#it ignores his capacity to listen and grow which is what makes him a good character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miekasa · 3 years

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six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex.

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team.

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.”

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #eren x reader

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whumblr · 2 years

Text

Backup

Backup - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

(yes this fourth and final chapter is also called ‘Backup’)

This didn’t happen often in his life, but for once, Connor was stunned into silence.

Or more like, he just didn’t have the air to speak.

Every bit of lung capacity went into screaming his head off. That is, if he was able to. He barely had time to catch his breath, just taking big noisy gasps every time Hayes stopped his torturous life-saving machines (with less and less frequency) to see if he would break and give him the answer he needed.

Which he absolutely would not. If the air was punched from him anyway, he’d rather try to shape it into some profanities instead.

“I grow tired of this, detective.”

“Yeah, well— how you think… I feel?” Connor panted.

The device couldn’t be turned up any further and Connor felt his body was reaching a limit as well.

The electricity fired through him, leaving a lingering feeling as if his veins were burned from the inside.

His muscles ached, all tense, making his body all heavy. Blood still tickled over his upper lip, his chin, down his throat (inside and out) and pooled in-between his clavicles. And his chest felt like it was on fire, the defibs crashing down on him every time, bruising and burning whenever they hit him. He was pretty sure his skin was red and raw underneath his shirt.

His leg was a bloody mess by now, with him straining and pulling against the straps. An open wound, barely held together by the few stitches that weren’t ripped out yet.

He wouldn’t mind if he were to black out now. His head felt woozy and heavy and it was so tempting to just give in and let go.

But a little disturbance caught his attention and he willed himself to listen.

“Sir?”

Hayes twisted away with a snarl as a hand tapped him on his shoulder, turning to the guard behind him.

“You better see this.”

With an annoyed glance down – as if Connor was responsible for every little frustration now (not a complete stretch, though) – the director reluctantly stepped away from him, giving him an unintended but well-deserved break.

Connor strained his ears, hope rising in his chest. He couldn’t hear the whispered conversation, nor could he see what the guard showed the director, but the next exclamation sounded delightfully frustrated.

“What?!”

That, combined with Hayes’ furious glare back at him, meant something good.

“Sir!” Hayes ignored his guard and stomped back to Connor, face like thunder. “Sir, they have a warrant, we can’t stop them.”

“What did you do!” Hayes shouted.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Connor failed to contain his grin.

A fist smashed right next to his head and if he weren’t so exhausted, he might’ve actually flinched in surprise. Seems like the cool and stoic director was in fact losing his cool.

The guard held out a tablet, prodding it at the director to take it with some urgency. Hayes snatched it away from him, glanced at the screen – looked like he was about to explode – and turned it over so Connor could see.

The screen was connected to the security cameras and showed a collection of scenes. In the lobby, they could see two men, who he recognised as his chief and his partner. They were held up by a group of guards, reluctant to let them in.

“Ohh, that.” Connor feigned his surprise. “Well, you should let them in.”

He couldn’t see his chief’s face, but his body language betrayed a complete lack of patience. As the guards stepped aside, he strode up through the lobby. Surprisingly, followed by a huddled team in black.

“Must say I didn’t expect a swat team, though.” Connor puffed out his lips, impressed and maybe even a little touched.

“What did you expect?!”

Connor turned up to the director, his features lit up in delight and mischief, clouding his pain.

“Backup,” he simply said. “Unlike you, I do have a backup plan. Which doesn’t involve torture. May make an exception if you uncuff me now, though.”

“How?!” The fist next to his head tightened. “I listened to your every word!”

Connor grinned. It’s true. He didn’t say anything strange, nothing off. To an outsider.

“You may have noticed I have a little trouble with authority.”

“And?” Hayes was turning red by now.

“I don’t call anyone ‘sir’,” Connor said. “Not even my superiors. Who are well aware of course – threatened disciplinary actions and all, you know, the shebang – and they’ll know right away something is wrong if I ever do.”

He had basically screamed for help with the first word he’d said as soon as the call connected. Though he didn’t really like to think of it that way… Twas just a subtle hint, really. Followed up a little less than subtle with a whole swat team.

Hayes pressed his lips together until they nearly disappeared. He stared at him in silence for a few seconds and Connor watched in glee as he saw the disbelief in his eyes change to rage.

Then he sharply turned to his staff. "Clear out! Clear the drives! Now!"

"Would’ve been nice if you had made some backups, my man."

Hayes pressed the scalpel to his throat. "I’m giving you one last chance to tell me where you hid it.”

“Yeah, shame to lose all that unethical data.”

He winced when the blade sank into his skin, drawing a little blood in warning.

“You think that’s a good idea? You’re surrounded already. But who am I to advise you on that, hm? I’m just a guy strapped to a table.”

Hayes was about to sneer in reply, but when he opened his mouth he almost jumped up at the sudden sound of a gunshot outside. Even though the sound was still far away his hesitation was clear, but just as Connor was sure he’d smash the scalpel into a non-fatal body part as a parting gift, it dropped with a clang to the floor.

Deciding to take his losses, Hayes backed away out the door. A seething hatred in his eyes as he glanced back at Connor a final time, and he slipped away.

Connor let out a relieved sigh through pursed lips, almost in a whistle. He stared straight up at the ceiling for a second, blessing his luck and his team. Glanced around the now empty room. Wiggled his hands a little against the straps.

He hummed to himself, as if he only just now started to understand his predicament.

…now what?

Then he heard running footsteps. Doors being smashed open. Someone shouting. His name?

“In her—“ He coughed hard, his throat protesting. “Here, in here!” he tried again.

His partner rushed around the door. The relief on his face fell away and now crumpled into a confused frown and exasperated glance, holding himself up by the doorframe as he saw the state of his partner.

“Derek! Oh, I could hug you, but…” Connor just kinda wiggled about on the table.

“Good god, what kind of menace have you been that they strapped you to a table?”

“Just the usual menace, you know me.”

“I knew a day like this would come…”

Derek, stoic as ever, indeed bore the kind of expression that said he’d been waiting for a trash rescue job like this since they’d become partners. He looked around warily, two hands still wrapped around the grip of his gun. Seemingly satisfied no one was lurking in a corner somewhere, he uncocked the gun and strapped it back into its holster.

“You alone?” he asked, stepping around the table and unstrapping the leather over Connor’s torso with an almost disgusted and careless flick of the wrist. “What, they just kind of left you to fend for yourself?”

“You scared them off, man. They saw you and your resting bitch face enter the building and promptly fucked off.” Connor nodded and glanced up to a camera facing the door.

Derek hummed, expression unfazed, and moved to free Connor’s legs.

“Carefulcarefulcareful!” Connor yelped when Derek pulled the strap off his leg and now made for his other injured leg.

“Jesus,” he recoiled as he saw the bloody mess now up close.

"Wait, get my hands, I'll do it myself."

But as soon as his hands were free and he pushed himself up to his elbows, he lunged over the side of the table and puked up. Blood, he noticed as he caught his breath.

"Aw, nice, Byrne. You splashed my trousers!"

"Good to see you too, friend." Connor wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and lightly wobbled as he pushed himself back up.

Derek looked down and his frown of disgust turned to one of worry. "Throwing up blood is not a good sign."

"I have no say in what my stomach chooses to projectile vomit."

With the utmost care, Connor peeled the leather back from his ankle and undid the final strap with a soft hiss.

He shakily sat up and let his legs dangle down over the edge of the table. Blood spattered on the floor below him. He teetered lightly and wiped the blood from his face. It shouldn’t surprise him that he was totally out of it, but…well, it kinda did. Realization of everything that happened started to sink in.

And for Derek as well. While Connor got his bearings, he held one of the defibrillators up, slowly turning it in his hand, confused, eyes following the cable to the strange device. Then he found the little tray with the bullet, glanced at Connor’s shredded leg and he just shook his head. He took Connor’s phone, lying next to the tray, and slipped it into his back pocket.

“…Can you walk?”

“Nope.”

Derek sighed, but grabbed him and swung his arm over his own shoulders, propping him up. Connor hopped along on his one good leg, very grateful for the support.

“Found him,” Derek spoke into his radio clipped to his shoulder. “Injured. Meet back at the lobby.”

"Hold up, we need to go to the kitchen."

"I swear to god Connor—"

"No, really. Being electrocuted makes you hungry, I need to make a sandwich. Served with a nice dish of hot evidence."

Derek side-glanced at him at the word ‘evidence’ but remained steadfast. “You need urgent medical care before you puke up your spleen.”

“I didn’t go through this shit to leave it here, now get hopping!”

Disgruntled, Derek let go of him and before Connor could complain, his world spun and he balanced over Derek’s shoulders.

“This’ll go faster.”

“My man. Or should I say my steed?”

“I’ll drop you.” But he trotted him along in a fireman’s carry back down to the ground floor, following instructions to the little breakroom where Connor had hidden his stash. He carefully lowered Connor down and balanced him against the kitchen counters on his good leg, giving them both a chance to catch their breath and for Derek to inspect Connor’s hiding place.

He picked at the stack of coffee cups, taking them off one by one, increasingly rushed, to see if they’d reveal the hidden price within.

"Ugh, just take them all,” Connor said, propping himself up on one arm against the counter. “Can't check one by one."

Derek just picked the entire stack up, holding it out between two hands, and gave it a shake.

The stick rattled in one of the cups and Connor made a finger gun with his free hand. "Gotcha."

He took the cups and allowed Derek to swing him up again, this time over one shoulder, Derek securing his legs. He bounced gently along on his back, picking off the paper cups one by one, flicking them away as he searched for his price, leaving a breadcrumb trail back to the lobby.

“Ha!” He patted Derek on the butt in an unnecessary attempt to get his attention and in a private celebration, holding the drive up to no one in particular.

“Okay, so what’s on it?” Derek asked, repaying the pats by nudging him up further up his shoulder under the pretense of renewing his grip.

“It’s a mystery.”

“You risked your life for a drive that may just contain this place’s salary list?”

“If so, then their HR department has serious issues and something to hide. They were willing to go very far to get it back.”

A rattling sound drew nearer to them and Derek gently sat him down on what appeared to be a stretcher.

“Oh,” Connor hummed in surprise as they lowered him down, looking back to the entrance where an ambulance was waiting for him. “You came prepared.”

“We know you by now. Either you needed it or someone else here in the building.” Derek said. He looked up to the paramedics and added, “Strap him down if he’s annoying. He’s used to it.”

“That’s very unfair,” Connor shouted as he was wheeled off. He saluted to his chief as they passed him, who just shook his head with a sigh but Connor caught the hint of relief.

“Ah, Derek, wait!” He started fumbling, patting his pockets as they slid him into the ambulance. “Drive my car back, will yo—“ He dropped his hands back onto the stretcher as he realized his stuff had been confiscated and he grumbled just before exhaustion overtook him:

“Fucker still has my car keys.”

Tag list: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @equestrianwritingsstuff @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @myst-in-the-mirror @whumpawink @painsandconfusion

#whump #whump writing #defiant whumpee #bastard whumpee #rescue #stoic caretaker #sodonecaretaker #whumplr #short whump story #tortured for information #aftermath of torture #injured whumpee #restrained #strapped to a table #blood #my writing

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Home Sweet Home

You bring Colson to your hometown for the first time.

Request: “Can you write a Colson imagine where you take him back to your hometown to meet your family and friends and he’s nervous everyone will hate him but everyone ends up loving him? And maybe include a run in with some girls from high school that are jealous 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I try to be as inclusive as possible in my fics but its hard when writing about families in this capacity, so I just went with the most generic family model possible. Also, my family is very unusual so I don’t really know how families interact… oop

Word Count: 2979

“Will you stop freaking out, you’re making me nervous.” You placed a soft hand on the shaking leg of your boyfriend. “And they’re my family.”

He let out a sigh, the shaking stopping momentarily as he pulled you as close to him as possible in the back of your Uber. “What if your parents hate me?”

Taking a deep breath, you assured him again, “my parents are not going to hate you. We’ve been over this; they’re going to love you.”

“Your dad is going to take one look at me and punch me in the face.” Colson said, a pout on his face.

You let out a chuckle, “he is not. And even if he does, you can take a punch.”

Despite your laughter, Colson remained stoic, “I’m serious Y/N, dads hate me. I look like everything you’d want your daughter to avoid.”

A sigh left your lips at his admittance of insecurity. “Babe listen to me, please. My parents are going to love you because I love you. And if they don’t then tough shit because you’re not going anywhere.”

He nodded, but you could still see the worry behind his eyes. “I just really want them to like me. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”

You smiled at the comment, heart fluttering. “I’m in love with you.”

He looked at you deeply, a smile falling onto his lips, “and I’m in love with you, princess.” His lips pressed a small kiss against the crown of your head and rested there until the car pulled up to your childhood home. You felt your boyfriend tense up beside you, so you reached for his arm that was around your middle, rubbing soft shapes through the sleeves.

“I’m gonna be right next to you the whole night.” You told him as you moved to open the door, breathing in the refreshing air. LA was lovely, but it was nice to be able to breathe properly in your hometown.

Colson grabbed your bags out of the trunk, even though you insisted you could help. “Go say hi to your family, babe. I got it.”

You pressed a small kiss to his cheek, whispering a small “see you inside” before rushing to the familiar front door. Years of memories lie beyond its wood, memories you were excited to relive.

Knowing your family would keep it unlocked for you, you turned the knob and pushed the door open. The smell of your family’s cooking filled your nose, and immediately members of your family found you.

“Y/N!” Your younger cousins screamed, racing over to you to hug you. The last time you’d seen them they were 5 and 7, now they were 8 and 10.

“You guys have gotten so big! Did you drink some sort of magic potion or something?” You asked, a smile on your face.

Your mom had told you that she and your father would be cooking, but you didn’t think they’d invited your entire family. Although, you should have assumed they would given how close your family was.

Once your cousins let go of you, you turned around to see Colson waving off the Uber driver and making his way to the door. You turned to your younger cousins once he got close enough for them to see him. “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Colson.” They gave small waves as you introduced them to Colson, who gave them a big smile.

“C’mon, babe. I’ll show you to our room.” You grabbed one of the bags from his hand, much to his dismay, and led him through the house. After you had moved to LA, your parents had turned your bedroom into the guest room, but some of the decorations from your younger years had remained on the walls.

Colson looked around the room, smiling as he thought of younger you growing up in here. “Is this a Bowie vinyl?” He asked, motioning to the vinyl record on the wall as he set your bags onto the bed.

You nodded, smiling wide. “Yep, got it for my 15th birthday. Signed and everything.” Your boyfriend nodded in appreciation as his eyes moved around the room. You wrapped your arms around his middle, cuddling into his chest. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest from how nervous he was. “You’re not gonna freak out and run off on me, are you?” You asked, a light humor in your voice.

Colson let out a dry chuckle, “no, I’ll be okay.” He mumbled, squeezing you closer to him. “But what if we just stayed in here forever?”

You slapped his chest playfully, “c’mon loser, you’re coming to meet my family whether you like it or not.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the door.

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted with his free hand, making you giggle.

You made your way into the kitchen where your mom was standing with your aunts and sister. Her eyes lit up when she saw you, “you made it!” She came over and gave you a tight hug, “How was the flight?” She asked.

“It was fine, we slept most of the way.” You smiled before turning to Colson. “Mom, this is Colson, you’ve met him over facetime a couple times now, remember?”

She smiled moving to pull him into a hug. He had a shocked look on his face but reciprocated the hug. You mouthed “sorry” to him, giggling silently. He just smiled and shook his head, letting you know he was okay.

“Of course, I remember! She talks about you all the time.” You blushed as Colson smiled proudly. “You’re much taller in person.” Your mom noted, making you and Colson chuckle.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Your sister cleared her throat, grabbing your attention, “right! Colson, this is my sister and my aunts.”

They each introduced themselves politely. You told them you were going to go outside to find your dad and brothers. Before you left your sister pulled you to the side and whispered in your ear, “okay, I knew LA was full of hot guys, but how’d you manage to pull that?”

You laughed out loud, “Y/S/N! That’s so mean!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” She laughed, but then whispered again, “but seriously, god damn.”

You rolled your eyes, “next time I’ll bring you one back.” She giggled, nodding in encouragement.

You took Colson’s hand, ignoring his quizzical look, and led him to your backyard. “That wasn’t too bad, right?” You checked in on him.

He sighed, “no, but moms are never bad. If moms don’t like you, they’ll say it in secret. Dads will say it to your face.”

“My mom loved you, and so will my dad. Just trust me.” You smiled, squeezing his hand.

You found your dad sitting on a lawn chair with your grandparents. Your brothers were throwing a football around with some of your older cousins and uncles. You greeted the three in lawn chairs, your dad standing up to give you a hug.

“Hey, Y/N/N. How are you?” Your dad asked.

“I’m good! Glad to be home!” You smiled.

Your grandpa grunted, “you should never leave, then.”

You chuckled, leaning down to give both him and your grandma hugs. “You’ll be so sick of me in three days, you’ll be begging me to leave.”

Once you stood up straight, you motioned to Colson, “This is my boyfriend, Colson. You’ve kind of met him before, Dad.”

Your dad reached out his arm for Colson to shake, earning him a strong nod. “Strong grip. I like him.” Your dad looked towards you. You could tell he didn’t remember meeting Colson on facetime, but you hadn’t expected him to.

“Grandpa, you’ll like this. Colson knows all four members of Motley Crue.” You smiled, winking at your boyfriend.

The older man looked impressed, “really? I was a roadie on the Theatre of Pain tour.”

Colson nodded, a smile on his face. “I played Tommy Lee in their biopic and then, uh, we recorded a song together.” You grinned proudly as the two talked about their experiences with the band.

Your dad put a hand on your shoulder, shaking you lightly, “You happy?” He whispered.

You turned to look at him, “yeah. He’s a good guy, trust me.”

Your dad nodded, “oh, I can tell. Just wanted to make sure.” You thanked him, watching your boyfriend interact with your family. “Now you gotta introduce him to your brothers.” He chuckled at your sigh.

“Do I have permission to punch them if they act like assholes?” You asked, only kind of joking.

Your dad pushed you towards the lawn, “I see nothing.” You smile, grabbing Colson’s hand and leading him away from your grandpa once they’d finished their conversation.

“Okay, so I knew you were freaking out about my parents, so I didn’t want to freak you out even more.” You started, causing a panic look to cross Colson’s face. “My brothers are…” you searched for the words, “assholes. But like, loveable assholes. But they’re probably gonna give you shit, but it’s out of love. But I have no problem hitting them if you want me to.” You smiled.

He raised an eyebrow, “normally I’d say that’s my job but I feel like it’d be easier for your family to forgive you than me.” You laughed, pulling him to the guys and introducing him.

It turns out, your brothers actually really liked Colson, which was somehow worse than them hating him. Because it meant that they stole him from you. When you went back inside to talk more with your mom, your brothers demanded Colson stay outside with them. He seemed happy, so you let him stay, excited that your family was taking to him so well.

An hour later, dinner was almost ready, so your brothers started to set up the folding tables outside, which Colson gladly helped with. You were helping your mom finish up the last of the food, watching your best friend and soulmate through the window with adoration. He was helping your younger cousin put the tablecloth on the table, the scene reminding you of the time Casie and him took you out for a picnic on your birthday. You couldn’t wait to bring her here.

“You chose a good one.” Your grandma commented from behind you, making you jump a little bit. Once you registered her words, you blushed, mumbling out a thank you. “I can tell he really loves you. A granny can always tell.”

You smiled, “I really love him, too.” You turned back to check on him, catching his eye. He sent you a bright grin, making your grandma pat you on the shoulder before walking back to your mom to help her.

The rest of the night was magical, Colson by your side the entire time. Eventually most of your family left, leaving you and Colson to go to bed. You cuddled into his side, a smile on both of your faces. “They all love you, y’know?”

He hummed in response, squeezing your waist. “I love you.”

You chuckled, “you’re so fucking cheesy.”

The next day you were determined to take Colson on a tour of your town, starting with the skate park you spent almost every day at in high school. “We would’ve been best friends when we were kids.” He said as you dragged him through the park.

“We’re best friends now.” You chuckled, pausing to press a kiss to his lips.

He hummed, “I think we’re a little more than best friends but okay.” You rolled your eyes, pulling him further into the park until you spotted a familiar face.

“Little Benny?” You asked, your face lighting up. The younger guy’s eyes widened, running up to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, pulling you in for a hug.

You chuckled, “You were like, 12 the last time I saw you, what the hell?”

The man laughed along with you, “well you were the one who ran off to LA miss big-time producer.”

You smiled, realizing he had probably checked up on you. Benny was about 7 years younger than you and had looked up to you almost his whole life. Seeing him so grown up was a strange experience for you.

You noticed him glancing to Colson, his eyes going wide. “You’re-“

You laughed, “Benny this is Colson, my boyfriend. Also known as-“

“Machine Gun Kelly!” The younger boy exclaimed, making Colson chuckle.

He reached out his hand, which Benny gladly shook, “nice to meet you, man.”

“Kells, this is Benny, my friend from high school. I taught him how to skate.”

“More like your protégé.” A female voice said. Behind Benny came Deanie, another girl his age you had taught. Benny’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.

You smiled at the two, knowing Benny had liked her since he was in middle school. “Hi Deanie.” You said, the girl smiling back at you. “This is Colson, my boyfriend.”

“Are you gonna skate?” She asked, eyes going wide.

You sighed, shaking your head, “sorry, guys. Maybe later, I’m just showing Colson around the town right now.”

Deanie and Benny both pouted, “damn, she goes off to Hollywood and forgets all about us.” Benny joked, making you all laugh.

You grabbed Colson’s hand, “We’ll see you guys later!” You waved, pulling the man away from the couple.

“It was nice to meet you!” He said, making you smile. “You seriously taught him how to skate?”

You nodded as you continued your trek to the diner you used to work at. “Yep, I taught most of the kids how to skate, although I guess they’re all his age now.”

