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devildomdisaster · 3 years

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Comfort spell gone wrong (the dateables)

Anonymous asked: for the lore Olympus ask but with the dateables. (Deleted this ask by accident but here it is)

Comfort spell gone wrong

Not only had the brothers been completely horrible the past few weeks but even your friends in purgatory hall and Diavolo himself had been too busy for you.

You understood that Simeon was busy helping Luke work through some things. But still, being brushed aside after the brothers had been so cruel towards you hadn’t helped your crumbling self-worth.

Solomon had heaved a big sigh and told you “They're demons Mc. It’s what they do. You’re going to have to grow a thicker skin. Besides, I don’t have time to help you with something so trivial.” Before handing you a page from a spellbook “if you really can’t deal with it yourself use this for comfort.”

You’d undeniably ruined Barbatos’s hard work when you’d tripped and tipped over the cake he’d been working on all morning. The demon had shooed you from his domain with barely concealed rage and asked you not to come back until “you can prevent yourself from causing me more work.”

Diavolo, despite always telling you you could come to him with your troubles, had snapped that Solomon seemed to be doing just fine. “So maybe you need to try harder, Mc. Rather than blaming your problems on other people.”

The spell Solomon had given you seemed simple enough. Although it was in an unfamiliar mix of Latin and Infernal. Couldn’t hurt to try though. At least not anymore than you were already hurting. You’d cast the spell, stumbling through a few words and thinking it hadn’t worked when nothing happened. Figures you couldn’t do it, you were still new to magic and just as useless at it as everyone had so kindly reminded you the last few days. It still sapped your energy though, stupid spell. You closed your eyes thinking that maybe it was better that the spell didn’t work. You’d never live down the embarrassment if anyone found out you tried to use a comfort spell.

Lucifer calls the others asking if anyone has seen you, after several days of radio silence from you. Solomon, Luke, and Simeon rush to the house of Lamentation once they hear you haven’t been seen for days. They find Lucifer and the brothers crowded around you, worriedly discussing the spell which has covered you and your room in vines. Babratos and Diavolo are already there, both looking guilty. Solomon feels his stomach drop when he recognizes the page from the spellbook.

“Lucifer, I recognize that spell, I gave it to them when-” Solomon begins

“Yes, it figures you would have your hands in this Solomon.” Lucifer glares.

It’s Simeon who steps forward to undo the spell, giving Luke’s shoulder a comforting squeeze on his way by. “Lucifer if you would,” he says gesturing to your form “this will take both our magics to undo, I believe.”

Solomon:

Shit, shit! Solomon recognizes that spell! He gave it to you.

It wasn’t supposed to do this, it was just a simple comfort spell!

But he can’t help feeling responsible for what's happened.

He feels like he should have known, should have realized something was going on when he gave you that spell.

You’d just wanted to talk, but he was so caught up in trying to find a way to make pacts with the brothers that he totally brushed you off.

He handed you a page out of a spellbook instead. And told you to deal with things yourself.

Solomon is crushed. He has always told you that if you ever need to talk to another human, he’d be there. But he wasn’t. He told you to deal with it alone.

When Simeon and Lucifer break the spell he is by your side in an instant.

Hands fluttering over your body, brushing withering plants off you. Feeling utterly useless.

The spell had gotten so convoluted and twisted in ways he’d never seen before, he hadn’t even been able to break it.

You blink your eyes open, Solomon’s distraught face coming into focus.

“Mc, I shouldn’t have given you that spell. I’m so sorry. I-I said I’d always help you if you needed me but all I did was hurt you instead.”

He wants to distance himself from you. But he knows that won’t make you feel any better. It won’t make him feel better either.

Instead, he’ll be far more careful with the magic he gives you. He’ll start teaching you more magic, so you can practice spells safely.

But he’ll also do his best to make sure you never need a comfort spell again.

He wants to be your comfort.

Solomon will plan elaborate outings and magic filled dates. He gets all these grand ideas and half of them turn into disasters but somehow he’ll make sure the two of you still have fun.

It’s easy for Solomon to forget that he needs to communicate better. But he’s trying. Instead of snapping at you again he’ll be sure to set aside time for himself. Besides, being in the Devildom is more fun with an apprentice anyways, plus teaching you magic gives him plenty of time to make sure you are happy too.

Simeon:

Simeon is shocked when he sees you.

A shiver runs down his spine when he feels the spell sucking the energy from your body.

His eyes don’t miss the botched comfort spell on the ground and he wonders why you didn’t come to him.

And then he realizes. You did. But he brushed you off to help Luke and even when you were hurting you didn’t want to burden him.

He feels like he’s failed you by making you feel like you couldn’t come to him.

When you open your eyes Simeon is the first thing you see.

