, I hope you enjoy the juicy action all around.

And this one was quite the doozy to write. It's 3AM now? Hah, I've spent the entire day writing two chapters. But definitely don't expect more at quite this frequency. But I appreciate you all none the less.

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Tag Requests: @lostghostgirl94 @neoarchipelago @fillechatoyante @fanfics-ig

Did I miss someone? For future tag requests: Please send me a direct message if possible, it's easy to lose people in the mix and I don't want to miss anyone!

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For previous chapters go here: Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 5.358

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It had been precisely three hours, forty-two minutes since two Avengers and a criminal mastermind had left the safe house you were staying in.

You were currently staring up at the ceiling with mild boredom waiting for the next round of texts to come in. An alert notification rang through the near empty residence, the noise echoed off the walls of the living room intensifying the reverberation of sound.

Rolling over, you flopped onto you stomach from your position on the couch, stretching your arm out to grab the phone off the coffee table.

Carefully, you read the incoming message. 'No recent signs of Karli, but following up on a handprint Bucky found a couple miles from our initial start position. Zemo has a theory it might lead to a section of tunnel that veers off towards the harbor. Will update again in another hour. - S'

Great.

So they'll easily be gone at least another couple hours, leaving you to your own devices. That's dangerous. There's no telling what kind of trouble you could get into without something to do. Your mind was always processing, constantly formulating new plans and calculating risk probabilities. It's why you were so fidgety and animated. You didn't inherently have ADHD, but your brain was so active the symptoms manifested as such. You had a genius level intelligence, you just chose to down-play it most of the time. You craved activities to keep your mind from going into overdrive; it's why you spend most of your mornings running. To drain your body of excess energy and let your brain rest.

You groaned in irritation, tossing the phone back onto the coffee table. Sam could have at least given you a pin point location so you could do some research on the area where the handprint was found.

Maybe you could read for a bit.

You got up and headed to your room at the back of the apartment. Zemo gave you the last room at the end of the hallway, it also happened to be the only room that had a half bath attached to it. Which in retrospect, was quite thoughtful of him.

As you reached your room, a chilly draft fell across your body, causing goosebumps to raise on your fair skin. You noticed you left a window open in the room and moved to close it. Often times, late at night you sat at the window sill and read to pass the time when you couldn't sleep. Sometimes, you'd crack the window open and simply listen to the sounds of the outside; they were just as soothing. There was no denying it was quite lovely where you were staying. Helmut Zemo had impeccable taste.

You grabbed your book and crossed the room, rubbing your arm to help circulate some heat back into your body, but before you got to the door, a patch of blue caught your eye. Zemo's hoodie. It had been left draped haphazardly over the back of one of the chairs in your room. A constant reminder you needed to give it back to the Baron, but you weren't ready to just yet, and funnily enough, he hadn't asked for it.

Shifting from foot to foot, you debated what to do. It was comfortable. Wearing it one last time couldn't hurt, right? There wasn't anyone here to cajole you about it anyways and you could just take it off before the guys got back. Perfectly reasonable. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you snagged the garment off the chair and pulled it on as you walked back out to the main living room, book in hand.

As you rounded the corner and made your way through the kitchen back to the couch, you heard a loud metallic bang against the entry-way door accompanied with the tell tale signs of door knobs turning. Caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, you had leapt off the ground, clutching the book to your chest.

You stared at the door in fear knowing it was way too soon for anyone to have returned yet. And they wouldn't have caused the disruption in the attempts to break in. Pushing down your apprehension, your senses started to return to you, and you realized you need to get to your phone. Now.

Your eyes moved across the apartment and landed on the coffee table a short distance away from you. Bingo. You took a step forward towards the table when the front doors suddenly swung open and a whirl of red, white and blue flew past your face. The projectile, nearly hitting you, caused you to stumble, knocking you backwards onto the floor. You landed clumsily, but thankfully caught yourself before your head smacked against the ground.

You didn't need to look up to know exactly what object flew at your head. The sound alone was unmistakable.

"Apologies for the erratic entrance, I only meant to use it to help open the door - I hadn't planned on Lemar here unlocking the them so easily. When the doors fell open, it kind of just flew right out of my hand."

Annoyance had now replaced your fear.

John Walker.

You had many opinions of the man based off what Sam and Bucky had told you, but you hadn't had the pleasure of actually meeting him. Until now.

This did not help sway your opinion of him in the very least. If anything, it only solidified that the government had made a rash decision. You don't just had over the shield to anyone.

You glared up at the intruders from your position on the floor. This was completely unexpected. How did he even manage to locate this safe house? Something nagged at the back of your mind that Captain Walker might have had help from people with a questionable background. You shoved the thought aside for the time being.

Lemar had gone around to the back of the couch and pulled the shield out of the wall embedded in between the two stained windows. Walker, who stood next to you, was offering his hand to help you up.

You didn't even make an effort to consider his gesture and got up off the floor without his assistance, dusting yourself off in the process.

Walker appeared undeterred by your dismissal of him and instead put on a winning smile and rotated his hand in the attempts of a handshake.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. John Walker. Captain America," he proudly stated.

"I know who you are Captain Walker, as well as your friend here," you briskly answered, crossing your arms in front of you.

You could see the smile start to drop off his face and his eyes turn a bit darker.

"And I know who you are as well, you're well documented along with the Avengers, but I was trying to be polite," Walker grounded out with forced effort.

You didn't want to start an argument with the newly anointed Captain America, but there was something off about him that just irritated you.

"Polite?" you sarcastically question. "How is barging into someone's residence, polite? Please, do explain," you shifted your weight onto one side, giving him an expectant look.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. In case you've forgotten, I'm Captain America," he took a step towards you, his body language highly suggesting an intimidation tactic.

You held your tongue and took a step back to place more distance between yourself and Walker. You spared a glance at his partner to gauge his reaction, but his expression was guarded, although he was watching with rapt attention.

"What do you want, Walker?" you bit out. You attempted to keep some of the contempt out of your voice, but he had quickly turned your mood sour this afternoon.

"Where's Zemo?" Walker cut straight to the chase this time.

"Not here, obviously," you held your arms out, gesturing around.

"I want to know where Zemo is. He's coming with us," the captain took another step towards you, this time with a more forceful intention.

You furrowed your brow and took another step back. His posturing was starting to make you slightly nervous.

"Even if I did know where he was, I'm not saying either way. Zemo has been surprisingly helpful to us, and we need him to locate Karli along with the rest of the Flag-Smashers, including the missing vials of serum. And he's more likely to continue working with us, than provide you with any information at all. That I can say with absolute certainty," your words sounded confident, but inside you were trembling.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say to Captain America.

His entire demeanor changed. Once where there was some warmth and light-heartedness, there was only a cold emptiness left in his gaze. He reached back to grab the shield from Lemar, and then without any warning shoved you back against the wall to your left.

You heard the distinct sound of your right shoulder pop as is slammed into the wall along with the rest of your body. The rapid movement from Walker and impact from the shield knocked the wind right out of you. The pressure from the amount of force he was exerting pinned you to the wall and caused the shield to be painfully pressed into your side, separating you from Walker. You could feel the rim of the shield digging slightly into your neck, but not enough to cause any real damage.

"John!" you heard Hoskins shout with alarm from behind Walker.

You swallowed thickly; very real fear had settled into your bones. You were capable of defending yourself, but hadn't actually needed to put those skills into any use. Bucky and Sam had taught you some moves and hold to get out of, but it never crossed any of your minds once you'd have to fight Captain America. You tried to shift your head to the side to see how far away your phone was. What possible options you had. Maybe you could appeal to his partner and deescalate the situation before things got too ugly.

"I'm only going to ask this one last time. Where is Zemo?" Walker spit out, putting force against the shield, which in turn, caused you to grimace in pain.

"Hoskins, you really going to allow Captain America to torture an innocent citizen trying to help in a cause we're all aligned in?" you gasped out, trying to swallow as much air as possible through the pain wracking your body.

You refused to let it show. Holding back as much of the discomfort you were in. You didn't want to give Walker the satisfaction.

"John, ease up. She's not a terrorist, and frankly, I agree with her," Hoskins voiced, his footsteps bringing him closer to Walker with the hopes of gaining his attention no doubt.

The pressure from the shield against your form was lifted slightly, though the shield was still closer to your body than you'd like to admit. You closed your eyes to focus on regaining some stability and figure out your next course of action to get yourself out of this mess.

"Stay out of this Lemar," John replied, but his menacing stature had lessened minutely.

You opened your eyes to stare at Walker. He had removed the shield between the two of you and placed it on his back; however he stepped into your personal space instead and placed a hand against your collarbone, essentially rendering you immobile again.

Well, at least now you could breathe.

Walker peered down at you with distain, "You're really not going to give him up are you?"

You clenched your jaw and lifted your chin defiantly at him.

"No," you answered.

The wheels were turning inside Walker's head. You could literally see the fire burning in his eyes, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer out of you. Not willingly.

He dipped his head and released his hold on you, pointing a finger right at your face, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

You saw Lemar walk up and pat Walker's shoulder, "Alright, let's get out of here."

Walker straightened up and stiffly walked away, leaving Hoskins trailing behind. His ego had taken a blow today.

Hoskins gave an apologetic shrug, "He's under a lot of stress."

Before Lemar could fully clear your line of sight, you quietly spoke up, "He doesn't deserve that shield."

Hoskins didn't have a response to that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In wake of the aftermath, you had tried to clean up as best possible. You assessed your injuries were non life-threatening, though your right shoulder was most definitely dislocated. The arm was kept close against your body hoping to not jostle it too much. You felt spikes of pain as you cleaned the area where Walker had thrown the shield into the wall, but ignored it so you could get the place back in shape before Sam, Bucky and Zemo returned.

Sam had messaged not too long ago, they were roughly 20 minutes out from the apartment.

Your ribs were throbbing from where the shield had been buried into your side, but you didn't think they had been broken, only bruised. You were going to have to ask one of them pop your shoulder back into place.

You were dreading the conversation, but were determined to remain as calm as possible to help alleviate the immediate reaction they were going to have once you revealed what happened.

The events of the day had finally caught up with you and coupled with the cleaning efforts, your body was signaling it's exhaustion. You were in the kitchen, and honestly didn't think you could make the short trip to one of the sofas; so you carefully sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and waited patiently.

Sure enough, 20 minutes later, the doors to the apartment opened and the guys swiftly came in to greet you.

"Did you even leave the kitchen?" James inquired, coasting around the kitchen to grab a drink.

You smiled tightly and responded in kind, "For a short while, yes. Did you guys find anything worth while?" You quickly wanted to change the subject but knowing you were only delaying the inevitable.

"Yeah, we think we've discovered a possible building Karli is using to hideout in. We had planned on eating something quickly and then leave again to check it out tonight," Sam explained.

As Sam was talking, Bucky had accidently bumped into you, causing you to wince and pull your arm tighter to you. Luckily, he didn't see your face, but Sam did.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam questioned, voice filling with concern.

You blew out a breath bracing yourself for what you were about to say.

"What happened to my wall?" Zemo piped up, giving you a curious glance, he had moved to run his hand along the diagonal cut, inches deep, in the space between the ceiling to floor windows.

Bucky left his glass and walked over to get a better look, as did Sam. Both of them would know precisely what caused a mark like that to become etched into a wall.

Sam and Bucky snapped their heads back to you as soon as they saw the indention, but it was Zemo who spoke first.

"John Walker was here," he stated, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the back of the couch he was nearby.

"It was an, eventful afternoon here," you tried to put some overly cheerful, comedic tones into your voice, but failed pretty miserably.

"What happened?" Sam immediately asked.

The trio had made their way back to the kitchen to get answers from you.

Zemo came to stand nearby, eyes roaming your body, searching. With his expertise, there was no question that he would quickly figure out you were injured; so you tried to tell your story as concisely as possible.

"Um, so - Walker and Lemar showed up. He asked for Zemo. I told him he wasn't here aaaaand they left. The end," you hurriedly spoke, wanting to get this over with and not draw any more attention to yourself.

But you could see in Helmut's eyes, he knew there was more to your story. His carefully crafted mask was starting to crack as you saw his gaze drift down to you cradling your arm underneath the island away from Bucky and Sam's eyeline.

"You're hurt," Zemo said. His face showed open concern as he walked the remaining distance to you.

With more tenderness than you thought possible coming from him, he slowly and carefully moved your right arm away from your body. He kept his eyes trained on you for any discomfort or signs of pain.

Once your arm had left your lap though, you reached over with your left hand to grip one of his wrists to prevent him from moving your arm any further.

"Don't, please," you pleaded, gritting your teeth and swallowing down the pain threatening to erupt from you. You were panting now, and more clear than ever something had happened to you while they were gone.

Helmut released your arm without hesitation, but did not leave your side. You saw him exchange tense looks between James and Sam. Normally, Bucky would have been focused on keeping Zemo away from you, but with the current circumstances, he was no longer a priority.

"What actually happened?" Bucky softly called out, he and Sam had gotten closer to take a better look at you. Sam brought a chair out to sit next to you and give you a once over, while you explained.

The expressions on their faces were grim as they anxiously awaited your reply.

"It wasn't - it's not quite as bad as it seems," you started, stuttering out the words as Sam brought his hands up to check your head for any injuries first.

"He just barged right in and was insistent on finding Zemo. He was acting so arrogant and pompous, I just refused to give him any information on his whereabouts," you continued on. "He didn't like the fact I wasn't willing to cooperate with "Captain America" and he got a little.....rough with me."

Sam paused his surveying to meet your gaze. You could see the guilt beginning to creep into his eyes. He turned his head to look up at Bucky, who was angrily flexing his vibranium arm in displeasure. Probably only affirming his notion that Sam should have never given up the shield in the first place.

"What did he do?" Bucky's tone brook no argument. He wanted to know the truth.

You scrunched your face in unpleasantness when Sam checked your lower neck and collarbone, he had found the place on your body where the shield and his hand had met you.

"Is this from - ?" Sam couldn't finish his sentence and he looked away in anger. You could tell he just wanted to get up and throw something, and that was commonly uncharacteristic for him.

Zemo had shifted his position to take a peek at what Sam was doing while he checked you out. You saw how his eyes had darkened with quiet rage taking stock of everything. There was an outline of a thin scrap mark against the underside of your neck and jaw, but it was a clear demarcation that would only be caused from the shield itself.

You nodded sadly and focused on answering Bucky's question as you gave Sam the okay to keep going.

"Walker, didn't get what he wanted, so he did the only other thing he knows how to do," you cleared your throat and rubbed your hand against your forehead.

"Use brute force," Zemo darkly said.

"He used the shield to push me up against the wall over there," you pointed over as you continued re-telling what happened. "I was knocked into the wall pretty hard, but Walker lost all focus and nearly suffocated me from the force of the shield against my body. I think he -" you yelped like a wounded animal, not able to finish your story when Sam touched your shoulder.

Bucky's eyes had widen and became deeply concerned over your pained scream.

Your muscled were clenched tight as you tried to ride out the pain, face starting to turn red.

Zemo had placed a light hand on your back, leaning down to comfort you and remind you to breath.

You fumbled with your good arm as you tried taking in deep breaths and motioned to Sam what was wrong with your arm.

Even with your poor mime animation of pretending to have your arm pulled from your socket, James picked up on what you were getting at. He tapped Sam to switch places with him. Your eyes were watering at this point and you blinked back the tears wanting to fall.

"Alright doll, on the count of three, I'm going to raise your arm and put pressure on your shoulder, okay?" Bucky solemnly said.

Sam gave you a smile of assurance while Zemo ended up taking your good hand, letting you know you could use him to brace yourself. He and James shared a silent conversation before nodding at one another. If Sam had a problem with Zemo providing you comfort, he didn't show it. You figured he was letting some of his dormant humanity rise to surface in this moment.

You shook slightly trying to prepare yourself for the next round of pain once your shoulder was fixed, but James didn't give you any time.

"Three," he commanded, snapping your shoulder back into its socket before you had a chance to even reaction.

You let out another cry of pain, holding onto Zemo's hand tightly, but somehow, the fear of the oncoming pain dissipated as you let go of his hand and rubbed your shoulder with minimal soreness.

You cleared your throat and looked at everyone after a few moments of rest. Surprised at how efficiently James had handled your shoulder, but then again, he was the perfect person to do the job.

You scrunched up your nose at James, "What happened to one and two?"

He huffed out a laugh, "It worked didn't it?"

"Thank you. All of you," you gave a lazy smile through the tiredness that filled you up. "I think I'll be okay now - that was the worst of it. Promise. Walker didn't do any further harm to me. I managed to convince Lemar to get Walker to back down," you glossed over the section where Walker threatened you, but you could bring that up later.

None of them were satisfied with your response, but you're guessing they let it slide given the circumstances.

Zemo reached into the freezer to grab an ice pack. He handed it to you to place on your shoulder helping with your recovery. You accepted it from him extremely grateful. You mused your opinion of him was constantly evolving the more time you actually spent with him.

Sam had asked if you were sure there weren't any other areas you wanted to have checked over for injuries.

You assured him, you were alright, just tired and very sore.

Bucky had swiftly gotten up from his chair and made it known he wanted to go after Walker this evening. You knew he wasn't going to let this incident go any time soon. Sam had also been in agreement after fully understanding what transpired, but Zemo was eerily silent.

"You guys should follow your original plan. Don't let Walker distract you. I'm alive and I am going to be okay. Go follow your lead on Karli," you interjected, trying to be the reasonable one. There was no need for them to go off halfcocked while they were still very upset. You were too, if you were being honest with yourself, but your focus was on your friends first and foremost.

"Well, we're not leaving you here alone. I can stay behind and let Zemo and Sam check things out," James said.

"Actually, it makes the most sense if I stay behind," Zemo chimed in.

"Why is that?" Sam countered warily.

"The particular location you are going to, I have....a history there. It would be wise for me to not be seen in that part of town as to not raise any alarm bells," he reasoned with them.

"And why should we trust you with her?" Bucky asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Because I have no motive to do any harm to her nor shall I allow any further injury come to her. On this James, I give you my word," Helmut replied, the seriousness of his tone was not lost on anyone in the room.

"Okay," Sam relented, moving about the kitchen to pack some food for their evening night out.

"Just like that, huh?" James said with disbelief.

"Yeah, just like that," Sam parroted back.

Bucky wasn't happy about the situation, but there was an urgency to find Karli, so he caved.

James leaned over on the counter to make sure you were 100% okay being left along with Zemo, reminding you at any time you can call and they'd rush back instantly for whatever reason.

You stood up slowly, balancing the ice pack on your shoulder and shuffled over a few steps towards him, "Thank you. Now, go."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You waved to to your friends a second round of goodbyes for the day. You sagged against the counter, temporarily forgetting about Zemo for the moment. You really needed to lie down.

As if he read your thoughts, you suddenly felt his presence as an arm wrapped around your waist, resting firmly against your hip.

"Here, let me help you get someplace more comfortable than this," Zemo asserted, taking his free hand and dropping the ice pack from your shoulder onto the counter. He then grabbed your left hand, raising your arm and wrapped it around his neck to help support you. So now most of your weight is on your left side, allowing your right to have most of the pressure released from your injuries.

You were so close to him you could smell his expensive cologne and aftershave. It was intoxicating and caused your head to swim a little. You stumbled slightly, but Zemo kept you steady as you both made your way to your room.

In your exhausted state, you managed to sneak in a few glances to Zemo, who was concentrating on the task at hand, not wanting to cause any jarring movements. He deserved more credit than you had been giving him; he truly did seem to care in his own warped way.

Once you had gotten to your room, he guided you to the bed to lie down. Not once had you complained. A true testament of just how tired you were. You couldn't even muster a snarky reply at his disheveled state of being, from practically dragging you down the hallway.

You snuggled into the hoodie you were wearing and tried to lie in a position that wouldn't cause too much discomfort for your shoulder and ribs.

Zemo had stepped into the closet and when he returned he came back with a couple extra pillows. He propped them against your injured side to prevent you from rolling over during the night.

If nothing else, Zemo was incredibly thorough when he focused on something. And right now, that focus was you. It was unnerving, but also thrilling at the same time. Maybe you did have a head injury, because all you could do was smirk at how utterly adorable he was tending to you. It made you curious as to whether this was what Zemo was like before. For the first time, you really wanted to know more about him.

You saw how he was confident in everything he does, and this situation was no different apparently. He had been muttering to himself as he adjusted bedding and made sure there was nothing in the room that you could trip over if you had to get up. He was taking in all the possibilities, like you did.

He had been actively avoiding looking at you though since Bucky and Sam left. You weren't entirely sure why, as he's had zero problems watching you over the past several days. You have a feeling it's because you're one of a few people who have seen beneath the surface of Helmut Zemo, and he's reacting the only way he knows how to at this moment.

Distraction.

You were too sleepy to ponder this any further and turned your head to the side to see what Zemo was fiddling with now.

He had finished up the last of his tasks and looked around the room satisfied with his work. Only then did he turn to look at you.

If it had been anyone else, you would swear that Zemo almost seemed nervous. He was, at many times in your experience, hard to read; so all of these new expressions are a different side for you to see.

Zemo tentatively sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

"Do you need anything?" he genuinely inquired.

You shook your head, indicating you didn't.

All of a sudden he laughed. It ended nearly as quickly as it had began. You raised an eyebrow him in reply, but he simply tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie you were still wearing.

Too tired to be embarrassed about it, you simply mumbled, "Shut up. I still plan on giving it back, although, given it's track record, you should quite possibly get rid of it. After what happened today, I think it might be bad luck."

You saw Zemo dip his head and chuckle at your reply. He look much more carefree when he laughed. You'd have to add him to your daily list. Make Zemo laugh.

His expression sobered rather quickly though and became pensive after that, staring out the window briefly before resting his gaze back on you.

"You keep it. It looks better on you."

Not knowing what to say, caught up in the storm in his eyes, you give a small smile. You can feel your cheeks turning red under the intensity of his stare.

Zemo stood up, getting ready to leave when you stopped him by latching onto his wrist.

"Wait," you murmured.

The swift action caused him to furrow his brow in confusion.

You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from him, only that you didn't want him to go.

"Stay."

You could tell you startled him with your request. Your eyes grew larger realizing the potential double meaning.

"Just until I fall asleep?" you clarified, a yawn escaped as you covered your mouth.

Zemo visibly relaxed and had you relinquish your hold on his arm so he could pull up a chair to your bed. He turned his head around the room in search of something. He went to the nightstand and picked up your book.

Amusement flitted across the features of his face as he read the cover. Zemo sat down on the chair and propped his feet up on the side of the bed.

You shut your eyes and tried to block out the soreness covering your body. Tomorrow would be worse. The next day always is. You had begun to doze off, when ever so quietly, you heard Zemo's voice fill the room.

He was reading to you. Lulling you into a peaceful sleep and letting you know he was still present. Wanting you to know, in his own way, he was upholding his promise to Bucky and Sam. That you were safe with him. That you could trust him just as you had, when you asked him to stay in the first place.