Colson grinned, “so you’re, like, a legend here.” He commented, but you shook your head, laughing.

“No, I was a loser.”

“Not to those two, you’re not.” He said, swinging your intertwined hands. You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything further.

You finally arrived at the small diner you used to work at. About 50 feet away from the door, Colson’s phone buzzed. “Shit, Slim’s calling.”

“Take it, I’ll grab a table and you can meet me inside.” He smiled thankfully, answering the call as you walked inside.

You immediately spotted Wesley, the cook you’d known since you were 16, through the order window. The smell of the diner was familiar, and for a moment you felt like you were walking in for a shift. You leaned against the bar, “Hey, Wes!” You called, drawing the cook’s eye.

“Little miss Y/N! Is that really you?” You smiled at the old man.

“It sure is! How’s the diner?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” You giggled at his response. Wes had opened the diner in the 90’s and swore he’d burn with the building.

You grabbed a booth in the corner, just in case there happened to be any peering eyes in your small town.

Unfortunately, your table was in Liza’s section, a girl who’d hated you since you were kids. You found it quite funny that she was still working at the diner after all this time, silently thankful that you’d gotten out of the town.

She scowled when she saw you but walked over anyways. “What happened? Strike out in Hollywood and now you’re back here trying to get your job back?”

Her voice was just as annoying as it had always been. “Or did your rich sugar daddy dump your ass and now you’re home begging for money?”

You wanted nothing more than to slap the smirk off her face, but you refrained. “Actually-“ You started, but you got cut off by your boyfriend.

“You have a sugar daddy and didn’t tell me about it? Babe I would’ve helped you scam him for so much more.” He smiled, sitting across from you, and grabbing your hand that was resting on the table.

Upon realizing who was sitting across from you, Liza stiffened. “You’re-“

“Y/N’s boyfriend, nice to meet you.” He smiled, an evil glint in his eyes.

“Machine Gun Kelly!” Liza said, her squeaky voice making you cringe.

“I prefer Colson, but yeah.” He sighed, looking back over to see your annoyed expression.

Liza looked between the two of you, a look at disgust on her face. “Seriously? Why the hell are you going out with her? You could do so much better.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock at her blunt rudeness. Colson’s jaw clenched as he spoke, “what, like you?”

The girl shrugged, not catching the sarcasm that dripped from his voice. “I’m just saying, I don’t know what she’s told you but she’s a talentless bitch whose probably only dating you for money or fame, or both.”

Luckily, Wes came out to the front of the house to greet Colson, stopping him from punching a girl in the middle of the restaurant. “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Wes, owner, cook, and the best boss Y/N has ever had.” Colson shook his hand, still glaring at Liza.

“Yep.” You agreed with the man. Your voice was soft to calm Colson down, which worked a little bit.

Colson shot the man a grin, “nice to meet you, Wes. Y/N talks about this place all the time.”

The look of pride on Wes’s face was unforgettable. “Well, if you two need anything, just let me know.”

Colson looked towards Liza, annoyance returning to his features, “do you think we could get a new waiter?”

You almost laughed seeing the look of shock on her features, but Wes happily obliged, handing your table over to a newer waitress. Liza had steam coming out of her ears, but you ignored her.

“Thank you.” You muttered. “She’s hated me since we were kids.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah I could tell. Couldn’t have her talking shit like that.” He squeezed your hand, “now, what’s good here?”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #colson imagine #colson baker x reader

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

could u do a blurb on tom telling his brothers (HARRY!!!) he wants to propose and them not reacting the way he wants them to

ahh this is soo cute! sorry its short but I really don't have the brain capacity for much at the moment.

summary: tom wants to ask harry if he’s taking things to quick with y/n , which harry takes pure glee in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“I need your advice on something.” Tom’s low(ish) voice broke the comfortable silence of the living room of his rented house in Atlanta, whilst on a shoot for his latest movie. Him and his brother, Harry, were halfway through watching ‘About time’ for no real reason except it was a feel good film that didn’t require much concentration - the ideal after a full day on set. In reply Harry hummed, not taking his eyes off the screen. They’d both had a busy day on set, Harry making his now traditional cameo in the film - meaning he’d ,for once, been in front of the camera with his brother rather than behind it.

“It’s um…” Tom was nervous, playing anxiously with his fingers and when Harry heard the wavering in his voice he looked toward Tom on the other side of the sofa. The nerves were more than clear in his face too, making Harry shift and lean forward, suddenly intrigued.

“Why do you look like you’ve see a ghost? Is it a job offer? An audition?”

“No no… nothing like that. It’s…it’s about Y/n.” Harry narrowed his eyebrow at that, to his knowledge everything was fine between Tom and his girlfriend of three years - better than fine actually, more like sickeningly happy. I mean yes, his brother had been pining over you because of the distance, it was clear he missed you a lot. But that wasn’t a bad thing… it showed just how whipped he was.

“I thought you guys are good?”

“No yeh we are… really good actually. Really really good.”

“Well…” Harry spoke lowly, whilst shifting in his seat, confused by the point of this conversation. I mean yes, Tom spoke a lot of pointless shit, but something about this was different. “I don’t really know why you’re asking me and my sad love life about your really good one.” Tom chuckled breathily at it, looking up to meet his brothers eyes.

“ I’m ask your advice for anything like that, I’m not that desperate… I just want to check I’m not going mad you know?”

“Your always fucking stupid if that’s what you mean.” Harry laughed, earning himself a sharp kick in his shin.

“I’m serious! Look, me and Y/n have been together three and a bit years right?”

“Well I guess-“

“And she lives with us now and she get’s on with mum and dad right?”

“Yeah.” Harry drew out the word, shifting in his seat as he got a sort of sense of where this was going.

“And I think her family like me and we’ve talked about the future?”

“Is this a quiz? Am I gonna get a gold star if get them all right?” Tom rolled his eyes, again kicking Harry playfully from the other side of the couch - movie long forgotten . He carried on, ignoring Harry’s interjection.

“I was on the phone to her before-“ Another piece of information Harry already knew because without fail as soon as they got in from set at six it was clockwork - Tom would go into his room to phone you and come back out in a sickeningly happy mood an hour later. “- and she was going on about something that had happened at her work and I couldn’t help but not listen properly. Not cos she’s boring but I was just like ‘wow’.” Harry stuck a finger in his mouth, gesturing to how unbelievably cringey his brother was being. “No I’m serious…. Cos like, and I don’t know how to say this… but-but I think I want to marry her. I want to ask her to marry me.”

Speaking those words for the first time out loud, Tom felt such a wave of relief for getting it out in the open. TO be quite honest with himself, these are thoughts he been surpressing for the longest time. But now, having spent 2 months not having seen you in the flesh, he realised he couldn’t do this ever again. He couldn’t push down these thoughts anymore either. He wanted, hell it felt like he needed, to ask you to marry him. It would fill the only hole left in Tom’s life - he would be complete.

Considering it was such a bid deal to Tom, he had expected a little more reaction from his brother. But instead, Harry just shrugged with a nod turning back to the movie. Tom scrambled to sit up from his reclined position, reaching for the remote to pause the TV - earning a yelp from the frizzy haired boy opposite.

“Are you serious? Got no opinions on something life changing but when I choose to wear fucking baggy jeans once you lecture me for hours on end?”

“What do you want from me?” Groaning, Harry flicked his hood up, hiding the secret smirk at his brothers agitation. They were brothers, they loved to wind each other up. And Harry had a particular talent for it.

“Well am I rushing into this? Would she say no? Am I being a dickhead?” Tom spoke in a hurry, contrasting greatly with how his brother drew his words out.

“You already know how I feel… you’re always a dickhead.” This time Harry allowed himself to smirk, laughing at the way Tom looked desperately at him for a proper answer. “…You’re being a dickhead because of course she’d say yes. You know I have to live with the two of you at home? I have to deal with how fucking ‘in love’ the two of you are. I hear through the walls.” There was extra emphasis on the last sentence, making Tom groan a little. “We have bets on it you know? For when you’d pluck up the courage and ask her. Haz went for last Christmas, I went for this summer and Y/n went for her birthday next year. Looks like I’m quids in.”

“You what, she-she said what?” Tom’s eyes were impossibly wide.

“You heard. That’s how I know she’ll say yes. Because ALL of us have been waiting for you to grow a pair.”

As annoying as it was, having his brother be all smug and full of himself, Tom left that conversation feeling completely full of glee. Because he was going to ask you and he had it on pretty good authority you were going to say yes.

I'd love to know what anyone thinks / any feedback / advice <333

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tomholland #Harry Holland #Harry Holland fluff

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imthepunchlord · 3 years

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Adrien’s Best to Least

Marinette, Alya, Nino, Kagami

Alright, officially four seasons in, we got more on Adrien which wound up to be... something. Let’s get this character study going covering his best to least fit. I apologize if this comes out on the side of salty, trying to be as neutral as possible, but be ready for his issues to be addressed.

Adrien is a complicated character in his set up, but Adrien himself is not a complex individual. He is, quite literally, one of the more straight forward characters in this show, and is quite stagnant and unchanging. And that is more the fault of the writers who don’t want to change him at all and deem him to be “perfect” while ignoring any flaws. Looking at him as a character without the narrative to act in his favor, there’s actually quite a struggle for him miraculous wise, but two seem to suit him best.

His best are Turtle and Peafowl. Turtle meets the core who he is, working off his strengths, where he likes to be in the field, and his instincts. And this miraculous actually offers him the growth he really needs, while keeping true to who he is. Peafowl it turn can best adjust to his style and needs, his want to be flashy and dynamic.

Adrien at the core is a protector, supporter, and follower. Being an incredibly reckless and active character, he thrives to be in the front lines, and has largely always prioritized his partner’s safety over his own, which has become problematic behavior at this point. But that’s what you want for a Turtle, someone who’s ready to be on the front lines and is being conscious of their allies. And out of the 5, this suits him best in who he is and how he works.

The growth potential comes from the limits of his protection as Shelter can only be used once, and he has to be conscious about timing and how to use it. And typically, Adrien does have good responsive instincts for when he needs to be a protector. While this won’t stop him from diving in, it can afford him more means to do so while also keeping himself safe and in the fight, and it can shape him up to be smarter in how he protects others. This miraculous also counts for self-protection and ideally can get it into his head that his safety matters to.

Overall, I do see Adrien and Wayzz getting along as Wayzz is friendly, engaging, and will adapt and adopt quirks of his humans so he can quickly bond with them. This sets up for him to click with his kwami a lot sooner, and with Wayzz being a more serious and responsible kwami than Plagg, this can set up Adrien to respect and listen to Wayzz. So when Wayzz calls him out on anything, Adrien is more likely to listen to him and consider his words. Wayzz is a kwami who doesn’t approve of reckless behavior, and that will address one of Adrien’s biggest issues.

With Peafowl, in comparison to Fox, would be a lot forgiving of Adrien’s quick, responsive, and straightforward thinking. When Adrien makes his golems, they are made with a clear purpose that they will see to. And they will function as he expects them to. This will match his want to play by his own rules, as whatever he wants can come into existence, and for sure, he’d be quite the attention grabber. This miraculous is quite flexible in battle, able to be settled on the sidelines or join the golem in combat.

Growth wise, this miraculous can inspire a spark of creativity, as while he makes golems to serve out a purpose, thought is required for them. He will also need to learn to be conscious of his resources as each golem is born from a section of his fan, and if he makes too many, he can end up weaponless.

For him and Duusu, I see them being a very energetic pair, probably borderline chaotic. Duusu would actually probably add onto his flamboyance and encourage him to really let loose and “show his true colors”. She’d also be a source of affection and support, something that he really wants. She could also have Adrien step up in maturity as she can be a goofball.

Adrien’s 2nd best is Bee. Bee can work off his energy and allow him to remain a mid-to-close-range fighter, though there are concerns to him using it which keeps this from being apart of his best, though he has enough potential and promise to use it well that keeps this from joining the worst.

Bee will have a lot of the same appeals as Cat that makes this manageable for Adrien. It is direct, involved, allows him to be a teamplayer, and has an aggressive power. But while it has the same appeals to Cat, it has the same issues as Adrien can be reckless with his power and has activated Cataclysm at the wrong time a few times which has led to issues (Aeon’s death being the most iconic example). Chances are even higher that he’d have similar issues with Venom, and be more reckless with Venom as unlike Cataclysm, this is just a temporary paralysis, not pure destruction. Cataclysm requires some level of control and consideration in use. Venom is not the same in its use, so Adrien can end up more reckless with it as there aren’t so severe consequences with it, in theory. And with his tendency to charge and Venom requires some stealth and calculation in use, chances are good that many are going to see his sting coming and prepare for it.

Growth wise, Bee can help Adrien grow as a team player, as teamwork is a big part of bee society, and while largely good, Adrien does have moments where he has struggled (like pranking his partner during a Lucky Charm use in the beginning of Refleckta, or Glaciator, rejecting to work with his partner due to her not showing up for the maybe date she said she was uncertain of making it to). And by chance he is reckless with Venom, ideally it would eventually click that he needs to be smarter in how he handles it.

Adrien and Pollen as a pair could end up very problematic or very interesting. The Bee miraculous seems more designed to be used by girls and so far, we’ve only seen Pollen work off girls, we have yet to see how Pollen would engage with a boy as her user. She could be quite critical. But playing off the assumption that Pollen will engage with Adrien the same as we’ve seen in canon with Chloe, this would not be a good match as Pollen would essentially enable Adrien, and I don’t see him prompting the same sort of growth to her as other characters could.

Adrien’s least fit are Butterfly and Fox. These two make up his greatest weaknesses: empathy and the capacity to plan before acting.

Adrien can match Butterfly as he can be very supportive and encouraging (Origins and Mayura), but the issue stems that these instances are limited both in number and in depth. Adrien can be very emotionally deaf to the needs of others, often putting his own needs over them, and has made use of guilt to manipulate people (largely Marinette, seen in Syren and Malediktator). Another big issue with Adrien and Butterfly is that Adrien himself doesn’t make connections, he doesn’t include himself in anything. To use this miraculous well, one has to be or become, quite literally, a social butterfly. This miraculous at the core is about emotion and connection, to be aware of the feelings of others, to make connections, to assist and help raise others up. It requires teamwork and being on the same page. To have the user become a leader or teammate. This is not something Adrien is known for. He in general isn’t good at getting a grasp on emotional issues, as seen in Maledicktator, not getting the happiness everyone was feeling and lectured Marientte about it. Possibilities are good that with his tendency to lecture, who can upset the wrong target and end up championless. And with how passive he can be, can it be certain that he can rein in a champion if they go out of control?

Growth wise, this does offer the most, but at the price that this is one of two that he’d really struggle with at the start. This miraculous can help him learn to branch out, make connections with others, and open his world more to making friends. But until he gets to that point, he’s going to be limited in diversity in champions and is more likely to stick to who he knows, and unfortunately, that’s not a lot. Chances are good that Chloe and Nino could be the only champions to be seen for a while and Chloe would not be inclined to share.

With Nooroo, on the surface they can be a sweet pair, but being a very gentle and soft spoken kwami, I don’t see Nooroo as a kwami that Adrien will listen to if Nooroo spoke out or voiced his concerns. Nooroo can help Adrien understand and deal with emotional situations he may not have a grasp on, but that’s not a certainty until Adrien actually listens.

Adrien can match Fox as a risk taker, someone who likes to be flashy, is playful, and wants to put on a show. But that there is where it ends. Adrien at the core is a very reactive character who likes to be in the thick of things and that’s not where Fox is supposed to be. Fox requires creativity, observation skills, and means of manipulating your audience without ever confronting them. Adrien is more offensive-oriented than a good Fox should be. He shares a similar issue with Alya that he would go with the first thing that comes to mind, whether its good or not, or even if he has all the details down needed for a good illusion. Chances are also good that (like Alya), he also waits to hear what illusion his partner may tell him to do than think of one himself. He tends to go with his gut and responds to the first thing he sees. And out of the 5, this is the one most designed to be background oriented, so him joining any fights makes things risky for him as he’s quite limited in fights. And having a Fox seen, enemies get a sense that there’s going to be an illusion soon.

This would be the 2nd to address issues of his recklessness, but would be far more punishing. If he’s determined to become a good Fox, this is going to force him to step back, observe, and think. But being so action oriented and responsive, and having this instinctive need to act rather than plan (as we really see him struggle and get frustrated in Refleckdoll), its going to take a while before he gets that patience.

Trixx and Adrien would be a pair that I see to be quite one sided. Passive as he can be, I see Trixx quite easily manipulating Adrien. And depending on one’s stance, this could be good or bad. Trixx is sharp enough to see what his humans desire, and knows what to say to change how think or change their actions. Trixx maybe the best kwami to pair with Adrien as he will assist Adrien in getting what he wants and needs, but is capable of getting Adrien to reconsider his stance or actions, which can improve Adrien’s character and his relation with others.

Between Ladybug and Cat... honestly Adrien isn’t the best fit for either of them. But if he HAS to have one... it would technically be Cat as the power is more suited to who he is. It’s up his alley, though certain aspects don’t make it ideal.

it is the same issue and risk as Bee, Adrien is very reckless and reactive. Canonly he has summoned Cataclysm too soon. And then there’s the issue of kwami. Plagg is not a good kwami match up with Adrien. Plagg isn’t a very involved kwami and he relies on his humans to self-sufficient and figure out issues themselves, largely expects a small mention will be enough. Not so with Adrien who needs a more direct personality to listen to, and by the time Plagg realizes he needs to be more direct, Adrien largely dismisses him as Plagg has set himself up as unreliable at the start.

Between the two, Tikki would be the better kwami for Adrien. She is very involved and engaging, and makes it clear when she has an issue, to a point she’d be hard for Adrien to dismiss. Though chances are slim that he would as she’d be engaging at the start unlike Plagg. Adrien can even get Tikki herself to grow as he needs clearer answers than just a simple call out, forcing her to offer up solutions and alternatives for his own actions. Tikki also would get Adrien to start involving himself in others, if not outright stepping up as a leader, be more conscious of others and help them with their issues. She would’ve been good to help Adrien branch out. Unfortunately, the Ladybug miraculous is confirmed to not be a good fit and there would be a lot of struggles for Adrien at the start.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #kwami swap #character study

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hyperfixation-hideout · 3 years

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Broke: Oscar’s gotten so wise; he’s becoming more like Ozpin!

Woke: Oscar’s wisdom is unique to him and his growth; Ozpin’s actually becoming more like Oscar.

Seriously, I have evidence! (spoilers through volume 8 chapter 7)

[Note: I’m not addressing their movements and speech patterns in this post. They’ve both adopted similarities to one another in those ways, but this analysis isn’t about muscle memory, it’s about worldview, morals, outlook, values, and choice.]

Listen to Ozpin’s speech at the end of Volume 7. This was the first we’d heard from him really since early volume 6, prior to the growth and development of Oscar as an individual. The things Ozpin says in this monologue are clearly inspired by everything Oscar said over the course of the volume. The CRWBY commentary said it was Oscar’s advice to Ironwood that changed Ozpin’s perspective on trust, fear, and secrecy, and compelled him to return. Oscar understands that fear is the enemy of trust, in a way that Ozpin didn’t. Fear is an inevitability, but trust is a choice. That’s the lesson Oscar taught him.

Oscar asserts that the “greater good” no matter the cost isn’t truly great or good. He is able to see that when you use the “big picture” as an excuse to ignore “smaller” injustices, you’ve already lost. This is all used in his foil to Ironwood, but Ozpin was listening. Saving humanity to Ozpin and Ironwood was about uniting the entire world as a monolith. To Oscar, it’s about preserving and nurturing the humanity within every single person. The “smaller” picture shouldn’t be ignored for the sake of the end goal, because their goal is only achieved through individuals choosing to unite. Every small piece needs to be in place for a puzzle to be completed.

Listen to how Ozpin talks to Hazel in volume 8 compared to how Oscar spoke to Hazel in volume 5. Oscar asked why Hazel hated them, and after Hazel and Ozpin explained what happened, Oscar tried to reason with Hazel about his motives. He asked if his sister knew the risk when she decided to become a huntress. He then passionately expressed that Hazel’s sister made a noble choice to put others before herself, validating his sister and honoring her death while explaining why Hazel’s motives are misguided.

Now, in volume 8, Ozpin’s asking Hazel questions about his motives, speaking passionately, coming from a place of understanding and empathy (a stark contrast to the anger he exhibited towards Hazel while fighting in vol 5), appealing to his humanity, believing he still has the capacity for change, and using logic to try and help him see the hypocrisy and dangers of the path he’s on -- a path he can choose to depart from. (That last part is also reminiscent of Oscar warning Ironwood that the path he’s on isn’t going to lead him anywhere good). Ozpin even begins to reveal the truth about the relics to Hazel, which I doubt he’d have done without Oscar’s plan to help turn the villains. All of these values, qualities, choices, and perspectives are far more similar to Oscar’s worldviews than Professor Ozpin’s were while he was alive. Now, he’s changing.

Back in 5, Ozpin told Oscar that Hazel is “wounded in a way that cannot be healed.” Now, because of Oscar, Ozpin is trying to help Hazel heal. That’s a pretty significant change.

In the most recent chapter, while Ozpin is trying to get through to Hazel, Oscar asks to take control. Ozpin hesitates, not wanting him to get hurt even more, but Oscar cuts him off with “You want him to trust us? Then trust me.” And then, he does. Ozpin makes the decision to trust in Oscar, who in turn makes the decision to trust in Hazel. The last time Oscar revealed Jinn’s name for someone to find out the truth, Ozpin fought back. He tried to keep control and suppress Oscar from telling them, out of fear. This time, Ozpin let him, choosing trust instead.