He gently brushes the plants from your face and hair.

“Oh my sweet little lamb, you are never a burden to me. I am so sorry I made you feel you couldn’t come to me.”

Simeon brings you to Purgatory hall while your room is cleaned.

He gently untangles bits of plant matter from your hair, humming what must be some Celestial lullaby to you.

“Mc,” he begins once he’s removed the remaining plants from your hair and skin, and you’ve allowed yourself to relax into him. “Forgive me, Mc. I should have seen how much you were hurting.”

He is being so gentle with you. But his voice takes a stern edge as he tells you “Next time you feel like this, promise me you will come to me. If you tell me what’s going on I will always have time for you.”

Simeon makes sure to check in on you now, to make time for you. He’ll invite you to Purgatory hall for dinners and/or sleepovers. Oftentimes Luke joins you. But sometimes he’ll sneak you in so the sleepover is your little secret.

Diavolo:

Oh, Mc! He hasn’t seen a spell like this in centuries.

He knows it’s a mistake, but the power it must have taken to cast this spell is impressive.

He’s curious to know what kind of power you’ll have after you’ve been trained properly.

That not to say he isn’t concerned, it's just he knows the spell can be undone, and he finds it easier to deal with the situation if he doesn’t think about how close he came to losing you.

He’ll request that the brothers keep a closer eye on you, not that they weren’t going to anyway.

Diavolo will scoop you from the tangled vines, brushing the remaining vines from your skin as he carries you from your room.

He sits down on his throne, with you still held in his arms. For a moment you're afraid of his thunderous expression.

And then his eyes soften. “Mc,” he whispers. Emotion making his throat tighten, choking off his voice. “Why?”

“Why don’t you find a human who can do better than me Diavolo? You said so yourself, I’m a disappointment.”

“Mc, I didn’t mean! I didn’t want you to-! I didn’t”

He knows what he said. But he never meant for you to take it to heart like this. He was just stressed and he took it out on you.

“I’m sorry, Mc. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. You haven’t disappointed me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you can’t rely on me. Please understand that I would do anything in my power for you.”

A frightening promise from the prince of the Devildom.

Diavolo is careful to control himself in the future. To prevent himself from letting his stress and anger get the better of him.

Careful to remind you how important you are to him, and not just because you are an exchange student, but because he cares for you.

Barbatos:

Anger. Fear. Barbatos tumbles between the two emotions.

It seems that by placing you in this timeline to protect you from Belphagor’s anger he has put you in a new kind of danger. One he didn’t see coming.

This makes him question his decision not to look into the future more than necessary.

Humans are so fragile. And this is just more proof of that fact.

Barbatos is by your side the moment you wake up.

He is lifting you to your feet and guiding you from your room.

Barbatos is a perfect gentleman as he helps you clean up. Helping you scrub the plants from your skin, wrapping you in the softest blankets.

But he remains silent the whole time.

Once you are safely tucked into bed Barbatos speaks. “Mc, I know I have made you feel useless. I should not have taken my anger out on you. I should have known better.”

For a moment you think he’s going to leave, that that’s all he is going to say.

But then he asks if he can stay with you. If the answer is yes, he’ll curl around you in your bed. Holding you to him as if you are likely to disappear.

It has been a long time since Barbatos has had something or someone he has been afraid to lose. “I’m sorry Mc. Please know you can come to me, even if I may be upset. I’d rather you make me face my shortcomings then lose you.”

Barbatos starts having you over for tea more often. He’ll take you on errands with him, if he thinks you’d find them at all interesting.

Mostly he just wants more excuses to spend time with you.

This made him realize how important you are to him and he’ll make sure you know it.

Luke:

Scared little sibling vibes.

Luke is so scared to see you like this!

You are so still and pale that he thinks you might be dead.

When you open your eyes he is so relieved.

Please don’t scare him like this again!

He’s got tears in his eyes, and he half yells half cries at you “Mc! You- you can’t just do something like this. What if- if you had died? I know these demons-” he shoots a watery glare at the demons “can make you feel sad but you’re my friend.”

He’ll ask you to stay at Purgatory hall for a while. He 100% thinks this is all the brother’s fault.

In fact he wants you to move into Purgatory hall permanently and he is so insistent that Diavolo might just let you if that's what you want.

He’ll make sure you know that he sees you as a big sibling, a friend that he could never replace “so please don’t think nobody cares Mc. I know we’re not really related but you’re like a sibling to me.”