With those final thoughts, you drifted off, listening to the subdued sound of his voice.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson #my writing #team zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #mcu imagine

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diavohno · 4 years

Text

peccant pt.1

▹ pairing: lucifer x fem!reader, mammon x fem!reader, leviathan x fem!reader, satan x fem!reader, asmodeus x fem!reader, beelzebub x fem!reader, belphegor x fem!reader

▹ genre: smut, rut!au

▹ words: 6.6k

▹ rating: nsfw

▹ warnings: mc curses like a sailor and solomon has no filter, lucifer’s had a rough time, a pinch of grinding, mentions of masturbation, hickies, explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, rough sex

▹ notes: tadaa! this took a bit longer than I had originally planned (hence the big gap between the sneak peek and the full release) but I was determined to crank this out for @hornywrath‘s birthday! hope you enjoy a lil bit of mammon hun, and happy birthday! also, I guess this also counts for a 400 follower milestone, which we hit very recently! thank you all for being here, I hope the wait was worth it ;)

“Solomon, I’m about ready to fight someone,” you seethed to the sorcerer as you glared up at his ceiling from your comfortable resting spot on top of his bed.

The entire situation was ridiculous. The brothers had been actively avoiding you almost all week, which was annoying enough, but today they had cut off all communication with you entirely. No one came down to breakfast, no one was in any of your shared classes, and no one even bothered to text you so you’d know what the hell was going on. If they were going to give you the cold shoulder the LEAST they could do would be to tell you why.

Instead, you were left to wonder what you had done wrong because surely there was some explanation for their behavior. After a full day of scouring your memory during boring classes (in which there was no one to distract you, unlike usual) you were still drawing a blank on what exactly you had done.

This only meant one thing: you were 100% innocent in this situation, and the brothers would never live this down if you had anything to say about it.

When you were about halfway back to the House of Lamentation after class your D.D.D. buzzed. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest seeing that the notification was a text from Lucifer. It was the first time any of the brothers had contacted you all day! With any luck, you’d finally get some explanation as to just what was going on, and (if you were lucky) an apology. The second one is highly unlikely given that it was Lucifer who had texted you, but you still had hope. That is, until you opened the message.

After class, immediately go to Purgatory Hall. You will be staying there with the other exchange students until further notice.

A second set of buzzes followed the first, in case one punch to your heart wasn’t enough.

Under no circumstances are you allowed to return to the House of Lamentation without permission.

Excuse you? Were you seriously just told that you weren’t allowed in your own house anymore? Sadly, yes, that seemed to be exactly what had just happened, and Lucifer isn’t the sort of person that you’d argue with about an order.

But come on, you hadn’t even gotten an explanation!

With no other choice, you turned your livid butt around and marched (read: stomped) over to your new home, ready to tell (read: rant to) your fellow exchange students of the injustices you had been served as of late. As if Lady Luck wanted to send an ‘F U’ herself, Solomon was the only one in Purgatory Hall when you arrived. Not the beautiful and benevolent Simeon, or Luke, who you thought of as an angelic younger brother, but Solomon, with a fox’s grin that was far too smug for your liking. And, unfortunately, the smugness only grew as you lamented about how abysmally bad your week had been thus far.

“Oh, y/n,” he said, a teasing coo woven into his tone. Your attention shifted from his incredibly interesting ceiling to his incredibly boring head that he was propping up on his desk with his incredibly boring hand. Solomon may be one of your best friends, but you’d be lying if you said he didn’t push your buttons all the damn time. “You’re so naive to the ways of the world.”

“Sorry I’m not a fancy pants magic bitch like you,” you grumbled with no real bite behind your words. Would you believe he then had the audacity to snicker at you? Because that’s exactly what he did. It took all of your strength plus a little extra from the Big Man Upstairs to not clock the white-haired menace into next week. “Solomon, explain to me what’s going on before I do something I won’t regret.”

Ever the fake pacifist, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, no need for violence. And, really, it’s your own fault that you don’t know about demon ruts.”

Silence filled the room, leaving you to sit there and drown in it as Solomon seemingly decided the desk itself would make a much more comfortable seat than his chair. With just those few words he had managed to switch your brain from operating on Google Chrome to Internet Explorer, and what is the next thing he does? Perches on his desk like it was normal.

After some time passed with you buffering and Solomon preening as if he had just been graced by God, you finally managed to spit out, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

More snickering. Try as you might, you couldn’t fight off the blush that had been steadily creeping onto your cheeks, so you instead gave in and decided to find out as much as you could. “You mean, right now, they’re at home—”

“Jacking themselves off on anything of yours that they can get their cummy little demon mitts on? Ding ding ding, you’ve guessed it! Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been in your room already. Having a—” calculating eyes swept your form from head to toe before continuing irritatingly hesitantly, “presumably fertile female so close is akin to torture when they’re rutting, so what remains of your pheromones are probably the only thing they can smell at the moment.”

Taking the high road for once in your little gremlin life, you chose to ignore the ‘presumably fertile’ comment and remained focused on the topic at hand: the brothers were going through a demon rutting period. “That is so unbelievably disgusting and hot at the same time.”

So some of your inner gremlin slipped out, sue you.

Solomon sighed as if he expected nothing more from you, white strands of hair falling onto his face as he pressed it into the palms of his hands. “Leave it to you to be turned on by the suffering of others.”

“Shut it, Solomon, you know what I mean.” Heat flared across your cheeks at the insinuation. You may be many things, but a sadist was not one of them; Lucifer had that title locked down anyway. “Dammit. What do I do, Solomon? Lucifer texted me saying that I can’t go back, so does he really expect me to wear the same clothes for however many days it takes for their ruts to end?”

“Probably. He’s twisted like that. Ooh, what if he’s getting off to the idea that you’re—”

Before you had a chance to cut Solomon off from finishing a sentence that would have undoubtedly mortified you to no end, a series of rapid-fire buzzes from your phone did it for you. You had patted both yourself and the area around you on the bed down thoroughly only for Solomon to dangle your phone in the air. Warning bells sounded off in your head loud and clear the moment you noticed his cheeky grin.

“I think you should put this one on speaker.”

With a flick of his wrist, your phone sailed through the air and landed on the bed next to you after you failed to catch it. Ignoring Solomon’s snort, you flipped your phone over to see who was calling you. The name, along with everything you had just discussed with Solomon, caused your pulse to pound in your ears.

It was Mammon.

Panic ran through your veins like liquid lightning. Should you answer it? There could only be one reason why he would be calling if he was rutting. Warmth shot straight to your core. Deep down, you realize that if he was calling you to ask for help, you’d say yes. Solomon cleared his throat and gestured at your phone, reminding you to answer before you lost your chance. Without hesitation, you answered the call, switching to speakerphone with a pointed glare from the man across from you.

Within seconds, breathy groans rang out from the phone. Your face flushed as you spared a glance at Solomon, who had donned a shit-eating grin, before your attention snapped back to the phone upon hearing Mammon’s voice. “Where are ya, y/n?” he whined. “I need ya so bad.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip between them. “Lucifer told me not to come back for now, so I’m at Purgatory Hall.”

A string of expletives exploded from the speaker, although they died down as quickly as they started. When Mammon addressed you again, the pleading tone to his voice was in no way subtle. “Please. . . Please come help me, y/n. I need ya.”

“Mammon, babe, are you rutting?” Your eyes widened in horror while Solomon snickered gleefully; the question had fallen out before you could really even think about it.

You weren’t given much time to worry over it, though, as Mammon answered in confirmation, “Yeah. And everythin’. . . Everythin’ fuckin’ HURTS. It hurts so bad, y/n, please.” Images of some of your succubi and incubi friends flashed through your head. It would probably be best that a demon helped him through his heat. If you helped, you’d likely get hurt. You had just begun to offer to call one of your friends when your words were cut short with a growl. “No, dammit! I only want you! Only you, ya hear me, y/n?”

A milky-white hand clamped firmly against his mouth was the only thing preventing Solomon from alerting Mammon to the fact that you were not the only human hearing him at that moment, and that hand was getting dangerously close to not being enough to save the two of you. The thought of how Mammon would react upon finding the two of you out sent a shiver down your back. You could NOT let that happen.

Executive authority coursed through you as you turned off the speakerphone and brought it up to your ear instead; a curling lick of satisfaction in your chest was the only thing Solomon’s huff of discontent managed to elicit. “Okay, Mammon, I’m on my way.”

A pleased groan answered your words, followed by a click. You blinked a few times, waiting to no avail for anything else— he had hung up on you. Although you’re not quite sure what you expected (some thanks would have been nice) you couldn’t help but to notice how your body seemed to be thrumming with anticipation.

“Oh, you’re on your way, are you? You DO realize that if you go to help one of them you’ll have to help ALL of them, right? So are you stupid? Is that it?” the whirlwind that was Solomon accused, white brows furrowed in total scorn. “And here I was, thinking that you were a creature of intelligence. Oh, how it pains me to be wrong.”

Already on your feet, you pocketed your phone and smoothed out your clothes, ready to head to the House of Lamentation at any moment. After concluding that you were presentable enough to go have a demon rip your clothes off your body— a matter that you had grown incredibly serious about in a somewhat suspiciously short amount of time, as if the thought of being ravaged by the brothers had crossed your mind before— you turned to address the snarky sorcerer in the room. “You heard him, Solomon. He’s in serious pain right now, and he wasn’t going to accept anyone else’s help getting through it.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it,” he said in exasperation. “He’s a DEMON. He’d say whatever he needed to in order to get you there!”

Arguing with him was clearly going to get you nowhere. Instead, you stared down Solomon, daring him to continue trying to change your mind. It was a battle of the minds, and luckily for you, you happened to be one of the most bull-headed humans to ever grace the earth. After what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Solomon relented with a burdened groan.

“Fine, just let me cast a spell on you so you aren’t impregnated and obliterated, for the love of God.” His eyes searched yours imploringly. If you didn’t know any better you’d almost think that he was worried about you, but that would be a ridiculous idea. Still, you agreed, to which he let out a breath of relief.

Without wasting any time he crossed the room and took your hands in his own. Low mutterings in a language you didn’t recognize left his mouth, so you focused on the feeling of his hands; they were surprisingly soft and a bit bigger than you had previously thought.

A faint warmth and a corresponding tingling sensation started at your fingertips and soon encased your entire body, the tingling somehow reassuring as it raised goosebumps to the surface of your skin. Your eyes flitted up to Solomon’s questioningly, only for them to widen in shock— his eyes had gone entirely white and were glowing. Just as you were about to admit that his magic was actually pretty cool, it stopped.

The warmth and tingling disappeared, and Solomon’s eyes blinked back to normal. The only effect of the magic that you could feel was a particular humming sensation in your lower abdomen. That, and you felt like you could take on Diavolo himself and win, but that wasn’t a new feeling; an uncommon one, sure, but definitely not new.

Satisfied with his work, Solomon staggered a few steps backward before flopping onto his bed. “You should be good to go.” He propped himself up on his elbows, fixing you with a squinted stare. “You’re lucky I enjoy our banter, y/n. Can’t let you go and get yourself fucked to death, now can I?”

“God, don’t phrase it like that,” you said in a strangled voice, to which Solomon cackled and dropped onto his back once again. Just when you thought the two of you might have grown closer, he had to go and say something as mortifying as that. With renewed vigor, you scurry out of the room.

Solomon’s silvery voice echoed through the open door behind you. “Like what, the truth?”

He just managed to catch your snort before you walked out of earshot, leaving the sorcerer sprawled out on his bed, his chest heaving in deep breaths of air. The spell he had cast on you had taken quite a bit out of him. Now, he struggled to even keep his eyes open as waves of sleep crashed over him.

Would it normally take this much energy to prepare a human body for a demon rut? He supposed not, although it wasn’t exactly something he did except on the rare occasion, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wouldn’t just be dealing with one demon. There was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Ah, well, it was sure to come to him after he had rested up again. The comforting blanket of sleep settled over him, as well as his own blankets after he slipped under their covers. Right before he entered dreamland, the vision of a glowing pact mark appeared in his mind. His eyebrows knitted together; was this a premonition?

However, the mark was soon swallowed up by the foggy mist of his mind, and Solomon drifted off to sleep.

x x x x x

Never before had you gotten to the House of Lamentation faster than you did today. Just going home wasn’t nearly the same level of motivation as going to get some demon dick, so you hauled ass in record time, weaving in and out of random pedestrians you encountered that were walking the paths around the Devildom. Your friends really were right: you had no hope of making it into heaven. The worst part is, they had no clue whatsoever how true that statement was.

You came to a halt in front of the dorm you had recently come to call home, your hands on your knees as you struggled to regain your breath. It took everything you had not to just collapse into a weary heap on the front steps, but the promise of what was to come was enough to keep you going. Instead, you took a minute to steady your breathing before climbing the steps and slipping into the house. Technically, Lucifer had forbidden you from coming home, so it would probably be best to not alert him to your unwanted presence.

Thankfully, you had plenty of practice tip-toeing around from all of the times you’d snuck out with Asmo to go clubbing. Lucifer would never know you were there.

As you snuck past the kitchen toward the hallway of bedrooms, the sound of the tap turning on freeze you in your tracks. With your heart in your throat, you slowly twisted your head toward the direction of the sound, hoping from the bottom of your sin-stained heart that the person responsible wasn’t who you thought it was.

There, his bare back hunched over the sink with a glass of water clenched tightly in his degloved hand, stood Lucifer. Although the mere presence of the man had you rattled, what he was wearing— or rather, what he WASN’T wearing— made you even more so. He had donned a pair of baggy grey sweatpants that rested low on his hips and had lost the rest, leaving little to be imagined. Little to be imagined of HIM, that is— the sight sparked plenty of thoughts on your part.

The temptation to slink away to Mammon before you were discovered was great, but the temptation of marveling this new side of Lucifer was greater; you steeled yourself and moved toward him.

His rut seemed to have taken quite the toll on him already, as his usually well-kept hair was now disheveled and somewhat damp as if he had just recently gotten out of the shower. A shiver ran down your spine as the image of Lucifer in his shower was plastered to the forefront of your mind. With much thanks to your abysmally short attention span, the thought was easily discarded when you noticed that his muscles rippled along his back with each movement he took: emptying his glass; placing it back down on the counter; pushing his hair back.

Even as he turned around and realized someone had joined him in the kitchen, you couldn’t find it in yourself to run for cover. Maybe you’d screwed up your survival instincts at some point?

“y/n?” Lucifer croaked, his gaze predatory as it raked down your form. Something akin to a harrowed smirk cracked across his face when you shivered at the intensity radiating off of him, yet it was soon replaced with a pained grimace. His hands clenched the edge of the counter behind him so tightly that his knuckles were white as he ripped his gaze away from you. “I believe I explicitly told you not to return here until you received further instruction. You disobeyed me.”

You’d be lying if you said that the commanding growl in his words didn’t turn you on. Hell, if anyone told YOU that you’d just laugh in their face because damn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. Not to mention the electrifying effect it had on your body; it was as if every fiber of your being was on edge right now, acutely aware of every single thing that Lucifer said or did.

You found yourself longing to press your body up onto his, to entangle your hands in his already messy hair and mesh your lips together while you hook one of your legs around his waist to keep him close as he slams you up against the counter—

The purposeful clearing of his throat snapped you out of your imagination. It’s odd for you to have become so withdrawn from reality, but you just chalked it up to it being a side effect from whatever spell Solomon had cast on you. Anyway, Lucifer had asked you a question, and while it may not have been the smartest decision in the long run, you were in no mental state to be pulling lies out of your ass. “Mammon asked me to come over and help him.”

“Oh really? So you’ve discovered our dirty little secret, but still came?” he hummed in thought, more to himself than to you. Some switch must have flipped in him as he had gone from very obviously holding himself back to slowly stalking toward you with a wolfish glint in his eyes. It was at that moment that your survival instincts kicked in and you took two small steps back for every one Lucifer took forward. Sadly, you seemed to have walked further into the kitchen than you had originally thought you did and soon found yourself pressed along the center table with nowhere else to run from the demon in front of you.

A pink tongue darted out from his mouth, wetting the bottom lip that it dragged along. Lucifer had you right where he wanted you. It took a total of three steps for him to close the gap between you two, his arms resting on either side of you to cage you in. Desire flickered in his half-lidded eyes as he stared you down. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here?”

You hummed in response, too fixated on how alluring his slightly-parted, flushed lips looked. Due to your intense focus on said lips, you didn’t miss how the corners of his mouth quirked up before he leaned forward and out of your sight. Your breath caught in your throat as his heated breath fanned out across your neck while he spoke. “You’re lucky that you ran into myself and not one of my brothers. Unlike them,” his hips met yours and instantly began to slowly roll, “I can control myself.”

The hardness of his length and the waver in his tone seemed to suggest otherwise.

A devious thought pushed itself to the forefront of your mind, one that you were all too willing to go along with. One of your hands ghosted down his chest, your nails lightly scratching his pale skin while the other snaked upward and caressed his cheek. Lucifer shuddered into your touch and bit back a quiet groan, his hips grinding against yours with a tad more urgency.

“What happened to being able to control yourself?” you asked breathily. With any luck, you’d be able to get his self-control to snap and he’d take you right then and there. Your thighs tensed slightly as heat shot to your core at the thought.

Then he pulled away and your entire mastermind plan came crashing down.

Lucifer stumbled backward, fingers pinching his nose tightly shut as he glared holes into the ground. Wait, do you smell or something? You could’ve sworn you had put deodorant on that morning. A discreet sniff of yourself reassured you that you did not stink, so why the abrupt stop?

“I believe that you should find Mammon in your room.” He staggered backward with urgency; so much so that he would have clipped his side on the counter had you not warned him. Pink dusted his cheeks for a moment as he cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed from not noticing the counter. Your bemusement was cut short, however, when he fixed you with a piercing look that sent shivers down your back. “I expect to see you in my room once you are finished.”

Unable to stop yourself, you quipped back, “I’ll think about it.”

“By all means, do,” he purred, red eyes narrowing into seductive slits. Even as he backed out of the room, sweat beads beginning to glisten on his forehead, he somehow still made you want to do nothing more than hand yourself over to him completely. “But let me assure you that the actual thing will be so much more enjoyable than whatever you end up imagining.”

With that, he was gone, and you were left with nothing but yourself and your newfound neediness. You had half a mind to chase after the first-born, but the other half of your mind was insisting that you go to Mammon, as he was the one who had called you in the first place. With a small sigh, you headed off down the hallway toward your room. It was a short walk, as per usual, but the anticipation that had once again began to swirl in your stomach lengthened it a good bit.

What, exactly, did helping a demon through their rut entail? You assumed that they needed help finishing, but was that it? Of course, you’d help the brothers out with anything, ESPECIALLY if they were in pain because of it, but it was a little unnerving not knowing exactly what you had gotten yourself into. Thank God that Solomon had been there to help cast a spell on you (which you still had no clue what it did, but you trusted him enough to believe that you’d be fine) because, now that you’ve had some more time to think about it, there was no way you’d be able to walk away from this little excursion of yours unscathed.

You hesitated outside of your partially opened door for just a moment before stepping inside and locking the door behind you. As you turned around to once again face the rest of your room, quiet huffing and groaning alerted you of the demon in the room with you.

The sight that blessed your eyes ignited a white-hot fire in your core.

Mammon was sprawled out buck-naked on your bed, your sheets and comforter rumpled enough to lead you to assume that he had been wriggling around on them for a while. As a surprise to no one, your eyes immediately zeroed in on his hand— namely, how said hand was loosely wrapped around his length and lightly jerking it. His caramel skin glistened under a sheen layer of sweat from his exertions, and his head was tipped back against your pillow as he chased a semblance of relief.

You mindlessly take a few steps toward the sight. Had he not noticed you were in the room yet? Considering how tightly his eyes were screwed shut and how his breathing was getting progressively louder, it wasn’t impossible.

“Mammon?” you called out hesitantly, unsure if you should be interrupting or not. Although, he had called you specifically to help him with this exact thing, so maybe you were worrying about nothing.

His eyes snapped wide open the moment his name came out of your mouth; he really hadn’t heard you enter then. A shuddering inhale shook his form for a moment before he pushed himself up to a seated position and said in disbelief, “You really came.”

As if you could ignore his phone call. You rolled your eyes as you finished closing the gap between the two of you, your hands lifting to cup Mammon’s warm cheeks. “I said I would, didn’t I?” Unintelligible mumbling followed that you silenced by pressing your thumb against his lips. “What do you want me to do?”

Without a word, Mammon’s hands gripped your waist and guided you onto his lap, your knees on either side of him. His hot mouth instantly found your neck, the feeling of his hasty kisses and the occasional nip stealing your breath away. Not staying in one place too long, the kisses quickly trailed their way down toward your collarbone, only for the fabric of your shirt to get in the way. Aside from his annoyed grumbling, Mammon didn’t make any comments about it and simply tugged at your shirt, wordlessly asking you to take it off.

Of course you complied (because why would you not?) and freed yourself from the now-restrictive fabric. No sooner had you wriggled out of your top than had Mammon’s hands begun to roam all over your body, almost as if he was attempting to commit your form to memory.

Everywhere his hands went brought a tingling sensation to your skin. Eventually, one dipped low enough to fiddle with the band of your shorts, although it didn’t go any farther than that. As great as the makeout session was, a growing firmness pressing along the inside of your thigh and the unsteadiness of his touch reminded you of exactly why you were called in the first place.

“Mammon,” you tried, but your words fell on deaf ears as Mammon was too lost in the feeling and taste and touch of you to even register that you had spoken. Fog rolled across your mind as he found a particularly sensitive spot and capitalized on it, teeth gently scraping against the skin which was immediately followed by a soothing swipe of his tongue. Still, you found it somewhere within you to try again. “Mammon, wait.”

“Hm?” His lips buzzed pleasantly against your neck, eyes turning up toward your own.

Your stomach flipped at the sheer want pooling in their golden ichor. “I’m here to help you with your rut, but right now I feel more like we’re focusing on me.”

“Of course I’m focusin’ on you,” he harrumphed, a look of embarrassment shading his features. “You’re a human! There’s no way you’d be able to jump right on in without gettin’ hurt, so I’m… I’m tryin’ to warm you up a bit.”

You chuckled, running a hand through his hair reassuringly. “That’s awful sweet of you, babe, but I’m seriously fine. Solomon hooked me up with some magic before I came over, so I’m all set.”

His grip on your hips tightened at the mention of the sorcerer, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, his hands jumped from your hips to your shoulders, flipping you onto the bed with Mammon positioned between your legs. You’d never noticed it before, but his canines were slightly more pointed than a human’s; they’re all you focused on when a smirk crept onto his features. “You should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”

If before had been the warm-up, then the main event was the warm-up times ten. Your mouths crashed together, and you found yourself fighting to stay caught up with Mammon’s urgent pace. The bed creaked underneath the two of you as Mammon rushed to get the rest of your clothes off. It was impressive how he managed to slide off your shorts without breaking away from you, but you weren’t allowed to dwell on that thought for very long at all.