I really love seeing Oscar grow into his role as the next protector of Remnant as himself. Like Ozpin said, when his soul merges with another, “I am changed, but my memories stay with me.” The memories are what stay with the next incarnation. Oscar’s gaining Oz’s muscle memory, his powers, his past lives’ memories, and his burden, but he is taking up Ozma’s task AS Oscar. He’s the one calling the shots now and taking the lead, teaching and changing Ozpin in his own way.

#oscar pine #rwby ozma #rwby meta #professor ozpin #rwby character analysis #ozma merge #rwby oscar #quinpost #im so proud of the farm boy #hazel #ironwood #rwby #rwby8 #rwby analysis

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stargaze-sunflower · 3 years

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More Dewey and Louie bonding!!! Hope you like it!!! :]

Summary: After the events of Emma Glamour's party, Dewey and Louie have a lot to talk about.

Ao3 Link Word Count: 4138

Louie really should’ve known that things wouldn’t go according to plan, but despite everything that had happened to him and his family, he had still managed to hang on to some hope. He was sure that he’d collapse into a puddle of despair and shame if he ever let go of hope entirely, and that wasn’t the type of life that he wanted to live. It was hard sometimes, because hope was fragile, and Louie himself felt easily breakable, most days.

He hadn’t wanted his scheme to be as vulnerable as he was. Seeing the angles was supposed to be the thing that he was good at, the one thing that was his. In a family full of adventurers, he’d thought that he had finally found his place as the strategy guy, as someone the others could trust to be on top of things. Someone that they could rely on, rather than someone they merely tolerated.

Emma Glamour’s party had been a chance to prove himself. A chance to finally show that his schemes weren’t all dangerous and harmful and worthy of getting him kicked out of the family selfish. He had wanted so badly for it to be a success. He’d thought that if he just tried hard enough – Scrooge was always telling him to just try – then it would all work out fine, and he’d finally stop feeling like there was something wrong with him. He’d stop feeling like everyone was always trying to fix the parts of him that they didn’t like.

It was a failure. But then, his schemes usually were, weren’t they? They brought nothing but bad things – caused nothing but trouble. At least The Caballeros got to play at the party, even though they hadn’t made the It List. Even though Louie had done nothing right.

Dewey had been the one to save the day, in the end – ever the hero – and Louie was proud of him, he was, but there was still a pit in his stomach growing bigger and heavier and harder to ignore.

(“You’re nothing new.

You’re not original.

There is nothing ‘It’ about you.

So tell me, why would I ever listen to you?”)

Louie sighed deeply, just the memory of the words enough to send sharp, aching pains bursting in his chest. He gripped the glass of water in his hand a little tighter, trying desperately to ground himself. But just like the rest of the ideas he’d had that night, it didn’t quite work out.

Currently he was standing behind the desert table, leaning against the wall and trying to pretend that he wasn’t hiding. Quite a few of the party guests had left already, but some had stayed to listen to the music that José and Panchito were playing – Uncle Donald had gone to sit at a table to talk with Daisy – and to enjoy the free food. Multiple people had even gone up to Dewey to congratulate him for winning the approval of Ms. Glamour. Something that Louie had not been able to do, at all, in any capacity. But he was fine. It was all fine.

He took a deceptively calm drink of water, trying to stop the rising wave of emotion that threatened to clog his throat and spill out of his eyes. He supposed he could only lie to himself for as long as he could ignore his feelings, and he was admittedly having trouble with that, at the moment.

“Thirsty?” a voice asked brightly, way too close to his right ear, and Louie almost choked on the water he hadn’t been able to swallow yet.

Dewey was standing next to him, smiling widely and rocking slightly on his feet, probably still absolutely ecstatic about the attention he’d received for his yo-yo ‘tricks’.

“Did you sneak up on me on purpose?” Louie asked, half accusing and half resigned.

“No,” Dewey said, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite out of it. “I called your name, like, twice before I got here.”

“Oh,” Louie said, any other possible response having fled his brain.

Louie set his glass of water down on the table in front of him as Dewey popped the rest of his cookie into his mouth, finishing it in record time.

“Still aren’t listening to me, huh?” Dewey teased, although there was something genuinely questioning in his tone.

The knot in Louie’s stomach twisted sharply at the reminder of how he’d treated his brother that night. Dewey hated feeling like he wasn’t being listened to, or acknowledged, or seen as useful. Louie knew that, and still he’d spent most of the night ignoring everything Dewey had tried to suggest.

“I guess not,” Louie replied, guilt tangling in his stomach and crawling up his throat. “I’m really— I just—”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit, but it didn’t bring the same comfort as his hoodie might have.

“I…I’m sorry,” Louie finally managed, and he felt like it wasn’t enough, like he it would never be enough. “I didn’t mean to— Well, I did, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dewey said, waving him off, and Louie glanced at him in nervous surprise. “I mean, I’m not gonna say that it didn’t hurt, because it did. You know how I am with, uh, that sort of thing.”

Dewey rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and the guilt in his stomach turned into sharp stabs.

(“Look, your plans, your schemes, they only lead to bad things for your family.”)

“But you’re not normally like this, all high-strung and whatever, which— which makes me think that maybe something else is bothering you,” Dewey continued, and Louie gaped at him in shock, his hands falling out of his pockets to hang still at his sides. Dewey’s brow was furrowed, and he was staring at the table in front of them intensely, obviously in deep thought. “And that doesn’t make it okay, but like, it makes it understandable? I don’t know.”

Dewey shrugged, shaking himself a bit before turning towards Louie with a little smile.

“I forgive you, you know, in case you need to hear it,” Dewey told him, and there was no trace of a lie in his eyes or deception in his voice.

Louie had to blink back tears at that, at the pure, sincere way that Dewey had just spoken to him, at the way he just understood Louie and his emotions, and how he was willing to forgive the mistake he’d made, especially when he already felt terrible about it. Dewey was his brother, who could apparently tell when something was bothering him, and Louie was both intimidated by that and thankful for it.

(“If you want to be a part of this family, you’ve gotta stop.”)

“Thanks, Dew,” Louie said, his voice softer and calmer than it had been in hours.

“No problem,” Dewey said happily, and he reached up to ruffle Louie’s hair before he could protest.

Louie glared sideways as he fixed his hair, not actually all that mad. Dewey just grinned at him, but a few seconds later it softened around the edges, and something concerned crept into his expression. Louie winced.

“You wanna talk about what was going on with you tonight?” Dewey prompted, nudging his shoulder lightheartedly, and Louie huffed.

“Not really, no,” Louie said.

“You sure?”

He turned to Dewey with his beak open, fully intending to repeat himself with confidence and grace, but the words died in his throat. Dewey was looking at him too honestly, too concerned, too ready to listen to him when Louie had done nothing but ignore him for the whole night, and it was enough to change his mind. Dewey deserved an explanation, and Louie was tired of lying, anyway. Because apparently - according to Emma Glamour - he wasn’t very good at it.

“No,” Louie admitted, voice strained as he practically forced the words out. “This is just… I really wanted things to be perfect, and I guess it kind of got out of hand.”

Him and Dewey took a moment to take in the messy room and remember the hostage situation. None of that had been Louie’s fault, really; sometimes it felt like chaos just followed their family around wherever it went.

“Why was it so important to you?” Dewey asked eventually. “Like why tonight, you know?”

Louie frowned deeply, brow furrowing as he tried to think of how best to explain how he felt.

“You know how Huey is super into being a Junior Woodchuck?” Louie asked, deciding to just wing it, and Dewey gave him a strange look, but nodded. “Okay, so, that’s his thing. He wouldn’t mind if we did it with him – he even wants us to, sometimes – but if we were better at it than he was, I think he’d lose his mind.”

Dewey chuckled a little, and that was enough to tell Louie that he was still listening, so he barreled onward.

“And then there’s— You’ve got that talk show thing, Dewey Dew-night, and that’s something that’s yours. But if I made my own talk show, like, uh— like Lunar Louie or something—” Dewey snorted, and Louie couldn’t help but smile a bit, even as he kept going almost frantically. “If I did that, and my show was more popular, then you’d feel like you weren’t— you’d feel bad.”

Louie trailed off into silence, and Dewey didn’t try to fill it, possibly sensing that he wasn’t quite done, but needed some time to think.

“I… I do schemes. That’s my thing. It’s basically the only thing I can do—”

(”This is the one thing I’m good at. Why can’t you see?”)

“—and then you kept telling me that you could do more to help, but I was scared that if I let you, then you’d be better at it than me, and if you’re better at scheming then me then what even— What else can I do? I’m not—"

(“You’re nothing new.

You’re not original—“)

“I don’t know,” Louie finished. “I just— I wanted to prove myself I guess.”

“To who?” Dewey sounded like he’d been punched in the stomach. Louie avoided looking at him.

“Everyone, I guess. Mom, Uncle Donald, you.” Louie put his hands back in his pockets, attempting to conceal their trembling. “Myself, most of all.”

“Louie, you— you don’t have to prove anything—”

“But I do!” Louie whipped around to face him, suddenly irrationally angry. He was surprised to find that the tears in his own eyes were reflected in Dewey’s. “Our family are a bunch of adventurers, Dewey. That’s what they do. And I can’t— I—”

Dewey reached out for him, but Louie backed up a step, not ready to be comforted.

“Uncle Scrooge thinks I’m lazy, and Mom thinks that I— that all I do is cause bad things to happen, and I just— I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Louie said, his voice ending in a broken whisper, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket for the sole purpose of wiping at his overflowing eyes. “I can’t do anything right. Or—or good.”

Dewey stared at him for a few long, agonizing seconds, and then his trademark expression of determination took over his face, stronger and more serious than Louie had seen it in a while.

Oh, boy.

“C’mon,” Dewey said, leaving no room for argument, and he grabbed Louie’s sleeve on his way by, dragging him along behind him.

Louie glanced nervously around them as he was tugged along, taking note of Uncle Donald, who was still sitting at a table with Daisy on the other side of the room. And speaking of tables—

Dewey stopped next to an empty one. Just like the others it was covered in a long white tablecloth that touched the floor, and Dewey gestured downwards pointedly. Louie raised an eyebrow, which was probably a strange expression on someone who had just been crying, but whatever. Dewey just gestured again, a bit more forceful, and Louie sighed before dropping to his hands and knees. He crawled under the tablecloth and Dewey followed, letting it fall back into place behind him when they were both in.

They were left sitting in soft lighting, on a squeaky-clean floor – Daisy probably wouldn’t have settled for anything less – and Louie had to admit that it was less overwhelming than standing at the edges of a large room feeling sorry for himself; feeling sorry for everything.

“Okay, look,” Dewey said, sitting there in his DJ Daft Duck suit and still managing to sound like he meant business. “You remember when Uncle Donald was racing against Uncle Gladstone ‘cause of that weird luck vampire thing?”

Louie could only nod.

“And he was gonna give up, but you stopped him. You kept him going. You inspired him,” Dewey said, every word said clearly and sincerely. “You’re good at that.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And what about that time with Mom,” Dewey continued, “when you were able to convince her to go back to help Uncle Scrooge and the others stop the moon invading? We may never have left that island – or gotten home in time to help – if it weren’t for you giving her a pep talk.”

Louie exhaled shakily, remembering how stressful that whole situation had been. Dewey grabbed his hand and held it gently between them, even as he kept talking, looking at him with warm eyes.

“You helped Webby when she lost her optimism, and you were able to make her start believing in people again. You were able to help her remember that there are good people,” Dewey said, and he squeezed his hand, smiling gently as Louie blinked against the moisture in his eyes. “There are good people, Lou, and you’re one of them.”

Louie sniffled, wiping at his face with his free hand as he avoided eye contact.

“It doesn’t always feel that way,” Louie said.

“I’ll believe it when you can’t,” Dewey said simply, and Louie finally looked at him.

Dewey was staring back at him with a slightly nervous expression, like he wasn’t sure if he was saying the right things or not, like he was worried that he wasn’t being helpful. The knot in Louie’s stomach and the pain in his chest finally abated, and he tried out a small smile.

“Thanks, Dew,” Louie said softly, and he wasn’t feeling up to a full-on hug just yet, so he leaned his side against Dewey’s and squeezed the hand he was still holding.

Dewey exhaled quietly, his shoulders dropping as he relaxed.

“Anytime,” Dewey told him, and he sounded like he meant it.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, the sounds of the party muffled through the expensive tablecloth. There they were in fancy clothes, at a fancy – wrecked – party, and they were hiding under the table like they used to hide in clothes racks at the store as little kids. Louie suddenly couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

Dewey turned to look at him, possibly a little confused, but as soon as their eyes met, they both lost it. They sat there giggling on and off for at least two minutes, and every time they’d almost calmed down, they’d make eye contact and burst out laughing again.

“This isn’t funny,” Louie said helplessly, wiping away tears of mirth. “We shouldn’t be— Why are we laughing?”

“Would you rather cry?” Dewey asked, grinning like a loon.

“I am crying, Dewey.”

“That’s good crying, though,” Dewey pointed out. “You’re smiling at the same time.”

Louie shoved at him playfully, and Dewey started giggling again, swaying with the force of Louie’s push before popping back upright.

“I could comment on how weak of a shove that was, but I’m not going to,” Dewey said, with a teasing lilt to his voice, and Louie rolled his eyes.

“How gracious of you,” Louie said, words dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been insulted enough for one night, anyways.”

Louie leaned back on his hands, finally feeling relaxed and mostly at ease. It was amazing what Dewey could do, really, when he put his mind to it.

And speaking of his brother, Dewey was suddenly being creepily silent. Louie turned to check on him with a raised brow, and Dewey was looking back at him with confusion and a sort of vague concern.

“What do you mean?” Dewey asked, dead serious, and Louie blinked.

“Uh, what do you mean what do I mean?”

“The insult thing you just mentioned,” Dewey clarified. “What did you mean by that?”

“Oh,” Louie said simply, trying to buy himself time to think of how to distract Dewey from the subject, which his brother was picking up on, if the narrowed eyes were anything to go by.

“Don’t lie to me,” Dewey said, somewhere between a plea and a warning.

“Look, it’s nothing—”

(“You’re nothing new—")

Louie cleared his throat and tried again. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he said. “It’s not even worth mentioning.”

“Your hands are shaking, Louie,” Dewey said pointedly, and he grabbed the one nearest to him to hold it once again. Louie huffed in frustration and glared at his traitorous appendages.

“I’m doing jazz hands,” Louie deadpanned, and Dewey snorted.

“No, you’re not.”

Louie sighed resignedly, and Dewey squeezed his hand.

“Tell me?” Dewey asked, and Louie forced himself to meet his wide, pleading eyes. “Please?”

Louie groaned, tilting his head back to stare at the bottom of the table, because now he absolutely had to explain himself, or Dewey would go around looking like a kicked puppy for days. Louie couldn’t have that on his conscience; it already had enough to worry about.

“You remember when I went to talk to Glamour, right?” Louie began, sitting up, and Dewey nodded. “Well, she definitely had some interesting things to say about what she thought of me.”

Dewey’s hand tensed in his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“…Like what?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Louie rushed to say. Emma Glamour was one of the people that Dewey looked up to, and he was reluctant to crush his dreams, and maybe even a little afraid that he would agree with her. “It— It wasn’t anything that isn’t true.”

“What did she say?” Dewey reiterated, and Louie figured that he couldn’t put it off for any longer.

“Just— Just that I was, uh—"

(“You’re nothing new.

You’re not original.

There is nothing ‘It’ about you.

So tell me, why would I ever listen to you?”)

“—that I was nothing special. And not worth her time, or— or even worth listening to,” Louie said haltingly, doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t bothered. “She had me all figured out, and she— she didn’t think that what she saw was very impressive. Or ‘It’, as she put it.”

There was complete and total silence after he finished talking, Dewey unnaturally still next to him. Louie breathed slowly and deliberately, trying to calm his nerves.

Without warning, and certainly without grace, Dewey suddenly stood ramrod straight next to him, shooting up so quickly that Louie dropped his hand and leaned back in surprise. Being under a table, of course, Dewey didn’t make it very far before bumping into the bottom of it, hitting it with such force that the whole thing rattled; Louie very faintly heard a fork fall to the ground a few feet away. Dewey dropped back down onto his knees with a grunt of pain, rubbing the top of his head.

“Dewey, what the—”

“She can’t talk to you like that!” Dewey exclaimed angrily, already changing course to crawl out from under the table. “She just— I can’t believe—"

Dewey continued his nonsensical furious rambling as he made it out from under the table, Louie following behind him frantically, getting the vibe that his brother was on his way to do something stupid.

“Dewey, wait—” Louie grabbed him by the wrist, keeping him from storming off. “She was well within her rights to call me out on trying to con her—”

“There’s calling you out, and then there’s straight up mean—"

“She was right, though, okay?” Louie said desperately, his arm shaking with the effort it was taking to hold Dewey back. “I needed to be taken down a notch.”

“You’re eleven, Louie! None of what she said was helpful, she just— She’s an adult and she said that to a kid!”

Dewey was still attempting to barrel onwards, and he was very slowly making progress. Louie groaned in frustration and leaned even farther backwards to try and slow him down.

“Okay, but— Dewey, what are you even gonna do?” Louie asked. “You can’t just flat-out attack her at her own party, and Uncle Donald already yelled at her ‘cause of Daisy—”

“She’s about to see my yo-yo skills way up close and personal,” Dewey said, almost muttering, and he stumbled a bit from the persistence of Louie’s grip on his arm.

“Dewey, stop,” Louie said sternly, although there was an element of begging in there, too. “Dewey, please.”

His brother finally came to a halt, and though it felt like they’d been going for hours, they’d only made it about five feet from the table they’d been hiding under. Dewey turned to look at him, his gaze fiercely protective and maybe a little lost, and Louie kept his grip on his sleeve, just in case.

“It’s not worth it,” Louie said quietly but clearly.

“Yes, it—”

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Louie amended, and then he tried for a smile, although he was sure it looked awkward. “And Huey would be disappointed in us if you got arrested.”

“Huey would already be throwing punches,” Dewey said, but some of the tension in his shoulders was gone.

“Please,” Louie said lightly, “he’d give a stern lecture at worst.”

“Agree to disagree,” Dewey shot back, shrugging a little, a small smile forming on his face, reluctant but persistent.

Louie huffed a laugh, looking around nervously to see if anyone was staring at them. He ended up making eye contact with Uncle Donald, who was staring at them with his brow furrowed in concern, already halfway out of his seat. Louie grinned, infusing as much reassurance as he could into it, and gave a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t latched onto Dewey’s wrist like an octopus.

Their Uncle hesitated for a moment, obviously conflicted, but then he sunk back into his chair, shooting them a look that clearly said ‘Be Good’. Louie sighed in relief and turned his attention back to Dewey.

“You sure you don’t want me to avenge you?” Dewey asked, a bit teasing but with an undercurrent of truth. If Louie wanted him to, he really would give Emma Glamour a piece of his mind.

But Louie had had enough drama for the day – maybe even for the rest of the week – and just knowing that Dewey was ready and willing to defend him made him feel lighter and happier than he had been in a while.

“Nah,” Louie said, finally releasing his hold on his brother. “I think we’ve caused enough chaos for one night.”

“Barely,” Dewey said jokingly, and Louie rolled his eyes.

After a moment of comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence, Louie couldn’t help but yawn. Dewey glanced at him in amusement.

“Tired?” Dewey asked, and Louie just shrugged. “D’you wanna leave now? I think Launchpad would come get us if we called him.”

“What about Uncle Donald?”

“I don’t think he’d mind if we left without him,” Dewey replied, jerking his head to indicate where their Uncle was sitting with Daisy, listening to her talk with rapt attention. “He seems pretty busy.”

“He’d freak if we left without telling him, though.”

“Yeah.”

“…So who’s gonna tell him?” Louie asked, and Dewey huffed.

“Why can’t we do it together?”

“Because one of us has to call Launchpad.”

“We can do that together, too,” Dewey said, beginning to grin.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Efficiency, Dewford,” Louie shot back, already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Ugh, you sound like Huey,” Dewey complained, but his tone was light.

“One of us has to,” Louie said, dialing Launchpad’s number.

Dewey stared at him as the phone rang, and Louie raised a single eyebrow as he stood with it held up to his ear. Dewey groaned.

“Fine.” Dewey threw his arms in the air, turning away to hide his smile. “I’ll go tell Uncle Donald we’re leaving.”

Dewey walked off, and Louie finally allowed himself to grin fully. Nothing could quite cheer him up like lighthearted bickering with one of his siblings, and no one could pointlessly argue for as long as Dewey and Louie could. It was something that Louie felt was special; something that was theirs. Maybe it was nothing new, but it mattered.

And that was enough.

#ducktales #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales fanfic #dewey duck #louie duck #my fic #louie's eleven #aaaaaaaa #the words didn't want to come to me for this one #i had to fight for every sentence in this fic #but here it is sjaksdjf #i hope you like it #once again it is after midnight #i guess i only write about dewey and louie now asdkjfsj #but i love them so i am not complaining #feel free to let me know what you thought of this :]#thanks for reading!!

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lilbabycee · 4 years

Text

bunny // steve rogers (part two) 🐰

READ PART ONE

↳ summary: the reader gets an unwelcome visitor

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.3k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: it’s back! :) enjoy my loves! x

chapter two: it was for me too

---

"if you really listen, then this is to you mama, there is only so much I can do tough for you to witness it but it was for me too"

- r.i.p 2 my youth, the neighbourhood

---

You can do nothing but nod dumbly, eyes roaming the large figure standing in front of you. The only thing that snaps you out of your trance is Natasha’s quiet exhalation of breath through her nose, her little laugh making you woman up and place your hand in Steve’s larger one.

“Likewise,” you speak lightly, your words little more than puffs of air escaping your mouth. His eyes don’t leave yours for a second and the longer you look at his face, the more that you start to believe that you know him from somewhere. But he drops your hand the moment that recognition starts to claw at your brain and the up-and-down look that he gives you snaps you out of any deep thought.