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bokukawas · 3 years

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two sides of the same coin

pairing; Itadori Yuuji x Reader (x Sukuna, at least kinda/implied)

warnings; i didn’t proofread this at all lol

a/n; woke up this morning with this imagine in mind so naturally i had to get it out of my head

summary; cuddle time with your boyfriend makes the monster come out... only he doesn’t seem that scary to you / seriously this is just a little something, don’t expect much of this

word count; 1,9k

Your boyfriend, Itadori Yuuji, leans heavily against you as soon as you open the door to him. Pressing his face into the crook of your neck and moaning dramatically as he puts his arms around you to squish you against his broad chest and puts even more of his weight on you. Snorting you stumble a step back, arms reaching around him to steady both of you, with little succes as you keep stumbling back because he was a beefy guy and you had trouble keeping him upright.

“Yuuji, what are you doing, you’re heavy” you huff as you stagger another step backwards, his face never leaving your neck as he sighs again.

“’m tired.” Came his nuzzled answer against your collar, leaving goosebumps in his wake as his hot breath tickles over your exposed skin.

“I can tell. C’mon then, I have dinner ready for you.”

You maneuver your boyfriend to your shared kitchen and sit him down on a chair so you have your hands free to get his food ready. He watches you with big tired eyes the whole time, exhaustion making them droop and close from time to time, seemingly without him even noticing it. He looked cute, as usual, a little disheveled, but still utterly cute and a warm feeling spread in your chest again as you watched him slowly stuff his face with what you prepared for him, munching happily, but slowly. Another indicator at how exhausted he must be, you thought to yourself. Usually the food would be gone in little to no time.

“Can we watch a movie now? I want to cuddle.” Your simple approving hum was answer enough for him. Instead of waiting for you to clean up, he wraps his arms around your middle as soon as you were close enough to him and carries you to the living room as if you would weight nothing. Well his inhuman strength sure came in handy sometimes.

Gently putting you down on the couch, he hands you the tv remote, before flopping down on you entirely, arms going around your hips as he snuggles his face into your lap. Another sigh leaves his lips, this time sounding very content as you tenderly run your fingers through his hair. You chuckle.

“You don’t even want to watch a film, you just want to be cuddled, am I right?”

“No, but you can choose the movie.”

“Liar. You don’t even have your eyes open.” You laugh as you poke his cheek. “Such a big baby.”

“Mhh don’t stop.” He grumbles when he couldn’t feel your fingers comb through his hair anymore.

Absentmindedly you just put on a random documentary on Netflix, focus never leaving your boyfriends face. Or what you could see of it anyways, as he had it mushed against your thighs.

“Hard mission today? Want to talk about it?” you ask as you continue to run your fingers through his pinkish hair, grazing your nails along his neck exactly how he likes it.

A first approving hum and another declining hum vibrate against your legs and you smile fondly down at him. It has been a long time since he last came home this exhausted. At times like this, you were actually happy that he had the king of curses residing inside of him. Sukuna surely would intervene when it got dangerous enough, making sure Yuuji, and therefore he himself would survive.

Continuing to gently caress your boyfriend, you start thinking again. It has been some time now since Yuuji had last lost control and let Sukuna emerge. It also usually happens when he was as exhausted as he currently was: when he was letting his guard down.

And sure enough, as your fingers trail down his neck, scratching at his scalp before slightly massaging his muscles you could see them: faint black lines appearing all over your boyfriends body. They disappear just as quickly when Yuuji moves a little, readjusting his weight on you, making it even easier to access his neck just how he likes it.

Soon enough his breathing evens out again, chest lifting and falling slowly, drooling a little as he drifts off for real this time. Black lines appear again all over him. Smiling, you trace your finger along one of them, noticing the little shudder the man tries to hold back. Humming, you continue to caress your boyfriends face and neck. Your smile only grows as time goes by, so when finally a red eye pops open on your boyfriends’ cheek you snicker.

“Who would’ve thought that the king of curses likes to be babied as well…” you mock, as you gently run your finger below his eye, pulling it quickly away when a mouth appears to snap at it.

The man currently in your lap was not your boyfriend anymore and you knew that. Of course you did. As soon as the markings appeared he was gone, yet you just knew Sukuna wouldn’t hurt you. When this switch had happened the first time without Yuuji noticing, you had freaked out and poked him hardly, which woke him up instantly and made Sukuna disappear in a matter of seconds. He was just as freaked out as you were about it then, so you had kept it a secret that it had happened after that again. And again.

So now, when 3 more red eyes stared up at you as he lifted his head a little you only sigh, but run your hands through his hair nonetheless.

“Rough day for you as well, hm? You’re not very chatty today.”

Sukunas much deeper voice rumbles against your thighs as he rests his head there again and whines. “I think I was the only one having a rough day. The brat nearly got himself killed…again.”

Stopping your ministrations, you fix your eyes on his face and wait for him to elaborate. When he does not, you pull at his hair a little. “Could you please explain how my boyfriend nearly got himself killed…again!?”

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“What?” you ask confused.