“You’re sure about this?” His breathless question warmed your heart. Even now, as his legs trembled with the discomfort he was surely in and his gaze grew hazy, he had the decency to make sure that you were sure. You hadn’t faltered from your original commitment once, but now you were certain you had made the right choice.

A cheeky grin split across your face. “I’ve never been more sure about something in my life.”

No sooner had you gotten the words out than had Mammon’s cock shoved its way through your entrance, his hips pressing flush against your own. The burning feeling of your walls stretching to take him in so suddenly proved too much to handle, your body arching into his own as a gasping whine tore from your lips.

For a moment— just a moment— he stilled, allowing you to adjust to his size. One of his hands hooked underneath your knee and pulled it closer to your side so he could get a better angle. A shot of pleasure ran through you as the repositioning briefly caused your muscles clenched around him. Seeing the shudder rack your form, Mammon rolled his hips into yours. Your head tipped back at the feeling of his swollen length dragging against your walls, and he wasted no time in leaving blossoms of orchid and rouge along the now-exposed column of your neck.

As your eyes rolled back at the feeling, you missed how he shifted above you, gripping the head of your headboard with his other hand for support. You didn’t miss how his hips pulled back and thrust up into you, nor did you miss how each thrust following that was just as strong.

Unrestrained sounds fell from your open mouth as Mammon launched into an aggressive pace that left you scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders or back so you wouldn’t hit your headboard. The moment your hands bumped into something protruding from his back, your eyes flew open to search for what exactly you had just touched.

At some point, Mammon must have shifted to his demon form, as his wings were currently curling over the two of you almost like some sort of shield. Your legs squeezed together at the sight, allowing Mammon’s next thrusts to find your g-spot.

“Fuck, Ma-Mammon,” you cursed, the demon on top of you growling lowly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned before pressing a firm kiss along your jaw. “You’re doin’ so good for me, y/n.”

You answered with a keening moan, as you were sure that you wouldn’t be able to articulate any more actual words— not while Mammon kept plowing into you at this speed, anyway. Tension coiled tightly in your abdomen, each thrust drawing you closer and closer to your peak. You couldn’t tell how close Mammon was, but with as ragged as his panting was growing, you assumed he wasn’t all that far behind you.

With every passing moment, your body grew more and more flush with heat and your moans increased in volume, which Mammon encouraged with more whispered praise. One particularly strong smack of his hips against yours triggered the release of a loud whine from your throat, and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. “Just like that, sweetheart.” His lips brushed tantalizingly against your ear, making sure that you heard him over yourself. “Let ‘em all know who’s makin’ you feel this good.”

A few more solid thrusts were all it took to make you unravel, your toes curling and your body arching into Mammon at the utter bliss engulfing you entirely.

“Mammon!” you wailed, all other words escaping you as stars danced behind your eyes. Your walls clenching down on him pushed Mammon over the edge as well, his hips stuttering before pressing as deep inside of you as he could, release spilling into your throbbing core. A groan tumbled from his lips as his teeth sunk into the crook of your neck, the sharp stinging drawing a soft whine from yourself.

After a few moments of deepening his mark, Mammon flopped onto his back and rolled you on top of him, his arms wrapping tightly around your body to gently hold you against him. The bliss from orgasming was now wearing off and was being replaced with exhaustion. Tension seeped out of you in waves as you relaxed against Mammon’s heaving chest, his skin cool against your warm cheek.

Laughter soon met your ears, and the shaking body beneath you made it pretty obvious who it was coming from. Drowsily, you pushed yourself up to a sitting position and let Mammon slip himself out of you while you threw an inquisitive look his way. The eyes that met your own were no longer ones of a demon in rut, but ones filled with total admiration. “What are you laughing about?”

“You,” he answered simply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear while his other hand rested loosely on your bare hip.

Your heart fluttered at that, but you played it off with a small smile and a tiny slap against his chest. “Why are you being so cheesy?”

He said nothing, only answering with another laugh as he leaned forward to pepper your face with soft kisses. His laughter turned out to be infectious as you, too, began to laugh, leaving the two of you giggling into each others’ mouths before he pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. “I’m just so happy you actually came, y/n.”

“Me too, I was starting to get worried there for a bit,” you snarked, the teasing lilt evident in your tone. Mammon scoffed at playfully rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as the corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk.

“Sure fooled me. You sure sounded like you were enjoying yourself.” Now it was your turn to fake being offended; you gasped indignantly before turning your head away in a fake pout.

“With this much disrespect, maybe I’ll just show myself out.”

“Woah there, let’s not be too hasty.” A thumb and forefinger grip your chin and turn your head back toward Mammon, who had a peculiar twinkle in his eye. It was something warm and knowing and light, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. The odd look didn’t leave when he pulled you against his chest for what felt like the hundredth time that day, nor did it leave when you tangled yourselves up in the other while you cuddled, just taking time to soak the other in.

Eventually, Mammon gave himself over to sleep, his light snores rumbling softly against the side of your neck as he unconsciously wriggled himself impossibly closer into you. You were just about to as well until two short sets of buzzes caught your attention.

Twisting around carefully in Mammon’s arms, you were just able to see your D.D.D. flicking off again after receiving the messages. Luckily, your shorts had ended up getting thrown onto your nightstand, so it wasn’t too much of a challenge to snag your D.D.D. from your back pocket without waking up the sleeping demon latched on to you.

Flicking it open, you saw that the messages had come from Levi.

come over please. I know your with mammon right now

I need help too y/n, please

You cast a glance over your shoulder at the said demon, guilt gnawing at your heart as memories resurfaced of how sweet he had been earlier; however, those memories were soon replaced with ones of Lucifer, disheveled and leaning into your touch, and of Solomon, warning you that you’d end up helping all of the brothers out. With a sigh, you tapped a quick reply to Levi that you were on your way and eased yourself out of Mammon’s arms.

As you got to your feet, you were surprised to find that you weren’t sore in the slightest, despite how rough Mammon had been. Solomon’s magic really was no joke. It didn’t take you long to slip back into your clothes (granted, you didn’t bother putting your bra and underwear back on because you’d just be taking them off again) and you soon found yourself staring down at Mammon.

You were still guilty about running off to go fuck his younger brother while he was sleeping, but at the same time, you’d feel even more guilty about only helping one brother and leaving the other six to deal with their ruts by themselves. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, you finally steel yourself and commit to your decision, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before turning around and marching yourself straight out of your door. You don’t look back, because you know that if you do, the rest of the brothers would end up suffering through their ruts alone.

#obey me #obey me: swd #obey me mammon #obey me smut #obey me mammon x reader #heat!au #obey me fic #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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endless-love-ushigina · 3 years

Text

Third Times the Charm

Character: Nanami

Warnings: None, it’s pure fluff

A/N: Shoutout to @isseisbbg for yet again, reading through this and helping me! I’ve finally written a fluffy piece, and it’s honestly made me very soft. I hope you enjoy this! I’m hoping to keep writing some JJK content, because I love that show! I hope you all have good lives! Feel free to send me message just to chat, I love making friends

You walked into your office on the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech campus and noticed something sitting on your desk wrapped neatly in a napkin. You kept your gaze locked on it as you took your coat off and hung it up on the designated hook in your office. Despite having already unlocked your office to get in, you checked the lock to ensure that it hadn’t been tampered with in the slightest before walking to the napkin on your desk and opened up the napkin revealing a chocolate donut.

“How did this even get here,” you muttered and glanced around your office. You were concerned as to how anybody got into your office, and the fact that it was one of your favorite treats on your desk. You sighed as you threw the donut away. As much as you wanted to eat the treat, you knew it would be foolish with recent events. It’s absurd to think a curse left a donut on your desk, but you weren’t taking any chances. You grabbed your bag and water bottle before walking out of your office, so you could make it to a class you were teaching to the second years.

After teaching a couple classes, you found yourself walking towards the tree that you normally eat lunch at. Nanami usually joins you for lunch, even though he isn’t a teacher at Jujutsu Tech. He always plans his lunch breaks around yours, which you have always found sweet. You couldn’t help the smile that washed over your face as you saw him sitting under the tree, but before you made it to him you felt someone grasp your wrist bringing you to a halt.

“(Y/N), I’m glad I ran into you! I’ve had a very pressing matter that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” You heard Gojo’s voice. Turning, you smiled at your close friend. You knew whatever he wanted to talk about really wasn’t truly important.

“Hurry up Gojo, you’re cutting into my Nanami time,” you said and glanced back at the man, who appeared quite annoyed at Gojo interrupting.

“Yes, yes, it’s just important. I saw you throwing away a donut this morning, when you know I’m your human garbage can,” Gojo said quite loudly.

“I had no idea where it came from, I didn’t want anyone to die eating it. Now leave, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You turned him around and pushed him away.

“Human garbage can, for any food, but especially for sweets,” he yelled while walking off, and you just rolled your eyes at the man while walking over and sitting next to Nanami.

“You threw a donut away this morning?” Nanami questioned while giving you half of his sandwich, and you gave him half of yours.

“It was the weirdest thing, there was one just sitting on my desk this morning, and I couldn’t eat that. I have no idea where it came from. Gojo clearly has lower standards than I do,” you chuckled and ate Nanami’s half sandwich first. “I’m just worried about how someone got into my office. I know this campus is relatively safe, and that I’m a Grade 1 Sorcerer, but I still get nervous.”

You glanced at Nanami when he didn’t respond, and he seemed to be lost in thought. “You okay there, Kento?” You smiled using his first name to pull him out of his thoughts.

He smiled gently at you before taking a bite of your sandwich, “I’m just fine.” He didn’t tell you that the donut was from him, and that he was beating himself up over the fact that he left a mysterious donut in your office.

The next morning when you walked into your office, you saw another neatly wrapped parcel sitting on your desk. You didn’t even bother taking off your jacket as you opened it up to see another chocolate donut, this time accompanied with a note.

‘I hope you enjoy this donut on me, I know how much you enjoy your chocolate desserts. I got it from the bakery up the road, no need to toss this one.’

There was no signature, and the note was typed out so you couldn’t even figure out the handwriting. Gojo must have left this here after you told him what happened yesterday. He loves to mess with you, and he knows you were a little paranoid about how someone got in here. You know he can easily weasel his way in and out of places. You rolled your eyes and hung up your coat.

You had a meeting with a few other sorcerers this morning in regards to the recent rise in curses, and the school proceeding with the Kyoto exchange event. Grabbing your water bottle and the donut, you jogged to the meeting room. You knew you’d be the last one, everyone knew your worst quality was being later than Gojo.

“(Y/N), it’s about time,” Yaga said, nodding at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you stated quickly and went to stand next to Gojo. “Here’s the donut you got. You knew someone sneaking into my office freaked me out a bit, and here you are making jokes. Please never do that again, I don’t want your donut.”

“Wait, I…” Gojo started but you already walked off, as Yaga started the meeting, and went and sat right next to Nanami at the table who watched the entire scene play out. You could sense that hei seemed pretty tense, but you didn’t say much of it trying to pay attention to Yaga.

Nanami watched as Gojo ate the donut that he had gotten for you, and he couldn’t help but feel irritated. Not at you, but at himself and at Gojo. He knew he should have signed the note, or given you the donut in person at the meeting this morning, but he just couldn’t work up the courage to do such a simple task. He had even talked to Gojo about the incident yesterday, so he knew who was leaving you donuts, and yet Gojo still sat across from him eating the donut. Gojo wasn’t the person he wanted to be spending his money to buy treats for.

You noticed Nanami really wasn’t paying attention to Yaga, so you made sure to nudge him and Nanami glanced at you. “It’s not like you to not pay attention.”

He just nodded softly at you and focused his attention back to Yaga. You didn’t notice the smirk Gojo was wearing as he ate the donut, but Nanami couldn’t have missed it.

You were hustling to get to your office. Your hair was still in the bun you wore to sleep, you had your glasses on today instead of your contacts, and you were wearing the first thing you grabbed. Today, your only goal was to get to your office 30 minutes early, and hope it was early enough to catch any more office break in attempts. As you were walking past a bakery on the way to the school you glanced in and saw Nanami and he was being handed a chocolate donut. Your eyes widened realizing it looked just like the donuts that have been on your desk the past couple days. You quickly walked off to the side to get out of the way, now very curious and wanting to follow Nanami.

You watched as he walked forward, and continued on the path to Jujutsu Tech, which was strange. There wasn’t a meeting today that he needed to attend, and he didn’t teach at the school. You quickly followed behind him, but also made sure you were going unnoticed. You watched him walk all the way to your office, and open the door with a key. You were confused for many reasons: Why was Nanami sneaking you donuts? Why didn’t he just give them to you in person? And finally, how did he get a key for your office?

You weren’t going to let him run off without getting answers to your questions, so as soon as you saw him closing the door to your office and locking it, you jumped in front of him and he instantly tensed.

“Kento!” you all but shouted.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here so early?” Nanami asked while he put his hand on the back of his neck rubbing it awkwardly.

“I was trying to figure out who kept leaving me donuts, because I guess I was really overthinking it. How’d you get a key to my office, Kento? I also don’t want to sound rude, but why are you getting me donuts, anonymously?”

“At our lunches, you were always complaining about not getting breakfast, but never being willing enough to wake up earlier to fix the issue. So, I wanted to fix that issue for you.”

You felt your heart swell at those words, and your face heat up. You looked down instantly, not wanting Nanami to see you. “I’m so sorry I threw one away, and gave one to Gojo.” you quickly said. “Although, in my defense, you left no notes that said it was from you!”

“I know, I know-- it’s okay. I wasn’t going to leave a signed note today either. I didn’t want to explain how I got the key to your office. I was hoping you’d realize they were safe to eat after seeing Gojo didn’t die from the one you gave him yesterday.”

You smiled looking up at Nanami. “Why’d you get them for me though? This is an extra 25 minutes added to your mornings?”

“You definitely don’t make this easy, (y/n),” he sighed and as you looked up with a confused expression about to say something, you felt Nanami’s lips land on yours and his hands cradle each side of your face in a breathtaking kiss. You quickly leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes, and enjoyed the moment until Nanami pulled away. “I hope that spells it out a little more clearly for you.”

You had a huge smile plastered on your face as you looked up at Nanami. “Well I guess third times the charm,” Nanami chuckled softly at your statement and let go of you, and you quickly fished your keys out of your pocket and placed them in the lock. “Now I’m ready to go eat a donut, you know, chocolate is my favorite. I’ll see you at lunch, Kento, but I’m afraid you’re still going to have to explain to me how you got a set of keys to my office.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento x reader #nanami imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagine #jjk fluff #nanami fluff

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alphadaddyderek · 3 years

Text

Not all math puns are awful, just sum (sterek fic, high school au)

ao3 link: click if you dare

summary: ’what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100’

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

AU where Stiles and Derek have to share a textbook and they write terrible math puns back and forth to each other.

Stiles sincerely, genuinely, regrets taking AP classes.

Well, kinda.

They would look great on his resume. Colleges wouldn’t even second guess accepting him and he would receive so many scholarships which would help his dad big time.

AP classes will also raise his GPA crazy high which, again, looks great to colleges.

Sometimes they just suck.

His AP Statistics class is definitely #1 on the ‘classes that suck straight ass list’.

It’s boring and it can be kinda hard. Plus it’s math so it’s automatically gross.

Stiles is good at math, but it’s not his forte, that’s more Lydia Martin’s thing.

Anyway, Beacon Hills High had to have some budget cuts this year, like, serious budget cuts. The sports teams are lucky that people care about people throwing balls all over the place, otherwise they would’ve gotten cut too.

Since the school has had budget cuts, the students don’t get individual textbooks anymore. Meaning, that they can only use it during class and then they have to leave it in the classroom for the next class to use.

So, yeah.

It’s the third week of junior year, AP Stat is as boring as always. He has Lydia to talk to sometimes but she has other friends in the same class, so he's not always entertained.

The teacher didn’t really care about whether or not students did the work, he just played chess on his computer the whole class anyway. He gave the page number that we were supposed to work on and that was that.

Stiles prefers that to lectures, but still. When he’s done the work there’s nothing left for him to do. He could go on his phone, but even that gets boring eventually.

What he’s trying to say is that he’s bored, okay?

Turning to the page that the teacher assigned, Stiles is shocked and wildly amused, to already see writing on the margins of the page. He figured it would take at least half the school year before people started vandalizing the textbooks. Although, it’s written in pencil so it’s easily erasable.

When Stiles actually reads what was written he snorts. Luckily, it’s loud in the class so the most attention he gets is when Lydia shoots him a weird look which he ignores.

'what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100'

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

Should he write something back? Stiles doesn’t know if the person who wrote this is hoping for a response, or if they wrote in the book because they’re just as bored as Stiles is.

Eh, fuck it. Why not?

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

Stiles snickers at his equally bad math joke before finally deciding to focus on the actual work. He didn’t want to be one of the ones who didn’t pass the class, because that would suck. So he does the work and for the remainder of the class he lets out a giggle or two every once in a while because even though he’s 16 years old, he apparently still has the sense of humor of a child.

π π π

It’s the next class and honestly, Stiles kind of forgot about the writing in the textbook. After he left that class he went to AP Geography where there was immediately a test, which he nailed by the way. Plus, with all his other classes, he just didn’t think it was important to remember a bad, but still funny, math joke in a textbook.

The teacher assigns them another page number full of questions to work on. And, just like last time, there’s writing in the margins.

‘i’m sorry, that was pretty mean of me to say’

That one has Stiles laughing out loud. Not too loud though, because he doesn’t have that much of a death wish. He just laughs loud enough to make Lydia send him another weird look, except this time Lydia questions him about it.

“What is so funny?” she asks, twirling her hair with her pencil.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing really. Just somebody writing lame math jokes on the book pages.”

“Well, you’re laughing at them. So doesn’t that make you lame as well?”

Stiles dramatically gasps.

“Wow, Lydia, that was pretty mean of you to say,” Stiles replies before bursting into more laughter.

At this point, Lydia is looking at him like he has brain damage but he really can’t bring himself to care. It’s hilarious and if she doesn’t think so then oh well. Her loss.

Well, she doesn’t know that that was the joke inside the textbook, but still, whatever.

It’s funny.

π π π

By this point, it’s kind of like Stiles and this unknown jokester are pen pals.

It’s been a week filled with terrible math jokes and Lydia probably losing more and more respect for him as the days pass.

He’s told Scott about his little pen pal and of course, Scott doesn’t really get it, but he’s supportive nonetheless.

It’s a Friday night and Scott is at Stiles’ house. They’re playing video games and eating so much pizza that Stiles will be bloated for an entire week.

Thankfully, his dad is on the night shift, otherwise, he would be heavily judgmental of Stiles’ life choices.

After several rounds of Mario Kart, they take a break to eat said pizza and talk a bit.

“So,” Scott takes a huge bite of his slice. “how are you and your math buddy doing?”

Stiles takes a bite of his own slice. “Why are you asking? Jealous?”

Scott laughs. “Oh yeah, I’m so jealous. Please, Stiles, make terrible math jokes with me.”

Stiles flips Scott off. “You only mock because you really are jealous.”

Scott rolls his eyes and then the topic is dropped.

At least for the next hour or so. Then after that, it gets brought back up.

“Do you think it’s weird to have a crush on someone you’ve never met?” Stiles asks, playing with a loose thread on his jeans.

Scott looks at Stiles, and Stiles does not want to see the weird look Scott has on his face so he continues looking down.

“You have a crush on this person?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re funny, and obviously, they’re smart if they’re in AP Stat. I would like to meet this person though, maybe. I don’t know.”

Stiles feels his cheeks heating up.

Scott nudges Stiles with his elbow. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not weird at all. It’s kinda like online dating, but like medieval style.”

Stiles can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. “What?”

It’s like medieval style! ‘Cause, it’s in a book. Instead of online.”

Scott is always able to make Stiles feel better, no matter the situation. His goofiness especially lightens his mood.

“Okay, Scott. Are we going to go jousting next?”

“I don’t know. What you guys do on your first date is none of my business,” Scott says with a sly smile.

Stiles snorts and grabs a pillow off the couch behind them and smacks Scott in the face with it, resulting in a pillow fight ensuing.

And if anybody asks, Scott did not win. He didn’t!

π π π

2 weeks after he and Scott had that talk, Stiles continues talking with his pen pal. Although, maybe Stiles is looking too deep into this, but it kind of seems like flirting now?

Hear him out.

In the margins, the person started adding smiley faces and winky faces after every message.

Ooh and they actually put their initials! D.H.

Stiles doesn’t think he knows anyone in school with those initials. Granted, Stiles isn’t exactly a social butterfly so he’s not doubting their existence at all.

AP Stat only has 5 minutes left in the class. Stiles has already embarrassed himself in front of Lydia more times than he can count, so he decides to ask Lydia if she knows someone with those initials.

She purses her lips. “Why do you ask?”

Stiles sighs inwardly before answering. “Uh, well. I was just...wondering. Ya know. Trying to expand my friend circle.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow. And Stiles sighs outwardly this time.

“Fine. You know the jokes that were in the book?”

“You mean from like a month ago?”

“Well...we’ve kinda been continuing to exchange jokes and notes and stuff. And then recently they put their initials. Or, at least I think it’s their initials. I don’t know what else it would be. So, yeah.”

Lydia looks at him for a moment before her lips curl up into a smile. “You mean you’ve finally found someone who has a worse sense of humor than you?”

Stiles returns the smile. “I’ll have you know, my sense of humor is advanced. Way too advanced even for you.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, the only name that comes to mind is Derek Hale.”

Stiles chokes on his own spit. “Derek Hale? You mean the star of the basketball team? The guy with eyes that are like fifty different colors and bunny teeth that would look ridiculous on anyone else but he somehow looks gorgeous with them? That Derek Hale?”

“Yes. Other than that, I don’t know anyone else with those initials.”

“Does he take AP Stat?”

Lydia shrugs. Stiles takes that as a no.

There’s no way that Derek Hale is the one writing these notes. No way in hell. Stiles isn’t that lucky.

Plus, even if Derek is the one writing these, hypothetically speaking, Derek wouldn’t be interested in him. Don’t get Stiles wrong, he knows he’s a pretty attractive guy. But nobody in this school is as attractive as Derek Hale. Let's be real here.

Okay, maybe Danny. Danny is kinda gorgeous.

But besides Danny, nobody is even on the same level as Derek.

Well, Lydia is too.

Okay, dammit. People are on the same level as Derek Hale. The point is that Stiles isn’t.

Stiles sighs for what seems like the eighth time in. “Okay. Thanks.”

Lydia gives him a scrutinizing look before nodding and getting on her phone.

Stiles sits there and ponders why his life is like this before deciding that he must've done something to piss off fate in a past life. Pleased with his conclusion, Stiles shoves his notebook and pencils into his backpack just in time for the bell to ring.

π π π

Okay, so, Stiles must be going crazy.

When he saw that his pen pal had written his initials he figured, ‘hey, I might as well do the same. It’s only decent right?’ so he had, and ever since then Derek Hale has been shooting him looks in the hallway.