“So, bunny,” a teasing voice comes from beside you, causing you to tear your eyes away from Steve’s. From the way he’s smirking at you, you assume that Sam was the one who spoke up. Turning your whole body away from Steve, you saunter up to the handsome man glowing like bronze underneath the warm light and take the drink he pours for you with a sultry smile - and you know that you should never take drinks from strangers but without really knowing why, you already trust this man.

“That’s me,” you throw him a wink, sipping from the glass slowly.

“Where’d you get a name like that?” He pats the arm of the sofa and as your smile grows, you perch yourself on it, crossing one leg over the other. Natasha follows your lead, situating herself on an armchair to your right, in between the couch that Steve sits on and the one that holds you, Bucky, and Sam. You open your mouth about to answer Sam’s question, but Natasha swiftly steps in.

“I gave it to her,” she grins, running a hand through her loose waves. You can see both Sam and Bucky’s eyes follow her movements which makes you laugh a little, the hunger displayed in both the pools of brown and blue almost overtly obvious.

“Why?” Bucky’s voice rasps, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Your eyes can’t help but follow the movement - you’re not blind and he’s a very attractive man - but you stop short when you realize that someone is searing holes into the back of your neck. Looking to the side, you can see that Steve has sat down in his previous seat, hands resting on thick thighs and legs spread wide.

His eyes are on you - unflinchingly, you note, even as yours meet his; it’s obvious that he saw your eyes glued to Bucky’s lips. You engage in a quick staring match and even though you’re not usually the type to back down easily, the way that your face heats up and his gaze makes you feel has you looking away after merely a few seconds.

Your eyes refocus on Natasha and stay there.

“It’s because she’s like the energizer bunny,” your best friend snorts, taking the proffered glass of rosé from Sam’s hand and taking a sip. Her statement makes all the men laugh - apart from Vision because he’s too busy whispering in Wanda’s ear for him to be involved in the rest of the conversation and by Wanda’s reaction, you can tell that their conversation isn’t exactly fit for public consumption.

Natasha continues, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass, “Once she gets on something, it’s… she’s, like, stuck on it, you know? Can’t get enough of it - she goes crazy over it, gets super excited and stuff. It’s cute-”

You interrupt her with a groan, causing a chorus of laughs and ooh’s to rise from the group. “Nat- I-I don’t even like that nickname anyway. I’d rather you call me literally anything else-”

“Okay, bunny,” Bucky grins at you and you reach over Sam to swat at his very hard arm, all traces of your previous nervousness having dissipated with the alcohol. Your hand comes back sore but to humor you, you suppose, Bucky recoils from you and dramatically sinks down in his chair, wailing exaggeratedly.

“Sounds good, bunny,” Sam joins in, flashing you a cheeky smile that only earns him a blow on his equally thick bicep that leaves your hand stinging but he too rubs at his arm after drawing a sharp intake of air through his teeth. They’re funny, so you throw your head back and laugh - really laugh - and find yourself slipping off the side of the couch and into Sam’s lap. You let out a little squeal as Natasha and Bucky laugh at you.

“Whoa there, bunny,” Sam chuckles, hands immediately coming up to grip your waist tightly. “Slow your roll.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but you’re only mock-annoyed: “Christ, Sam, take a girl out on a date first.”

The response you get from the man underneath you is mirthful - “You’re the one who landed on me, darlin’” - and causes you to smile, but then you feel it again , his eyes so intently focused on the side of your face. You choose to ignore it because if this guy has a staring problem, he can take it up with-

“-you,” Bucky flicks Sam’s ear playfully. “I get plenty of women.”

“Oh yeah, Barnes? ‘Cause your lap is lookin’ awfully empty -”

And the two go back and forth like this for what seems like an eternity. You know that you’ve lost Wanda to Viz , the seat that they once occupied currently vacant. You kind of want to be annoyed at her because she promised that she’d help you with what you really came here for in the first place, but you can’t because, for the past few weeks, you and Natasha have kind of maybe been avoiding her to some degree because, really and truly, she’s been such an uptight bitch - and you say that in the nicest way possible - so you want her to get some dick in peace so that she can release all of that backed-up tension.

You love her, really, but a sexually frustrated Wanda has the potential to rival your mother in terms of how completely unbearable they are to be around.

You turn to speak to Natasha but then Steve clears his throat loud enough for everyone to hear which causes all chatter to cease. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his bearded jaw before he speaks. You can’t help but take some more time to admire the beauty of his jawline, so defined and sharp that you wonder if it could cut up the skin on the insides of your thighs-

“I mean, while I’d love to continue this,” Steve checks his Rolex, “we should probably get down to what you girls really came for.” His eyes land pointedly on you, and you realize that you’re still sat comfortably on Sam’s lap. You sit back even further, wrapping your arm around Sam’s shoulders. Steve’s fists are clenched so hard that you’re sure that his blunt nails are digging into the palms of his hands.

You decide that you’re not going to move.

“Right,” your best friend leans forward to put her empty glass on the coffee table where your own lies and clears her throat. She then says your name and gestures vaguely to where you’re sitting, “she’s looking for an arrangement similar to what Wanda and Vision have-”

“-and since Wanda isn’t here to help us explain exactly what all of that consists of,” you butt in, pressing your long thumbnail to your lower lip and pushing it into your mouth, “we were wondering if you gentlemen would be kind enough to help us out?”

Natasha’s head snaps to yours, her eyebrow raised in a way that says this is not what we agreed on and you reply with it’s fine, but then she responds with why don’t we just wait for Wanda and you don’t even think that warrants a reply. You give her a deadpan look and she physically holds her hands up in surrender; you both know that Wanda’s not coming home with the two of you tonight. The three men around you look lost so you direct your attention back to them.

“So?” you follow up, sucking lightly on the end of your nail. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see Steve’s darkened eyes - his pupils are blown and they only leave a thin ring of blue around them. The rise and fall of his broad chest has gotten just that little bit faster.

He’s so pretty.

“The arrangements are different for all of us,” Bucky downs the amber liquid in his glass. “So it’d just depend on who you’re interested in gettin’ to know, doll. Got anyone in mind right off the bat?”

Oh wow - you didn’t expect to be put on the spot like this so early into this conversation. But you don’t mind; the pressure or awkwardness that should come with a question like this in a situation as unique as this one doesn’t come. You only smile coyly, batting your eyelashes and looking down.

“Oh, well,” you start shyly, swinging your legs innocently. “I don’t really know about all that yet-”

“It’s alright, bunny,” the voice ignites a fire in your veins so you know who’s just spoken. “We’ll make this decision easy for you. She’s mine, boys.”

This makes you choke yet again, causing you to clear your throat loudly. Your fingertips press down on your cheeks just to see how warm your face really is from this blatant stake of his claim on you. Normally, you’d be the first one to protest, completely indignant that this man thinks that he owns you in any capacity. But there’s none of that kind of passion here; rather, you’re more- no, probably not- no, definitely turned on by his words.

The two other men, much like Natasha did only a minute ago, throw their hands up in acquiescence. In fact, they both seem so moved by Steve’s words that they trip over each other to speak.

“Yeah, that’s all good, man.”

“Sounds good to me, pal.”

There’s a lull in the conversation while you all digest the implications of Steve’s exclamation. You twist your fingers together, scraping your nails against each other.

“So,” you drag out the last syllable. “Is there some kind of… contract or something?”

---

You wake up in a bed that feels far too crowded to be your own. There’s a body wrapped around yours, another set of legs intertwined with yours and an arm draped over your torso. In your groggy state, it takes all the willpower that you can summon to turn your head to the left and check who the fuck is sleeping in next to you in- your bed (???).

The hand of the arm that isn’t currently being pinned down by another human being comes up to rub at your eyes, clearing up your bleary vision so that you can try to successfully identify your intruder.

You could say that you’ve never woken up in a situation like this but that would be a lie and your New Year’s resolution this year was that you’d try to be more honest - so the truth is that this is definitely not the first time that you’ve woken up in a situation like this and if anything, this is probably the safest you’ve felt out of all of those scenarios.

Half of the person’s head is buried underneath the duvet so you squint a little in the obnoxiously bright morning light - you silently curse the sun for not wanting to take a fucking day off today - so that you can try to make out a defining feature of the body on top of you. Once your eyes focus, the mop of red hair spread across the white sheets makes you groan and close your eyes again.

You honestly didn’t have a game plan if it wasn’t Natasha.

Confused, you attempt to think back to exactly what happened last night. Since you’ve woken up with Natasha, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt and assume that nothing too compromising happened last night. After nights like Peter’s, you normally cannot immediately recognize the person next to you, so you’re going to take this as a glass half full kind of moment and call it a plus.

Nothing illegal took place as far as you can remember which is another first for you - apart from your excessive underage drinking but you turn twenty-one in a year so you shrug it off.

Wow, maybe I am growing.

After your conversation with those men - there was no contract - you had sent Wanda a text to let her know that you and Natasha were heading home. There was nothing at this party that you hadn’t seen before, so frankly, your work there was done and you had no more business at Peter’s. Speaking of, you did manage to run into him right before you left just to say goodbye to him - ever the gracious guest - and tease him some more about MJ. Naturally, he turned redder than the burgundy suit pants he was wearing and gave both you and Nat kisses on the cheek before almost running away from the two of you.

That gave you a good laugh.

You were halfway to Nat’s car when none other than Steve Rogers appeared from the shadows to put your number on his phone. He said nothing other than I’ll call you before walking further down the valet parking to get his own car. Natasha beeped her horn at you when she saw you lingering - you were staring at his ass - so you hurried to hop in the passenger’s seat of her black sports car after she shouted for you to get in the Porsche or I’m leaving your ass on the side of the road.

And now your phone rings; you can’t help that the weaker side of your brain wants so badly for it to be Steve. He left you with a promise - albeit a vague one - and you think that you’re going to hold him to that, although you don’t know how exactly how you’d go about that since he’s the one who has your number.

Shit.

Natasha groans loudly at the shrill noise coming from your phone speakers, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over her face.

She says your name exasperatedly, “I thought I told you to put that shit on silent-”

“Sorry, sorry,” you tell her, rolling your eyes because you don’t remember her telling you that, and then you sit up. At this moment, you realize that you actually aren’t in your own apartment and are in Natasha’s very grey and white bedroom that you always have something critical to say about. Reaching for your phone, you’re shocked that it’s not dead and is at a respectable 16%. The caller ID shows you nothing useful - unknown caller - and this only gives you some more hope that it’s the handsome man you met last night. You clear your throat before pressing that green button.

“Hello?” you wince at the dryness of your throat, spying an unopened water bottle next to where your phone lay. You grab it and pop the cap hastily, taking a swig while you wait for the reply of the other person.

A very distinctly feminine squeal makes you sigh in disappointment before you pause, the familiar voice making you smile sleepily.

“Shit- fuck, get out of my way- brother-” the person says your name loudly and you know by the rich accent and the impatient tone that it’s-

“Shuri,” you muster up as much enthusiasm as you can for a call this early in the morning - you pull your phone back from your ear to see that it’s actually already 10:33 a.m and wince - because you are actually genuinely excited to hear from your Wakandan best friend. Natasha pulls the pillow off her face at the sound of the girl’s voice through the speaker, and a grin of her own lights up her face.

“Hi, bitch!” Shuri yells and you close your eyes, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless. “I’m almost at your place - I’ll be there in ten.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest and you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Whose phone are you calling from? And Shuri, I’m not at home right now-”

“‘Koye’s - mine’s dead and in the back. Are you with Nat?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Are you two fucking? Without me? ”

The redhead next to you can’t contain her laughter either, curled up in the sheets next to you gasping for breaths.

“Sorry to break it you like this, babe,” you play along. “No, Peter had a party last night-”

“I know - I heard about it. Sounded like fun, but my Baba and I had to do some appearances in D.C yesterday before we came to this goddamn crowded city- brother, I’ll call it whatever I want to call it - Bast, get out of the car.”

There’s some rustling and the sound of a car door slamming before Shuri releases a deep, tired breath.

“I didn’t know you were coming this week,” Natasha has sidled up next to you, resting her head on your shoulder so that Shuri can hear her voice after putting your phone on speaker.

“Neither did I,” the Wakandan princess snorts, the sound of deafening car horns and faint yelling in the background almost drowning out her lilted tone. “It was kind of a last-minute decision. But enough about me - you don’t care about all this stuff. I heard you guys met with Bucky Barnes last night-”

“How do you know Bucky?” You frown, picking at your nails.

“Long story,” she says flippantly, sighing before clearing her throat. “But that’s not the point - I know what kinda guy Bucky Barnes is. What kinda business did you two have hanging around people like that?”

“Well, I wanna hear the story-”

“Shut up,” Natasha doesn’t even look at you when she says the words. “We’re- actually, it’s not even me- she’s looking for a-”

“-sugar daddy?!” Shuri exclaims so loud that both you and Natasha flinch as you move the phone further away from you. Maybe putting her on speaker was a mistake. “What- no, Okoye, not me...yes I’m sure,” the princess’ voice becomes more hushed, “bunny...what do you of all people need a sugar daddy for, miss princess of New York?”

Nat chortles louder than you like so you shoot her a glare, smacking a pillow over her face before redirecting your attention back to the confused girl over the phone. “Daddy cut me off and-”

Shuri;’s laugh is completely mocking and would definitely be offensive if it were anyone else, but you can do nothing but sit there and pout. Natasha’s laughter becomes louder and you roll your eyes, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. You throw your phone at your best friend, causing her to almost fall off the side of the bed trying to dodge it.

“Shut up, both of you,” you scowl. “Shuri, let me know when you’re here - I’m going to go take a shower and reflect on my taste in friends. You guys are both the worst-”

Already halfway inside the en-suite, you only hear a faint chorus of “ We love you too!” before the lock clicks behind you.

---

When you stroll out of the private elevator that leads directly to your apartment, you’re staring at something funny that Shuri’s sent you on Instagram as you walk through the front door, a blindingly white smile on your face. The chunky black and white Balenciaga sneakers on your feet pound the floor lightly and your hand comes up to tug absent-mindedly at one of the strings of Natasha’s black hoodie before running it down the leg of the matching cycling shorts. You push your sunglasses to the top of your head, the minty flavor of your gum filling your tastebuds and the loud sound of your nails clicking against your phone screen echoing against your high walls and tall ceilings.

The sound of a throat clearing makes you blink hard, your eyelash extensions brushing your skin as you look up to determine the identity of your intruder.

Once you see who it is, you physically are unable to prevent the loud “fuck” from falling from your lips. So when she stands up from your couch in your living room with her arms folded over her breast implants and her full, fake lips pursed while her eyebrows shoot to her hairline, you can’t help but laugh, surprised that she can still look like a raging bitch with all that botox in her face.

Her grating voice squeaks your name indignantly making you roll your eyes as you drop your oversized black bag by your shoe rack. Kicking off your trainers, you breeze right past her and flop down on one of your sofas, the plush material soothing your aching bones.

It’s been five days since Peter’s party and since then, Wanda had given both Bucky and Sam your number upon their request - you’ve been texting them all week. As much as you love your friends, these men are hands-down two of the funniest people that you’ve ever met. Despite your frequent conversations with his two best friends, there’s been radio silence from Steve Rogers. You don’t want to give these men the impression that you’re desperate - even though that’s exactly what you are - but you’re getting impatient. You don’t chase anybody; not once in your entire life has anyone made you work for their attention, so this whole situation is making you antsy.

You’ve just returned from the gym with Sam and Bucky where you were shocked to turn up outside only to see the two men shirtless, a huge but not unwelcome surprise in more than one way - “you have a fucking metal arm?!” - and it was truly a gift from above to essentially watch them work out from your place on the treadmill. You couldn’t even run - you almost fell on your goddamn face - because you were so distracted by the strong, glistening men across from you. You had instead slowed to a walk, texting Natasha and Shuri, sending them videos of these gorgeous men lifting seemingly impossibly heavy amounts with such ease and agility.

You couldn’t deny that it was making you feel things.

They then insisted that you should come and lift with them because “it’s rude to stare, bunny” and that was definitely less fun than just watching them.

And now here you sit, lounging carelessly and purposefully ignoring the presence of the woman sitting across from you. She sighs loudly, drumming her freshly-manicured red claws on the armrest of the couch, her eyes glued onto your face. Clearing her throat louder this time, you can feel the heat of her gaze on your profile burn hotter.

“Honey, are you just going to let me sit here all day?” your mother whines - like a child, you think - and flicks her hair face from her face.

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ and then fall silent, chewing your gum audibly, satisfied when you see her eye twitch in your periphery.

The two of you sit like this for a while, the deafening quiet weighing heavily on your mother’s shoulders. She’s always been a woman who’s liked to talk, fill moments of peace with mindless chatter and you’ve hated it all your life.

“Stop slouching,” your mother suddenly snaps, letting out yet another sigh, but one of relief as if it’s been painful for her to hold in her chest. With the silence effectively broken, you give a sigh of your own and finally meet her eyes, the same pretty color as yours shining back at you like a mirror. Then you assess the rest of her: the bleached blonde extensions, over-lined lips, and the designer coral pantsuit. You hold her gaze as you slip further down onto the couch, your posture even more relaxed than before. She narrows her own at you and a Chesire cat grin spreads on your face.

“You didn’t come here to correct my posture, mother,” you tell her, looking back at your phone, “so to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls,” she arches an eyebrow, dusting an imaginary piece of lint off of her pants, “even though I told your dad to tell you when you called him a week ago-”

“You don’t think there’s a reason that I’ve been dodging your calls?” you ask rhetorically, running the pad of your thumb over an eyebrow. Your birth giver cocks her head at you curiously, as if she’s truly confused as to why you don’t seem to like her-

“I don’t know why you don’t like me,” she states airily, examining her nails contemplatively. Your eyes dart back to hers in surprise, your jaw literally dropping because you’re that floored. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you-”

“Get out,” you say quietly, immediately shutting her up.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out,” you repeat, tossing your phone onto the couch behind you and standing up swiftly. Your mother is still sitting across from you, so you gesture with your hands so as to emphasize your point. “You should be lucky I haven’t fucking blacklisted you from this apartment-”

She exclaims your name, “-don’t cuss at me-”

You power through, “-after all you’ve done to me - so what I mean, mother, is get the fuck out of my apartment!”

Your voice carries through your home. When the echoes finally stop, the woman in front of you turns her nose up at you, clutches her taupe Birkin, and clicks those stupid stilettos all the way to your elevator. When she presses the button, she turns around to glare at you, failing to notice your defensive stance or how you’re fighting tears that you thought you’d already spent years crying out.

“Your father will be hearing about this,” she smirks and the doors open, bathing the side of her face in bright, artificial light. You don’t even look at her as the elevator chimes and the rose gold doors slide closed. But when they do, all of the breath leaves your body in a loud sob, your shaking hands coming up to wipe at your eyes.

The ringing of your phone interrupts you, the caller ID a number that you don’t recognize. In your current state, you answer it unthinkingly, not even registering that you’re about to be speaking to a total stranger.

“Hello?” You sniffle over the phone, running your sleeve over your cheeks to rid them of any tear tracks.

The person over the line greets you by saying your name in a deep tone that shoots straight to your panties, meaning that you know exactly who this is. It’s the call you’ve been waiting for the whole week and of all times, this is when he decides to pick up his damn phone and remember that you exist?

Motherfucker.

“Steve,” you breathe, gulping down large amounts of air to try and keep any residual tears at bay. “I-, uh, hi.”

His chuckle on the other end of the phone causes your cheeks to heat up because it should be illegal to sound like that. “Hi to you too, bunny-” you interrupt him with a shaky breath that’s louder than you anticipate, “-hold on, have you been crying?”

Shit, you think, massaging your temples. “Yeah,” you admit, sniffing again. It’s likely that your ears are deceiving you, but you think that you hear him groan, a sinful sound from deep in his throat that makes even more moisture pool in your underwear. “It’s not a big deal though - it’s nice to hear from you.”

“Are you doin’ okay?” he asks softly, making your heart do little flips in your chest.

“I’m fine,” you state almost automatically, hoping to brush off any concern and move on. You walk over to your fridge, scanning the contents before your eyes land on the row of clear, blue-capped bottles with a pink flower on the front. You put your phone on speaker and place it on the counter as you snatch one of the bottles of water from the shelf, cracking it open and taking a long swig from it.

“You don’t sound fine,” Steve protests, sounding borderline amused. “Maybe you can tell me all about it when I take you out to dinner tonight.”

He tells you mid-swig and of course, there’s no way for him to know his, but you’re so taken aback that you falter, subsequently choking on all of the water in your mouth. The coughs that wrack your body are violent, and there’s a burn in your throat from the strength of your body’s automatic reaction. You have to shut the fridge door and turn around, bracing a hand on the island counter where your phone lies.

“Sweetheart?” he probes, probably holding back a laugh but you can’t really discern whether or not that’s true over the ear-splitting sound of your coughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologize, wheezing through the paralyzing attack on your body. “That sounds great - where are we going?”

You finally recover, taking another - slower - sip of your drink, tears stinging your eyes.

“Hey now,” Steve laughs again, and you can’t help but notice how carefree he is now compared to the night you met him. It makes you smile. “That’d be telling. Just be ready by 8 - I’ll get my driver-”

“-oh no, that’s okay - if you give the location to my driver, he can take me-”

“No,” his voice is booming, even through the phone, and it gives you pause. His authoritative tone should’ve made you cry, especially with all that’s happened in your past, but instead, a tidal wave of desire makes you shudder and threatens to pull you underneath the surface. “My driver will pick you up at 8,” he repeats and you press the power button on the side of your phone so it shows you the time: 2:49, “and I’ll send over something appropriate for you to wear. Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“I asked if we were clear, sweetheart,” his voice has taken on a warning tone now and you can’t deny the heat that courses through you.

“Yes, sir,” you give him the answer almost instinctively, frowning afterward because you feel like you’re in school.