He lifts himself up again, giving your hands a pointed look, making you groan. “You’re so demanding.”

“I’m the king of curses, you should do as I say or you’ll die.”

“Oh shut up, you were literally drooling in my lap two minutes ago.”

“I wasn’t, the brat was. I could kill you right now.”

Rolling your eyes you shove your hands back into his hair a little rougher than necessary, pulling on strands of his hair as he still didn’t tell you what happened. “Tell me or I’ll stop again.”

Your leg heats up as he exhales against it slowly and then starts telling you what happened. Yuuji was a decent fighter you knew that, but you also knew that one of his weak points were his friends and loved ones. And today that had proved to be the problem.

“I had to grow back his whole arm,” he complains. “If I hadn’t switched with him he would have bled to death right there.”

Your hands falter again. So it had been really bad today. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell you about it. “Hey honey, I nearly died today, how was your day?” Goosebumps raise on your arms as you imagine how the day could have gone if Sukuna had not meddled. Instead of your tired boyfriend coming home to you, a random worker from jujutsu tech, telling you he died. Or even worse, one of his close friends coming to deliver such a horrendous message. You involuntarily shudder.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine.”

Cupping his cheek, you make him look up at you. “Thank you, Sukuna.”

“I only did it to safe myself.”

“That doesn’t mean I appreciate it any less.”

His mouth already pulled into a snarl, ready to give a snarky remark when the lines on his body started rapidly fading again and a droopy Yuuji was looking at you again.

“Sorry sweetie, were you talking to me?” he yawns loudly and squishes his face even more into your lap, snuggling in again. “I’m just so tired.”

Gently running your fingers over his face, you poke him in the cheek. “Let’s go to bed then puppy, you need to rest properly.”

It was obvious that Yuuji didn’t want to move away from his place on top of you, but he also knew you were right. As nice as your fingers in his hair felt, in the end this position would strain his neck and make him even sorer than he already was. So he reluctantly got up and got himself ready for bed, humming happily when he saw that you joined him in the bathroom.

With the toothbrush still dangling from his mouth he asks you what you had been saying earlier. Pondering if you should tell him that you’ve been talking with Sukuna, and not for the first time at that, you decide against it…for now. He would surely freak out again and lose all of his tiredness if you told him now and then he wouldn’t be able to rest. And he so very clearly needed to rest. You could tell him tomorrow morning, you decided. So you tell him you’ve only been rambling along a little.

After brushing his teeth, he leaves you alone to do your evening routine, but not before he discards his shirt and trousers in the laundry basket. He was one of those persons who always ran hot, so he only slept in his boxers. Who needed a blanket or clothes when they could have their girlfriend warm them up, right? That was his motto. You snort when he came back to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, telling you to hurry.

When you came to the bedroom shortly after that, he was already sprawled out in bed, opening his arms for you to lay on top of him, so you do. Resting your face on his chest, snuggling closer so you could press little kisses to the underside of his chin, making him laugh. His comforting smell soon engulfs you and you nuzzle your nose harder against him, silently thanking Sukuna again for saving your boyfriend. In return, you can feel his arms wrap around you even more tightly.

“Yuuji?” you softly whisper. He only hums for you to know he heard you, and gives a little squeeze to encourage you to continue speaking.

Lifting yourself up a little, you press a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

Yuuji pops open an eye at that, pulls you close again and kisses you back, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, pouring all his love for you into the kiss, instead of just saying ‘i love you’ back.You smile against his lips. “Good night.”

Taking up your position on his chest again, you close your eyes as well, listening to his soft breathing and little snores. Eventually it gets silent again and you feel two more arms wrap around your middle. Now too tired yourself to lift up your head and look at Sukuna, you just press a soft kiss against his chest as well, mumbling a “thank you again, ‘kuna.” Into his chest, before falling asleep yourself.

You miss the fond smile that grazes the curses lips as he beholds you, laying there utterly at peace in his arms and sighs. Maybe he did save that brat not only for his own benefits after all.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #sukuna #i don't know what this is #i just want to cuddle with them both so much #nana do u see this #this is what happens when we rewatch jjk #the cuddle urge with yuuji is so strong ugH but sukuna as well #twosidescoinfic #mywriting

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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not allowed iv, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): est. poly relationship – jungkook x reader x yoongi

summary: Your boyfriends woke up and chose violence. Excuse me, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi? Do you really think you can post one after another on Twitter, send the world into heart palpitations, and not expect your girlfriend to do something about it? Hmm?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of the pandemic; reader and Yoongi have giant heart eyes whenever they see each other; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, nipple play, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, m-masturbation, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS

that’s right JK posted his blue hair and i absolutely lost it part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your boyfriend asked JJK to fuck you, then again, and then they decided to make this a thing; based on real time.