Maybe he’s hallucinating, because Derek Hale is, well, Derek Hale. Out of everyone in the hallway, why would he be looking at Stiles?

Also, Stiles can’t be the only person in the school with the initials S.S. although, he probably is the only S.S. that’s taking AP Stat so there’s that.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do, should he wave? Shoot him a smile?

Actually no, he should do neither of those things because if he does, and Derek actually wasn’t looking at him, that would be so unbelievably embarrassing. So embarrassing that Stiles would have to transfer schools immediately.

Stiles shakes his head and opens up his locker to gather his things for his next class. When he closes the locker Derek is standing right there like they’re in a horror movie and Stiles jumps so hard that he drops his notebook.

“Shit. Sorry,” Derek says and bends down to swipe Stiles’ notebook off the floor.

“No, it’s okay. You’re awfully quiet for an athlete.”

Stiles holds his hand out for his notebook but Derek doesn’t seem all that interested in returning it to him just yet. Derek looks at the front of his notebook.

“Hmm. AP Stat. Interesting.”

Stiles bites his lip and nods. “Yep,” he says popping the ‘p’. “it is interesting. Well, actually it’s not. AP Stat is yuck sometimes and it can get boring but it’ll look great on my resume so.”

Derek nods. He looks at Stiles for a few more seconds before he opens his mouth, and the second he does, Stiles’ stomach fills with butterflies.

“What is the probability that anyone will pass that fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100.”

Stiles bites his lip to stifle his smile. He doesn’t want to cheese like an idiot in front of Derek Hale but he thinks that ship has already sailed cause Derek’s lips stretch into a big smile.

Stiles clears his throat. “I think there is statistical data to back up your theory.”

“Oh, is there?” Derek asks, smile turning into a smirk.

Stiles nods then looks at his notebook that is still in Derek’s hand. “Can I have my notebook now? I’m not sure what exactly you’re plotting but I don’t like it.”

Derek scrunches his face up. “Wow, that was bad.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes. “Like yours were any better.”

Derek shrugs, smile returning to his face. “I thought my mean joke was pretty hilarious.”

“Yeah, hilariously bad. I didn’t laugh at all, not one bit.”

Derek looks like he doesn’t believe a word Stiles just said, which is fair, he shouldn’t.

“So,” Derek begins, eyes boring into Stiles’— seriously, what is up with Derek’s eyes? — “what is the probability that you will give me your number?”

Stiles pretends to think about it for a second. “I'm thinking 100 in 100.”

#stiles stilinski #derek hale #Sterek #sterek fic #high school au #quite possibly the worst math jokes ever in existence #my fic

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joontier · 4 years

Text

mercedes midnight runs | drabble

synopsis: ur thirsting over jk driving you around in a mercedes

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: R

genre: smut, angst | warnings: pwp basically (the thirst is real and unquenchable) with lidol angst ; swearing ; degradation ; car sex (pls dont do this while driving fjlaksas)

word count: 2.1k

g/n: this is the first installment for my ‘between the lines’ collection! ackkk ive been wanting to do this for so long because ive always thirsted over the boys driving and imagining jk driving his mercedes around seoul is just,,,,, eye ---- btw, this is heavily unedited nhnghgnhgn i just had to share the thirst with yall real quick

between the lines navi. | navi. | m.list

You’ve already planned out a quiet night to yourself tonight to rest and get your mind off of things, but all of a sudden, just as you were about to settle in bed, Jungkook sends you a text, telling you to get ready in half an hour because he’s going to pick you up and take you out somewhere.

It isn't new news anymore that he’s texting you at this hour because he’s only permitted to go out after his schedules, which usually also end late at night. Superstar problems, can’t relate.

Well, that and because your relationship with him warrants these types of late night meet-ups. It’s that type of arrangement you’d never thought you’d agree to, but eventually, learned to cope with. Your phone pings - a new message.

[🕺] 12:45AM

im out front

When you exit your apartment, you see an unfamiliar silver car parked in front of the building, you back up the stairs, wary of who might be inside the mysterious vehicle. The window rolls down halfway, and you see Jungkook takes a peek through the small space.

Going back down the steps, you quickly climb inside the vehicle. “New car?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

You hum in agreement, tracing a hand along the sleek design of the dashboard. “It’s very...you,” you remark, in awe at how this new Benz fits Jungkook so well. “C’mere,” Jungkook tugs at your elbow, closing the distance between the two of you. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you.” He presses his lightly chapped lips against yours, nipping gently at your bottom lip. Abruptly, you pull away, worried.

“Kook...what if someone sees?”

“I got the windows tinted. I got this car for us.” His words resonate throughout the car, and you're afraid he might hear your heart thudding strongly in your chest. You choose to ignore the implications of his words, focusing on his presence and not your treacherous thoughts.

You give him a chaste kiss on his cheek in reply, sending a smile in his direction. You hope he doesn't see your real emotions swimming in your eyes. “Where are we escaping off to tonight?” Internally cringing at your careless choice of words, you take off your hoodie and place it at the backseat, along with your purse, all the while giving him a generous display of your cleavage as a distraction.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I’m having second thoughts now, if we should really leave or not,” he says, unabashedly staring at your chest, eyeing your nipples, pert against the fabric of your low-cut top. “No bra?”

“You told me you’d be here in twenty minutes, so I had to hurry….”

“Wearing a bra takes you twenty minutes now?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head at your lame excuse.

“Yup, especially when all I could think about is having you take them off. So be grateful, because I’m doing you a favor.” You give him a wink, giggling when he huffs and starts the car. You’ve outwitted him once more. Silently, deep within the recesses of your brain, you wish you had the same amount of control you had over your words with your heart, especially when you’re around Jungkook.

Connecting your phone to the car’s music player via bluetooth, you scroll through your recents and pick on your favorite playlist when you’re with Jungkook. ‘Sexy Can I’ by Ray J and Yung Berg comes first on shuffle.

“That sounds like a very promising playlist.”

Your conversation slowly lulls into silence, the two of you seated there quietly as you feel the enhanced bass reverberate throughout the new car. Leaning against the headrest, you glimpse at the man beside you, studying his features.

Sometimes you find it funny how never in a million years did you even dream of being this close to the Euphoria crooner. If it wasn’t for your cousin Eunkyung - an idol who debuted the same year as Jungkook did, who’s likewise a very good friend of the latter, then you don't think you would even come close to breathing the same air as the global sensation beside you.

Judging by the movement of Jungkook’s lips, you reckon he’s been speaking to you for the last five minutes, but you definitely have not processed a single word from him, for all you care. You couldn't blame yourself though, and Jungkook is certainly the one who is to take responsibility for your momentary preoccupation.

“You okay babe?”

“Mhmmhm”

If you were going to be completely honest, you were far from okay. Besides the many thoughts swirling inside your head, your trusty menstrual cycle tracker app is telling you that you’re bound to welcome your monthly visitor in a week - which means you’re PMSing - which further means you’re only in one certain state of mind - you’re insatiably horny.

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook is absolutely no help at all. Not when he constantly looks like sex personified - muscular thighs, veiny arms, the whole package. Plus, there’s something about Jungkook behind the wheel that’s ultimately driving you crazy.

A major part of it is your hormones for sure, but then again, even your hormones are thirsting over Jungkook driving, veiny forearms on display as he grips the wheel, or the way he backs up with only one hand on the steering wheel, or the way he sometimes keep a hand on your thigh as he drives. The formula is clear: Jeon Jungkook will be the cause of your insanity.

Jungkook pulls up the sleeves of his Carhartt sweater, revealing his nearing full-sleeve-tattooed right arm. The sight instantly makes you water, or wetter. Whichever the case may be.

You hadn’t seen him in a week, busy working on his mixtape, amongst other stuff. And you miss him terribly, sex with him included. As desperate and slutty that sounds, Jungkook is that type of person that leaves you wanting, yearning for more.

“What’s going on then?”

“If this is about Eunkyung…you know we already talked about that…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that, Jungkook.”

“What’s wrong then?”

You don’t answer, just silently watching the muscles on his forearm ripple as he pulls on the hand brake when you get to an intersection. You gulp, looking away as you push your thighs together, hoping that somehow the friction will help the desire pooling between your legs. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, whose eyes instantly darken, now all too aware of your state.

“Tell me what’s wrong baby girl.”

Your resolve nearly breaks at the pet name, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. The light turns green again, and as he continues to drive, he rests a hand on your exposed thigh, strategically placing it just in the middle, the action gentle, yet enough to add fuel to your frustration.

His tattooed fingers gingerly trace patterns on your bare thigh. Fuck Jungkook and his thing for skirts. You weren't one to complain about his sexual fantasies though, not when wearing the skirts he buys for you gets you a good fucking afterwards.

You stay quiet in your seat, not giving the satisfaction that Jungkook gets knowing that he’s getting you all riled up. Two can play at this game.

Gingerly, you place a hand on top of his, gently guiding his hand north towards your core. The man driving beside you lets out a cough, sitting up straighter. Keeping his hand sliding up until he’s fully cupping your core, Jungkook chokes on thin air as he realizes you’re not wearing panties either.

“Let me guess, wearing underwear is too mainstream?”

Shrugging, you spread your legs wider, guiding his fingers to slide against your already glistening folds. A shot of electricity runs through your spine. “Fuck, baby girl, you’ll be the death of me,” Jungkook growls, taking a sharp intake of breath as he teases you, shallowly dipping a digit through your wet cunt.

“You’re fucking soaked. You seem to enjoy the thought, princess. Christening my car seats like the slut that you are?” He drawls, this time fully pushing a finger in as you get to another stoplight.

“Jungkook, don’t tease me like that baby.” Biting your lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to spill, your own hand reaches out to grab at Jungkook crotch. He hisses at the sensation. You smirk to yourself. Seems like you’re not the only one who’s greatly affected.

Encouraged by Jungkook’s reaction, you slip a hand through the waistband of his sweats, taking hold of his already hard cock. “And you’re surprised I don’t wear underwear? Bit rich coming from you now isn’t it?”

“Better watch your mouth and stop teasing me, baby girl. You might just get punished for that.”

“And what if I want to get punished?”

Jungkook huffs, pulling out his finger as the light turns orange. He brings his slick-covered finger to your lips, “Suck,” he orders. You oblige, sucking on his slender digit and swirling a tongue around it.

“You’re in for a fucking treat, naughty girl.”

It’s green again. With a sigh, Jungkook gets back to driving, this time religiously looking for a discreet place to stop over so he can fuck you properly. He finally finds a filling station, now driving with newly found urgency.

He parks in one secluded corner of the station, with just a singular parking space separating you from a parked truck, the driver snoring away happily.

The tension is thick in the air, inevitably making you feel hot even with the air conditioning on full blast. With no words needed to get the message across, you both unbuckle your seatbelts hastily, finding each other in a heated kiss shortly after.

Making another grab at Jungkook’s dick - outlining against the confines of his Puma sweats, you urge him to pull them down to his thighs so you can have a taste of your alleged ‘treat’. Likewise, he orders you to lift your skirt up, giving him easier access to have you writing on his fingers alone.

Scooting closer, you bend over the center console, taking Jungkook’s length in your hands. You place a tentative kiss on the tip before diving in, taking his cock inside your mouth. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan at the sensation, taking your hair into his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail on your head.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” His head throws back as you take him to the hilt, the tip hitting the back of your throat. At his compliment, you swallow and as you watch Jungkook visibly shudder, you give yourself a mental pat on the back.

As you continue to bob up and down Jungkook’s length, your hand travels between your legs, fingers easily finding your nether bud. With Jungkook starting to buck his hips upwards, helping you with your task, you quicken the pace of the fingers toying with your clit. You’re so close, but you’re doubtful you’ll even get to orgasm, considering your perched precariously over the console - definitely an uncomfortable position for you to orgasm in.

Jungkook senses your discomfort and tells you to sit down, and you’ll both do this together. As soon as you get seated, you scoot closer to the middle, when Jungkook’s hand extends to return its attention to your dripping cunt. You give Jungkook’s erection stands tall, likewise calling for attention. Heeding to its silent call, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking his length languidly.

For a full minute, you both stay like that, trying to get each other to orgasm. Jungkook’s breathing gets labored by the second - the tell-tale signs he’s getting close. As your hand momentarily leaves his dick to massage his balls, his phone blares, startling you both out of your wits.

Letting out an annoyed huff, he grabs the phone and switches mute button down then thrusting the device somewhere on the dashboard. Pretending as if nothing happened, you continue your handjob until Jungkook can’t take it any longer, pulling you up from your seat and telling you to come and sit on his lap.

As soon as Jungkook pushes his seat back, you crawl over to his side, unceremoniously sitting on his lap, gyrating your hips as you slide your wet folds against the muscular expanse of his thigh. You’re almost there, Jungkook taking your breasts in his hands for more stimulation - that is until his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the dashboard.

“You should probably get that,” you pull away, retreating to your seat: cockblocked for the second time. You check the dashboard for his phone, and get a glimpse of the caller’s ID on his screen. Eunkyung.

You place the device into Jungkook’s hands yourself.

“It’s your girlfriend calling.”

#bts smut #bangtanhq #btsguild #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #btsghostie #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts drabbles

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beann-e · 3 years

Text

No I don’t think Denkis dumb I just think he wants to help so much that he loses the ability to make good, normal, smart decisions.

What I mean is — here let’s take the other day for example when he overheard you telling kirishima you were out of energy.

He meant well really or at least that’s what you tried telling yourself while you were burning up from the inside out at the attempted electrocution that was taking place in the middle of the classroom.

Kirishima screaming at denki to let go only for him to short circuit and dumb himself out so much that you both had to wait for him to return to normal to figure out why he just attempted murder in front of the whole class

“ well I thought I could give her some energy “

“ why would you think you could share energy “

he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment “ well actually now that I think about it I don’t know I guess I just really wanted to help you “

you sighed as kirishima shrugged his shoulders moving to look at bakugou who sat in the desk across from him.

Kirishimas eyes begging for help that bakugou was reluctant to give only giving up on his repeated no’s when you looked at him and smiled softly.

Your eyes told him you were kidnapped by kirishima and being held against your will as his friend similar to himself

Bakugou scoffed as he turned to denki “ oi assbolt whyd you electrocute shitty hairs friend “

“ hey I thought we were friends katsuki “

“ you call me katsuki again and i’ll ri—“

“ woah let’s um let’s calm down—so um denki bro whyd you do it “ kirishimas voice came out in an uncomfortable cough pushing you into his chest trying to shield you away from your recent assailant and your newly made enemy

“ well I overheard y/n saying they were out of energy so I thought I could help in a way— I-I screwed up it wasn’t my place “

“ so you fucking electrocute ‘em“ bakugou screamed now interested in his idiot friends thought process

“ look I don’t know ok “

“ well denki I hate to be mean but you’ve been doing weird stuff like this for weeks and I -it’s sweet but“

you laughed “ i’m getting kinda tired of getting hurt in the process of your help “

His face went downcast

“ oh fuck this — just tell the loser you’ve got a crush and move on “

Your eyebrows raised as you sat staring at the ground letting bakugous words register first before you spoke but the class understanding them before you

“ oh wow dude not cool “

seros voice came out in a laugh “ if he did have a crush on ‘em chances are out the window now “

“ I-I think he may still have a chance y/n seems“ Dekus voice was soft as he stood in front of the mess unfolding “ they seem nice they’d think about it before they said no, right y/n”

He smiled as he moved a bit closer but quickly falling on his face as bakugous small laugh took over the room before he pulled his foot back under his desk slowly

bakugou scoffed “ your one to talk about thinking seeing as though your dumbass just walked in front of my desk thinking I wouldn’t do something “

“ s-sorry kaachan “

“ what the fuck ever “ he moved to look at you

“ the hell are you gonna do shitty airhead —we’re all invested now “

your voice had failed you as you looked to kirishima who was not trying to be in the middle of this right now

his eyes quickly darting away from yours as you called out for help with your own.

He knew just how fucked up this situation had turned neither of you were expecting this.

“ well don’t be an asshole y/n say something“ bakugou laughed “ you got this dude over here pissing himself in fear “

your ears perked up as you heard a calm voice enter into the conversation

“ well Bakugou how about we not scream at them“

you threw your head to the floor as todoroki spoke “ this isn’t even our business in the first place everyone is just being nosy right now “

he moved over to you standing behind you “ though I would like to know what your thinking “

he rubbed your back as he squatted next to your desk “I guess you could say I agree with Bakugou i’m a little invested in what you’ll say next — seeing as though a lots on the line right ? “

your heart clenched at his words as you bit your lip the screams and echos of peoples voices coming in your ears and never leaving

You couldn’t figure out what to say or at least what to mean when you said it

much less how to say it

Which is why you sat shaking as someone’s small touch made the words tumble out of your mouth as you grabbed the persons hands

You stood up as you faced everyone dropping your grasp on Todorokis hand before you screamed

“ I don’t— I— I can’t because—“

Your voice was drowned out as the bell rang it’s noise moving through your head

Your body moving in a heat of adrenaline as you grabbed todorokis hand and yanked him along with you out of the classroom

“ y-y/n I— this isn’t you being very nice to someone who just confessed to you “

You both stopped in the hallway as he stared down on you his eyes capturing you in a look of curiosity “ why are you looking at me lik- “

“ he’s gonna hate me-i didn’t know he felt that way—maybe my own advances were wrong i-i’m sorry“ you said lowly as you looked up expecting to see a different look than the basic one you saw on the males face

“ i— shoto why dont you care “

his face went straight in confusion“ I-Im not understanding what you mean my love “

“ shoto we “

“ you could have simply said no —what’s the problem here“

“ it was a love confession “

“ that you could have said no to “ he laughed

“ my love your taking all of this too seriously— I simply said I dont care if people know but their nosy so let’s keep quiet — your the one who keeps dragging things out into daylight and making them obvious and hurting people“

“ how was I suppose to just tell him no “

“ did you want to tell him yes “

“ well no but “

“ then your not just telling him no your saying no because you don’t want to date him “

he smiled as he kissed you softly “ and because you have a boyfriend “

Your hands moving to hold him tightly in a hug as he laid his head in the crook of your neck.

The clacking of shoes on the floor sounding from hallways down from the both of you as anxiousness and sadness radiated from the spot someone stood

So , no I don’t believe Denki is dumb seeing as though he was smart enough to not ask you out because he was the only one who caught on to your underlying messages with shoto

No, I don’t believe he’s dumb because he’s the only one who darted out to look for you after the bell to bring you your favorite eraser you’d worn down and to care for you even though he knew someone would already be there with you.

I actually can’t say if I think Denki is dumb or smart because he’s the same one who’s crumbled up in a ball on the floor in love with a person he’d never be able to have

Seeing as though his quirk wasn’t compatible with yours which is why you two didn’t get paired up on the day you first met for quirk training

Which is also why he got cut off by his own partner when he tried to talk to you seeing as though your were the new kid

The new beautiful kid

And todoroki was the partner — he envied— the one he envies

The one who took his place as the guy kissing you in the middle of the hallway taking your breath away with a small thumb rub across your cheek

Denki Kaminari is neither smart nor Dumb

Denki Kaminari is just an intelligently naive respectful guy in a one-sided battle with himself who got caught up in a diagnosis of an idiotic sickness made up of stupid emotions he can’t seem to let go

or to put it simply

Denki Kaminari Is stuck in a unrequited love affair

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that-other-him · 3 years

Text

In the belly of the Leviathan

Warmind!Au Destiny story inspired by and tying in with @hdreaper 's own story just posted. Please enjoy!

Fear was something of an old hat to Winter. Memory skips left her anxious, quarantine duty made her anxious, being cut off from Rexy, her frames and the network made her anxious, the anxiety making the memory skips worse made her anxious...

But the fear she'd been living with for the last month blew all of that out of the water.

Ra-1, the fist of Rasputin, the Dragon Ascendant, had personally sent her a message to say that if she didn't start doing exactly what he told her, he'd activate the code-black killcodes built into her Rasputin Exo body, and blow her Exomind into electronic spaghetti. After all, she was wired into the Charlemagne network, and had a documented set of fears he could abuse. She'd gather confidential data for him, she'd send him warnings of Charlemagne's actions, and she'd allow his scientists to try and duplicate Rexy, and the fear of final death would keep her in line.

But.

But but but.

Rasputin's records of her had been accurate...once. Yes, she was still afraid, but her body was no longer a Rasputin model. It couldn't be; that whole area was considered an infohazard now, and her last body was never coming home. And without that final threat, she'd found the courage to do something...stupid.

So here she was, on Ra's flagship in deep space with Charlemagne's blessing. She'd met up with lance troops a few times for debriefs, but recently she'd been allowed to spend time on the flagship itself, ready for Ra to send her where he wanted her. But that same set of interface skills that had allowed her access to Charli's files had also granted access to just a few of Ra's.

Winter paced back and forth in the tiny cabin she’d been assigned. She wasn’t sure if it was some kind of power conservation action, but the light down here barely cut through the shadows. She could have headed up to one of the main decks where things were a bit less claustrophobic, but Ra’s soldiers were everywhere there, and being the only blue-lit Exo on the entire ship guaranteed her the kind of attention that, if things went wrong today, could get her killed. She checked the ship’s clock fruitlessly. Somewhere out there, right now, Ra himself was boots-down on Riis. The data scraps she’d found didn’t say why, or for how long, but there was no question that he was just a little vulnerable right now.

Just a little would have to be enough; her Guardian contacts, who she’d affectionately nicknamed Fireteam Fuzzy, had cut their way through all kinds of monsters since she’d met them, and she’d made damn sure they knew exactly how dangerous he would be. She’d helped Fuzzy find their targets and coordinated some bounties for them down in the Quarantine zone, and when she’d outlined her proposal, they’d agreed to pass it on without question. It could have been typical guardian bravado, but she knew they’d lost friends to Ghostbuster rounds in the attack on the farm a while back. Maybe they actually trusted her.

Maybe that trust was going to get them killed.

Pushing that thought away and herself to her feet, Winter shoved her way past the door and started striding away towards the lifts. One way or another, with the Ira Terra still out in the styx, any news of the strike would take time to arrive, if her information had even been good in the first place. If she was going to stew in uncertainty, she may as well do it somewhere that felt less like a prison cell. Ra may have been a terrifying, merciless, wannabe-tyrant, but the facilities he provided for his troops were actually first rate. She’d find a sim-station no-one was using and throw herself into some story until the guillotine had, one way or another, dropped.

She had made it to the first brightly lit corridor of the barracks floor when her whole body exploded into pain.

Protocols cut in, protecting her mind from the overwhelming agony, partitioning and quarantining it. The feeling of burning alive dipped, sank, then seemed to drain from her whole body into solely her left forearm. When she could see again, she was crumpled against the wall of the corridor, chest heaving, digital heart still pumping on overdrive. It felt unpleasantly like the worst of the memory blips-she was in pain, alone, with no idea why or what to defend against. She cast her eyes down and to her left, and just like with the blips, her circumstances slotted into place. Set into the casing of her arm, where her network interface and uplink were supposed to be, were a smoking ruin of burned and self-destructing circuits. Her only remaining Rasputin hardware, her connection to her frames, to Rexy, to the ship’s system.