“Good girl, bunny baby,” he coos and it’s this that makes you almost audibly moan.

You? A praise kink?

Absolutely.

“I’ll see you then, hmm, honey?” he prompts you to respond. Normally, you don’t let anybody that you’re romantically involved with call you honey because it reminds you so acutely of your mother, and you suspect that she knows that which is why she keeps calling you that stupid nickname. But with Steve, you already feel like you’re in no place to be making demands.

And for the first time in your life, that doesn’t bother you all that much.

“Yes, Steve,” your eyelashes flutter and you squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease yourself of the growing discomfort at your most sensitive area.

“Good, good,” he speaks, sounding distracted. “I’ve got a meeting now, bunny - talk later.”

You don’t even get an opportunity to say your own goodbye before he ends the call. You save him to your contacts quickly before you forget, and then a thought hits you that makes you freeze.

How does he know your size and - more importantly - how the fuck does he know where you live?

tagged: @evnscvll @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18 @literaturefeen @smutdiariess @90sinspiredgirl @cruelsummer-s @honnneyybee

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #sugar daddy au #soft dark steve rogers #sugar daddy steve rogers

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

chapter seven.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 3.6k

⇥ warnings: 18+, lots of cursing, general chaotic energy, poly relationship, a short confrontation, mentions of slut-shaming, switch!reader, dom!joon, switch!jin, sub!jimin, library shenanigans, an abundance of coffee, punishments, spanking, bad puns (jin is in this chapter, DUH), many nerd references uwu

Chapter Seven

Quinn Library – 3:54pm

The end of September passes in a blur of studying, partying, volunteering, and spending time with friends. The month’s conclusion also includes the increasing presence of seven boys in my everyday routine.

Since giving Taehyung the suck of his life in the bathroom of Hannigan’s, I have been basically fighting off the seven of them for a moment to breathe. But, sometimes breathing is overrated when being smothered by affection.

Going from being single to essentially dating seven people is quite the adjustment. I found myself growing attached to them – something that both excited and scared the shit out of me. We haven’t discussed labels or anything, but I figure it’s only a matter of time. The boys have apparently been planning an elaborate first date for this upcoming weekend, and I feel like they’ll probably ask to make it official then.

My stomach erupts in butterflies at the thought, and I take a calming breath. No need to overthink such things.

While it might be unconventional by some societal standards, polyamory is simply a way to love. Why should love come with confines? With binary expectations? The saying ‘love is love’ gets thrown around a lot, but I believe it bears repeating.

Jenni and Luna have been nothing but supportive to me over the past two weeks. They even came with me to volunteer this past weekend because they - and I quote - wanted to ‘check out our vibe’. But, I wholeheartedly expect that the real reason had actually been for them to feel out the boys’ intentions.

Why did I suspect this? Well, because Jungkook had come up to me within the first fifteen minutes at the worksite quivering in fear over how ‘scary my friends were’ and how ‘Jenni had cornered him to interrogate him while Luna hovered behind her, menacingly holding a nail-gun’.

I had never felt more loved and supported by my friends.

My phone dings, and I quickly hasten to put it on silent, shooting an embarrassed and apologetic look around the library. It seems like most people have headphones in, and I let out a sigh of relief. No one wants to be that one loud person in the library.

Checking my notifications, I smile when I see it’s a SnapChat from Hobi in the group chat the boys created a few weeks ago. My thumb swipes it open, and I barely contain myself from announcing to the whole library how vibrantly handsome one of my potential boyfriends is.

I quickly send a SnapChat back of me and my stack of books in the library with the caption ‘send help in the form of coffee’.

Immediately, Taehyung sends a flurry of heart eyes emojis in the chat, Jungkook sends a ‘noona is so cute’, and Yoongi sends back a picture of a black screen with the caption ‘come nap with me’.

God, I would love to nap with Yoongi right now… Alone time with the older boy is so elusively precious. One day last week at their house, I had mentioned wanting to learn piano. Yoongi had just grabbed my hand and tugged me to his room. We had spent a couple hours together in the small corner of his room playing on his keyboard.

Well, he had been playing; I had been fumbling around like a buffoon - half uncoordinated in general and half flustered by how good Yoongi looked playing. His hands had been so nimble as they flew over the keys, crafting melodies I could only assume he had composed. His focus had been so fucking hot as he nodded slightly along to the tempo in his head, his eyes shooting over to look at me every once in a while.

My hand kink? Activated.

My willpower to not kiss the shit out of Yoongi? Nonexistent.

When Yoongi had paused in between songs, I may or may not have grabbed him by his shirt collar and kissed him. His blushing attempt to dodge me had been so cute; and when I had stopped trying to kiss him, he had pouted and then kissed me instead.

What a cutie…

A giggle draws my attention from my reminiscing. At first, I pay it no mind, taking it as a directive to dive back into my studies. But then, the whispering starts.

“I heard she’s fucking her way through the whole house.”

“Isn’t there a term for that?”

“Yeah, a frat rat.”

I slam my 500-page textbook closed and stand, leveling the duo of gossiping girls with a glare that could make grown men cry. It had before when I had to properly eviscerate my uncle in defense of feminism at our last family gathering. What a time that had been.

“Is there a problem?” I force the question through gritted teeth, stalking over towards their nearby table. I relish in the way they gape at me, eyes wide and pupils quivering, “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my complaint jar is at capacity. Please don’t try again later.”

The girl on the right gulps, “No-nope, there’s no problem! We were just leaving. Right, Janika?”

“No,” The girl who had called me a ‘frat rat’ just moments before crosses her arms and stands, “I do, like, have a problem.”

“Janika,” The other girl tugs on the sleeve of the one standing, “Don’t.”

“Yeah, Janika,” I smile, “Don’t.”

I can see the moment she snaps.

“You’re, like, such a fucking bitch! I don’t know what they all see in you. Oh wait, yes I do. You’re fucking easy.”

I consider myself to be a patient person, but having to endure this type of rant against my character - and against women’s sexual freedom in general - has pushed me well past my limits.

“Now, listen here, Janika,” I take another step forward, “You can keep talking your shit. I really don’t give a flying fuck what you think about me. But I really advise you to google ‘how to stop slut-shaming for dummies’ because it seems like you need a crash course.”

Janika’s face darkens, “Whatever. They’ll get tired of you anyway.”

“Yeah,” I let out an amused laugh, “I’m sure they’ll get real tired of me choking on their dicks every night.”

Letting out a gasp, Janika whirls back around to face her silent friend, “Let’s go. I don’t want to, like, be around her any longer.”

“Buh-bye now,”I wiggle my fingers in their direction as they shuffle out of the library.

Smiling in satisfaction, I head back towards my table. Without hesitation, I gather my books and belongings and head upstairs to the quiet floor. Any more distractions or confrontations would probably make my blood pressure pop off the charts.

The quiet floor, as one of my safe havens, is home to several small private study rooms. Peering into each, I start to lose hope that any would be available. Finally, the very last room proves me wrong, and I swing open the door and almost in tears over the sweet, sweet solitude.

This particular study room is tucked away in the very far corner of the library’s second floor. Not many people are aware of its location, and it seems that paid off for me today. Plopping my things down across the table in the center of the tiny room, I follow suit and drop down into one of the two chairs adjoining the table.

What a clusterfuck of an afternoon… This sadly isn’t the first time I’ve heard some comments being made about my association with the BTS boys, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Yet, part of me knew all along that this would be the trade-off.

After all, what are a few irrelevant opinions to seven gorgeous and loyal partners? Inconsequential - in my opinion. That is the reason why I haven’t breathed a word of the backlash to anyone.

Sighing, I flip open my textbook to where I had been before being rudely interrupted.

The amygdala plays a key role in emotion and behavior…

“Noona?”

I jump a half-mile out of my chair, slapping a hand over my pounding heart. Jimin had somehow managed to enter the room without my knowledge. Had he fucking teleported?

Holding a giant iced coffee in one hand and a cinnamon bun in the other, Jimin beams at me and ignores the fact he just scared the living shit out of me. “Hi, noona! I saw your SnapChat while I was in class, and I came here as soon as I could.”

I stare dumbfounded at the angel before me. Jimin is slightly out of breath with reddened cheeks and a sweaty brow. His black track-pants are slung low on his hips, his long-sleeve white t-shirt clings to his torso, his black duffle bag thrown carelessly over one shoulder. He must have run over straight from dance class.

Standing abruptly, I stalk over to where Jimin is still posted up by the doorway to the study room. Toe to toe with him, I blurt out while still half in a daze, “You really brought me coffee and food?”

He eyes me warily like I might suddenly jump on him at any moment. Shifting his weight back and forth, Jimin hesitantly replies, “Um, yes?"

I take the coffee and cinnamon bun from his hands, place them on the table, and then tackle him with the biggest hug. "You absolute sweetheart!" I murmur into the crook of his neck, "This made my day. Thank you, Jimin-ie."

His hands tentatively wrap around me, pulling me closer. "You're welcome, noona. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Well, I really appreciate it, baby,” My lips brush over the crevice of his collarbone and relish in his shudder. Bringing my head up to face his, I smile widely at him, “Can I kiss you, Jimin-ie?”

“Yes,” He sighs out, eyes already closing in anticipation. I press my lips to his, still smiling softly against his mouth. His lips are plush under mine, velvety soft. My tongue swipes across his bottom lip and— Is that coffee I taste?

I pull back, “Jimin, did you sip my coffee on your way here?”

The boy looks rightfully alarmed, “I– y-yes. But only a little, noona!”

Cute.

“Hmm,” I trail my fingers down his chest, “I guess I’ll make an exception for you this time since you were the one to bring it for me.”

Jimin relaxes slightly, but his expression is strangely disappointed. I stare at him quizzically, and he blushes.

“What is it?” I lean against the table, facing him.

He clears his throat, staring intensely at the ground, “You can still punish me if you want, (y/n)-noona.”

My eyebrows shoot upwards at his offer, and then I let out a slight chuckle, “Oh, Jimin… That would be a favor to you, wouldn’t it? My baby boy wants to be punished, hm? Did dance practice make you all hot and bothered? Jungkook tells me that has been happening to you lately.”

Jimin’s face explodes in color as he mutters, “That little bitch will pay for this.”

Suddenly, the door swings open with a resounding thud, nearly clipping Jimin in the shoulder.

“Your savior has arrived!” Kim Seokjin announces loudly in spite of the studiously silent atmosphere of the quiet floor. His hands hold two steaming hot travel mugs, which I can only guess are filled with the elixir of the gods (aka coffee).

Seokjin’s eyes glance around the room as he takes in the fact that I’m not alone as he obviously had expected. “Wait, Jimin-ie? What are you doing here?” Jin’s eyes flick down to the coffee and cinnamon roll that lay on the table. “Goddamn it!”

“You were too slow, hyung,” Jimin smirks happily as he takes a seat in the chair I had previously vacated. He slouches smugly as he stares up at the fuming older boy.

“Too slow?!” Jin roars.

“Jin,” I chastise, circumventing around him to shut the door.

“Sorry, babe,” Seokjin says while still glaring daggers at the all-too-pleased Jimin. Suddenly, his expression changes into a sneaky look that makes me both want to run and jump his bones. “Well,” He waves the two coffee mugs around in the air, “I made these myself - with love. I didn’t buy that generic shit; I brewed it, baby.”

It’s Jimin’s turn again to look disgruntled, and I can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Any and all coffee is appreciated and loved by me – the more the merrier. So, thank you both,” You say, taking one of the travel mugs from Seokjin. Kissing his cheek, you turn back to sit opposite Jimin at the table.

“She kissed me on the lips!” Jimin bursts.

“Park Jimin!” I cry as Jin splutters some sort of incoherent rant about fairness and equality.

Jimin holds eye contact with me, still leaning back in his chair like he’s the king of the fucking universe. But, he’s not; I am.

My chair hits the wall behind me with a bang as I stand, planting my hands on the table to loom over Jimin. “Do you think it’s fun to push your hyung, Jimin? Does it amuse you to be a little shit?”

I can see the moment that Jimin decides to be a brat. His eyes heat up in a challenge, and he firmly answers, “Yes, noona.”

“Get up.” The change in my tone is apparent. Jimin gulps. Getting to his feet, he stares back at me expectantly.

“Jin,” I address the older boy while still maintaining eye contact with Jimin, “What kind of punishment do you think I should give our Jimin here?”

Seokjin rounds my other side, grinning, “Well, (y/n) darling, I believe he should get spanked.”

“Interesting choice,” I murmur, turning to face Jin, “That’s what you’re going to get then.”

“What?” Jin squawks, arms waving rapidly around in the air, “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Nothing is what you should have done, Jin,” I push him against the wall, “You know better than to let Jimin rile you up like this.”

Those plump lips of his pout dramatically as he whines, “But, (y/n)…”

“But nothing,” I say and then whirl around to face the other boy. He’s still standing where I left him with his eyes glued to the pair of us. “Jimin,” I hold his gaze, “You’re going to watch. You’re not going to touch yourself, your hyung isn’t going to touch you, and I’m not going to touch you.”

His eyes widen comically, “No! That’s not fair!”

“Do you want to be gagged, too, baby boy?” I ask, cocking my head slightly. Seeing his emphatic head shakes, I grin. “That’s what I thought. Now, stay.”

Turning back to Jin, I smirk slightly as I ask, “Punishment now or later?”

Seokjin’s eyes scrunch cutely in confusion, “What?”

“You see,” I move closer to him, my body brushes his, “I think you earned a punishment, but I think you also earned helping me punish Jimin.”

A wide grin crosses Jin’s face as he glances back at the corner Jimin is stewing in. “I would be honored to help you punish him, babe.”

“That’s what I figured,” I smile briefly at him before slowly sliding my hands up his chest to rest on the nape of his neck. Holding them there, I press the lightest of kisses to the corner of his lips.

Jin’s breath hitches in his throat.

I run my tongue against the seam of his mouth, taking my time and savoring the sweet taste of him. His lips part to let me in, my tongue sliding across his. I grind against him as we kiss, moving my hips in such a way that makes him groan and lean back harder against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Ripping my mouth from Jin’s, I turn to face the newcomer.

Namjoon stands in the doorway holding yet another cup of coffee, his face thunderous. "What do the three of you think you're doing? This is the goddamn library, you heathens!”

Seokjin jumps out of his skin in fright, pushing me away faster than I can anticipate. Stumbling back, I crash into Jimin – who apparently had ventured out of his assigned corner. Brat.

“The shades were open!” Namjoon continues to rant as he flicks the aforementioned item down to cover the door’s window, “Did you want people to see you?”

He reads the expression on my face correctly, “Oh, but you did, didn’t you, (y/n)?” Namjoon approaches where I’m still captured in Jimin’s embrace. Glaring down at me, he taunts, “So quick to stake your claim; but, make no mistake, they were mine first.”

Shaking out of Jimin’s hold, I straighten, raising my chin to meet Namjoon’s gaze full-on, “That’s interesting. I didn’t realize you were so lenient with your partners.”

Jimin makes a choking noise behind me. Jin stands behind Namjoon, waving a hand in front of his throat to clearly tell me to stop talking. I keep going, “Perhaps I need to teach you how to discipline.”

Namjoon flips me around, shoves Jimin out of the way, and bends me facedown across the table.

“Jin,” He says, his voice growly, “Stand in the hall and let me know if you can hear us.”

The sound of the door opening and closing alerts me that Jin followed Namjoon’s instructions without a word.

“Jimin,” He continues, “Hold (y/n)’s hands out in front of her.” Jimin ascquieces, staring apologetically down at me as he tugs my hands towards him.

“This is cute,” I say, “I always love holding Jimin-ie’s hands.”

Thwack. The stinging imprint of Namjoon’s palm on my ass burns deliciously. I arch my back, looking over my shoulder at him with a half-smile. “Do it harder, daddy.”

A breath sucks in between his lips as I utter the word I know will get him feeling as hot as me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby girl,” Namjoon grits out, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh, daddy,” I say, “Don’t you remember? I’m the fucking Queen.”

“Was that a chess pun? Nice.” A muffled voice followed by a squeaky laugh sounds through the door.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon seethes, flying over to open the door and drag the older boy back inside, “I thought I told you to let me know if you could hear us.”

I tug out of Jimin’s gentle hold, straighten back up, and then situate myself into a sitting position on the table.

I watch amusedly as Jin shimmies his way out of Joon’s grasp, “Yah! It’s not my fault I get intense FOMO. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. Besides, I only heard you because I had my ear pressed to the door.”

Jimin stifles a giggle. I let out a full-on laugh. Namjoon mumbles what sounds like a plea to some higher power under his breath.

“See what I have to deal with?” Namjoon turns to me, shaking his head. “Are you sure you want to sign up for this?”

“That depends,” I swing my legs back and forth as I stay perched on the table, “Are you going to keep spanking me?”

The boy who had just unhesitatingly bent me over to punish me now blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, probably? You have quite a mouth on you, baby.”

Hopping off the table, I laugh, “Good answer. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Woo!” Jin cheers, “Nice job on the House Points, Joon-ie!”

“I am in love with idiots,” Jimin sighs.

Grabbing my phone from my backpack, I let out a slight yell as I read the time. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I scramble to shove all of my textbooks back into my bag.

“What is it, noona?” Jimin worries, appearing next to me. “Are you late for class?”

“No,” I cry, “It’s so much worse. I’m late for my weekly Animal Crossing discord chat! Heath is gonna kill me…”

“Heath?” Jin scowls, “Who is this Heath you speak of?”

“Chill, fam,” I shrug my backpack onto my shoulders and stare contemplatively down at the three different coffees. “You can’t get jealous every time I mention a new person. What’s next? You’re gonna come for Tom Nook?”

Namjoon - who must play Animal Crossing - stifles a laugh as Jin pouts. “She has a point, Jin.”

“And so does a pencil. Big whoop,” Jin scowls with his arms folded.

“Aw, Seokjin-ie,” I coo, reaching over to pinch his cheek, “Don’t be mad. You’ll get to spend all day with me on Saturday after volunteering! What are we doing, anyways?” I level Joon with my best side-eye as I ask that question, knowing he is more likely than not the mastermind behind our planned date.

“It’s going to be great, noona!” Jimin pipes up, hugging me from the side, “You’re going to love it…You’re going to love us.” He murmurs the last part, probably not meaning for me to hear; but, I do.

God, I do.

“We’ll pick you up before volunteering,” Joon says, “Just bring yourself and a change of clothes.”

“What?” I decide - fuck it - and attempt to grab all three coffees, “No overnight bag?”

Jin, who had just taken a sip of his own coffee, spews it everywhere. “Pack one,” He gasps out in between coughs.

Laughing, I walk to the door, which Jimin kindly opens for me. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Ah, I’m so late. Jimin and Jin, I’ll punish you at a later time. Joon, you can try to punish me at a later time.” Living for their astonished expressions, I wave as best I can with three coffees in hand, “Bye, babes! Text me-e-e.”

As I make my way out of the library, it hits me that I only have one more day to prepare for this date. Fucking hell…

a/n: this is such a filler of a chap with a tinge of drama mixed in, hehe. the next one is gonna be that date tho uwu stay tuuuuuuned and thanks 4 reading

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jettingtothemoon · 4 years

Text

Shiggy pt 2

➳ pairing: shigaraki tomura x f!reader ➳ genre: fluff, smut ➳ warnings: swearing, smut, soft shiggy, rough sex, unprotected sex, pulling out, slight overstimulation, virgin shiggy, shigaraki being a parent to y/n for a solid chunk of this fic ➳ word count: 4900 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n is unexpectedly hit with a quirk that turns her into a toddler for a short while and has no memory of shiggy. ➳ a/n: y/n turns back before the sex because like if she didn’t that would be seriously wrong. also reading part 1 isn’t necessary but is advised ^.^

After confessing for feelings for Shigaraki, the two of you started dating. Cuddles in his room became common for the two of you. Not to mention your late-night gaming sessions. Shiggy would sit on the floor with you in his lap, a controller in both of your hands as you played until the early hours of the morning.

Kurogiri always told the two of you not to stay up too late, especially as your quirk required a lot of energy to run on, but you didn't listen. You figured it would be fine as long as you ate enough food before going out on a mission. Eventually, however, the late nights caught up on you.

It was supposed to be an easy mission and, had you been at your full capacity, it would have been. It was just you and Dabi as your quirks were the best suited for the job. Unfortunately, you were not aware of your opponents' quirks. You were being careful and, after only a couple of minutes you had figured out most of their quirks. Well, all but one. It was that one quirk that would incapacitate you during the fight. You were caught off guard when you didn't have enough neon energy to use another bust to get away in time and, as soon as their hand landed on you, everything became rather... unusual.

Everyone suddenly seemed much, much taller than you. In fact, who even where these people? And what was all that noise? Such scary noises. It wasn't until a burst of blue flames shot overhead that your fear finally settled in and you fell onto your bottom as you began to squeal out. Tears ran down your face as you sniffled, not understanding what was happening. Before you could even begin to comprehend where you were, someone was scooping you up into their arms and running away. You didn't recognise the man but, for some reason, he seemed familiar.

He ran with you in his arms as he tried to keep you safe and, when you were finally away from the scary people, your tears began to clam down.

Shigaraki was sitting at the bar as usual while he waited for your return. He sat there, playing on his switch as he waited for you and Dabi to come back through the door safe and sound to update him on how the mission went. However, when the door did open and you finally came back, Shigaraki furrowed his brows.

"Who's the kid? Where's y/n?" He asked, bringing to scratch at his neck.

"We might have a slight problem." Dabi sighed as he walked over with the child, carrying her over to his boss.

Shigaraki's eyes widened when he finally recognised that small little face, "y-y/n?"

He reached out, taking you from Dabi's arms, as h3 tried to process what he was looking at. It was most certainly you but you were, well, small. A baby almost, probably about four or five. You clung to him, your tiny hands scrunching up his shirt as you nuzzled your head into the dark material.