Your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Everything was fine. You were on your lunch break, sitting in your kitchen, knowing you would have to get back to work soon. A quick meal and scrub of the dishes left you with you a few minutes to check your phone. You didn’t get many messages throughout the day and you preferred it that way. You took a moment to scroll through social media.

Only to choke a little seeing Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, reveal his dark blue locks to the world in the middle of the damn day. Did you almost drop your phone? Yes. Did you not because it was the special edition BTS S20+? Also, yes. The TinyTan SUGA phone case would have protected it anyway, but… still.

You placed your phone aside and went back to your computer, ready to attend work again.

Not quite composed, but it was just a picture, just a picture, just a picture…

Except you knew what Jungkook looked like naked and that wasn’t helping.

Three hours later, you snuck a glance at your phone only to be attacked by the cutest human being in the world, Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, sometimes Agust D, all the time lil meow meow because, holy shit, why the fuck was this man so cute? Those damn cheeks. Those eyes. Fuck, you loved his eye shape. And his pretty lips. Damnnit, why couldn’t you kiss him right now?

They’re trying to kill you and ARMY all at once.

You’re convinced.

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath.

It is only a coincidence. It doesn’t involve you. They’re only being their usual adorable, attractive selves and giving a gift to the fans. You weren’t delusional. It was their job to do things like this. You knew this and you were used to it. You’ve seen Yoongi say all kinds of things in V-LIVEs and you always thought it was funny. Lately, he hadn’t been responding to them much though. As for Jungkook, well.

Everyone in the world wanted Jungkook, including you, so could you blame the world? No.

Jungkook tried to tell you before that he was shy and you recalled all those see-through shirts he’d worn on stage. All those ab reveals. Hmm, you weren’t fooled.

“I wanted to make sure you were looking at me, noona,” Jungkook had teased you, hooking his arms around your waist. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

Yeah, yeah, your attention and millions of other people.

It made you laugh, until he became your boyfriend, and now it made you choke on air like every other human being who saw him looking that good. Before you had the safety of giving your full attention to Yoongi. Yoongi had always been your priority and you wanted to make sure he felt that way.

Little by little.

Jungkook grew up.

And became harder and harder to ignore.

Even more difficult when Yoongi gave him the apartment key and told him to fuck you in his stead.

You heard your phone ping. You checked your messages, saving your work in the process.

That will teach you to post such sexy pictures.

You twitched. Excuse me? What was Jungkook talking about? Your personal, private Instagram was for expressing your – sometimes eccentric – fashion sense. Was he referring to the images you posted for Valentine’s Day, the ones with the white vinyl coat, red stockings, and sky-high red heels? Hmph. You couldn’t even see your face in those. Actually, you deliberately cut off most of your face in all of your pictures. The most you showed were your lips, always painted to match your outfit. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you, even by happenstance.

Made taking pictures much easier, since you never had to do eye makeup or worry about accidentally making ugly faces.

It was private now, but it wasn’t before, and the only reason you privated it was because you started dating Yoongi. You still wanted it use it as an outlet though, so you left it as is, with your follower count unchanging. It wasn’t that many people to begin with and you were pretty sure a lot of the accounts were bots.

In any case, sometimes you felt like being creative and dressing up, thus you did so on Instagram. You couldn’t dress like that when you went to visit Yoongi. Ah, and now Jungkook too. To be honest, you loved fashion and trying on different looks, but it wasn’t possible unless you were alone. And you were alone a lot, with no one but strangers to appreciate (or be confused by) it.

Might as well take a picture, right?

And if you could tease Yoongi a little, at least from a distance, that was even better.

You forgot Jungkook also followed you now though.

Dammit.

Had the photos been sexy? Sure. Provocative, lots of leg, almost a peek of ass but not quite. Red lips to stand out against the white. If the coat was black, it would have been more traditionally fetishist, but that's why you had picked shiny white vinyl. Brighter for the cute holiday.

Who are you kidding? You wore it to provoke Yoongi.

He texted you after you posted it. Usually, he said things along the lines of, pretty, cute, you look crazy, I like it. Only sometimes did he say...

what the fuck

You had asked him if he liked your post today.

I'm not trying to pop a boner in the middle of practice, control yourself woman.

Maybe don't post such cute selfies then, you had thought. Then your phone pinged again.

Send a picture with the coat open. Jungkook wants to see.

Oh, so now that the maknae was involved, he was going to pin things on the younger one. Two can play at this game. You sent the photo to Jungkook first. You knew that if the situation was reversed, Yoongi would have done the same. Jungkook's reaction had been hilarious.

Noona?! WHAT???

And then a slew of head exploding emojis.

Yoongi had been agitated until you finally sent him the picture too. It had been a fun incident.