Ra-1 had just tried to kill her.

Oh, if she had thought she’d been afraid before, it paled in comparison to the terror that swallowed her now. It felt like her heart was going to burst out through her chest. There was no way her guardians would have told him she was responsible, right? They knew she was undercover, and even in the heat of the fight, he could have sent the kill codes at any time. They’d keep her secret...

...until their dying breaths.

There was a crackling noise that initially failed to cut through the panic, until it resolved unto the familiar voice of the great warlord, and even as the announcement rang out the ship’s engines powered into life and rumbled the flagship into thunderous motion.

“Attention, warriors of the Broken Lance. A guardian strike team has just made an attempt on my life, using information given to them by a traitor within our ranks, Winter-1. The guardians have been dealt with, and I have already ensured she has been rewarded as a traitor deserves. However, an example must still be made. Have her remains gathered and waiting for me upon my return to the Terra. Her masters shall have her broken husk returned to them. A commendation to the squad who has her corpse in my office upon my arrival. Ra out.”

Oh.

Hmm.

Ah, ok.

Winter was pretty sure she’d just lost a minute or two by the time her awareness came back to her. She still felt like she was about to die (fully independent of the hundreds of trained and eager killers probably now closing in on her position) but the freeze instinct was graduating to flight. She had an exit strategy, at Charlemagne’s insistence. It wasn’t a good strategy, but the warmind had explicitly ordered her to try. She reached out with her interface to the subroutine she’d left running on the ship’s server, and-

Ah. Her eyes once again turned to the sparking, melted mess where her interface was supposed to sit. It felt like one of her senses had been scooped out; a huge, gaping wound where the network was supposed to be. Nevermind just the escape protocol, without the access codes built into it, ninety five percent of the systems in the ship would no longer recognise her as a person, including the ones required to log into any network access point on the ship. She knew where her escape protocol was located, and could theoretically trigger it if she could reach an unsecured terminal.

But right now she could already hear tramping boots approaching from the barracks and she had no choice but to run.

She lost count of how many times she blipped as she led a desperate game of cat and mouse through the guts of the ship. The Ira Terra was bigger than the Stultorum had been, back when she’d served upon it, but if the ship ran about the same, the cargo deck mid-flight would be on skeleton crew with nobody caring if an unsecured terminal was technically a security violation. So she kept heading down and back, focusing on that one thought to the exclusion of all else. When she blipped in this time, she was halfway down a corridor created by two shipping containers, moving towards the illuminated sign of a shift breakroom. She took the next step and immediately fell nearly to the floor, sprawling gracelessly and nearly braining herself on the container. Oh-she’d been shot. That explained why her right side and upper leg were one big mess of static and pins-and-needles. She supported herself on the side of the crate and limped forward, conscious of the shouts and stomping boots echoing from somewhere in the distance behind her. She made it to the door, shouldering it open, almost collapsing with relief when her flickering vision was met with the friendly glow of an open terminal. She immediately dragged herself to it, closing the chat and shipwide alert windows to immediately start digging for her protocol.

She must have been five seconds in when she heard the shatter of breaking crockery behind her.

Slowly turning to face the noise, Winter looked into the eyes of the exo washing the dishes in the kitchenette, set into the corner of the breakroom. For a moment, both were still, surprised, the other Exo’s hand still in the air where it had been holding the coffee mug a moment ago. Then his eyes flicked to the screen of the terminal, where a moment ago had been the bounty on the only blue-lit Exo on the ship.

She didn’t even question trying to engage him. She whirled back to the screen, fingers flying as she desperately raced to run the command. The man had no weapons, probably no combat training, but he crashed into her from behind and her leg went out from under her, skull bouncing off the frame of the screen as he tried to wrap his arms around hers, voice bellowing that he’d found her. She was so close it burned, even more intense than the pain. She gripped one of her hands with the other and shoved it over her shoulder as hard as she could, outstretched thumb punching into his optic and causing a very human scream that no amount of mechanical upgrades would prevent. His grip slackened, and she pulled herself out of his arms and high enough to see the screen.

There were shouts behind her, the sounds of guns being brought to attention, the exo at her feet was tightening his grip again, and her vision was fading into black on the edges.

She hit the last key on the screen.

Everything went white, then black, silent and cold.

It was maybe ten seconds before the first ship thundered across her line of sight in the perfect silence of vacuum, the many supporting ships of Ra's fleet rushing to keep up with the flagship as it finished positioning itself for the jump. Even its coasting speed had brought it far enough away from Winter to render it a tiny dot in the distance, before there was a flash of light and the ships were gone.

Her transmat had been a random distance in a random direction, untraceable, and searching for her would delay the ship's travel to pick up Ra. She'd be left behind in the void, passing beyond its signal jamming, allowing the beacon hidden in her circuits to finally begin transmitting. A waiting friendly vessel would be on route to pick her up, provided the fleet hadn't shot it out of the sky.

Which left Winter here, curled in a ball as the moisture on her clothes crystallised. In theory, Exos were built to be vacuum-resistant, but she had a feeling that resistance didn't account for there being two bleeding holes in her dermis.

The thought drifted through her brain as her senses shut down one by one:

Who would claim her first: the cold, the bleeding, or her rescue?

She found herself thinking that she didn't want to die again.

Slowly, the black faded back to white.

#destiny 2 writing #warmind au #Winter-1/2/3

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jimines · 3 years

Note

Whats actually happened between you and taemaknae? I read about it on the tea blog and still confused

This is an insanely long story so I'm going to put it below the cut so for anyone interested in this absolute shit show, continue on.

Essentially, I posted these headers about a month ago:

It was a set of like 8 colours and it was the first time I had ever posted any headers or anything. The issue nic had with these, was the ripped paper bottom. Because apparently you can trademark that. I had asked a (now ex) “friend” of mine if she knew where I could find the ripped paper effect because I had seen the effect on the header of her network blog and I had been trying to find a similar thing for months and google images never gave me anything good. She ended up referring me to google images anyways and after like an hour of dedicated searching, I found this ripped paper effect and used it. This ex “friend” went on to tell another friend of mine that I had "asked where nicole gets her resources for her headers" and then screenshotted my dm as "proof", which still confuses me because I never mentioned nicole there lmao. I've seen the screenshot.

Tell me where I said nicole. It was literally just a question born from seeing the header they had on their network lmao. I feel it’s important to mention I didn’t know this person ran said network at that time, which is why i said “these people”.

This other friend then came to me and just said my headers "may be seen as similar to nic's” and said she noticed it on her own and never mentioned my other “friend” approaching her. I was confused because other than that ripped paper effect that I know many people on tumblr use, I saw no similarities. Nic's headers are usually more complex and more than just a coloured background with a little effect in it. I just wanted to make some simple headers for fun because I was bored. But, regardless, I messaged nic about it to make sure she didn't feel the same way. I told her a friend of mine was worried nic might think my headers are similar to her's and I assured her that if she found them similar I would take them down, no questions asked. Nic told me she was surprised this friend brought it up and told me that it was entirely up to me if I found the headers similar. She never once told me she felt they were the same, never mentioned anything about them, she insisted it was up to me to do as I pleased. So, since I genuinely found no similarities, I left them up.

About a week went by and things between nic and I were fine, or so I thought, based off the fact that she was interacting with my posts, sending me cute asks and replying to a lot of my comments and stuff being kind and whatnot. Then, I decided to post a small list of my creations and the series I had running at the time.

After that, all of a sudden I got an influx of rude hate anons:

To anyone I mentioned the anons to, they agreed with me, you cannot trademark circular icons. This anon also accused me saying “just the fact that you had an anxiety attack about it proves you copied them” Like no sweetie, it’s called three strangers walked into my house and I got anxious.

Despite me not seeing the issue, I messaged nic, assuming she wouldn't care about the icons (it wasn't like I was taking her exact work and copying and pasting them as my own) and that made her very upset. When she responded to me, she was incredibly heated and gave off the vibe she was waiting for me to message her about it.

She said things like "this has actually been bothering me for a while", "i expected you to be able to read between the lines and delete the headers", "i don't know who that anon was but clearly they recognize my style". For starters, she never told me that she was annoyed with me, she was being very kind to me publicly. And I have no idea how I was meant to “read between the lines” of what she said especially considering how kind she was to me the following days. I also never accused her of knowing this anon, she just insisted it wasn't her and she didn't know them right off the bat. She also insinuated that I copied my gifs from others as well, which ticked me off because I made my 100+ layer psd myself thank you very much. But I kept my cool, and I told her I had no idea she felt the way she did, and I told her I would delete the headers (which i did as the conversation was going on), and that I would stop posting my icons and bringing attention to them because no one ever paid it any mind before that point. And I asked her “please tell me straight up the next time you have an issue with me because I am generally pretty dumb with social cues”, I have my adhd to thank for that. And instead of replying, she just blocked me. And conveniently, the hate anons stopped dead right after we blocked each other and I haven't received any since.

Also, these are the kinds of icons I posted:

Looks pretty generic and idk, universal, right?

Then, as I've recently found out today, she was in an "anti-loverjimin" groupchat with at least 2 other bloggers.

Which explains why this all went and fell into place. I know who the two other bloggers are because of what happened two days later but I won't name them just yet, but these two people had been "friends" with me for several months. So, a day or two after nic blocked me, all of a sudden some good friends of mine were blocking me and not talking to me when I asked what was going on. I found out soon after it was because nicole and those two now ex “friends” of mine had taken old dms I sent them and were showing them to people. And I will go into detail about them but I won't name the people they are about for privacy reasons.

Before I move on, to clarify some lies nic has been spreading about me, I never once shit talked nicole to my friends. One of these ex friends also said I was trying to get people on my side. I would have reacted to this all very very differently if that were the case. I would be dragging everyone through the fucking dirt but I don't get off on drama or micromanaging what my mutuals do. My issues are with these people, if you're still friends with them that's your decision i could not care less. So, back to it, the only thing I said about nic was that she and I had a stupid small fight over icons and that she was spreading lies about me, based off of what nic said to jordan.

That exact message, or slight variations of it, was sent to anyone I interacted with because I didn't know if nic was going to stop at jordan or try and get to everyone I fucking knew lmao. Some of the people I messaged this to told ME nic had done this kind of thing before, that she has sent hate anons, launched hate campaigns, cancelled people, etc. Over stupid shit like icons lmao.

Here are some responses I received after I mentioned nicole:

And nic or one of her friends also took it upon themselves to send anons to that tea blog to blow shit up and named everyone and made it an even bigger mess when they saw no one was actively trying to fight me after the dms got out.

I also love that in this following ask, they named my two “friends” that were behind the whole dm drama and backstabbed me, as well as two other people I never badmouthed, that story was twisted. But we’ll get into those details shortly.

And she also told people I clout chased big blogs and only cared about notes. At one point, yes, I did care a lot about my statistics. However, never once did I think clout chasing was worth my fucking time or energy, Nic is the biggest clout chaser on this damn site and there are receipts of that, ask jordan lmao. And I couldn’t give two shits about my statistics anymore lmao, much less anxiety that way. Do I still crave validation sometimes? Sure. But it's not a driving force of my tumblr experience like it used to be.

But, moving on to the dms, the first one was sent when I first came back to tumblr full-time and didn't understand why people self reblogged things, I found the pretence of self reblogging annoying and greedy and I complained about it and it was a comment fuelled by two bloggers that i would see sr a lot on my dash. But I never thought THEY were annoying, as these people are saying I did, it was self reblogging I found annoying and as you can see I have come to understand why people sr and I do it myself too. I didn't even know these two bloggers at this time either. That dm was cropped to hide the fact that this "friend" agreed with me and hid the date as well so it seemed recent, and was sent to one of the bloggers I mentioned as an example, someone I had since become good friends with.

I didn’t befriend one of the people I mentioned there until mid to late June. That friendship is now over thanks to this drama and all the lies. The second friend of mine they went after was never spoken about in dms, they went and turned her against me through lies and manipulation so that friendship has ended too. And while those two were doing that, nic went off to try and turn jordan against me.

There was a particular user on here that I did say some nasty things about but we weren't friends, as many people have been made to believe. I was particularly mad at this person in those dms and was hurtful, I admit, and I have since apologized and owned up to all of it to these people. I did call them fake and/or two-faced.

And what in the gassing me up bullshit was their response though lmao. I also sent this following dm before I even talked about the issue with this person. They urged me to continue and to name drop the person, and I stupidly thought they were trustworthy.

My reasoning for what I said wasn't unwarranted though, I don't make a habit of going around shit-talking people, unless they do something to me first. I vent when I am upset and this person had sent me a passive aggressive ask and then denied sending it when I asked and I thought that was just very fake, especially since she was so kind to me in dms before the ask came in. But all of these dms were cropped too to hide timestamps and responses, and in most cases, like those screenshots prove, these "friends" either gassed me up or egged me on to continue ranting or to name the people i was mad at and they had agreed with me on several, several occasions. Turns out they were trying to get dirt on me to use in their cancel campaign. But the point is, nic has made me out to be this horrible person that befriends "big blogs" (an overrated statement) and then shit talks them behind their back without remorse. Yet it was one person I said rude things about and I, again, owned up to it all and apologized to them the first day. I would've done it sooner had I a) remembered feeling the way I did all those months ago or remembered the dms themselves or b) felt that way still after meeting them. But neither is the case.

I find it really amusing though that these people wanted things to be kept quiet and didn’t want anyone they spoke to to talk to me about it because I was going to “out them on my blog” and “make a big scene”, then they three went and made it a big fucking scene and ruined my friendships. I’m familiar with this pattern of manipulation as it has happened to me in real life before and it’s the most childish bullshit to witness.

Before this callout day for nic, I had never once been directly rude to or about her, same goes for those ex “friends” that betrayed my trust and friendship. The fact that they plotted against me in a group chat while still actively talking to me and being all buddy buddy is just disgusting. Both of them were talking to me that day at the same time they were sharing the dms and shit-talking me to my friends. But yeah, that's my side, the untwisted side, of the whole story. I tried to be mature and talk to nic and when I didn't do what she wanted me to do, she blocked me and launched the hate campaign with dms and the power of photoshop. I’ve been hesitant to make any of this public because it was meant to be a silent ordeal but I’ve grown tired of her constantly publicizing everything without consequence while I remain silent like I promised.

#anon #replied💌#tw:negativity #drama #long post #read at your own risk aha #its a shit show #idc if you rb it #pinning temporarily for the next day(sih)#ish*#edited with screenshots and whatnot that i forgot i had on my phone lmao

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 17

Another chapter! Woo! And yes, I’m still going on with @biodad-bruce-month event despite being two months since it ended :D

Chapter 17: Villain (2)

WARNING: BLOOD MENTION AND DEATH IN THIS CHAPTER

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

Tag: @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek @galla02006 @maleive07

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Something wasn’t right and no, it didn’t take Wally having to see fog outside Amira’s bedroom to know that.

He had been on the phone with Dick, telling him of Amira’s stress baking when the chilly afternoon became a dark, foggy evening.

Rolls of mist covered the Parisian roads, people yelling out to each other as they stumbled to find each other.

“Dick. I have to call you back.” Wally said as he scrambled around the room in search of his suitcase.

To think he would need Barry’s gift so soon.

“Back? Wally what is-“ Wally hung up when he found the comms, his eyes darting around the room until he found a box tucked under the desk labeled ‘utilities.’

Rummaging around it, he grabbed some flashlights, batteries and some goggles before heading into the Parisian street.

He thought the fog was bad from behind the window, but now standing in...it was a nightmare.

Amira, please...be safe...

Fishing for his phone, Wally quickly scrolled through his contacts until he found Amira’s and began to call it.

The longer the call rang, the more Wally began to worry.

When his call didn’t get through, he tried again, turning on the goggles, taken aback at how high tech they were.

The perks of being rich he guessed.

When he noticed that the night vision wouldn’t work in this situation, Wally switched over to thermal, running into the school across the street and up the stairs.

“Marinette!” Wally yelled, holding back the urge to yell out her real name. But he knew better than that.

He knew better than to yell out Amira’s real identity.

“Marinette! Where are you?” Wally yelled out again, looking to see if anyone reacted to the name. That’s when he noticed a heat carefully walked towards the doorway of a classroom on the second floor.

“Hello?” A Parisian asked him, Wally biting his tongue. Damn it!

“Listen, do you speak English?”

“A little.” The person said back.

“That’s fine. Do you know where Marinette is? Do you know what happened to-”

“She was akumatized!” The person bellowed back, Wally feeling his heart stop.

Amira...Amira is the akuma? She...she got akumatized...by Hawkmoth?

How? This wasn’t part of the plan she told him last night!

Snapping from his spiraling thoughts, Wally cupped his hands around his mouth.

“What caused it?” Wally asked, wondering what the hell happened to Amira that caused her to lose control of her emotions.

What caused her to snap?

“She had a little argument over a boy with her classmate. About a boy named...Jason.”

Holy shit.

“No, no, no, no.” Wally muttered to himself, digging his hands into his hair, hating the answer to his questions.

“Are you-” The person asked, Wally seeing them almost hit with the balcony in front of them.

“Stop! Don’t leave the classroom! Stay in there and wait for La-Chat Noir and the team to arrive.” Wally managed to say, his brain running through every possible situation to help him cope with the idea that Amira was somewhere out there, distorted by her emotions…

Alone..dealing with emotions she never liked lingering in for too long...walking with her baggage of pain...and guilt…

Wait...the person said she was arguing with someone who knew Jason...but how was that possible?

“-can do for you?” Wally managed to register, running up the stairs and walked into the classroom, shutting the door behind him.

“I need you to tell me what exactly happened before Marinette got akumatized and don’t you dare try to cover up any details. If you do…” Wally closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t jinx the situation. “This akuma may become your livelihood for a very long time and not only that...this maybe be the Miraculous Team’s last fight and be Hawkmoth’s victory.”

---

Adrien held Chloe close as she continued to grip at his shirt, her body shaking violently as she muttered incoherent words. Tears ruined her makeup, her eyes bloodshot red as Chloe remained curled against Adrien’s shirt.

“Adrikins...you’re still there...right?”

“I’m still here.” Adrien assured, hugging Chloe closer to him.

“Maman and Daddy… I saw them die before my eyes. And I saw Sabrina and Mari...they..they also-”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Adrien hushed, turning to where Plagg was despite not being able to see anything but his glowing green eyes.

After Mari-Banshee caused Chloe to collapse and then disappeared from his sight, Adrien ordered Nino and Sabrina to head back to the class while he took care of Chloe.

Carefully dragging her to the locker room, Adrien began to softly talk to her, holding her hands as he tried to think of a way to lessen the effect of Banshee’s power on Chloe so that he could-

“-help her.” Cloe muttered out, Adrien feeling her hesitantly push herself away from him. “Go help her, Adrien.”

“Chloe, you aren’t-”

“But she needs more help than me Adrien.” Chloe echoed. “I know this will go away once the akuma is found, but right now...we need to do something about the akuma. Who knows how long Ladybird will get here and get rid of the akuma, but we’re here. You’re here.”

Adrien felt as Chloe untangled her hand from his. “I can’t do anything, but you can. You can help de escalate the situation and you even know who she is after. So please...help her Adrien...she’s our friend...who knows how long she can endure it…”

Adrien bit his lip, feeling Plagg settle back into Adrien’s pocket inside his jacket.

“I’ll try Chloe. I’ll try.”

Giving Chloe’s hand a squeeze, Adrien slowly makes his way back to where he last saw Marinette, holding back a scream that nestled in his throat.

“Kid. We need to hurry.” Plagg reminded him. “Because Chloe was right. We don’t know how long it will take Ladybird to find Marinette so we need all hands on-”

“I know Plagg.” Adrien cut off, digging his nails into his palms. “Plagg, claws out!”

---

Dick paced around his apartment, putting his phone to his ear as he attempted to call both Wally and Amira, only to get sent to voicemail.

Huffing, Dick was about to call again when Tim called first.

“Tim, can this-“

“This is urgent.”

“Tim, I’m trying to-“

“Something wrong is happening in Paris right now. Just open the link I sent you right now.”

With Tim hanging up, Dick got a message and opened it, watching a Parisian news station play on his screen.

“Nadja Chamack. Don’t bemused, it’s just the news. As you can see, it’s currently XX:XX and yet-“ Then the camera pans to show the conditions outside. “Our once sunny December day became a foggy night, our reporters are trying to- what? An akuma?”

The station then transitioned into a live feed of what seemed to be a figure walking within the fog.

“This just in! Turns out that this is the result of Hawkmoths most recent akuma! So everyone who is watching, under no circumstance, do not leave the premises you are-“

Nadja went on to talk about akuma protocol when Dick notices something oddly familiar about the figure that walked within the live video.

That bracelet on her hand…

Dick felt his heart sink to his stomach.

Grabbing some keys and his bike, Dick began making phone calls again, hating that no one was picking up...

Or so he thought.

“Selina? Yes... I need a favor.”

—-

Wally slammed his fist against the teacher’s desk, hearing a few gasps escape from the students in the class.

Damn that Lila. Can’t even face the consequences of her own actions.

“Did you idiots seriously not think something was wrong when someone you knew was acting unusual? Even if they weren’t your friend, when someone isn’t acting like themselves, that means you should be concerned.” Silence filled the room. Wally recomposed himself.

This was no time to lecture these idiots. Right now I have to track down both Marinette and Lila Rossi. “Does anyone know where Lila would have run off to?”

When he got nothing but silence for an answer, Wally held his composure. “Okay so no one actually knows this girl. Fine. I’ll look for her my-“

“Shouldn’t you leave this to Ladybird and her team?” The teacher spoke, Wally really wondering how dependent Parisians have become on their ‘heroes’ taking action first.

“My best friend has been akumatized and we haven’t heard a single update about the situation from the Parisian vigilantes. My thoughts? The Miraculous Team is having trouble finding either person and if I can at least help to locate Marinette, then so be it.

I’m not going to stand here and just depend on the vigilantes when I know I can actually do something to help.”

Walking towards the door, he stopped. “I suggest you guys find a way to deal with the mist inside this classroom. Perhaps turn the ventilation system on or something. You rather be able to see each other can keep each other company rather than not knowing what’s going on in the very room you think you’re safe in.”

With that, Wally dashed out the room, not noticing two other people walk behind him.

—-

Lila stumbled as she ran away from the thing that was supposed to be Marinette.

That creature dressed in an ombre dress that transitioned from white to black and whose eyes haunted her was no Marinette!

That was a creature straight from tales she used to hear from the nanny that took care of long ago.

A banshee.

Lila held in a whimper as tears filled her eyes as she heard the akumatized Marinette’s hums, hums that fluctuated between her name being shrieked and soft wails.

“Lila.” She would whisper in a hoarse voice, causing Lila to run even more. “Where are you?”