This man, he seemed familiar too. Although you had no idea who he was or why you felt so safe in his arms. You couldn't remember any of these people but you knew they were not your family. You remembered your family, your mum and dad. They were not here, maybe they were at work? Maybe this was an uncle you hadn't met before?

"Shigaraki." Kurogiri spoke, drawing your boyfriend's attention away from your tiny form for a moment.

"What do we do?" Shigaraki asked, looking back down to you as you fell asleep in his arms while sucking your thumb in between your teeth.

Kurogiri began to reassure him, "This is most likely a temporary effect. Not many quirks are powerful enough to have a permanent effect like this so she should be back to normal in a few days."

"A few days," Shigaraki spoke a little too loudly and lowered his voice when you began to stir, "She could be like this for a few fucking days?"

"Calm down, we will be able to look after her until she turns back to normal."

Shigaraki lifted you up, holding you at arm's length from himself as he looked over your tiny sleeping face.

Then, his own face softened and he pulled you back to his chest, "Someone needs to watch her all the time. This place is dangerous enough as it is, let alone for a child."

"Aww, little Shiggy is getting soft." Toga giggled although it only earned her a threatening glare from Shigaraki.

Only you were allowed to call him that.

Toga held her hands up in surrender but continued to giggle when he stood up and carefully carried you into his room.

He put you down on his bed, gently tucking you in before brushing a strand of hair from your face. You were so tiny that it scared him. He didn't know what to do, he wasn't good with children, but he also knew that someone needed to keep an eye on you. Knowing that he would certainly not entrust your safety to Toga or Dabi, he decided that either he or Kurogiri would need to watch you and maker sure you weren't doing anything dangerous.

He sighed and left you in bed as he went over to his computer and loaded up a game. You were sleeping for now, after all, so it wasn't like you could get into too much trouble. He wasn't sure if you remembered who he was but he hoped to find out once you woke up later.

He had been playing for about an hour when it started. At first, you began to call out quietly for your mummy, which he sympathised with as, although he didn't know the ins and outs of what happened to your family, he knew they were no longer around. You were alone just like him but he wasn't alone anymore because you had become his family. He was going to pause the game and check on you but you soon quietened down again so he continued.

Ignorant of what was happening behind him, Shigaraki continued to immerse himself in the game, almost forgetting about your current situation completely. Well, until he heard a crash.

He threw his controller down and jumped up, running over to you and scooping you up off of the bed just before a piece of the ceiling fell on you.

"What the hell?" He questioned looking up at the purple scorches that had clearly been created with your quirk.

Before he could even begin to understand what had just happened, you were crying rather loudly. Your tiny little face was covered in tears and snot as you hugged him tightly and fisted at his shirt.

He still didn't know what to do or how to deal with this but he knew he needed to at least try and calm you down. So, he carried you over to the chair by his computer and sat down, holding you carefully as you sat in his lap and contained to cry.

"y/n? It's okay, I... I'm here." He thought about how a normal person would comfort a small child such as yourself and tried his best to sound calm in hopes of calming you with the tone of his voice.

You sniffled in his arms and pulled his top towards you, rubbing your runny nose with it before looking up at him with big, red eyes.

"I- I had a nightmare." You sniffled again and suddenly it began to make sense.

You had mentioned to him before about how you were a handful for your parents when your quirk first manifested because any little emotion could set it off. That must have been what had happened while you were sleeping.

"It's okay, y/n. It was just a bad dream. You're okay." He hugged you and ran his fingers through your hair again, being extra gentle as he was still not used to your fragile form.

"W- Who are you?" You sniffled again and his heart dropped, you didn't remember him.

"I- I'm Shigaraki."

You giggled to yourself and grinned up at him, "Uncle Shiggy."

It seemed even the child you liked to give people nicknames, or maybe it was a remnant of your missing memories.

He sighed and nodded his head, "Yeah... Uncle Shiggy."

Uncle Shiggy looked after you all night. He got you something to eat, that Kurogiri prepared just for you, and even stayed by your side as you ate. While you were eating, Shigaraki explained what had happened earlier to Kurogiri, who explained that all they could do was try to keep you calm so that you wouldn't accidentally hurt yourself or anyone else with your quirk.

When you finished eating, you demanded that Uncle Shiggy carry you to bed, which Toga found rather amusing, but he did so nonetheless.

"I want to sleep with Uncle Shiggy!" You exclaimed with your arms outstretched towards him, grabbing at the air hoping for him to come close.

Shigaraki sighed, knowing that the others had certainly heard you call out and were most likely sat giggling in the other room, but he still turned his games off and climbed into bed with you.

"Uncle Shiggy?" You asked as you snuggled up to him.

He only hummed.

"Why am I here? Where are mum and dad?"

You really did want to know why you were staying here instead of going home, not that you minded having a sleepover with Uncle Shiggy.

Shigaraki didn't know quite what to say, or do, in this situation and his silence started to worry you.

"Uncle Shiggy?"

"Your parents have some business they need to take care of so you're staying here with us for a while." He explained but, had you not been a toddler, you would not have been convinced with his words.

"I get to stay here with you?" You asked, growing more excited as you thought about having more fun with Uncle Shiggy.

He nodded and turned over to turn the light off, "Yes, now go to sleep."

"But what about my nose rubbies?" You pouted, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, "Nose rubbies?"

"Yes, I need my nose rubbies before going to bed." You demanded.

"Um..."

After a moment, even the child version of yourself knew that Shigaraki had no idea what you were going on about.

"This is a nose rubbies." You huffed before pressing your nose softly to his and rubbing it side to side.

Shigaraki, who was still not used to the physical affection in your normal relationship, practically froze stiff when your nose pressed against his. Regardless, he didn't stop you and even found some comfort in your small, innocent gesture.

Without realising quite what came over him, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your nose and pulled you closer. He would have liked to have kissed you normally but, as you were currently a child, that would have been much too weird even for him.

"Nighty night." You yawned, wrapping a tiny arm around what you could of Shigaraki.

He just sighed but, smiled a little nonetheless, "Nighty night, little y/n."

When morning came, you had thankfully not had another nightmare and hadn't caused any harm or damage to the building or anyone in it. You woke up, lying against Shigaraki, who still had one arm wrapped around you.

Shigaraki was one who liked to sleep in, unfortunately, with an energetic child to look after that wasn't going to happen.

You climbed up onto him and he groaned when you dropped your weight onto his chest.

"Uncle Shiggy. Wake up, it's morning."

He groaned again, draping an arm up over his eyes before lifting it slightly to peel his eyes open and look at you.

"Shit."

He flipped his head back down onto the pillow, arm back over his eyes as he came to realise that what happened yesterday wasn't just a bad dream and that he really was stuck with a child version of his girlfriend for the foreseeable future.

"That's a naughty word." You complained, scalding Uncle Shiggy for his choice in words this morning.

He just sighed and lifted you off of him as he climbed out of bed before placing you back down. He stretched and looked at the clock before turning back to you with an almost angry expression.

"You woke me up at five to seven?"

In his tone alone you could tell that maybe you should have let him sleep a little longer but it was too late now, the damage was done. And so, you simply hung your head and mumbled, "Sorry."

He sighed again and sat back down at the end of the bed, "It's fine. Just... try not to do it tomorrow."

You grinned and nodded obediently, "Okay, I won't. I promise."

Although, when the next day came, you broke that promise.

"I thought I told you to let me fucking sleep?" He yelled.

However, his tone quickly changed when all it did was make you cry.

He immediately sat beside you and tired to hush your cries, gently wiping your tears away with his sleeve, "I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

You sniffled and looked at him with your big puffy eyes, "I'm sorry, Uncle Shiggy. I just had so much fun yesterday that I wanted to wake you up early to have more fun today."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest as he carded his fingers through your hair.

Although he didn't particularly find the day before to be any fun at all, you certainly had. After waking him up before seven, he made you breakfast, although he wasn't entirely sure how to do it or what you could eat. Then, once you had eaten, he pretty much just let you watch movies all day.

He sent Dabi out to get popcorn and sweets, which turned out to be a very bad idea because it just made you hyper. Not to mention, watching you watch crappy kids tv and movies all day drained the life out of him. You stood in front of the screen, singing along or calling out when the characters on the screen asked you something. You literally stood on the spot, bouncing up and down constantly until hours had passed and you were finally drained of your energy.

By that point, Shigaraki picked you up and tucked you into bed, hoping that this would have tired you out enough to get some more sleep the next day. He was wrong, however, and you had somehow managed to wake him up even earlier than before.

You were now onto day three. Three days of looking after a toddler. Three days of his life that Shigaraki was never going to get back and it didn't look like you would be turning back any time soon. He just missed you, the older you. He missed your kisses and cuddles. Holding such a tiny version of you in his arms just wasn't the same. You would fidget and try to take off his gloves even though he told you how bad it would be if you did so. He was starting to understand why so many parents seemed so exhausted all of the time. Only, he wasn't looking after his child. He was looking after you, his girlfriend, who should most certainly not be a toddler when you were really a fully grown adult.

"How much longer will she be like this?" Shigaraki asked, still holding you in his arms as he spoke to Kurogiri.

Of course, you were too preoccupied with the toy he had made Toga buy you to pay any attention to their conversation.

"It shouldn't be much longer. To be honest, I thought she would have already turned back by now."

Shigaraki looked down at you, "What if she never turns back?"

"She will. No quirk is that strong." Kurogiri reassured, although it didn't help ease Shigaraki's nerves.

When it was time for bed, Uncle Shiggy tucked you in like usual but was surprised when your little hand reached up to touch the dried skin around his eyes.

You tilted your little head to the side and asked so innocently, "Why is your skin like this?"

Shigaraki was taken aback by our question, not really expecting you to bring it up because you hadn't even bothered to ask when you were adult.

He frowned a little and began to scratch at his neck as he sat down on the bed beside you, "It's, um, some kind of skin condition? I think- I don't really know. Allergies or something?"

"Oh."

That was all you said, your only reply and, somehow, it was the best one you could have given. Your lack of interest in it made Shigaraki feel better somehow because it was like it lacked importance. As if it didn't really matter that his skin was dry and, as he had heard so many times before, gross. He had always hated it, especially when he was younger and actually cared what people thought of him. He just wanted to look normal, like all of the other kids. He was insecure about it, not that he really showed it all that much, and was especially insecure about it around you. Because you were the only one that mattered.

He smiled when you just grabbed his hand and turned onto your side, closing your eyes as you drifted off to sleep. He sat there and brushed your hair out of your face, leaving his other hand where it was being hugged by your two little ones while he waited for you to fall asleep.

It was only ever quiet when you were asleep and he had found that he even enjoyed watching you sleep so soundly. When you were definitely asleep, he slipped his hand out and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before walking around the bed and climbing in the other side.

The next morning, despite his scalding of you the two days before, he had expected to be woken up early. However, when you were finally shaking him awake, it was much later than those other days.

"Shiggy?" You questioned, not quite remembering how you had wound up in his bed.

You cuddled a lot but you hadn't slept in here yet, surely you would remember why you were in here in the first place. The last thing you do remember is fighting alongside Dabi.

"y/n?" Shigaraki exclaimed, sitting up so abruptly that it made you jump.

Before you could ask him what was going on or why he looked so surprised, he dived onto you and wrapped his arms tightly around you. You giggled and hugged him back despite still not understanding what was going on.

"We are never having kids." He grumbled upon releasing you, only confusing you further.

After that, he explained everything to you about what had happened and how many days had passed. Four days ago you had been turned into a toddler thanks to a de-ageing quirk but now you were thankfully back to normal.

Of course, Toga had giggled and told you all about how cute you were and how Shigaraki was so protective of you. She also told you that you had taken to calling him 'Uncle Shiggy' and that you demanded to sleep in his bed with him every night. Not to mention, you apparently liked to sit in his lap and cuddle him pretty much all of the time.

You just chuckled at it all as she told you and glanced over to Shiggy, who was frowning but blushing a little nonetheless, every time Toga brought up how he was with you in your tiny form. It made you smile as you thought about him looking after you when you were so small and confused, especially how much of a handful you must have been.

When Shigaraki had had enough of listening to everyone explaining it all to you, he took hold of your wrist and dragged you along to his room. You sat down on his bed, eagerly waiting for him to sit beside you so you could cuddle up next to him. He soon complied and nestled his head into your hair when you cuddled into his chest.

"When you were- well, little- you had a nightmare and your neon was purple. Does it change colour a lot?" Shiggy asked.

You nodded, "The colour changes based on my mood. It'll be red when I'm angry or fighting. It goes blue when I'm sad and yellow when I'm happy. Purple means I'm scared or in distress."

He hummed and seemed to think for a moment before flipping you down onto the bed so that he was on top of you, his face hovering just above yours.

"What colour is it now?" His breath fanned over your face, his lips barely brushing over yours.

You smiled, feeling your heart pound in your chest and allowed a flicker of light to flash through your eyes.

"Pink? What does it mean?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes still looking into your own as you reached out for his hand.

You pulled his hand over and placed it onto your chest, knowing he would be able to feel the rapid beats of your heart, "What do you think it means?"

His answer to that question was rather simple as his head dived down and he finally captured your lips with his own. His hand didn't move from where you had placed it until you pushed one of your own into his hair and used your other to move his.

When you moved his hand so that he was cupping your breast, he took the sign and didn't hesitate to squeeze it slightly. His groping only continued as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

When your lips parted, you pulled his bottom one between your teeth before letting it go and kissing him again.

"I love you." You grinned, grinding against him as your lips connected again.

His hands continued to roam your body until one slipped under your shirt. His fingers were almost gentle as they ran over your skin, still somewhat unsure of how to do this affection thing. Not to mention, you were his first kiss so he was certainly still a virgin.

Not that it made much of an impact.

Shigaraki was new to showing affection, new to kisses and cuddles and tender touches between lovers. And yet, he was an unexpectedly fast learner. He still seemed unsure but his confidence only grew as you continued to kiss him with such desperation, such need.

His touches grew rougher as he pulled reactions from you, figuring out what felt good and what didn't. He came to realise that you liked his rough hands, much like you liked the rough skin of his lips against your own. However, what seemed to set you off the most, was a combination of both roughness and gentleness. So, as one hand almost harshly pulled at your hair, the other tenderly squeezed at your breast while a gentle thumb rubbed over your nipple.

Both of your hands were in his hair, moving around to twirl and tug at his messy locks. Occasionally, your hands would slip back towards his face until his ear was between your fingers. His ears were sensitive, as you had unexpectedly discovered during one of your cuddle sessions.

As he kissed at your neck, tongue coming out to lick you here and there, your lips went to his ear. Your teeth pulled at his lobe, biting down just enough to leave the pale skin there a pretty shade of pink.

When his hand ventured lower, slipping into your underwear, your breath hitched.

"S-Shiggy-"

You were cut off with a groan as he slipped a finger inside of you, moving it about randomly as he got a feel of your insides before slipping in another. He spread them about inside you, trying to figure out what felt good as he listened to your breathing. A hitch; he'd hit a sweet spot. A moan; he was doing a good job. Nothing; you weren't feeling it at all.

"I- Is it okay? Does it... does it feel good?" He asked, his insecurities coming into the light once again.

You nodded, breathing out another moan as you tightened your grip on his hair.

"It feels really good but- but I want you." You had to stop halfway to catch your breath only to whine in dissatisfaction when he pulled his fingers out.

Although, your breath stopped altogether seconds later when he suddenly pushed into you. You could tell he was trying not to move right away but, from the small movements of his hips, you could tell he was struggling.

You buried your head into his neck, holding tightly onto the back of his shirt as you adjusted. He was somewhat larger than you had expected but not so much that it shocked you. He was around average and, in your opinion, the perfect size to slot comfortably in you.

"Y- You can move, Shiggy. You don't have to hold back."

With your confirmation, he began thrusting into you. He tried to keep a steady pace at first but grew rough quickly. Not that you minded. Actually, you liked seeing him losing control over you.

Every time his hips snapped into you, his little grunts and groans humming in your ear, you squeezed so tightly against his shirt that you swear your knuckles must have been white. It just felt so good. Not that it was the best sex in the world. He was clumsy and even a little sloppy if you were being honest but just the fact that it was him was enough. Just knowing that he was pouring all of his feelings, however new to him they may have been, into trying to please you was enough. You loved him so, so much. And, although it wasn't always so clear, he loved you too.

"Fuck, Shiggy. There, right there." You whimpered out as he hit that certain spot within you.

He hit it over and over, missing every couple of thrusts only to hit it head-on again the next time. He was trying so hard. He just wanted to try his best to make you feel good too.

Many people, civilians, heroes and even villains alike would call Shigaraki selfish. He didn't care for his league, he just cared about himself. His goal was to be the most powerful villain, to kill the great all might, to take over from his master.

To you, however, he was anything but selfish. He was a shimmer of hope in the darkness. He did care, he was just bad at showing it. He cared for you and the rest of the league in his own special way. Obviously, the way he felt about you was very different from his feelings towards them. However, they were the closest thing he had to a family now and he knew that. If someone were to harm any of you he would kill them without hesitation.

That was just how he was. Shigaraki cared, he always had.

"Shiggy. I'm going to-" Before you could even finish you released.

Toes curling, back-arching, nails digging into his shoulder blades. After that, it was all too much for you but he still wasn't quite there. His thrusts grew even harsher as he chased his own high, over-stimulating you in the process. When he finally saw the tears building in your eyes, he quickly pulled out and finished himself off in his hand. He came all over you, dirtying your shirt as he rubbed himself through his release.

When he was done, he reached up and wiped the tears from your eyes, apologising for hurting you but his eyes only widened when you took a hold of his hand and kissed his palm with gentle lips.

"It's okay Shiggy. It didn't hurt, it was just a little too much."

Your eyes met his and he seemed to melt completely. But, after feeling his own tiredness, he climbed off of you and got off of the bed. He grabbed a hoodie of his and passed it to you before he delved into a messy draw for some clean sheets.

You got up, putting his hoodie on and grabbing a box of tissues to clean yourself up. When you were finally free of all the sticky bodily fluids, you threw the tissue into the bin and grabbed a clean pair of pants, pulling them on before climbing back into the newly made bed.

You reached out like a child, hands grabbing out towards Shigaraki to get him to come to you.

He sighed, "Not this again."

With a soft chuckle, you pulled him into the bed. His head rested on your chest as you played with his hair, pulling the covers up over the both of you.

"Goodnight Shiggy. I love you." You smiled, yawning as you cuddled him.

He closed his eyes, head resting against your comfortable chest as he mumbled, "I love you too."

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #boku no hero academia shigaraki #shigaraki x you #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki smut #smut #fluff #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha #my hero academia #shigaraki tomura

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brittledame · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, A/B/O Dynamics, Creampie, Breeding (mentioned), Riding, Slight dirty talk, Knotting, Marking, Claiming bites, Blood (mentioned), Mating, Semi is a little possessive of reader, Reader is a little oblivious

Word Count: 11K

Summary: After your tryst with Semi in the locker room, he whisked you away to his room to spend the rest of the rut with him. The morning after, you wake up hot and disoriented, finding that your heat has come around early. The instinct to claim each other overshadows all other thoughts, leading to an enjoyable time for you both.

Series: Part 2 of Semi’s Big Blow Up

Notes: Ok it took me a while but I got there. This is literally 11K words of pure smut with side of fluff. Please enjoy my horny world splurge for the OG eboy Semi-Semi.

The warm sunlight filtering through the gaps of Semi’s blinds is what woke you up from a dreamless sleep. Cracking open your eyes, you were met with the drool-worthy sight of Semi’s bare chest. The sheets were kicked off during some point last night. Judging from the heat emanating from the male wrapped around you, it was safe to assume that it was Semi that did it.

Your bodies were close enough that the cool morning air nipping at you wasn’t an issue. If anything, you felt a tad too warm to be comfortable. You note that your shirt must have ridden up last night, as you feel his heavy arm was thrown over your hip that was almost bare thanks to the scrap of underwear you wore. Mind feeling as if stuffed with cotton, you notice that you were slightly sweating from the heat generated between the two of you. Shuffling back a little to give yourself some more breathing room, you relish the wash of cool air brushing over your heated skin, lending clarity to your disoriented mind.

The morning was quiet and warm, it was exactly the kind of morning where you would easily fall back to sleep if it weren’t for the breath-taking sight of the ash-blond man before you.

His long eyelashes fanned across high cheekbones, sleep-tousled hair looking wild against the pillow, and soft-looking lips parted as he continues on sleeping blissfully unaware of your enamoured stare. Fingers twitching, you were overcome with the sudden urge to run your fingertips across his skin, to map each dip and slight freckle and commit them to memory. Listening to his deep breathes, chest slowly moving up and down, signalling he was still deep asleep and surely wouldn’t mind if you carried out the desire. It was enough permission for your drowsy mind to go ahead anyhow.

Carefully, you move a hand from his well-defined chest and reach up to stroke the soft skin of his cheek. God, it was so unfair that he was blessed with a sweet personality, good looks and sexual prowess. The attractive asshole probably only washed his face with soap – if he washed it at all. Quelling the jealousy rearing its ugly head, you continued with feather-light touches now moving down to his lips.

Pressing your thumb slightly into the plump bottom lip, memories of those lips exploring and pressing lingering marks across your body rise to the forefront of your mind. Flushing, you silently curse at how smitten you were for him. He was literally sleeping with you loosely ensnared in his arms and here you were stroking him, feeling a little overwhelmed at how elated you felt to have the man of your dreams reciprocating your affections.

The wondering hand slides back to his chest and you bury your face into his chest, trying to hide your embarrassment as you recall everything that had transpired last night.

Honestly, if you hadn’t woken up in his bed, you would’ve played the whole thing off as a really horny dream and carried on with your life. You probably wouldn’t have been able to look your friend in the eye after having an explicitly detailed sex dream of him, but you would’ve at least attempted to carry on like you didn’t dream of him fucking you into mind-blowing completion.