Until your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Dammit.

You stared at blue-haired Jungkook and 'Blue and Grey' Yoongi from the MTV Unplugged performance.

This just wasn’t allowed.

This visit had a purpose, but then you saw Min Yoongi standing in the hallway waiting for you, wearing an olive-green shirt, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, small smile on his lips. Purring your name lovingly after you closed the door, and you realized you missed him so very much, his lovely dark brown eyes and dark hair, and then you were suddenly in his arms and he was hugging you.

With both arms.

Yoongi was recovering well and he still couldn't do strenuous activity yet, but he was hugging you with both arms and you wanted to cry because it was so nice to have them both around you. You could've been cool and collected, yet somehow both you and Yoongi had the same idea to first hug and breathe in each other, his fresh, woodsy scent strongly invading your nose and his soft cheek against yours.

"You smell different."

"Do you like it?" you mumbled into his neck, kissing it lightly.

"Mhm."

You thought it had worn off by now, but the new perfume you had purchased lingered far longer than you imagined, clinging to your hair. Warm spiced sweetness with a hint of sharp smoke. Yoongi inhaled deeply beside you.

"You should wear more perfume," he murmured, hands kneading your waist.

"Someone might notice."

"Nah, your taste similar enough to mine."

He was taking off your coat and you were stepping out of your shoes, being pulled deeper into the apartment, and now his kisses were yours, soft and light, every one saying, I missed you, I want you, I love you. There no need for words when it was Min Yoongi. Fingers tapping down your waist, pulling your oversized black shirt up and over your head.

"Excuse me?"

You pooped your head out to see Yoongi staring at your chest, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Oh, right. You had been so occupied with hugs and kisses that you almost forgot. Your shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten.

You smirked.

"Surprise."

Yoongi made a face at you. Somewhere between angry, aroused, and shock. Good. Serves you right for posting such a cute selfie.

The front door opened.

Both of you instantly moved, you sliding behind him and into the bedroom, Yoongi standing in front of you, masking your frame. The discarded shirt and jacket could be explained away – that's why you wore oversized men's clothes, usually in Yoongi's preferred color palette.

"Hyung?"

Oh, whew. Actually, wait. No, this was danger.

"Ah, Jungkookie."

Yoongi placed his hand on your arm and you popped your head over the corner once you heard the door close. Yup. A swift shake of dark blue locks, white sweatshirt and loose black sweatpants, and that mischievous smirk with a wrinkle of his nose.

Danger.

"Hey, noona!"

Damnnit, planning for two is hard! You couldn't just go put your shirt on and do the grand reveal again. Yoongi grasped your upper arm with his right hand and yanked you from the doorframe. You squeaked, body stumbling into Jungkook’s view.

"Did you plan this?" Yoongi asked with a cocked brow.

Jungkook's eyes went wide.

"Uh... no, but I like where this is going," Jungkook replied, smirk growing.

The black lace bra stood out against your skin, strappy and elegant, molding to the swells of your breasts and the curve downward to your waist, matching the garter belt that disappeared into the black jeans you were wearing. You didn't usually wear lingerie. It wasn't practical and if you accidentally left something behind... it wasn't worth the risk. Yoongi and you took every precaution to not fuck this up.

Therefore, you only wore lingerie on your private Instagram.

Only showing little flashes, never the whole picture. And, really, you wore it in your photos to mess with them. It made you feel nice too, so it was a win-win. This set was familiar to Yoongi and Jungkook because you had worn the red version in the original Valentine’s Day themed photos.

Again, you didn't usually wear lingerie, but Jungkook and Yoongi couldn't just post pictures on Twitter back-to-back, two-shot you, and not expect a damn reaction. That kind of shit wasn't tolerated! On top of all that, you had to wait and get properly tested before getting here. This pandemic extended your frustrations. So, yes, fuck it, you wore the damn lingerie that made you feel the sexiest. Even if your jeans were still on, you knew you looked good.

No one had to tell you. You checked in the mirror before you left.

"Is this your response to my text a couple days ago?" Jungkook teased, kicking off his shoes and bounding over to you two. His dark blue hair shimmered in the light, like a night sky covered with stars, smile pure and naughty at the same time, lighting up his whole face.

Fuck you for being hot, Jeon Jungkook!

You leaned back against Yoongi, crossing your arms under your breasts, pressing them together. Jungkook grinned, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you.

"Something like that," you coolly replied. Shit, there was an edge to your voice. Hopefully neither Yoongi or Jungkook picked that up.

"Hmm..."

Jungkook pursed his lips, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out the side. Ack. You had to look away. You turned and bumped your lace-covered tits against Yoongi's chest. His dark brown orbs flickered to your breasts, sly smile on his lips.