Lila turned a corner and scrambled to hide behind a dumpster, collapsing her hands over her mouth as she heard Marinette slowly make her way towards her.

Lila shut her eyes tight as she heard the hum grow louder, Lila hating that the hum kept getting louder by the second.

The hum was now right at the corner Lila had finished turning when it came to a halt.

With the foggy streets and the humming coming to a stop, Lila could hear her footsteps nice and clear, listening as her heels clicked and clacked as Marinette walked on the cobblestone street.

Lila didn’t dare to move, she didn’t dare breath as she kept hearing those dreading footsteps. She did, however, wish she had another set of hands as a piercing shriek, in the form of her name, rang throughout the Parisian streets.

Lila didn’t know what happened next as the shriek caused her ears and head ring, her vision becoming muddled as Lila attempted to open her eyes.

She wishes she had not.

As she fluttered her eyes open, bloodshot red eyes looked back at her, a thin smile directed at her.

“Here you are.” Marinette sang in her raspy voice.

Lila felt herself begin to violently shake as Marinette helped her get up by grabbing her wrists. “You know, you didn’t have to make up all those lies to get the class to like you. They just love to throw themselves to anyone if it meant gaining a new friend. They’re just so open hearted like that.

Of course, those types of people are the type whom I’m not fond of, so I steered away from them.

Sadly, you thought lying to them was the best course of action instead of checking to see if you had to lie or not to get their adoration. I could only assume you thought this was the best course of action as it's been your main way of getting attention.

Sadly, you have to pay for your actions this time ‘round.

Didn’t your mother teach you that every action has a consequence?”

Lila watched as Marinette let go of her hands.

“While they might forgive you for lying to them, I will not. You disparage my brother’s name and for that, you shall pay, Lila Rossi.”

She grabbed hold of Lila’s hand, Lila letting out a deathly scream as her hand went ablaze, watching as Marinette’s veil turned pitch black in color.

“Pay for your lies, for your manipulations and schemes.”

Lila felt her other hand go ablaze and soon her heart began to burn, screaming her lungs out as she watched her get swallowed by the ground.

She screamed and cried as she clawed to bring herself back up to the surface, only to feel cold hands pull her down.

“This is your punishment, Lila Rossi. Suffer like I have at the loss of my dear brother.”

The last thing Lila saw before being pulled underground was Marinette’s veil and dress turn pitch black, a vivid black she had never seen before.

Black just like the void that swallowed her, a black that was the only thing Lila could see for miles around her.

She didn’t know for how long she kept screaming, how long she was crying but she knew for quite some time as her throat grew dry. It became itchy, her eyes stinging and she started to grow cold.

She began to walk through the darkness, not daring to stretch out her arms in fear that she may attack her once again.

That’s when she saw him.

Standing there, in the darkness, was a man with olive green eyes and chestnut hair staring back at her.

A man she knew...

“Papà?” She said hoarsely.

She watched as the man looked at her with a smile, opening up his arms, welcoming her.

With a warbling smile, Lila ran to her father, only for him to disintegrate upon her touch.

“Papà!” Lila screeches, running after the dust. Why? Why?!

“Lila.” She heard her mother say monotonously, causing Lila to promptly shut up and stop pathetically trying to get her father back.

She slowly turned to her side, having to look up to see her mother’s pale face.

Was she always this tall?

Looking at herself, Lila realized she was holding her mother's hand and standing before her father’s grave.

She was 9 again.

9...“You can’t keep crying mia stella. We have to keep moving, no matter what. It’s what he would have wanted us to do.”

“Yes, Mamma.” Lila complied, watching as the two walked from the grave, watching how the grave quickly got invaded by thorn covered vines with each step she took. “Bye, Papà.”

“Bastarda! Bastarda!” The boys chanted as they circled her, Lila covering her ears, shutting her eyes as she crouched towards the floor.

“Smettila! [Quit it!]” Lila yelled, holding in tears as she heard the girls in her class whisper and snicker about her.

It wasn’t her fault that her mother couldn’t afford the latest clothing, the latest car or anything new for that matter.

If only her mother were more than just a secretary. If only her mother were someone important.

How she hated that they were able to see through her lies.

She could hear the laughter ringing around her, the chants of her being a bastard and bugiarda [poor] echoing in her mind.

She watched as smeared faces of her past circled around her, laughing at her and began to sing.

“Delilah! Delilah! Delilah the liar!”

“Shut up!” Lila screamed, but it went ignored.

The faces continued to sing and ridicule her, Lila screaming until she couldn’t anymore.

---

Chat looked out to the city below him, clicking his tongue when he wasn’t able to see anything below despite being at the very top of the Eiffel Tower.

Taking out his staff, Chat called Queen Bee, only to be sent directly to voicemail. He tried again, this time using their other mode of communication.

When he heard a click, Chat was about to talk when Bee beat him to it.

“I’m down Chat.’

“What?”

“I was in the area when the akuma struck. I tried to apprehend the Victim, but she got to me first. I don’t think I can...I don’t think I can fight in my condition Chat.”

Chat huffed, picking up a shriek in the distance. Narrowing his eyes, Chat started to sprint to the direction of which the shriek came from.

“Have you heard anything from Ladybird?” Chat asked, almost crashing into someone when he got to the ground. “I tried calling her, but-”

“I didn't get anything from her…” Chat heard a shuddering of breath from the other side. “Do you think...do you think the Victim got to her?”

“Let’s hope she didn’t.” Chat said, realizing where he was. Extending his staff, he went straight to their usual training grounds, glad to be up high again. “After all, she’s the only one who can reverse all of this.

Without her, we’re screwed.”

“I know Chat...I know. But what are you going to do without me? Without her? You need allies now more than ever Chat! Without them, who knows how long it will take to defeat this Victim!”

“I’ll find a way Bee, don’t you worry. For now, rest up. We’ll win this fight, you’ll see. We won’t let Hawkmoth win, not on our watch.”

With that, Chat hung up and mumbled a ‘claws in.’

“Did we-hey! Isn’t the reason why I give you my power to-”

“Plagg, you mentioned a Master Fu before.” Adrien cut off, handing some camembert towards Plagg. “You need to take me to him. I need to-”

“I know.” Plagg said, swallowing the cheese whole. “Something tells me you might need his help for this fight.”

“Thank you, Plagg.” Adrien said, eyeing a bag of utilities nearby. He rummaged through it before finding what he needed.

Plagg eyed the grappling hook in Adrien’s hands, wondering if he should tell him or not.

Should he? Should he tell him that Ladybird wasn’t going to come? That she was the Victim this time ‘round?

“Alright then, follow me!” Plagg said with a smile.

No, he shouldn’t tell him. Who knows what might happen if the kid would be at risk of also getting akumatized and that he couldn’t risk.

Not his kitten...not on his watch.

---

Black.

That is what Amira first saw when she barely came to her senses.

Amira felt herself walking, watching as something else took over her body.

Is this what every Victim felt like when they got akumatized by Hawkmoth?

Amira tried to move her arms, or attempted to stop herself from walking, but to no avail.

She kept walking to who knows where, hearing herself hum as she did, humming as she was looking for someone…but who?

The humming continued, Amira wondering why it resonated so much with her.

Amira listened to the hum, closing her eyes and soaking in the melodies as the hum continued,

---

Wally stood still as he barely made out the figures of the neatly aligned parked cars on either side of the road. Not a single person was in the street, not a single piece of paper dared to flutter within the dense fog.

Only the dim lights of the streetlights and of a few store lights allowed Wally to know where he was.

“Marinette!” He screamed, holding his breath as he strained his ears for any type of noise. When he heard nothing, he walked a few meters before standing still again and calling out for Marinette.

He kept doing his for what seemed an hour until Wally found himself right by the Seine.

The moment he stepped onto the Pont des Arts, he heard the faintest of hums, Wally feeling the edge of his lips begin to turn upward.

“Marinette!” He yelled out, but got nothing in return.

Sprinting to the other side of the bridge, Wally was glad to hear the humming grow louder, but hated that he had yet to see Amira.

“His chirps brightened my days

Talks that would last for hours

My jay, my jay.”

“Amira!” Wally yelled, his head swinging from side to side in hopes of seeing her, but nothing.

The quiet Parisian street taunted him, the rolling fog egging him to follow the only clue he had of tracking Amira.

“One day after you left

For you I did wait

Another gentle night like no other.”

Wally quickly began to follow the song, hating that no type of heat was registering through the goggles.

“I awaited for your arrival

But a visit I did not get

As I approached the window

I saw you there...

There you were.”

Wally felt like he was running towards nowhere, seeing as he had been running in the same direction for a while.

“On the ground

Your blue feathers now dyed red

Your flight towards me

Was a flight towards another place.”

Just where the hell was he?!

“Goodbye my Jay...goodbye.”

As those last words were said, the fog started to lift up a bit, Wally turning to see Amira staring back at him through her black veil.

Her eyes were a dull emerald, her hair long and straight just like it was when they were younger. She wore a black lace dress that seemed to sparkle under the dim Parisian streetlights.

“Wally. You’re alright.” Amira said, walking up to him, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. He felt his breath hitch. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I’m more worried about you.

“I’m fine.” Wally tried to hold her hand when she pulled it away.

“That’s good.” Her hand returning to her side, averting her gaze from him and biting her lip. “What about Chloe? Is she doing alright? I didn’t mean to hurt her like that.”

Wally gulped. She had used her power on Chloe?

Were those tear trails running down her face?

“She’s doing alright. She’s still under your power, but she isn’t as in much pain as she was before.” Wally lied, holding her wrists in his hands, ignoring the pain her got from placing pressure over her bracelet.

So it’s her hands he has to be wary of…more specifically, her palms.

“What about the rest of my team? Do they know where I am?” Amira asked him, Wally biting the side of his cheek.

“I think one of them might know where you are. As for the rest, I do not know.”

“I see.” Amira said, looking back at Wally, turning away from him.

“Where are you going?” Wally asked her, watching as her veil flared out a bit. He watched as a grin emerged from her once stoic face.

“I’m going to go check on Lila. You should’ve seen the look on her face as she succumbed to my punishment.”

“Amira, what have you done?” Wally almost growled out, noticing the small rips on her dress, how it seemed to merge with the shadows.

“She got the punishment she deserved. Right about now, she should be screeching her heart out.”

“How...how could you do something like that Amira?” Wally yelled, tightening his grasp on her wrists. “Vengeance isn’t the way to-”

“This was the only way to make her pay for trying to use Jason’s name for her own personal gain! Every action has a consequence, whether it be a good one or a bad one.”

“Amira, can’t you see-”

“If you are here to stop me, then don’t. I already made up my mind.” Amira tried to jerk her hands from Wally’s grasp, but couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her escape, not when she was right in front of him.

“Amira, please! Think-”

“I have. And this,” she lifted her arm ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth curving upwards as her palms hovered over Wally’s wrists. “This is my answer.”

WARNING: BLOOD AND DEATH AHEAD

Placing her palms on Wally, Wally screamed in agony as he collapsed to the floor, his hands grasping on his shirt, his knuckles turning white as his head and chest began to ring in pain.

Wally watched as his vision flickered between seeing Amira walking away from him in her black dress and her yelling out his name as she was being pulled away from him.

Wally watches as she tries to crawl back at him, as she claws at the ground as she’s being pulled away by purple miasma.

Her nails are scratched, her skin peeling off her fingers as she tries to hold onto loose cobblestones on the ground.

She screams for him, her tears merging with the blood that trailed from her head, mixing with the dirt on her face.

Cuts, both new and old were scattered, dried blood seeping from her mouth.

She manages to get up before she’s thrown back to the floor, a scream escaping from her.

“Amira!” Wally yells, trying to reach for her as he feels tears slip from his eyes. He watches as Amira stares at him one last time before her head limps forward, her hair draping over her face.

Wally feels himself stop breathing, raising his head as he sees Joker above her.

Why? Why were they back at Gotham?

His eyes register the crowbar in his hand, covered in blood...Amira’s blood...

Blood that dripped from the same hands that killed his friend, the same feral clown that looked down at him with his feral smile and crooked yellow teeth.

Wally let out a scream as he watched Joker walk away, leaving Amira’s corpse on the floor.

Managing to find the strength to get up, Wally ran next to Amira’s limp body, only for it to turn into mist upon lifting it.

Wally watched as the illusion merged with the mist around him, the mist slipping through his fingers as he watched his surroundings return him to the present...to Paris..

“Illusions…” Wally said, finding himself laughing as he ran one hand through his hair while the other pulled at it, feeling himself still shaking...

This is exactly why he wasn’t very fond of magic...

END

---

Nino jumped when he felt a hand on him, feeling his racing heart relax upon seeing Master Fu.

After having left the classroom when the mystery guy had run out, Nino tried to look for Ladybird, hoping to once again help his friend. But he had been running for hours, not seeing a single person at all as he searched for the Miraculous Team or Banshee.

“Master Fu, what are you-”

“You know clearly why I am here.” Fu said, slipping off the Turtle from his hand, Nino stretching out his hand towards him. “Ladybird and Queen Bee are down for this match, leaving Chat on his own.”

Nino couldn’t believe that. Chat...was on his own? Ladybird and Queen Bee...were out of commission? How?

Placing the bracelet into Nino’s hand, Master Fu closed it and looked at Nino. “Now go.”

“But Master Fu! How are-”

“The two of you are not alone.” Master Fu clarified. “Gris is to join you alongside a new ally. With you four, you must do what it takes to defeat this akuma. If not,” Master Fu lowered his gaze. “Hawkmoth might just get his hands on several miraculous tonight.”

Nino gulped, feeling unspeakable pressure pushing down on him.

Looking down at the bracelet, Nino furrowed his brows, slipping it on. Wayzz appeared before him, smiling at him.

“Don’t worry Master Fu. I will do what it takes to protect my team, the miraculous and the people of Paris! I will not let Hawkmoth win! Wayzz, shell on!”

---

Chat’s ears twitched when he heard a thud from behind him, turning to see Carapace walking towards him.

“About time you came.” Chat said, greeting Carapace. Gris waved at the turtle hero who returned the gesture.

“Master Fu mentioned having a new member. So, where are they?”

“A new user?” Gris asked, wondering why she didn’t get the memo.

“I would like to introduce you two to our newest member.”

The three turned to where Chat gestured, watching as a person with golden horns emerged from the doorway that led to their training grounds on the Montparnasse Tower.

“Hello everyone. My name is Ryuuko, wielder of the Dragon miraculous. I hope to be of some help.”

“Woah, she has a whole katana by her side! Is that allowed?” Carapace asked, stretching to see the black sheath that held the katana.

“Carapace. Focus.” Chat stern said. “It’s our job to deal with this akuma as soon as possible. As you know, Queen Bee is down and Ladybird might be due to her absence.

For this to be a success, Ryuuko, you are in charge of finding a way to lift up this fog to help with the search. Gris, multiply and scatter yourself around the city for any hints of where the akuma might be.”

“Got it.” “Roger that!” Ryuuko and Gris said, jumping off to complete their tasks.

“What about us?” Carapace asked.

“I want you to look for Lila Rossi. She’s who the akuma is after.”

“Right. But what about you?”

“I’ll keep searching around this area. Something tells me to stay put.” Chat said.

He watched as Carapace nodded, leaving him by himself.

Chat looked out towards the city, wondering if he was up to the job, if he was able to shine a candle to Ladybird, now that she was nowhere to be found. Would he be able to save Chloe? Marinette?

Sighing, Chat looked up to the sky, shutting his eyes firmly.

“What should I do, what should I do...Mom?”

#maribat #amira wayne

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hockey-prose · 4 years

Text

Bitty Breaks the Internet

Summary: The AC in Jack and Bitty’s apartment is broken. So what better way to beat the heat than go out on the water? Bitty wears a new swimsuit, Jack takes his picture, and the picture ends up online. (Cross posted to AO3.)

It all started with that blasted weather. Simply put, it was stifling. Bitty was used to dry Southern summers and slight humidity. But he wasn’t prepared for this years incredibly humid Eastern summer. It made it worse that the AC in his and Jack’s apartment was broken and wouldn’t be fixed until next week.

So, while the two of them were boiling in their apartment, Bitty got a text from his mama.

Mama: Dicky, why don’t y’all just rent a boat and stay near the water for a few days?

That’s a great idea! Thanks Mama!

“Jack, honey,” Bitty said, adopting his extra thick accent. He knew it meant Jack would give him anything he wanted because he was sweet on his Southern side.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

Bitty sat up, allowing the washcloth soaked in ice water to fall to his lap. He looked to his fiancé across the couch from him. It was so hot that the only parts of them that had been touching were their feet and ankles. There were at least 10 fans angled towards them.

“How about we rent a boat for the weekend? It’s the off season for you, and my deadline isn’t until next week.”

Jack lowered his phone, revealing the hair plastered to his forehead. Bitty’s heart squeezed with love for his man.

“I don’t know how to drive a boat.”

Bitty smacked Jack gently on the thigh.

“I do, honey! I spent I don’t know how many hours on boats in Georgia. Good Lord, the sunburns I’ve gotten. The point is that I know how to drive and I could teach you.”

“Do we want to invite other people or just have it be us?”

Bitty thought. As much as he loved every one of their shared friends, it would be nice to be just the two of them. Quiet.

“I think just us for this first time would be nice. Just the two of us?”

Bitty heaved himself forward to slide between Jack’s open legs. Jack’s eyes widened, but he covered Bitty’s hands where he’d placed them on his chest. Jack hummed.

“I like the sound of that. Want me to see if I can find any boat rental places?”

“How about we look together, huh handsome?”

The week came and went, and on Friday afternoon, Jack and Bitty took to the water at Providence Marina. Turns out, Marty had a boat docked there and gave Jack the keys to use it. The cooler that was clutched in each of their hands contained beer, soda, chips, sandwich fixings, fruit, and lemon blueberry mini pies.

After everything had been situated on the boat, and they’d had an awkward conversation with one of Marty’s dock neighbors, Bitty pulled them out to sea. They didn’t go very far, just out of view of the docks, and dropped the anchor.

Bitty turned on his portable speaker to some soft pop music, stripped off his clothes, and began making house on the boat. He could hear Jack snapping pictures with his camera. A quick look revealed that the subject was him.

“Well, now, Mr. Zimmermann. Who said you could take pictures of me just before I was about to fix you a sandwich,” Bitty sassed, planting his hands on his hips.

Jack took the camera away from his face, a love struck smile on his lips. He was also shirtless, and had laid himself on the deck of the boat to get a good angle.

“Sorry, Bits, you’re just so gorgeous I couldn’t help it. That swim suit is definitely doing you a favor.”

Bitty felt his cheeks warm, and a smile cross his own mouth. He’d bought the suit as soon as the boat was secured. It was almost a Speedo with just a bit more length. The print on them was white with light and dark blue sail boats.

“Oh hush now.”

A click.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann!”

The afternoon passed with Bitty alternating between sunning himself on the deck and taking dips in the water. Jack kept mostly on the boat, occasionally dipping his legs in when Bitty swam. By the time they pulled into the dock, his shoulders were bright pink and he winced when he lifted the cooler.

“I told you to put on some more sunscreen, honey. There’s some aloe at home, but it’s gonna take more than that.”

“Bits, bud, don’t feel too bad. I’ll wear sunscreen tomorrow and bring a shirt too.”

“You still want to go out tomorrow?”

The couple buckled themselves into Jack’s car.

“Of course, Bits. You looked like you were loving it out there. As long as it makes you happy.”

Bitty leaned across the center console and planted a kiss on the underside of Jack’s jaw.

“You’re so sweet, honey. As long as you’re up for it.”

By the end of the weekend, Jack had taken over 100 pictures. At least 50 of them were Bitty. There was a handful of scenery, other boats and the ocean. And then a few were of the two of them. One for each day. They had gotten progressively pinker as the days went on.

Sunday night, the couple went to a nice seafood just off the water before heading home to fall into bed for a restful night sleep.

Wednesday rolled around quietly, and Bitty woke to about a thousand notifications on his phone. Some were texts. Some were notifications on Twitter. By far the most notifications came from Instagram. Even though he’d made an account, Bitty barely posted to Instagram except to promote his cookbook.

Deciding to look at the texts first, he was greeted with no context chirps from his Samwell friends. All of them were about him in a swimsuit?

What?

Bitty continued to flick through his messages. There were individual messages from everyone on his former team, but also in the big “Haus 4.0” group chat.

Holster (Adam Birkholtz): dUDE BITTY MY GOD HOW HAVE YOU STAYED SO HOT????

Ransom (Justin Oluransi): Jack’s lucky that nobody saw your ass or the internet would be broken brah

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bro, bitty DID break the internet have you seen his insta and twitter??

Shitty (BS Knight): I swear on the gods above if Bitty was not single and I was not straight, I would sweep him off his feet

Nursey (Derek Nurse): chill. was truly a kim k moment for Bitty

Dex (Will Pointdexter): Love the confidence my dude. Was really a monumental picture tbh

Honey 💞: Can we not talk about Bitty like a piece of meat?

ERB: What on earth are y’all talking about?

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bits, you gotta check jacks insta first before you come in here and ask questions

So that’s exactly what Bitty did. Goodness knows where Jack was because he was not currently in bed with him. The last text he sent was at 8:45 am and it was now 9.

Instagram proved to be a tough navigator. Not because Bitty was media illiterate, but because the sheer amount of new followers he got prevented the app from running properly. After three app crashes, Bitty grew frustrated. He logged out of his public account and into his private one.

Once on his smaller scale Instagram, he searched Jack’s name. The most recent post was of their weekend relaxation trip. It was one of those collections of images. The first three were of the ocean, some seagulls, and the view from the front of Marty’s ship. The next six were of Bitty and Jack in various stages of couple poses. Somehow Jack had even managed to capture Bitty feeding him some grapes. But the last image was what set a fire under Bitty.

The picture was of that first day. Bitty was wearing his, now scandalous in his eyes, swim suit. His sunglasses were perched on the edge of his nose. You could see the heat he held in his eyes for Jack, who had been behind the camera. Admittedly, Bitty had not been thinking of his body image at the time of wearing that swimsuit. But now that he had attracted so much attention to himself due to his body, he figured a once over couldn’t hurt.

The Bitty in the picture had a firm stomach, no defined abs to speak of. What was the need for them? He was perfectly healthy. The cut of the swimsuit allowed the camera to see the faint lines that traveled down from Bitty’s hips past the line of his swimsuit. His hair was shining in the sun. The skin of the Bitty in the picture looked a little pale, but he had no qualms otherwise.

He looked good.

Putting the praise of his body aside, Bitty knew he needed to find Jack.

ERB: Thank y’all for your kind words. It means the world to me. Now I have to find Jack and have a word with him

Shitty (BS Knight): AAH SHIT JACKS IN TROUBLE WITH BITTY AHAHAHAHA

Lardo (Larissa Duan): pls don’t kill jack

Bitty locked his phone and went out into the living room. No Jack. The entire open concept apartment was empty. Bitty knew the bathrooms and home office were empty. The doors always stayed open unless there was someone in there.