Yesterday felt like a dream, it felt so distant and yet you could recall certain details so vividly that you couldn’t just brush off the incident off like you normally would. Your face feels like it could start melting as you blush fiercely while recalling Semi admitting his true feelings for you. Your heart lurches inside your chest. Everything felt like a blur to you, one moment he was unexpectedly distant, the next you were both arguing and then… fucking on the bench.

The rest of the night was kind of hazy to you, but you do recall him pulling you to his room, hands planted on your waist. You remember him whispering, “I hope you didn’t have any plans this weekend. I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”

Your core pulses at just the thought of his words. He made a quick stop to the vending machines to get a few drinks and snacks, stating that he really wasn’t planning on leaving the room anytime soon. When you two were finally stocked up and alone in his surprisingly orderly room, you were both still fatigued from the previous round to go beyond a messy make out. Collapsing into one another, exhaustion from the long day finally caught up to you both.

And now here you were, in close proximity to the boy of your long-held affections. It would be scarily true to your fantasies if not for the sticky feeling of the sweat lightly coating your skin and the nausea swirling around your stomach. Skipping dinner never was a smart decision and it looks like you were suffering the consequences of your hindbrain doing the thinking for you.

You perk up when you inhale the subtle shift in Semi’s calming scent he started to unconsciously emit. He somehow sensed the slight distress in your scent before you recognised it. Turning onto his back and shifting against you, you hold your breath in hopes of not waking him up.

Pausing from his stirring, he sleepily opened his eyes a crack to take you in. Damn, that was cute. Even when waking up he’s stupidly hot. A smile graces his lips as he takes in the slight of your pink face and wide eyes.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You had to beat back the horny side of you that jumped up at the sound of his deep voice rough with sleep.

Giving him a smile in return, you whisper back a good morning.

Pale eyelashes flutter as his eyelids shut. For a moment you were sacred he would fall back to sleep and leave you to face your traitorous thoughts. Rolling onto his side, Semi tugs you close to him, banishing the unreasonable fear. You tense slightly at the new position as it brought your tacky skin close to his, only relaxing minutely at the feel of his fingers running through your tangled hair.

Enjoying the soothing feel of his chest rising with each deep breath and the feeling his fingernails gently scrape against your scalp, you were lulled into a trance. Unthinkingly, you grind against the well-defined thigh that was sandwiched between your legs. Semi paused when he felt you move but continued when you didn’t make a fuss about it. Your light scent signifying contentment rather than the sweet arousal he came to know last night.

Your nails lightly scratch at his chest as you feel his other hand start to rub at the sensitive skin of the major scent glands based under your ear. Sighing in pleasure, your muscles release all tension under his thoughtful ministrations. You knew that if he kept this up for any longer you would surely start purring. His loving touches were sating an itch that hid at the back of your mind along with the rest of your omegan needs.

Semi was quite obvious in showing his enjoyment under your thoughtless attention, member growing hard with your thoughtless grinding. The air thickened with your candied scent, tickling his sensitive nose. His eyebrows furrow as he’s struck with the realisation of what the saccharine undertone signified.

“Uh, I think you just started your heat… Your scent is really heavy right now.” You blankly stare at the flushing male, blissfully hazy mind not processing the meaning behind his abrupt words.

“I’m two weeks out from my heat, there’s literally no way.” You reasoned. There was a lenient time frame with most heats, but that time frame was at most three days, not a whole fortnight out.

“You were with me as I started my rut, maybe mine kick-started yours?” His unsure tone did nothing to assure you. Although it did give you something to consider.

You mull over his suggestion. You’ve heard of long-established couples having their heats and ruts sync together, a biological response to help maximise the chance of baring healthy offspring. But you’ve never heard of a rut kick starting a heat in advance in two people that got intimate with one another not even 15 hours ago – long friendship notwithstanding.

If you thought about it, you were exhibiting all the classical signs of entering your heat. It was just little preposterous that Semi’s rut may have incidentally kick started yours. Maybe a quick google search would help? Or maybe you should hit up the nurse when this was all over with.

Exactly what this weekend would detail was still a bit lost on you, seeing as now a new variable has reared its ugly head. A deep and largely ignored part of you was satisfied at how well everything had aligned. Semi’s rut lead into increased frustration, which resulted in his blow up and subsequently into the unexpected confession. All of that led to this moment of you laying in his bed, smelling of him and blessed with the sight of his sleepy smile.

Your heat did pose a minor issue though. With Semi being in his rut it was already tenuous with you pairing up with him after shortly discovering each-others true feelings. Not that ruts – nor heats – drove people sex-crazy like so many adult films liked to portray. They did have the capacity to blur the line for your newly defined relationship.

It was a time that you were both at your most vulnerable. Afraid of driving him away from saying something wrong or maybe not being the person he actually wanted. You knew exactly what you craved during your heats and you did not want to embarrass yourself by asking for something Semi wasn’t ready to give you.

Semi breaks your train of thought by offering up his shower to freshen up. Literally jumping up at the opportunity to get out of your own head and clean up, you thanked him.

“Thanks, I’d love that.” You made it to the doorway of the bathroom before a thought hit you.

“Hey, uh, I don’t really want to get changed back into these clothes. Do you mind running to my dorm to get some clean ones for me?”

Semi rolled onto his back and raises an amused eyebrow at your uncharacteristic shy tone.

“Just steal some of my clothes, I don’t mind.” He gestures to his plain white dresser. He doesn’t feel it’s necessary to add that he would much prefer you wearing his clothes over the course of the next few days. Eita’s hell-bent in fulfilling a few of his fantasies with your consent. One of those fantasies included you wearing his clothes.

Nodding at him, you make your way over and sift through the draws before deciding on a plain black Shiratorizawa volleyball team training shirt and a pair of clean boxer shorts that you may have to roll the waist band for them to fit.

Secretly, you were slightly overwhelmed at how fast this was all going. Was it weird that you were more flustered about wearing his clothes than fucking in a semi-public room? Probably, but life was weird, so it was best to roll with the punches at this point.

Giving once last glance at Semi’s lax form splayed on the bed, you close the door behind you. The lock of the door seemingly taunts you with ideas of Semi joining you in the shower. Then again, it would probably be best to establish at least some boundaries before you both got lost in your respective throes. Flipping the lock, you make quick work of stripping down bare and starting up the shower, shivering at the feeling of the cool air caresses your heated body as you wait for the water to warm.

Hand stretch out under the spray, you judge the water temperature to be adequate and hop in. The decent water pressure was one of the many things you would praise about Shiratorizawa, alongside their amazing cooking staff and meal plans. One could accuse that the students are just little bit spoiled and they wouldn’t be exactly wrong.

Washing your hair, your mind drifts away from you, occupied with wondering thoughts. As you lather up your skin, a dark spot on your hip catches your eye. You have a double take when you notice the bruises etched into your skin from where Semi had gripped you from before. Heat burnt across your cheeks as you recall what had transpired not even a day ago. Carefully, your fingertips brush along the dark spots littering your chest and hips. You’re astounded by how dark they look against your flushed skin. They didn’t hurt nearly as much you would think from how pigmented they were. Kind of like Semi in that regard, intimidating exterior and benign on the inside.

Even though you were sure to lock the door, dirty thoughts of him joining you in the shower and skilled fingers buried deep inside of you fill your mind as you conditioned your hair and rinse. As the suds washed off, your hands autonomously drift towards the crest of your legs, fingers brushing against your faintly pulsing core.

Yup, if you weren’t sure before, you were definitely experiencing an early heat. At least you had someone to rid it out with, someone whom you loved and trusted. Plus, the direct presence of alpha pheromones should make the heat less intense.

Shutting off the water, you made quick work of drying off and slipping on the soft articles of clothing. Giving the lonely pair of underwear sitting in a pile of dirty clothes a second thought, you shrugged off the thought of putting them back on. Hopefully, if all went right, it would save some valuable time later on.

Just as you thought, you had to adjust the boxers for them to fit. Pat drying your hair to the best of your ability, you comb through it with your fingers, hoping it’ll dry faster. Examining your appearance in the mirror, a tingle of excitement went through you at seeing his larger clothes draped over your figure. They didn’t fit, that was for sure, but god did you love wearing them.

Tearing yourself away from the reflection, you walk out of the bathroom with a pink cheeks and smelling clean. Semi perks up from his seated position and puts down the phone he was frantically typing on just before you emerged.

A lazy smile makes its way across his face at how good you looked wearing his clothes. It felt like the stole the very breath from your lungs. Tossing his phone to the side, already long forgotten, he walks over towards you and winds his arms around your shoulders and buries his nose into your still damp hair.

“You look so good wearing my clothes. We should make this a regular thing.” He laughs at your shocked squawk, not immediately shooting him down. Leaning back, Eita takes in your scrubbed pink skin and the way his shirt almost completely covered the boxers you wore. It was all way to cute for his heart to take.

Not being able to help himself, Eita draws you into a deep kiss. He loved how his scent completely enveloped you from his clothes to his body wash. Eita was already becoming comfortable with how easily your scents intermingled. He knew that he was playing with fire by kissing you. It would be a true trial of strength to see if he could stop before he got too into it again, he really needed a shower too after all.

Semi probably didn’t intend for the kiss to become heavy, but your body immediately lit up as his lips melded into yours, making you crave more. While you still didn’t hear bells or feel rainbows sprout out of you when his mouth melded with yours, your mind did light up with a thousand fireworks as you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip.

Ever the tease, it was as you opened your mouth to admit him entrance did he pull back and give you a smirk that had you wanting to both punch him and kiss him even harder.

“As much as I would love to continue,” Semi bops you on the nose, stunning you. “I really need a shower.”

You huff at his words and cutely pout up at him, driving his mind wild in return.

“You shouldn’t start things you’re not planning on finishing, Semi-Semi. You could get a poor girl’s hopes up one day.” Your teasing look belied the sad tone you adopted.

He gives you a deadpan look before snapping back as a reflex: “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright then, babe. What do you want to be called?” From the way his eyes lit up at the endearment, you had found the key to Semi’s heart.

Lifting your chin up, he whispers into your ear. “Surprise me.”

He inwardly congratulates himself for the way that you shuddered at his low tone. “Just don’t call me Semi-Semi. I should beat Satori’s ass for ever calling me that.”

He unwraps his arms from your body and you had to bite down the whine that threatened to embarrass you at the loss. Semi shot you a knowing look and effectively diverted your attention by pointing to the bedside table holding your phone on charge.

“I noticed that it was flat, so I put it on charge when you hopped in. It should be charged enough to turn on by now.” He said as he slipped through the doorway, not even bothering to bring clean clothes with him.

Touched at his thoughtfulness, you briefly contemplated how low your standards must be for someone being considerate to put your phone on charge was seen as heart-touching. Ignoring that and the tight coil of heat sitting in your abdomen that Semi had elicited, you went and grabbed your phone. Slumping down onto the bed, you impatiently waited for it to start up, taking a quick look of his room in the meantime.

Unlike most boys his age, it was neat and smelt of spiced bergamot paired with clean laundry. While there was a bit of chaos in his desk, it seemed to be organised in some fashion with different papers and books stacked in alternating arrangements according to a code only known to the ash-blond alpha. There was a few articles of clothing spilling out of the over-filled hamper. It was kind of funny that such a diligent guy like Semi would leave laundry until the absolute last second.

Thinking about laundry… You cosy up into the soft grey cotton sheets of his bed. You’d have to ask what detergent he uses because it was insane how soft the cotton felt beneath your hands. The smell of clean fabric and Semi’s grounding scent filled your nose as you buried your head into his pillows.

A quiet ‘ding!’ from your phone tears you away from your observations and into the real world. You had apparently missed a few messages from your roommate during your impromptu sleepover with Semi. After texting her a quick update of your situation and checking your emails, you decide to hope onto the school website to fill out the heat exemption form and after a short deliberation ended up filling one out for Semi too.

Who knows how long this will last and it’s probably best to be safe and use your last moments of coherency securing you both an easier week ahead – give or take a few days. Finishing up the last section, you heard the shower turnoff and the shower curtain open. Judging that he was going to come out soon, you submit the form and place your phone on silent.

Semi emerges from the bathroom with a cloud of steam rushing out behind him. Stunned, you look over, only to be hit by déjà vu. Looking tantalising standing there covered only by a towel dangerously low on his hips, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders.

Stalking over to the bed, he pounces on top of you and buries his nose into your neck. Giggling at his childish behaviour, the temptation to scolding him for not drying his hair died on your tongue as you feel him press a chaste kiss onto your neck.

“I couldn’t bare another second without you at my side” he murmurs, unwilling to leave your comforting scent. Blushing at the sentiment, you give a short embarrassed laugh at how cheesy he was.

“You’re such a romantic. Satori will have a field day if I tell him that.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He growls out. Eita hated the idea of Satori knowing any intimate details your relationship together. Also, the fact that Satori would never let him hear the end of it didn’t help Satori’s case of being let in the know-how of your sexual activities.

You laugh at the weak deterrent, full well knowing Semi would never follow through. A friendship spanning across high school let you gain insight to a lot of Semi’s quirks and behaviour. Never in the three years you’ve known him has he ever acted maliciously. Discounting the moment he was ready to tear Shirabu a new one yesterday – but that was a whole different situation.

You smirk at him in response. “You have no idea how far I’ll go to have some decent entertainment.”

“If you’re so bored, why didn’t you just say so?” Semi moves out of your grasp, now hovering over your body with his towel hanging onto his body through sheer will at this point.

Lips slotting together, Semi doesn’t give you the chance to retort. Not that you minded in the slightest. His mouth tasted of cool spearmint, contradicting the heat of his tongue mapping the inside of your mouth. You moan as he runs his tongue along your hard palate whilst giving a light suck.

Nudging his tongue out of your mouth, you bite his bottom lip and tug at it. Grip tightening on your hips, Eita refrains from pinning you down and kissing you until your begging him for more. It was the heady smell of need filling the air that knocked the idea away and replaced it with the burning desire to be buried within you. That’d be much more beneficial for the both of you, he grins to himself.

Eita notices the wet spot forming on the boxers he lent out. God, he was never going to be able to look at that pair the same ever again. The old shirt was way too big for you, hiding your gorgeous form from his hungry eyes. Fixing the sacrilege that it was, he grabs the hem giving it a slight tug to warn you of his intentions. At your nod, he rips the offending article of clothing off and is met with the heavenly sight of your bare chest still baring his marks from the night before. Eita’s dick twitches at the sight.

Dipping in for another kiss, he whispers against your parted lips. “God, you could make a grown man weep, baby girl. You should see how good you look laid out for me.”

Your heart flips at the comment. Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you pulled him into another searing kiss. Hands that you’ve watched serve a thousand no-touch aces dragged down your sides, callouses rough against smooth skin. Fingertips danced along the band of his boxers, teasingly dipping just under it.

Nipping at him, you silently voice your frustration with his teasing. Any other time and you would be all for it – hell half of your wet dreams revolved around Semi edging you into a teary mess. Now though? You felt like you could spontaneously combust from the heat building steadily with you.

Hands falling over his, you help him push down the boxers and kick them off the side of the bed. The hands that you’ve admired for so long drift further southward. Completely skipping over your core, you note with disappointment. Eita grips your thighs, admiring the way the soft flesh molded around his hand, loving the contrast the two of you made together.

Hard and malleable. Rough and soft. Eita and you.

From the very moment he met you, he was blinded by your personality. Kind to those who warranted it and never backing down from your morals. He loved how gentle you were with the younger years and conversely never refraining from scolding Shirabu if made any vitriolic comments to Goshiki. Unknowingly, you had set up a home inside of Eita’s heart and he’ll spend every moment with you to show you as such.

Semi took in every inch of your body under his hands as he manoeuvres you into a pose that made his mouth go dry. Top half pressed against the bed, ass swinging in the air in front of him, you made such an appetising sight, it truly tried Semi’s self-restraint to not just slam on home and take everything you’d give to him.

Feeling his gaze burning into your skin, you could resist the temptation to tease him even more. Wiggling your hips, you shoot him a sultry look over your shoulder.

“Are you ready yet or am I going to have to start without you?” You move your hands from beside your head in preparation to slide them down your front and into your waiting hole.

The growl fills the air dampens your devious side. By all accounts, teasing him like that during a rut, even a mild one, was not a smart move on your side. A dangerous glint fills his eye at your unintentional challenge.

Semi removes the towel and tosses it to the side, revealing his already swelling member to your greedy eyes. The towel hadn’t even hit the foot of the bed before his hands were back on you.

Settling a hand between your shoulder blades, he presses his weight onto you as he lowers himself to your cheek not pressed against the sheets. Your breath freezes in your chest as he brushes his lips across the delicate skin with a wicked look on his face.

“You are such a brat sometimes you know that right?” He breathes out, lips both so close to yours and infuriatingly too far. “It’s alright though, maybe I could teach you some manners.”

He moves back with those final words, grinning at how you shivered at them. You were half tempted to whine at the loss of contact, already starting to push up on your elbows before he forcefully stops you by pressing even harder on your back.

Your heart and hole simultaneously pulse in anticipation at Semi’s more forceful nature coming out to play, not so secretly loving concealed strength coming out to play. Semi was usually respectful and kind to a fault, that was why you privately loved it when Satori riled him up. It was only during those times you could see Semi’s true passion, the fire burning inside his soul being exposed to your keen eyes. There is also the moments when he plays which unfortunately occurs occasionally now that Shirabu usurped him as a starter.

Before, you were slightly apprehensive you your heat coinciding with Semi’s rut, now you were grateful. Thanks to your heat, you didn’t require extensive foreplay like last night. Naturally prepared, your hole was more pliable and slick now than any other time, as a natural occurrence to prevent both omega’s and their partners from hurting themselves during the thick of the heat. The last thing on their minds is to properly prepare themselves.

That fact doesn’t stop Semi from dipping in a finger, soon slipping in another inside as he noted how easily you stretched around it. You tilt your hips up, encouraging his long fingers to press in deeper, to fill you in a way yours couldn’t. Scissoring his fingers, he twists his wrist in a way that had you grasping at the sheets.

“Shit.” You gasp out between clenched teeth.

“You really like my fingers,” Semi states. He slips in a third and fans them out inside of your leaking hole, watching the way your pink hole engulfed his fingers without complaint.

Having enough, you reach down and grasp his wrist. Fixing him with a pleading expression that had him melting in your hand.

“Please, I need you. Now.”

Unable to refuse your plea, he withdrew them with a slick sound. With the way you looked at him, he would steal the stars out of the sky if you asked him.

“That didn’t take long at all, look at how polite you’re being now.”

Bringing slicked-up fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicks out to lap up your juices. Your viscous slick coated his tongue and triggered his voracious appetite, now feeling the strong urge to spend the next hour eating you out until you were a sobbing mess on his tongue. This was the second time you had derailed him, without even speaking or looking at him.

Eita forcibly shoulders past the idea, not willing to keep you waiting anymore, especially now that you were being so cute. Meanwhile, you ignored the dig in favour for quelling your excitement as he lines himself up.

The ash-blond alpha moans as he slips inside, not bothering to tease you now. You clench around him as you shiver at the sonorous sound he releases. Just like you thought, he slipped in without an issue, leaving only the pleasurable burn from stretching around his rigid cock.

Eita relished at how receptive you were of his touches, whether they be stroking or digging, you received each one with delight.

“You take me so well, baby girl.” He thrusts in deeply, punctuating his statement. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

The slick sounds and sensations of sex consumes your senses, adding to the fire your heat flaring up within you.

“Semi, please –“ You haven’t half an idea of what your begging for. All you wanted was something more. Voicing your greediness felt like admitting defeat to your omega desires but you needed him so badly that you no longer fought against them.

Long and deep strokes halt as he grabs your hip and you forcibly flips you onto your back. Eita doesn’t waste a single second to grab your leg, hiking it over his shoulder and re-entering you. Immediately Semi slides in even deeper. The new angle had starbursts exploding across your vision. You spared no thought to his poor neighbours as you let out a loud moan. Supposedly the dorm rooms were supposed to be sound-proofed, so this would be a good test to see if that was true.

Not being able to deny himself, he indulged the desire to mark you in a superficial way, unsatisfied that he couldn’t claim you as his. Yet. The day would come, hopefully sooner than later. Latching his mouth over faded splotches, he sucks them back into vibrancy before moving to a new spot. You arch your back as he sucks a few marks onto your breasts, one hand coming up to squeeze them and flick your erect nipple a few times.

Continuing fucking into your tight hole in the meantime, he admires his own handiwork. A masterpiece of pinks and purples of varying shades decorated you, looking stunning to his eyes. A promise is made to himself to not let them fade while you were in his care.

Driving his engorged dick in and out of you at a punishing pace, Eita has the one-minded focus of bringing you both to the peak. Eita wanted nothing more than to pull out and cum on your back and mark you up even more, but he knew that the urge to mate wouldn’t stop until he knotted you.

Knotting was a huge part of breeding and a significant factor to tempering heats and ruts alike. One could couple a dozen times a day during a rut and still not feel satisfied until the rush of hormones released by one is triggered. Having you here was both a blessing and curse in disguise, as he was now more driven than ever to breed you until your stomach was full and round.

The mental image alone made him clench his teeth, trying to reign in what little remained of his self-restraint. He’s had a partner before you during a rut, but it didn’t feel nearly as intense as your fucking did right now. Previous experiences didn’t hold a candle to being with you. This was better than any fantasy coupled with his right hand.

Knowing exactly what to do to drive you over the edge, Semi didn’t hesitate to deliver you to completion. Scraping his sharp canines against the delicate skin of the column neck, you tighten around him even more.

Fastening his lips over your scent gland, he gives a rough suck while pressing his teeth into the area, imitating a claiming mark. To your sex-hazed mind though, it felt like the real thing and that was the last push you needed to topple over the edge, his name on your lips.