"This is your fault too, by the way."

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, amused. "What do you mean?"

You dropped your hands, surveying him suspiciously. "You think I don't know? Posting right after Jungkook? That's not allowed! You know what that does to me."

Yoongi leaned forward. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating fast all of a sudden. You backed up, right into Jungkook's chest. Uh oh. Yoongi hummed, black hair shadowing his face, devious sparkle in those dangerous eyes, his voice a raspy, purring drawl.

"What does it do to you?"

Your hand fell back to brace yourself and Jungkook's fingers wrapped around your wrist, stroking your skin. You felt him shift behind you and then his lips were on your ear, whispering in his silvery voice.

"Yeah, noona. Tell us.” His grip on your wrist tightened, squeezing lightly, asserting his presence behind you. “Or you can show us."

...

!!!

How dare they tag team you? First, they visually attack you – and millions of other ARMY – in the middle of the workday, and now this, Yoongi closing in, kissing you once more, deeper, hungrier, with dark intent, smirking against your lips as Jungkook took both your hands, ghosting his long fingers over yours. You whimpered into Yoongi's mouth, body tensing, Jungkook pressing himself into your back, breath against your hair.

"You smell different," he murmured.

You couldn't reply. Yoongi was sucking on your tongue, making you whine.

"Warm, sweet, and spicy."

Yoongi released you and you gasped for air, bucking into Jungkook's crotch. "I bought it last week... thought it smelled nice..."

Jungkook nuzzled your hair. "I like it. Makes me horny."

You laughed a little, turning your hands around in his to lace your fingers together. He held your hands firmly, grinding his crotch into your ass. You could already feel his arousal through your jeans.

"Sounds dangerous," you mused.

"It is," Yoongi chuckled. "But you should keep wearing it anyway. You smell good."

Heat rose to your cheeks. Then you realized your jeans were already undone, being daintily pushed down by deft hands and an amused expression, Yoongi crouching to pull them along. Bit by bit, revealing the matching garter belt, the high-cut black lace panties that framed your thighs, and lace-topped sheer stockings, all the straps emphasizing your softness, sinking into your thighs and ass.

"Fuck..." Yoongi breathed, running his fingertips over the delicate fabric, touch so light against your skin, dancing up your knee. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He looked up at you, eyes so dark they seemed black, playful smirk on those perfect pink lips. Thump. You felt Jungkook pull your arms back and press them to his sides. You grabbed fistfuls of Jungkook’s shirt, staring down at Yoongi advancing between your legs, his smirk growing wider and more teasing, lovely voice low and husky, deep with arousal.

"What's the matter?" Yoongi purred. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your body tensed in anticipation, Jungkook's hands crawling around your sides, one tattooed, one not, fingers hovering over your now trembling chest. Looking down at Yoongi's smug expression, tongue flicking out and teasing you. Reminding you how good he was and how long you'd been waiting.

Fuck you for being hot, Min Yoongi!

"Don't overexert yourself..." you breathed.

A sculpted brow lifted.

"I have help now," he reminded you and Jungkook's hands sank into your barely-covered breasts.

"Fuck..." Jungkook hissed into your ear, running his palms over your nipples, listening to your gasps as Yoongi dived between your thighs, hot tongue sliding against the lace. "Missed these tits so fucking much." His lips on your ear, growling your name, that dominant edge to his silvery voice, tweaking the hardened nubs while Yoongi teased your clothed clit with his tongue, the lace hardly a barrier but still an effective one, the rough threads plucking against your sensitive nerves.

How long had it been? So long, almost forever since Yoongi’s tongue was on you, soft and fast and the perfect pressure, deliberately teasing you and not moving the fabric aside, so close yet so far. If it wasn’t Yoongi, maybe you could tell him to move it, maybe you could beg, but you couldn’t speak because of Yoongi’s tongue and Jungkook’s rough touch, his hands on your breasts, pushing them together, your nipples poking tiny tents in the black lace, running his fingertips over them over and over, his hips grinding into your ass. Yoongi cupped one of your ass cheeks and spread them, your panties bunching in the center, Jungkook’s hardness slipping in, still covered by his sweatpants.

Wetter, hotter, sanity slipping little by little.

“Y-Yoongi… J-Jungkook…”

You tried not to shove your hips in Yoongi’s face, not wanting to strain his neck, and ended up pushing back instead, bouncing against Jungkook’s cock. The younger man snickered, nipping at your ear, pinching your nipples, and you felt a slick squelch as Yoongi’s tongue pushed the lace into your dripping pussy. The moans dragged out of your throat, eyelids fluttering, letting them do whatever they wanted, pleasure flooding all your senses, watching Yoongi wreck you, clutching Jungkook’s sweatshirt, panting their names, leaking more and more, the scent of your juices getting stronger and sweeter.