As Bitty pondered how to find his fiancé, the door unlocked with a small click. Jack emerged with several bags of groceries in hand. Bitty assumed position with his fists on his hips, but this time around, it was not nearly as tempting.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann.”

“Bits! Uh, hey.”

Bitty tapped a foot on the floor.

“Euh, I didn’t know that post would go viral. I tried to soften the blow by bringing home everything you’d need to stress bake.”

Bitty came forward, taking the bags from Jack and going to the kitchen.

“Crisse,” Jack muttered before following Bitty.

“Bittle? I’m really sorry.”

“I know,” Bitty replied, his tone light. “I’m not mad, Jack. I only wish you’d told me you were going to post that where my mother could see it.”

Jack made a groan of displeasure as he approached Bitty from behind. Firm, warm hands pressed themselves into Bitty’s hips.

“Sorry, Bits.”

“Stop apologizing, honey! I’m just gonna have to field a call from my mama. I don’t think this’ll be worse than the cup, but I guarantee my family will chirp her for the rest of time.”

Jack buried his nose in the crook between Bitty’s neck and shoulder.

“George said the PR was good. We didn’t really need any more positive additions, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Well I certainly hope not,” Bitty said with a scoff. “You didn’t post a picture of me nearly naked on the Internet for nothing!”

Jack laughed, and Bitty followed not long after. Together the couple baked breakfast pastries and Bitty got his own revenge.

Jack’s picture was also shirtless, but he was wearing his sweatpants reserved for lounging at home. His arms and stomach were so much more than Bitty’s. He had a workout routine to keep up with.

Once again, the Internet broke because of Eric Richard Bittle.

#omgcp #zimbits #check please #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #lardo duan #shitty knight #adam holster birkholtz #justin ransom oluransi #omgcheckplease #eric richard bittle #jack laurent zimmermann #omgcp fanfic #omgcp fanfiction #check please!#my fic

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quinntheebrain · 4 years

Text

Two Wrongs

Hi friends! So I kinda did a thing and i just wanted to share it with you. This was my first time writing smut so it’s a little rough but just bear with me. I promise I’m working to get better lmfao. 🤮

Warnings: +18

Word count: 5,551

When your professor first asked you about tutoring and therapy for the children of one of his friends you were skeptical. The hours were accommodating, the family sounded nice and the money was great. At the time, it almost seemed too good to be true. Finding a decent job while pursuing your master’s was hard and this opportunity just dropped out of the sky. So, even though it would increase your workload, you decided to interview for the job.

To your surprise, the family who had requested your help was the Aizawa’s. Also it wasn’t your experience that landed you the interview, it was your quirk. The family wanted someone whose quirk was strong enough to protect their children when they weren’t around. You hadn’t trained to be a pro but you could use your quirk efficiently and that pleased the family. With your impressive educational background and your power, you landed the job.

The first four months were smooth. You’d go to their residence a few times a week to complete therapy with their adopted daughter, Eri, then tutor her along with their younger son, but one day things changed. Aizawa was put on a case and his wife was so busy with work that they asked you to become a full time babysitter and housekeeper. You couldn’t resist the money so you accepted. The changes were a lot but you worked around them. Becoming the children’s babysitter was one the simplest and hardest tasks you had ever taken on because though the work was easy, he made it hard for you.

The more you spent time in the Aizawa’s household the more this feeling grew inside of you. It started as a harmless crush. You’d blush whenever Aizawa entered the room or whenever he said your name. Your commute home was always spent thinking about how he looked, smelled and sounded while the conversations you two shared played on repeat in your head. You made sure you looked your best everyday. Sometimes, you’d even send him to work with lunches prepared specially by you. Then he started visiting you in your dreams. The vivid images of your employer’s nose nuzzled in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he thrusts in and out of you would wake you from your slumber in cold sweats and completely drenched between your legs. Finally, it got so bad that you just couldn’t bear to be around him. The minute he entered the house you’d gather your things to leave, rushing out the door before he could take a good look at you. You stopped leaving him the lunches he had started expecting everyday. You even almost quit the job because your feelings for him were so strong.

It was stupid of you to form a crush on the man. He is your employer and on top of that he’s married. How could you be so foolish to think anything would ever happen between the two of you?

———--------

Aizawa opened the door to his home to immediately be greeted by the smell of fresh baked cookies and the sound of laughter. He was hoping his children had been put to sleep and his wife had returned home, but that wasn’t the case.

Walking into the kitchen, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of his two children and their babysitter. “Why are they still up?” He picked up his son, Satoshi, while patting Eri on her head.

“I tried Mr. Aizawa, I really did, but I couldn’t resist those faces.” You teased as you pointed to his children, who had put on their best pouting faces. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “But, homework is finished, they’ve eaten dinner and bathed. I decided to bake them some cookies to pass the time.” You counted on your fingers as you listed off the accomplishments for the day.

“Well, they can take those cookies with their lunches tomorrow. March on upstairs and lay in bed. I’ll be up to tell you a story in a minute.” Placing Satoshi back on the ground, Aizawa turned his attention back to you. He watched as you broke a cookie in half and “sneaked” a piece to both of his children. You waved at them as they ran upstairs. Once he heard their footsteps shuffling above him, he asked the question he was dreading the answer to. “And my wife?”

You took a cookie for yourself before placing the rest in a container. “Called from the office. Something about a critical mistake in the files for her client.” You shrugged, not really understanding the excuse she had given you. While talking, you washed the pan you used to bake the cookies on. “She told me to tell you that her and her team are staying late to fix it.” Placing the dishes on the drying rack, you turned your full attention to Aizawa who was undoubtedly worn out and irritated.

“Hm.” He shook his head in disbelief. Mrs. Aizawa had recently been spending a lot of late nights at her office. She had the space to work from home so her frequent absences were not adding up. Aizawa didn’t want to assume the worst but he couldn’t come up with any logical reason for this reoccurring excuse. “I’ll finish cleaning. You head home. It’s getting late.” He walked around the counter, taking the dishrag from your hand.

The hint of suspicion in Mr. Aizawa’s eyes as you explained why his wife wasn’t home made it clear; they were definitely having problems. Maybe that’s why Mr. Aizawa had been giving you this look that made you tremble. It’s almost like he does it purpose; the little glances he gives you before sending you home. The way his eyes take in your whole body before giving you a gentle smile. It was unfair. He had to be aware of your feelings. Even though you’ve spent the last 3 months trying to repress them, you still felt it was painfully obvious.

Clearing your throat, you drowned out the thoughts of being bent over his kitchen counter and taking every inch of him. “Right. Let me go grab my things.” You walked into his living room where your things had been spread across his coffee table.

Aizawa followed closely behind, watching you bend at the waist as you grabbed your things. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t find you attractive. He was honestly shocked when his wife suggested her as their babysitter, but it was your quirk that made her so adamant about hiring you.

Opening the door, he followed you outside. “Be safe and let me know when you make it home.” Your apartment on your university’s campus was a little far from Aizawa’s house. He always had you text him or his wife once you made it home.

“Yes sir.” You waved as you disappeared into the night.

Your commute home was full of clenching your legs together in an attempt to control the passionate throbbing you felt. The minute you entered your apartment, you dropped your things by the door and scurried to your room. You had intended to text Aizawa and let him know you made it home but when your eyes landed on the pink toy across the room, you knew relieving your throbbing pussy was more important. Setting the mood for yourself, you turned on your red light and put on some music before tossing your phone on the bed. You slowly stripped yourself down, imagining his intense glare on you as you danced around the room. Lying back onto your soft cotton sheets, you set the vibrator to the highest setting before placing directly on your clit and releasing a loud moan. Grinding against the strong vibrations almost made you cum quicker than you wanted to. Your left hand gently traveled up your abdomen, stopping at your breast. You massaged it before tweaking your nipples in between your index finger and thumb. As heat pooled in your lower belly, you removed the vibrator from your clit and shoved it inside your aching cunt. Your left hand flung out, reaching to grab the sheets.While doing this, your hand accidentally grazed your phone screen and unknowingly started a voice message to your employer. The sounds of your messy pants and your sweet voice calling out his name were all recorded then sent to him without your knowledge.

————-----------------

You had actually gotten the children to sleep this time and you were close to falling asleep yourself. It was well after midnight and Aizawa nor his wife had returned home. When the children first fell asleep, you spent the hours completing class work and after that you cleaned the house. Now, with all your work finished, you were completely worn out. Turning your music on to relax, you quickly fell asleep.

The sound of a turning door knob woke you from your cat nap. Rubbing your eyes, you watched the door carefully, hoping it wasn’t an intruder. When the door pushed open you immediately noticed Aizawa’s hand, only it was missing the ring. As your eyes traveled up, you noticed his torn sleeves and the fresh wounds littered over his arms and once he stepped inside you realized he must’ve been in a very serious fight.

Aizawa was pissed that his wife wasn’t home. After the night he had, he just wanted for her to dress his wounds then ride him lazily until he came and dozed off. Instead, he found you, staring at him with concerned eyes.

“Working late again?” He asked as he threw his bag on the sofa parallel to you and took off his shoes. You didn’t even answer but the sympathetic look on your face gave it all away. Mrs.Aizawa called earlier, giving you the same excuse as always. “Sounds like bullshit if you ask me.” He said under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. You had no idea how to respond nor were you concerned about his wife right now.

“Let me clean your wounds.” You rushed to the downstairs bathroom and grabbed a first aid kit from under the sink before he couldn’t even protest. “You should sit Mr. Aizawa.” You yelled as you hurried back to him.

Sitting next to him, you opened the kit and grabbed the supplies you needed. You cut off what was left of his shirt so you could tend to the wounds on his chest.

“You don’t have to do this.” Aizawa watched as you moved from the sofa to kneel in between his legs, bringing yourself closer to his wounds.

“I want to.” You smiled softly, focusing on his injuries. “Tough fight?” You briefly looked up into his eyes before turning your attention back to nursing him.

He chuckled lazily. “You don’t know the half.” This is the conversation he longed for after a hard night. Someone to listen as he unpacked his eventful days. Aizawa wasn’t normally the chatty type but there are times when he wanted to vent like everyone else. “My quirk doesn’t work on mutant types so it took a little longer than normal. The bastard put up a hell of a fight.”

“Yeah, he got you good but you should be fine once I’m done.” Your sing-song tone made Aizawa crack a smile. After you finished his chest you moved on to his arms. You individually covered his wounds with sterile bandages then wrapped his entire arms in gauze. It felt nice being this close to him and you could only hope he felt the same as he continued to talk about the day he had. You listened, remembering every detail. You were just happy that he felt like sharing with you. “Alrighty. You’re all finished.” You handed him four ibuprofens before standing to your feet.

He coughed. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go grab you a water.”

You headed toward the kitchen completely unaware that your injured employer trailed close behind you. The real reason you rushed to the kitchen was so that you could clear your mind. After seeing Aizawa all beat up, you wanted nothing more than to care for him, but that’s what his wife is for. Just touching him as you dressed his wounds had you riled up. The way he stared at you as you focused on his injuries didn’t help either. It was a different look from the arrogant one he gave you before you left his residence after completing your work for the day. The look that told you he’d absolutely destroy you if given the opportunity. This look was so gentle, almost like he was looking into you. For a brief moment, you felt like you were his. You felt as if his wife didn’t exist and instead he loved you, but the reality was that could never happen. You’re old enough but still too young for the aging hero. He could never be seen with you on his arms. What would his kids think? Their babysitter, the help, being in love with their father? Would they even understand what had happened? Of course they would. They’d go from loving you to hating you instantly. Also, there was no guarantee he’d leave his wife anyway. Maybe this was all some big misunderstanding that would blow over in no time.

“Get your shit together.” You scolded yourself while snatching the water bottle from the fridge. Of course, you had love interests closer to your age but none of them drew you in quite like Aizawa did. He was the epitome of the man you wanted in your life. You thought about him so much that no one else could compare. How could you fall into something so one sided? Slamming the door and turning around, you were met by Aizawa. “Shit.” You muttered in shock, back pressed against the refrigerator door. “You should be sitting.”

“I feel fine, really.” He assured you. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. It was nothing, really. My mom is a nurse and I was a clumsy child.” You laughed as you fumbled with the top of the water bottle. Once you got it off, you slid it across the island. “I should be going.” You tried to rush past him to head into the living room, but he stopped you.

“It’s too late. I couldn’t let you walk alone this time of night.” He paused, taking the four pills and drowning them down with water. “You can take the guest room for the night.” You just nodded. It was very nice of him to offer his home to you. Aizawa let out a sigh before continuing your conversation. He really didn’t want to talk about this but he needed a second opinion. “You’ve been around my family for some time now.” Aizawa paused, taking a sip of water. “What do you really think my wife is doing?” Aizawa had already found his answer. At this point, he just wanted to know if it was as painfully obvious to you as it was to him. There is no way Mrs.Aizawa thought she was being discreet.

“Oh! I shouldn’t say.” It would be rude to give your opinion on this topic and you didn’t want to be the reason he didn’t trust his wife, but that was a ship that had already sailed.

“I asked.”

“Well.” You bit your tongue, wondering if you should give your honest opinion. You cared for the entire family and your words could impact their lives. “I think it’s odd she’s been working so many late nights, and instead of telling you, she tells me. She’s always so quick to get off of the phone, but that’s ordinary behavior for a busy person. It's just on days that I do see her, she has this look, you know? Like she’s trying to hide something but falling apart in the process. I don’t want to say she’s cheating but she’s definitely keeping something from you.”

“Hiding something, huh?” He laughed as he walked to the bar and poured you both a glass. “You know, I got so desperate I checked her transactions and the gps on her phone. A hotel right outside the city. I almost followed her but I got caught up in something.” He lifted his arms in reference to the fight he had been in. You weren’t shocked to find out she was cheating, but you were shocked he told you. “It was probably for the best.” He shrugged, closing the space between you two. “I’ve been thinking about you, anyway.” Aizawa said casually. That’s why he told you.

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth dropped. He had only ever said those words to you in a dream. Unsure how to reply, you fell to your usual cop out: downplaying yourself. “Well I guess that makes sense. With your wife being so inconsistent, I’ve taken on a few more roles. Seeing me interact with your kids, cook and clean could’ve easily triggered -.”

“No.” He shook his head. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he waved it in your face before tapping his screen. “This is what I’ve been thinking about.” You visibly cringed as you heard your voice on the recording. His eyes rolled back in satisfaction as he listened to you moan his name. Burying your face in your hands, you tried to avoid Aizawa’s gaze. “Don’t hide yourself from me. You sounded so pretty. ” His husky voice sent chills down your spine. You were so close you could feel his breath on your neck and you could smell the drink he had started sipping. His lips hovered slightly over your ear. “Tell me, what do I have to do to make you sound like that again?” Aizawa nibbled at your lobe, causing you to let out a soft moan. “That too was easy.” You blushed. It had been forever since a man touched you so even the smallest touches sent you over the edge.

You wanted to return the favor; make him feel as flustered as you did, but you were just too scared to touch him. It made no sense; you just had your hands all over him, but the implications of this encounter was different. This was far more intimate. You always said if given the chance, you’d pounce, but you knew that wasn’t true. All you could think about was his wife walking through the door or the children running downstairs, but you could tell that was the least of his concerns. Grabbing your hand, he placed it on his waist while giving you a look of approval. He had decided wholeheartedly that this is what he wanted so now it was up to you.

He saw the hesitant look on your face. “Listen, I know this is a sticky situation so if you don’t-.”

“No.” You hushed him while looking down at your hand. Your fingers gliding gently over his skin. “I want to.” You were already breathless at the thought of him making love to you. He didn’t reply with words. Instead he closed the space between you, allowing his bare and battered abdomen to press against your clothed body.

He smelled of sweat and medical ointments; a scent that only turned you on more. Aizawa spent his nights saving the city from villains, but who was there to save Aizawa at the end of the night? He deserved to be pampered with love so without a second thought you kissed him. Wrapping his hands around your waist, he pulled you in and held you in his toned arms. He groaned at the pain from placing pressure on his wounds but he didn’t let you go. Your hands snaked around to his back, fingers tracing over the scars that had been left from previous battles.

Every time you thought of having sex with Aizawa, you imagined him ripping off your clothes and being so rough you cried. So, this gentle kiss that had you melting into him was surprising. It was better than you could’ve ever imagined.

“Counter, now.” He helped lift you as you jumped onto the counter. Aizawa attacked your neck with kisses, stopping to suck on the soft skin above your collarbone. You threw your head back, allowing him more room to move along your neck. He pushed your dress up, giving him a view of your pretty black silk panties adorned with red roses. Arousal was evident by the damp spot on your underwear. He wasted no time getting you out of those. “Fucking hell.” He squatted between your legs to take a better look as his hands traveled up and down the insides of your thighs. Aizawa pushed your legs open and positioned your feet on the chairs on either side of him. He left one hand attached to your thigh while the other moved to rub lazy circles on your clit. You bit down on your lip, trying to be silent for the sake of his children. “So fucking wet.” He whispered to your cunt. The greedy look on his eyes told you he was anticipating your taste.

“I know, love.” You panted as he sped up the pace of his fingers. Aizawa had you aching for more contact. With a mischievous smile on your face, you took a fist full of his hair and pushed him into your dripping cunt.

Generous wasn’t the word. You couldn’t even think of a word to describe this.

Aizawa was eating you like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. He started off with short, quick licks, teasing you but also figuring out what you liked. Eventually he switched it up, letting his flat tongue lap up your juices as it glided over your folds. You released your grip on his hair to grip the counter with both hands. Steadying yourself, you grinded against his tongue, moving your hips to the rhythm Aizawa had created. He plunged one finger inside of you, sucking roughly on your bundle of nerves. You tried to push his head back but he overpowered you, adding one more finger to your cunt to send you over the edge. Replacing his fingers, he tongue fucked your entrance before latching his lips onto your clit again. This time he added three fingers to your cunt, preparing you for his cock.

“Oh my - fuck. ” You whimpered as you tried to squirm away. Aizawa wrapped his hands around your waist to keep you still as he slurped your juices. He looked up at you with that arrogant smile while steadily pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“I can’t wait anymore.” As he lifted himself up, you noticed the bulge in his pants. Pulling them down, he allowed his rock hard dick spring from his boxers. You licked your lips in anticipation as he teased you by wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking himself gently.

“Shit.” Your eyes were focused on the precum close to dripping onto the floor. You knew Aizawa would be large, but this was unexpected.

“I know, love.” Aizawa mimicked you with a smile. He took this opportunity to pull down the straps to your dress, exposing the fact that you didn’t wear a bra. Your nipples perked up when met with cool air. He took your breast in his hand, massaging way better than you ever did on your own. His tongue worked magic on your nipple, while you toyed with your puffy clit. Your soft moans were like music to his ears. “God, you sound so pretty. Wonder what you sound like when you're stuffed?” You whimpered at the question; Aizawa knew you’d be a loud mess underneath him. Jumping down from the counter, you pampered Aizawa with kisses. You sucked on his neck, leaving marks and making him groan as he gripped your ass. “Turn around.” He growled into your ear, smacking your ass more harshly this time.

You followed his instructions, turning away from him before whipping your head over your shoulder to look back at him. His rough palms massaged your spine as he guided you to bend over the counter. Your cheek pressed against the cool marble, you prepared to take all of him, just like you dreamed. Aizawa slapped his cock against your ass a few times before sliding into your aching cunt, hissing as he pushed further into you. Your breath hitched as he stretched you out, completely overwhelmed by the feeling he gave you. After a few deep breaths, you rocked back, giving you both some much needed friction. Swirling your hips, you were practically dancing on his dick, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“You keep going like this, I’m gonna cum.” He smacked your ass hard enough to leave a mark causing you to bite your hand instead of moaning loudly. Once he got used to your rhythm his thrusts became more intentional. Using his hands to guide you back, Aizawa slammed you onto his cock.

“Aizawa, please.” You begged, not really even knowing what for, but it was the boost he needed. Lifting his foot onto the stool, Aizawa achieved an angle that you had moaning into the counter. Turning to look back at him, you showed him the tears forming in your eyes. “Right there, baby.” Reaching your hand under both of you, you cupped his balls, toying with them as he picked up the pace. “Fuck, I’m about to -.” Snapping his hips into you almost made you weak in the knees. He leaned onto you, whispering sweet nothings to talk you through your orgasm. You felt your juices dripping down your legs once he pulled out of you. With a deep exhale, you turned to face him. “Your turn, go lay on the couch.”

“Whatever you say.” He ran his fingers through your drenched folds before leaving you in the kitchen alone.

You took a few seconds to collect yourself before gulping down the cup of liquor he had poured for you earlier. Walking into the living room, you were prepared to conquer him. Aizawa had been more than generous to you tonight and it was finally time to return the favors. Aizawa was laid back on the couch, hands behind his head, cock still rock hard, with a small smile on his face. You teased him, doing a little dance that ultimately made him laugh. You would’ve done it longer but once he beckoned you to him using his index finger, you ran.

“So, what are you gonna do for me?” You literally almost came from the question, but instead of answering you squatted over him and lowered yourself onto his cock. “Shit, baby.” He held you by your waist as you bounced on him. His eyes followed your hand, watched as you skimmed over your soft skin before kneading your breast in your hand. “You look so pretty, riding me like that.” He slapped your hand away from your breast and replaced it with his own.

It was rare that you stayed on your feet for so long in the position, but he deserved it. You gave him everything you could, letting your hips roll as you looked at him with big doe eyes. “Aizawa, you’re perfect.” He moaned at the words, pulling your nipple a little harder. He laughed a little as if you were joking, but you weren’t. You rolled your eyes, tired of being on your feet, you dropped to your knees. He moved to rub circles over your clit again, but you slapped his hand away. “I’m serious.” You pant. “I would never do you like your wife. I’d never leave. I’d be your pretty little housewife.”

“Fuck.” Aizawa groaned, throwing his head back. He attempted to rub your bundle of nerves again and this time you let him. You moaned at the touch, close to another orgasm. “Don’t say that baby girl. Especially when you don’t mean it.” He pulled you down to trap you in another sultry kiss.

“I do.” You managed to break the kiss to talk. He grabbed you by the neck, forcefully pulling you back to him.

“I’m so close, baby.” Aizawa was a slobbering mess under you. This is all he wanted from the beginning, but with you, he didn’t feel like being lazy. “Get up.” You immediately slid off of his cock. Turning around and dangling the upper half of your body over the arm of the sofa, you tooted your ass into the air. Using your hands, you spread your ass cheeks, giving Aizawa the perfect view. “Damn, stay just like that, so fucking pretty.” Aizawa crawled behind you, rubbing his cock against your folds.

“Stop teasing - fuck Aizawa.” You cried as he slammed into you.

His strokes were so reckless you knew he was close. He pounded into you, giving you all of him in those last few thrusts. “Fuck.” He exhaled, pulling out of your soaking wet cunt. The loss of contact made you sad, but this wasn’t about you. Turning, you grabbed his cock, putting it in your mouth to swallow his cum. You passionately sucked on his tip, making sure you got it all to the last drop. “Swallow it all.” You stuck your tongue out, showing him that it was all gone. Smiling, he grabbed you by the chin to pull you into a kiss. His chapped lips moving in sync with your own, parting just enough for you to slip your tongue through.