“Semi!”

Lust becoming all consuming, your inner omega frustrated at being tricked out of a claiming bite went ignored as sensations threatened to drown you under unrelenting waves. You were only distantly aware of Semi chasing after his orgasm within your warmth. Mind feeling like a separate entity from your body, your vision fades to black.

When you come to, you instantly become aware of his knot locked inside of you. Okay, maybe you weren’t out of it for as long as your heavy eyelids suggested. Semi groaned at your restless shifting, accidentally tugging the sensitive appendage.

“You literally fucked me into unconsciousness for a moment there.” You state, not bothering to hide wonder in your tone. Honestly speaking, you thought that was a feat only achieved in porn, then in comes Semi to blow away every single expectation you held.

If things were to ever end badly between the two of you, Semi has wrecked you for anyone in the future. Your sexual expectations have been set too high now, bar raised to an incredible height.

Disbelieving, Semi just stares at you to gauge if you were telling the truth. He hadn’t actually noticed that you left him for a moment there. It was worrying that he was so absorbed by satisfying his instincts to fill you that he didn’t even notice you mentally checking out. Your weighted stare confirms that you didn’t lie.

“Damn.” He simply puts. The word alone couldn’t convey the myriad of emotions he was experiencing from hearing that.

On one hand, Eita was proud of himself for being able to do that. On the other, he was scared that he didn’t notice. The confusing mixture was enough for him to soften, knot deflating enough for him to pull out.

Cum drizzled out of your hole in thick globules, staining your upper thighs a transparent white. A deep primal part of him hated the waste, wanting nothing more than to gather it onto his fingers and shove it back into you, not wasting a single drop.

Mentally shaking off the intrusive thought, he gives your thigh a pat as he gets up to grab his towel off of the foot of the bed to clean himself off. Propping yourself up on his pillows, you don’t argue or bat him away when he starts to wipe you down and leaving the occasional gentle kiss behind. You were loving the feeling of being pampered by the alpha.

Throwing the dirtied towel into the hamper by his door, he lays against your side and rests his head on your chest. Your fingers brush through his almost dry hair that you knew was going to dry funny since he didn’t dry it properly. Eyelids feeling heavy from both physical and mental exhaustion, you didn’t want to leave the comfort of the bed for a shower. It wasn’t long before you peacefully dozed off with a just as tired Semi pressed against you.

A few hours later, you wake up feeling as if your burning up from the inside out. Irrationally scared that you may actually be on fire from how hot you were, you pat yourself down. Your dizzy mind registers the fact that you’re probably in full swing of your heat now, seeing as there was no sheet nor clothes suffocating you. Blindly, you reach out for your phone to confirm if you got at least some rest.

Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. Turning to your side, you’re met with the sinful sight of a flushed Semi jacking off. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, trying to keep himself as quiet as possible while you slept beside him, not wanting to wake you up just yet. Too focused on the task at hand, he failed to notice you waking up.

Seeing his lack of awareness, you eyed his painful looking erection being handled quite roughly as Semi attempts to rush himself towards a much-needed orgasm. Both pity and arousal fills you at the sight, causing you to deliberate whether to jump in and offer some assistance or watch for a little longer and memorise as much as possible for another night.

A moan slips out of his mouth as he twists his hand just as he pumps his hand up. It seems the decision was made for you as your body automatically moves forward, mouth already salivating.

Grabbing his hands, you move them off of him and secure your mouth around his swollen-looking tip. Looking up, you match his shocked look with an innocent one, fluttering your eyelashes at him while giving a gentle suck to the flared head. Throwing back his head, he groans again.

“Babe,” he mutters, threading his fingers through your hair. “That mouth of yours is going to be the death of me someday.”

Choosing not to respond, you take in more of his length, licking over the veins protruding from his shaft. It seemed to be the correct choice as his hips automatically jerk up, almost shoving the entirety of himself into you if it weren’t for your hand on his hip.

Sending him a warning look, he gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, sorry.” He murmurs, using is other hand to stroke your hair in apology.

Accepting his apology, you roll your eyes at him before proceeding to take him to the root. The action had Semi sputtering. The sight was funny enough that you had to physically swallow down the laugh that threatened to come up. Feeling you swallow around his length, tongue simultaneously rubbing against him, his dick traitorously jumped inside your mouth.

Smiling around his length as best you could, you knew that Semi was already close from that small move. You knew a rut made alphas physically more sensitive compared to other times, you didn’t know it went to this extent. You knew yourself that while omegas became more sensitive as well, it took about three hand cramps and an hour of toy play before your body was satisfied enough to allow a fitful sleep.

Lucky bastards.

Feeling a bit petty, you give a hard suck while you draw back and stroke his tip with your tongue. His body shudders under your hands, his breath now coming out in moans that caused slick to start leak out of you. Even sleeping during a heat, slick was continuously produced so while you were wet when you woke up, you could feel it start to trickle out from you at how sensitive he was.

You always loved seeing his softer side come out, whether that be helping Goshiki out with his spiking or joining you in your after midnight baking sessions when the exam insomnia became too much. This was a different side to his vulnerability. Much different to late night talks about his insecurities related to both the court and his musical talents, you still cherished it just as much as those other moments.

Hips jolting up without his permission, you let him go, not at all minding the way he made you gag on his cock. The rough noises that would leave his bitten lips at the feeling of you choking on his length was enough payment for you. Not wanting to draw this out any longer, you remove a hand from his hip and fondle his balls. Rolling them in your hand and giving them a gentle squeeze while giving a harsh suck.

Semi’s eyes fly open, harshly tugging at your hair as he thrusts his hips up. This time, he does make you choke in earnest as he just about shoves his entire length down your throat.

You could feel the exact moment he hit his peak before the cum sprayed inside your mouth, balls tightening in your hands as his entire body tenses. A guttural moan electrifies the air as you diligently swallow his cum, not wasting a single drop.

Licking his dick clean, you feel him twitch against your lips as the orgasm left him over-sensitive. Sitting up, you throw a leg over his and straddle a well-defined thigh. You grind down on him, trying to draw him back to earth and to alleviate the deep-seated need to alleviate the pressure that has made its presence well and truly known.

Semi’s post-orgasm face was something classical artists could try to capture but never succeed. His normally furrowed eyebrows and tense mouth finally relaxed. Like this, he looked like his age and not a stressed-out salaryman with a hardass boss.

“I knew your mouth would kill me.” He mumbles, popping an eye open to meet your eager smile.

You laugh at his over dramatic words and stroke the sweat-matted hair off of his forehead.

“Well you have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands to myself when you have the audacity to look that hot while jacking it.” The ash-blond alpha blushes at your crass words but isn’t overly surprised that he woke you up.

Catching your hand in his, Semi has a sincere expression on his face.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I did try to keep quiet at the beginning, at least.”

Warmth fills your chest at his consideration. Solo ruts were tough, exactly like heats, so when one finally found a partner to help them through it, not much thought went behind letting them sleep in favour for reliving the unbearable pressure.

“You didn’t wake me up.” You assured him. “I woke up because of how hot I felt. I’m pretty sure I’m in full heat now.”

You grind against his thigh in demonstration of both how horny and wet you were. Taking in the scent of the room, the air was thick with a mix of aroused pheromones. Semi could already feel his dick getting hard from the mixed scent and how wet you felt against his leg. He hadn’t even touched you and yet you were this affected.

Heats weren’t anything to look down on, he inwardly muses.

“Oh yeah?” He quirks a brow at your comment, acting like he couldn’t feel you dripping onto his thigh.

His hands come up to grip your hips, pushing you down onto his thigh as he pushes it up against your core. You moan at the pressure against your core, but it wasn’t nearly enough to relieve the burning desire. You pout up at him, knowing he wanted to tease you a little before getting to it.

Not wanting to lose at this game, you put on your best faux dejected expression. Sighing heavily, you place your hands on his chest and push him back slightly. A mixture of amusement and confusion played out over Semi’s fine features.

“Yeah… Too bad this alpha I’m with would rather play around. Oh well, maybe the next one to come around will be more to the point.”

If you were a sensible person, you would’ve avoided making a bad habit out of getting a rise out of Semi just to see how he would react, scarily similar to how Satori treats him. The difference was that Semi wouldn’t hesitate to smack Satori over the head when he pushes too far, meanwhile with you he can be creative in getting back at you now.

“I see.” Semi blandly says while releasing your hips.

Panic flashes inside you. Maybe you pushed too far, hit a little too close to home. It was a dick move of you to hit him in a place he couldn’t protect. Some would like to pin Semi as a little egotistical when in reality he knew his strengths and was his own worst critic when it came to every aspect of his life.

Fearing that you completely ruined the moment, you lean over to cup his cheeks. Heat be damned, if he wanted you to leave, the door wouldn’t even hit you on the ass you’d be running out of here so fast. Never in a million years would you ever want to upset Semi, you’d do anything for the deeply caring alpha. The very same one who gave you his team jacket at the Spring Interhigh when you foolishly left yours on the bus during the tail-end of winter.

“I’m so sorry, Semi. Forget what I said, I didn’t mean it.”

Eita sat there, bewildered that you looked close to tears at the prospect of insulting him. His heart did a flip in his chest. Not being able to hold up against the worried look etched into your pretty face, he snakes his arms around your waist and rolls you both over to your sides.

Man, he was too soft for you. Eita smiles at the thought.

“It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it.” Semi pauses. Curious, you look up to see his eyes glittering in mischief. “You’re still a rude little omega, though.”

Those were the words that launched the two of you into an impromptu wrestling match. Semi obliterated you, surprise surprise. That’s not to say you got in a few shots that had Semi keeling over and proud that his partner could defend herself. Safe to say he was very proud about a lot of things relating to you, not that you would find out until a much later date.

Winding down, you grudgingly admitted defeat when he puts you in a headlock to stop you using your infamously fatal kicks on him. Laying side by side, shoulders touching as you both try to calm down heated blood. Hindbrain not knowing the difference between sexual and nonsexual activities, the match served to further rile you up.

Eita knew when you became restless, told by your twitching legs and fidgeting fingers twisting the bedding. A really effective way of venting that excess energy came to mind and Eita couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t feeling aroused in the slightest. Addicted to the cute noises you made and the expressions you made when he hit the right spot, he needed little reason to indulge you.

Thinking over the times he’d taken you, an idea struck him. It gave him a mental image of you hovering over him. The position deviated from the other ways you’ve fucked before, but he knew you’d love it. There was definitely nothing wrong with taking you from behind, in fact he preferred that position, but being able to see your face during it would be worth it.

Sensing Semi staring at you, you turned onto your side and gave him a languid smile. Smiling back at you, he placed a hand on your cheek and drew you into a languid kiss that had you wanting more. Tongues sliding against each other and teeth clacking together as you both move closer to one another. It felt like hours were spent like that, hands running up and down each other’s body as you both lazily made out.

Your lips chased after his retreating ones, Semi chuckles and gives your bottom lip a chastising nip.

“Let’s try something different.” He says. The words alone were plain and ordinary, but dressed with context, it caused excitement to join the arousal stirring within you.

Laying down onto his back, Semi makes himself comfortable by propping his upper body up on his pillows. Once satisfied, he shoots you an expectant look. You just stare at him blankly, not understanding what to do now. Eita gathers that he will basically have to spell it out for you to hop on top.

Eita pats his thighs in invitation. “Come on, get up.”

Confused, you follow the order without question and place yourself over his thighs. What the hell were you going to do on his thighs? Your sinful mind conjured images of ridding his thigh until you came. From the way Semi grabbed his dick and gestured to move up, that idea was immediately crossed out.

Shuffling up, you shoot him a questioning look that had him want to both laugh at odd innocence it held while completely nude and want to cry at how oblivious you could be sometimes. Eita was infamous now amongst his peers for making heart eyes at the most oblivious girl. If only he knew back then how to read your subtle language of love, he would’ve acted much sooner than in his final year.

Oh well, he’d a lifetime to show you his unwavering affection. The thought gave him pause. It was a big jump to make from confessing to fucking to silently vowing himself to you, but it all felt so right to him. However, he didn’t want to chase you away by voicing those promises. Later, he swears to himself.

“Have you ever ridden someone before?” He bluntly asks. In situations like this, it was best to be as direct as possible, even though his hindbrain wanted nothing more to bury himself in you and not stop until –

“Oh. That’s why I’m on top.” Your revelation interrupts his devious train of thought. “I haven’t. I like the view though.”

What a view it was to have Semi Eita under you. His tip-dyed hair sticking up at odd angles from not drying it properly, proving yourself correct. His dark eyes fastened on yours, full lips tugged into an encouraging smile, you could melt under his unadulterated attention. Semi Eita was not good for your heart, much like all the other things you cherished in life.

Shaking off the sudden introspection, you remembered why you were here in the first place. Raising yourself up on your knees, you placed a steadying hand both on his chest and one on top of the hand holding his dick. Nudging the still wet tip at your wet entrance, you pause.

You’ve never ridden someone before; you knew the theory behind it: up on your knees and down you go. Rinse and repeat. Still, you hesitate.

As if sensing your internal discord, Semi helps you out by placing his hands onto your hips and start slowly lowering you. Meeting your gaze in wordless question, you nod him your consent, delighting in the way his strong hands lower you onto his rigid dick.

Without having to do anything, Semi stole your breath away. Semi was a genius and if it weren’t for the angle you had to hold yourself up to prevent falling apart at the seams, you would kiss him.

Walls fluttering around the intrusion the entire slide down. You have to close your eyes to truly embrace the sensations washing over you. Soon, your hips met his pelvic bone, where you just sat there, shivering at the full feeling of him throbbing inside. You don’t think you could ever get sick of the feeling of Semi pulsating withing you.

“You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you babe, look at you go.” He praises.

Taking in a deep breath, you look down at Eita and give him a shaky smile. His hands tighten in encouragement, giving you a rakish grin that just about drove you wild.

Slowly lifting your body off of his dick, Eita leaves just the tip in before he drops you onto his dick. The next few minutes were spent with him guiding you up and down his dick, letting you learn and try and get the hang of things.

Okay, maybe ridding someone was a little more complicated than you were led to believe. It took you at least a dozen haphazard thrusts before you finally place your hands on his chest, ready to go solo. Biting your lip, his eyes darken at the silent message you gave him.

Releasing your waist, his hands slide down to grab a handful of your plump ass cheeks, waiting for you to take control. With a shaky breath, you lowered yourself onto him and flexed your thighs to lift yourself off, all while intermittently tightening around his member.

It took a few tries before you got the hang of it. His fat cock slipped out of few times, but thankfully he fixed it before it could end in disaster. Once you gained confidence, you doubled down and really started to enjoy yourself, reveling in Semi’s humid, soft pants and the way the vein on the side of his dick dragged along all the right places against your walls.

Slick squelches fill the stagnant air of the alpha’s room. You’ve never been so thankful at the soundproof dorms more so than at this very moment. You would spontaneously combust if anyone asides from the male under you hearing you moan and pant like the bitch in heat you were, regardless if you were both in the throes of your respective hormone-driven fucking.

“Look at how well you’re ridding me, beautiful. If you keep it up this may become my new favourite position.” Butterflies unfurl their wings and take flight inside your stomach at his words of praise.

Praises kept falling unthinkingly from his lips, your heart jolts at each and every one. Your hole greedily sucking him back in, begging him to not leave you empty for too long. Impaling you on his dick, he could not name a more beautiful sight than you ridding his cock, mouth open and head thrown back. Eita wanted nothing more than to take a picture of you in this very moment and frame it. No artwork he’ll ever come across could possibly hold a candle to your ethereal expressions.

The friction generated from your combined relentless pace was enough to have your toes curling and fingers dig into his abdomen. Eita growls at the flash of pain, hips jerking up in reflex.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as the motion forces the head of his cock to push past the lip of your cervix, pressing impossibly deep inside. Your walls grip his cock so fiercely, Eita was half afraid that you stopped his blood flow for a second there.

“Baby girl,” Eita groans. Hands tightening around the globes of flesh he held in his hands, signalling how much he liked that.

“Again!” You demand. Eita rushed to meet your call, readjusting his grip from your ass onto your hips for better control and rams himself up into you at the same angle. Knees locking up, it was less you ridding him now and more of him ramming up into you while dropping you down onto his cock. Eyes rolling back into your head at the new angle and the force he places behind each and every thrust. You had completely conceded all control and you never felt so good in your life, body buzzing in ecstasy.

One particular well timed thrust had your spine tensing into an perfect arch as the mild buzzing sensation intensified and struck through your body like lightning. Creaming around his cock, you draw blood as you dig your nails into his flesh to try and anchor yourself to him and not join your mind that was trying it’s hardest to leave this earthly plane of existence.

Unable to help himself, he fucks up into your outrageously tight hole a few more times before he grows frustrated with slowly building orgasm and takes matters into his own hands. Obviously, this position just wasn’t going to do it for him.

“Sorry gorgeous, but let’s change this up little, yeah?” With that said, he swaps your positions all while still buried within you.

To your post-orgasmic blissed out mind, you magically found yourself under him as he frantically seeks out his orgasm within your slick hole. Hindbrain completely taking over, he pumps into and out of you like a man possessed, hands creating imprints into your hips identical to the first set.

Thoughts of him biting into you, permanently marking you as his, were provided by your inner desires. They refused to leave you as he growled as your walls flutter around him at the mere idea of being claimed. Maybe it was just your omegan side finally coming out to play, but you couldn’t deny how pleasant the idea of Semi being yours was.

“Eita,” You try to catch his attention. “Claim me.”

His brutal pace falters. He clenches his eyes shut and chokes out a groan. “Don’t say that stuff, baby girl. You have no idea how much I want to.”

If he wanted this as bad as you did, then why did he hesitate? Yes, granted it probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up while in the middle of sex, but what better time than now, in the present. Your heart felt so light and warm thinking of a life with him by your side, how could you not ask him.

“Eita, I love you and I can’t imagine my life with another. If you don’t claim me now, we’re going to end up doing it later. Lets do it now and save some time.” His breath shudders at the way you say his given name. Meanwhile, you were surprised at how articulated the words came out while he was buried balls-deep in you.

Not needing anymore encouragement to fulfill his deepest desire, he sheaths himself deep within you with one last thrust. Simultaneously, Eita sinks his canines into your major scent gland as his knot locks onto the rim of your hole, blood rushing into his mouth.

In that moment, the universe clicked into place as you felt your very being interconnected so thoroughly with Eita’s, it was hard for you to distinguish where you ended and he started.

As the new bond settled over your entwined bodies, self-awareness soon floods back in to carry away the crushing feeling of losing that split-second deep-seated connection. Now you knew why bonded couples said mating was an entirely different sensation once bound. Nothing could compare to the high Semi and yourself flew into.

Being so thoroughly and intimately connected with you had Eita’s inner-alpha put at ease. Rumbling happily, Semi slumps onto your body and wrapping you up in strong arms, careful of the inflated knot still buried deep inside. Basking in the shared warmth of the new connection, you unconsciously began to purr in kind, satisfied to a base level.

A sudden question stirs you out of the stupor, one that leaves you burning to know the answer.

“Hey,” Semi hums, showing he’s listening. “Does that mean we’re partners now?”

Eita knew it was still a delicate moment and yet that didn’t deter the laughter that spilt from him. He professed his feelings to you, made love to you multiple times, fell asleep in your arms and mated you and yet you were still unclear where his feelings lied. The jolting of his chest bumped your head around. The feeling of being slighted was wiped away by the joyous sound and coaxed you to laugh alongside him. Not once in the years you’ve known him to laugh so freely, it was a beautiful sound that you wanted to hear more of.

Pulling you up and cupping your face, Eita’s thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks, leaving behind trails of a tingling sensation. Gazing deep into your eyes, he gives you a soft and open look.

“Of course. We’re mated now, so you’re stuck with me.”

“You promise?”

Semi shakes his head at you, knowing he signed himself up for a lifetime of your antics. A short reel of images flashed through his mind, mapping out his future with you. It was a future filled with laughter, passion and endless nights spent together. It was a future so bright it made his heart hurt from how full it felt.

Eita could spend a thousand nights trying to convey these feelings and still never truly encompass how far that love stretched. Instead, he presses a loving kiss onto your mouth; it was a good start. Closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in deeper.

The movement knocked Semi’s slowly deflating knot from your hole, signified by the sensation of his cum slowly escaping your hole. Saddened by the loss of the physical connection, your pout was replaced by Semi’s lips as he pulled out with a slick noise. Lust did still nip at you, but it was sedated and easily ignored. Breaking the kiss, Semi placed three pecks in succession, causing you to instantly cheer up. The new bond breached all senses of physicality, proven by the wave of love that washes over you from his end.

“We really need another shower.”

“It can wait. I want to cuddle.” While you did feel gross from being covered in drying body fluids, it didn’t stop you from caving to his wish.

“Fine. You have to help clean me up, though. It takes two to make this mess.” Semi shakes his head at you with an amused expression. You both knew how that will go down. Eita could swear that his hands felt magnetised to your skin, so he’d probably dirty you up more in the shower.

Clutching you to his chest, you found yourself listening to his heartbeat. The satisfied scent permeating the room was soon joined by one of elation exuding from your tired forms. Between the pacifying scent of bergamot, the steady rise and fall of his chest below your cheek, and the circles he drew onto your back, it was a lost battle against the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids.

Reaching behind himself, he fishes for the long-forgotten blanket that had been kicked to the side and draws it over both you both. A comfortable warmth radiates from your intertwined bodies as you both drift away to sleep, heads filled with nebulous thoughts of the future spanning before the two of you.

Notes: Critiques, Comments & Notes are always appreciated!!

#semi eita x reader #semi x reader #a/b/o au #a/b/o dynamics #haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #semi eita #SBBU part 2 #this took me 2 months and 2 other projects to finally finish #shiratorizawa #haikyu!! x reader #haikyu!! fic

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