Straddling his lap, you broke this kiss to look into his eyes. Gently stroking his face, you noticed he was starting to doze off. “Tired?”

He hummed in satisfaction. “You were just what I needed.” Aizawa peppered kisses all over your neck and face. “Let’s go get some sleep.” Patting your thigh, he signaled you to get up.

Slowly, you both stood to your feet, stretching and adjusting your dress before you walked in the kitchen so he could grab his pants. You’d be sure to sanitize the counters in the morning, but right now you just wanted to dive into bed. You followed him up the stairs, admiring him the whole way.

You stopped in front of the guest room door, leaning against the threshold. “You know I meant what I said, right?” Tilting your head to the side, you ran your hand along your neck. “I know now might not be the time, but when it is, I’ll be here for you.” You smiled softly before yawning. You were absolutely drained after tonight. “See you in the morning? I’ll wake up early and cook breakfast so I don’t look suspicious.” Putting your hand on the door knob, you started to feel sad.

What mistake did you just make? You’d wake up tomorrow and this night won’t matter anymore. You’d be his housekeeper. He’d be your employer. His wife would return home and they’d work out their issues. Even though he didn't have his ring on now, you knew it would be back on his finger soon. This one night of pleasure would make your life a living hell. During this moment of realization, you decided it would be best if you quit in the morning. You pouted at the thought as you opened the door.

“Hey.” Aizawa called out to you, making you stop in your tracks. “My room is at the end of the hall. I thought you knew that?” Your eyes lit up and he laughed at your excitement. You quickly turned around, running behind him to make it to his bedroom. Aizawa held the door open for you, smacking your ass when you ran past him. Closing the door, he joined you in his bed. Flipping on his side, he turned to face you. “You’re right, now isn’t the time, but when it is I’m going to take you up on that offer and you better not back out. You talked a big game downstairs.”

“You really are perfect, Aizawa.” You smiled, brushing his hair out of his face.

“From now on, it’s Shouta when we're alone.” Grabbing you by the waist, Aizawa tugged you closer to him. Leaning in, he kissed you, using his teeth to bite down on your bottom lip. “I can’t wait to hear that name roll of your pretty lips.”

“Well Shouta. ” You laughed, using a sultry voice that caused him to groan a little. “What are you going to do when your wife returns home tomorrow?” His face scrunched up at the question.

“She’s not.” Aizawa laughed before pecking your lips once more.

“The kids?” You asked unable to rest until all your conscious was completely clear.

“We were gonna ask you to move into the outhouse to help with your commute anyway. I’ll just tell them you're sleeping in the house until renovations are finished.” You smiled. That was very sweet of them. “Now, can we get some sleep.” He wasn’t annoyed, just tired.

Wrapping his arms around you, Shouta quickly dozed off. Listening to his soft snore made you smile. For the last 7 months this is all you wanted, now it was so close you could taste it and unlike his future ex wife, you wouldn’t let it go.

#bnha aizawa #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #bnha smut #mha smut #gosh i'm embarrassed

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whatdyk · 4 years

Text

Saviour (Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader) | Modern AU.

Part Three.

Warnings: None that I can think of?

Word Count: 2.9k.

Chapter Three:

Deep brown eyes and a strong, rugged voice. Accent thick with a low, serious tone. Brown hair with soft curls; an almost signature frown. The images that lace through your mind keep you accompanied almost every day. Whether you're working, sleeping, or cooking, it doesn't seem to matter. They're always there, curving between your conscious and subconscious mind.

It was even becoming frustrating for you now, how your mind just couldn't seem to escape the thought of Pero. You've even caught yourself wondering whether he feels the same way about you, but you know that that could never be true. Besides, that would be weird, he doesn't even know you.

So instead, you go about your days as if nothing's bothering you. Nothing at all.

With a yawn, you eventually sit up in bed and reach for your phone. It's finally the weekend, and so you decided to indulge yourself in a rare lie-in. Though, to your dismay, your new idea of a relaxing, lazy morning, seems to be waking up at 8 am. You have a few emails and messages from work waiting for you, but thankfully you're able to push them to the back of your mind until Monday. You place your phone back down and slump into the covers, closing your eyes for just five more minutes.

Roughly one hour later, you wake again feeling refreshed and well-rested. And, as soon as you're up and about, the morning before you goes quickly. You're able to eat, shower and dress in just 90 minutes, deciding to wear one of your favorite outfits. Covering yourself in soft knits and an over-sized coat, you're ready to battle against the chill of the oncoming winter. The cuts and scrapes on your face have also fully healed now, leaving you to feel confident in your own reflection once again.

Yesterday, you'd decided that you would go to the park for a walk, ensuring that you're able to make the most of the sunshine and mild weather before the evenings start to get cold and dark. You might even treat yourself to hot drink or a new book, though you'd definitely be sure to stop by the florists. It's a strange feeling to be so excited for such a seemingly mundane day, but you can't help the smile that's beginning to spread across your face.

Grabbing your gloves and bag, you take one final look around your apartment. For the first time in a long time, you're desperate to get out and explore.

Your quick trip had been going well so far, the weather may have been chillier that you had anticipated, but the final rays of the sun shone brightly throughout the city. So far, you'd been able to stop by your local book shop and purchase a few new novels, you'd even spotted a few classics to add to your collection. Luckily, you also know the owner of the store quite well, and she was more than happy to let you peruse the items not yet for sale.

After ringing up your purchases, you only have one more task to complete for the day, flowers. You'd only just thrown out the vase from before, and your apartment was desperate for some colour. You weren't really able to customize the walls of your rented home, so you attempted to brighten up the place in any other way you could imagine.

Deciding to cut across the park, you make your way to your favourite place-

"Oof!" You gasp out as something solid hits your shoulder, knocking you slightly off-balance.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you hadn't even noticed the man making his way towards you until it was too late.

"Shit," You mumble out, reaching down for the bag you'd just dropped, "I'm so sorry"

You hear a muted grumble in response, but it's not until you're stretching back up again that you realize just who you've bumped into. Your heart nearly falls through your stomach as your eyes meet, "...You" you whisper to yourself, meeting the frown that was becoming increasingly familiar.

"You should be more careful" he mutters under his breath, remembering your name and causing your pulse to sky-rocket. You can feel the heat begin to rise in your cheeks as you clear your throat, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. Has he always been this tall?

"I'm really sorry about that," You begin once you realise that you've been staring for way too long, "Honestly, my mind was somewhere else"

To nobodies surprise, the man just grunts in response. Yet, you're pleased to see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Pero, right?" You question, not wanting to sound too eager as if his name hasn't been on the tip of your tongue since the moment he gave it to you.

"Sí" He responds, "I'm impressed that you remember."

"Of course!" You speak out a little too loud for your liking, "I still owe you for, well...everything" you mumble, moving your eyes to ground beneath you.

It's still a difficult memory for you to relive, but now, and especially in front of him, you can't help but think of when he turned down your first offer of re-paying him. You can feel the tips of your ears begin burn as you recall that moment, the look of pity in his brown eyes as he left you standing in the doorway to your apartment-

"I'm free now?" Pero's gruff voice knocks you out of your thoughts, "If you are too, that is"

Wait, what?

You must have looked up at him with a face of pure confusion as a small smile etches across his features, "If your offer still stands, I'd like to grab some lunch with you" he elaborates.

Your eyes go wide, but you can't help it as a broad smile breaks out, "Of course" you rush out, "I know the perfect place."

Unsurprisingly, the walk between you is quiet. It's not necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but there's certainly an air of tension between the two of you, and you can't seem to put your finger on why. Though thankfully, the place you had in mind isn't too far away.

"It's an Italian, I hope that's alright?" You say, struggling to walk in time with his long strides. He doesn't answer you verbally, but he nods his head as he places his hands into his jacket pockets.

Eventually entering the venue, you're instantly hit with the soothing warmth of the inside. There's a burning fire in the corner that's calling your name, and thankfully, you notice that the place quieter than usual. It may not be the fanciest restaurant in town, but it's rustic features and muted color palate hold a special place in your heart. Plus, their baked gnocchi is to die for.

Making your way to grab a table, you watch as Pero takes off his coat and rests it on the back of his chair. Taking the seat opposite you, he's quick to peruse the menu and you smile to yourself as his eyes widen. He notices that you haven't looked yourself but he chooses not to say anything, instead, allowing you to order and pick out some drinks for the both of them.

"You come here often, then?" He eventually asks, moving to sit back in the padded leather chair.

You smile and nod your head, relieved that you don't have to attempt to break the ice first, "It's my favourite," you explain, "I live nearby and it's the first place I came to when I moved, I'm a sucker for good pasta and wine"

He exhaled through his nose at that, and you guess that that's his version of a laugh. You can't help but smile, once again admiring his dark features.

"So, Pero" you start, "what is it that you do?"

At this question, you can see clearly as he begins to inch out of his shell. He gestures with his hands as he tells you about his role, that he's a security guard as the Museum of Natural History and is currently saving up money to start his own company. His expression seems to always be guarded, but you're careful to notice as snippets of excitement or happiness slip through his facade. You like it when he smiles you decide, watching the usual lines between his furrowed brows dissipate.

"I've got to ask though," you begin as he takes a bite of his food, "what type of security guard carries a card?"

You think back to the intricate card he gave to you when you first met, his name and number spelled out in delicate printed writing. A stark contrast to the man who's sat in front of you now.

"I'm...well, I'm trying to get my name out there" he answers, "though, I don't usually give them to strangers, I'm hoping to start building my own clientele"

"I'll be sure to hang on to it then" you smile, "I seem to be getting myself into an awful lot of trouble recently." Your laugh is dry, but thankfully the raised eye-brow he offers you in response is enough to make you smile again.

As the afternoon wears on, you probe him with more questions and it appears that he's happy to answer them. From your initial meeting, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows now, it's almost as if you've known eachother for years, or if you're already good friends.

Eventually, the topic of conversation turns to you; you tell him all about your job and life in the city. It isn't a particularly long conversation considering it's just you living here, but you can't help but notice as he hangs on to your each and every word. The look burning behind his chocolate-colored eyes is almost intense as he listens, an emotion flitting behind his pupils that you can't quite decipher.

You take a small pause to sip at your drink as the conversation eventually comes to a lull, and you can't help but gasp when you see how dark it is outside. How long have you been here for?

"I can see why you like it here so much" He eventually says, picking up his own glass and returning your attention to him, "I've...I've had a nice evening."

"I told you, the best pasta in the city." You laugh.

"A very strong argument," he pauses to consider, "but, I can assure I know where you can get the best burger."

"Well then, you may just have to show me some time" you respond without thinking. Though with that, you can feel the tips of your ears begin warm, it's been far too long since you last attempted to flirt.

"I know this may sound a little strange," he says, causing your heart to drop. Not the answer that you were looking for.

"But, I can't help but feel like, I've met you before?" He questions, the hardened lines between his brows coming back. So, not a rejection?

You can't help but look at him as you wonder how to respond, considering his words carefully. But then, you begin to think about how this particular man has been the sole subject of your thoughts recently, the echo of his voice never far from your mind. Does this mean that he has felt the same about you?

"I don't think we've met before," you answer, choosing your words carefully, "but, sometimes...you have felt, familiar?" you finish your sentence with a small laugh, hoping to come off as cute rather than stalker-ish.

He hums in response when you finish, but the intensity in his eyes never leaves as your waiter comes provide the bill and clear the table. As you sit back, you're almost glad for the buffer between you as you take a quick glance at him, his hands forming into fists as he waits.

"Are you alright?" You decide to ask as you grab your bag, pulling out your purse to pay.

After a second, he seems to snap out of his reverie, shaking his head and tapping the pockets of his jeans for his wallet.

"Yes, yes...of course" he mutters out, his usual stoic disposition quickly returning, "please, let me"

You hold your hand out against him, stopping him from reaching for any cash and you place down your own notes, "Like I said, this is a small thank you," you say softly, "I'm just sorry that there isn't more that I can do."

He nods his head and concedes, but he's quick to quell your anxieties, "this is more than enough." a pause, "I never actually expected to see you again"

You hum to yourself this time, "me neither" you respond almost thoughfully, "but, I'm glad that you did."

At your words, you swear that you can see the hint of a blush travelling up his neck. But, he's quick to shake it off, instead offering you just a small smile and a nod as you both begin to stand. Gathering your things and putting your coat on, you take a moment to look outside of the window next to you. It's only early in the evening, but the darkness is fast approaching as you plan out the quickest route home in your head.

"I think I can remember the way back to your apartment" Pero's voice disrupts your spiralling thoughts and you turn to face him, "I'd prefer to walk you home if that's alright."

For once, without any argument you nod your head and begin to make your way to the exit, Pero following behind closely. As you leave, you can't help but wonder whether he saw you looking out of the window, guessing your own anxieties before you even had the chance to express them yourself. But either way, you're grateful to have him so close by.

Once again, the walk between you is quiet. Yet this time, you notice that the silence is almost comforting as you make your way back home. You're even left surprised when he indulges you, waiting patiently as you buy fresh sunflowers on your way back. Though, you're left almost completely speechless as he takes the bunch from your hands, carrying them for the rest of the way as soon as you hand over the money to the florist.

You can't help the smile spreading across your face as you look at him, surrounded by yellow as you take out your keys to unlock the door to your apartment.

"Thanks for carrying those, by the way" you say, walking in and turning on the light, "you didn't have to"

He nods but follows you in silently, laying the bunch down carefully on the kitchen counter. You watch as he begins to move towards the door again, but you're quick to stop him for just a moment.

"Wait!" You say as you turn towards your bedroom, "You can finally have your jacket back!"

You root around your room and return to him just moments later, his jacket in your hand whilst he waits in the frame of your door.

"Gracias," he responds quietly, taking the thick material from your hands, "I didn't think I'd ever see this again either."

You let out a small laugh and look up at him, allowing yourself to get lost in his eyes once more, "Thank you for humoring me today, I'm sure you had a different idea of how you wanted to spend your afternoon and evening"

The lines on he forehead shrink as he lets out a lazy smile, "You'd be surprised" he motions with a raised eyebrow, "the food was worth it though"

"I told you" you quickly retort, your own brow raised in retaliation, "and, I would like to taste the best burger in the city too, if you're still up for showing me" You can feel the heat in your cheeks as you speak, but fuck it. Time to shoot your shot.

"I'd like that." He eventually breathes out, taking a step back to exit your home, "You have my number, yes?"

You nod enthusiatically, but you're quick to stop him from moving any further by wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Thank you, again" You mumble out against his chest, your eyes closed as you breathe in his scent.

After a moment, you feel his arms begin to wrap around you too, his chin moving down to rest on your head. Minutes seem to pass as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace. However, you are surprised that he doesn't say anything more as your touch continues to linger. You'd thanked him enough today, you thought to yourself. Perhaps he's just finally tired of hearing it? So, after a few more seconds of selfish self-indulgence, you decide to unwravel yourself from around him before he becomes uncomfortable.

With a large sigh, you release your arms and take a step back. Smiling as you start to look back up to him.

Except, this time when you look up to him...you understand exactly why he hadn't said a word.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Tag List:

@computeringturtle @lackofhonor

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #reader insert #pedro pascal #Pedro pascal character fan fiction #alternate universe

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heartbreakgrill · 4 years

Text

Common Sense; Ashton Irwin.

description: in which he absolutely simps for you even though he’s a world-renowned rockstar.

a/n: listen to common sense by joshua bassett while reading this ¡

Ashton groaned, tossing his phone across the room towards his unmade bed. It landed with a bounce before another ding of his ringtone announced itself. He squeezed his eyes shut, pursed his lips, and fought his feet. Instead of running to his phone, he walked out of his bedroom and towards the rest of the gathering.

He stretched his thumbs as if they were legs having just ran a marathon. They were stuck in a bent position for too long, erasing and retyping messages that he felt were things he’d never even say in real life. He was the member known for being most flirtatious, good at sweet talking girls and bringing them home for less than 12 hours.

But then he met you.

You had self respect, as well as respect for every other person. You wouldn’t let anyone call you honey, baby, or theirs. When talking to other people, you were kind. If you had to lie with a smile though they were annoying you, you let it happen. It wasn’t that you had a shield or wall of heartbreaks up, no. You just gave respect to others and expected the same in return. Sure, you’d been heartbroken because of it.

But Ashton was different. He wasn’t used to girls using full sentences on text message, or demanding to voice call for long conversations that twisted into FaceTiming over cups of coffee. He’d even read a book that you recommended, starting listening to a new artist that was softer than anything he even played. When you asked, he’d get on his knees and beg for more.

It did not go unnoticed by the rest of the band- and their girlfriends.

“Where’s your phone? You managed to get the glue off your fingertips?” Michael laughed over the rim of a beer bottle.

Crystal nudged him with her elbow, “Mikey! Be nice to him. I think its cute.”

“Oh, so cute! Have you seen Love, Actually yet, Ash?” Calum shot him a wink.

Luke laughed loudly at this, earning a similar shove from Sierra. “Oh, cmon, if you guys acted like this, I’m sure you’d get laid twice as much as you do now.”

Luke and Michael froze, sharing a look that was wide eyed and hopeful. Crystal lay her head on Michaels shoulder, “Yes, get in touch with your feminine side.”

Luke jutted open his mouth to protest. Sierra interrupted him by shutting his jaw and patting his cheek, “Its more than wearing eyeshadow and pink shirts. Its accepting the fact that being on the same level with a girl isn’t weak. Or that reading or watching feminine novels or movies doesn’t make you girly. You’re appreciating our culture, the things that we enjoy even though everybody can, despite their gender.”

Ashton, who had been leaning against the door, took a seat next to Calum. “She’d get along with you two really well,” he chuckled lightly.

Crystal sat up in her seat, “Have you two hung at all recently?”

“No, not since I met her two months ago.”

Luke even guffawed at this, “And you’re simping this much?”

Sierra glared at his words, “I think its sweet. The anticipation is building for the two of you. But, I also think its a little sad, Ash.”

The room laughed at this. Ashton nodded with a defeated grin, “It is. She lives, like, fifteen minutes from here. But she’s always busy with work or school. And when she’s free, I’m out of town or busy with work myself.”

“I’d imagine she’s not so busy on a Saturday like tonight,” Crystals eyes lit up.

“She usually works Saturdays, but,” he slowly stood from his spot, excitement welling up in his chest, “I could call her.”

Cheers erupted from the couches, Luke and Calum hooting a thumping cheer as Ashton retraced his steps to his bedroom. He picked up his phone and took a seat on the edge of his bed. A missed call and two text messages sat stacked on his lock screen.

Both from you.

They were from only six minutes ago, so he called back quickly, disregarding the messages. Surely there was hope if you were texting him. That meant you weren’t busy with customers or work in general.

“Hey!” You chirped from your bedroom, sweats and sweatshirts adoring your freezing figure. “Sorry if I bothered you.”

Ash scoffed, playing with the zipper on his jacket, “Not even. I’m sorry I didn’t get your call. I was chatting with the band, their girlfriends. They decided it was crash Ashtons Saturday night.”

“Oh, please, you enjoy the company. I’m sure you even got to brag about your new houseplant.”

“Courtesy of your suggestion.”

You practically cried with adoration, “You’re welcome.” You cleared your throat before reminding yourself of what you wanted to ask, “So, I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something, but we can plan another day.”

“No!” Ashton jumped from his seat, pacing the room in his socks. Static electricity rose through his body from the carpet, but it dissipated when he set a hand on his hip. “No, what I meant was, I was calling you to see if you weren’t working. If you wanted to come over.”

“I’m actually off for the next week two days. I had a temperature this morning, but I’m better now. But, my boss is very strict,” You rolled your eyes, although thankful for the break.

“Great! Ill send you my address?” Ashtons upper lip began to sweat with anxious energy, face flushed with blush red heat.

“Be there in fifteen. Wait-“ You heard static as Ashton refocused the phone on his ear. “I’m off tomorrow, so should I-“

“Pack a bag. See you soon.”

For the next twenty minutes, Ashton paced the area in front of his door, chattering back and forth with his band mates. Sierra and Crystal were bugging him with all kinds of questions about you. His hands kept tugging at his black hair, the light brown roots barely peeking out of his head.

You stepped onto his front porch with zero hesitation, a puff of air emitting from your lips when you settled on your heels. You raised a fist and rapped your knuckles against the wooden oak of his front door.

The door pulled opened quickly, his handsome face lighting up with his eyes tilted down to meet your own. You grinned up at him as your fingers fumbled with the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I am just so taken back because I forgot how pretty you were. Like, you’re gorgeous on the phone, but, like, right now I can see your features much better, and you are gorgeous,” he mumbled through his rambles.

You giggled, nose scrunching, “Hello, Ash.”

His arms were open because of his nonstop gesturing, so you took it as an invitation and stepped into them for a hug. He gasped, quietly, but you felt his chest collapse against your own. He held your waist so delicately, it made your heart sputter over its own steps.

“You smell good,” you inhaled, fingers dancing across his shoulders. “Is it the stuff you told me about?”

He pulled back, allowing you to walk into his house. He closed the door and stopped beside you in the parlor. “It is. Funny you remembered.”

“I have a good memory,” you shrugged, eyes rolling in a gentle manner. “Can I take my shoes off?”

The boys, Sierra, and Crystal were dead silent in the living room, leaning over their own breath as you kicked off your shoes and lined them up against the others perfectly. Ashton took the bag off of your shoulder and set it on the bench above the shoulders.

“Oh, thanks,” you grinned up at him, watching his hands shove into his pockets, feet rock from heel to toe. “Ash?”

“Hm?” He met your eyes, his own slightly alarmed with anxiety.

You pulled his hand from the aforementioned pocket, wrapped tour fingers together, and held onto his bicep with your other hand. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.”

His lips perked up, dimples deepening. “That’s why I’m nervous.”

“I’m nervous, too,” you admitted, tooth piercing your bottom lip.

He laughed lightly at this, “You? Nervous? Cmon, you’re always so confident.”

“It’s easy to be that way when you’re not actually in real life. I mean, I’m still kinda hitting myself for saying you smell good.”

Ashton grabbed your other hand, “Let’s cut to the chase for each other, okay?”

“Please?” you shrugged.

“We both like each other. Like, in a romantic way?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Irwin,” you poked at his hip.

He squirmed away, “Okay, proving my point.”

You giggled, which he adored the sound of. “If we both have those feelings, which we already knew of, there’s no need to be scared. We just needed to lay down the line and walk it.”

“How poetic,” Ashton leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your cheek.

You shivered at the touch before your shoulder squared, “Now let’s go meet those friends who are not so secretly spying.”

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x y/n #ashton irwin x you #ashton irwin x reader #calm 5 seconds of summer #5sos fam #5sos x you #5sos x reader #5sos fanfic

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