“This isn’t fair…” you panted. “I’m going c-crazy…”

Yoongi hummed on your clit and you cried out, hips rocking, so good, head tipping onto Jungkook’s broad shoulder, his long blue hair brushing against your cheek and eyelashes.

“Good, because you make us crazy,” Jungkook muttered, pushing your breasts together and squeezing them roughly. His voice was so deep you could feel your back vibrate with his words. His other hand came up and gripped your chin, trailing down and fitting around your neck, the loose sleeve falling and revealing his forearm tattoos, contrasting your lace-covered skin. “Always looking so fucking pretty and making me want to fuck you…”

His index finger came up and pressed against your lower lip. Those chocolatey eyes were watching your face from his peripheral vision, smirking as he witnessed your expression.

“Even showing off these sexy, fuckable lips. That’s not fair either, noona.”

“T-That’s not…”

Jungkook’s hand at your throat dropped and you yelped, his large palm fitting around your right thigh and lifting it up, fingers sinking in. Stockings, lace, garter, Jungkook’s touch, holding your leg up and out, giving Yoongi a perfect view of your glistening core. Then there was more, too much more, Yoongi pushing aside your panties, soaked fabric snapping against the inside of your thigh and then his mouth was directly on you, oh, fuck, his tongue on your throbbing clit, lips wrapped around it, pure suffocating ecstasy, your slick juices dripping down his chin, so easy, it was just too easy for Yoongi to make you feel so fucking good and he looked so sexy doing it too, those cat-like eyes piercing into you, ordering you to cum for him, to spill all over his beautiful face.

“Yoongi… fuck, your tongue is so fucking good–”

Your body rippled with pleasure and you flung your head to the side, away from Jungkook’s ear to moan far too loud, filling up the entire hallway, wanton and lewd, absolutely pornographic and sinful in nature, orgasm gushing into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, shuddering against Jungkook’s hard body. So many sensations, too many sensations. Yoongi sank his nails into your ass, growling as he sucked out your cum and drank it, Jungkook grinding his stiff length in between your ass cheeks, spreading your leg so far that your left one was quivering with strain, tits squashed in Jungkook’s left hand, his warm tongue on your ear, whispering darkly. Dirty, sensual, and your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing, Min Yoongi’s mouth and Jeon Jungkook’s low octave driving you insane.

“You look so fucking good, noona. Your body is so fucking perfect, so sexy wrapped up in lace,” he exhaled, sliding his palm over your nipples roughly, earning more depraved moans. He lowered your leg, slowly, Yoongi lapping at your clit, sending shocks of pleasure up your torso as he cleaned you off. Jungkook’s hand slid down over your stomach, flicking the straps against your skin, small snaps of pain that made you gasp, trapped in Jungkook’s power, letting him take over you. He took a step back, forcing you to arch your spine and look up at him, a curtain of cobalt surrounding that handsome face and those intense brown eyes.

No one could make you feel the way Yoongi made you feel. No one.

So...

Why did staring up at Jungkook like this do things to you? Why did it put your heart on a string and tension in your throat? Get it together. You weren't a teenager. Ask for what you want. He was just so insanely attractive in every way.

Jungkook smirked and you wanted him to ruin you.

He lifted you up easily. You saw Yoongi standing up and wiping his chin, self-satisfied and amused. He tilted his head and plucked one of the straps on your stomach, a light, erotic sting. Yoongi made eye contact with you, locking you in his gaze. A single look, and your heart was fluttering, immediately smitten. One by one, fingers wrapping around a few of the straps and pulling you to him, backing up, leading you to the bed by own your lingerie.

"Why today?" Yoongi drawled, tracing the curve of the bra cup, sending shivers over your skin. "Feeling risky?"

You raised a brow, focusing on him, trapped in those cat-like eyes.

"Control yourself. Aren't you used to this body by now?"

Yoongi grinned devilishly, darting closer, leaving you breathless in his speed. The scent of his cologne and your orgasm lingered on his skin, a delicious combination.

"Never."

Kissing you, taking your startled inhale, and you could taste yourself, fuck, just something about his skilled lips and your taste had your fingers twisting into Yoongi's shirt, rolling your body into his, still being so careful, but it was so hard because he was making it so hard, teasing you with that deft tongue, bursts of pleasure with every heartbeat you had while captured in Yoongi's lips. You missed it, this intensity, the overwhelming feeling that Yoongi gave you, being able to give in to the want, but you still couldn't give in without abandon, but you were so close.

So close.

Ruin me.

He pushed you lightly and you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, the kiss suddenly broken, but the second touch was familiar now, one tattooed arm, one not, and you knew that if you fell, these arms could catch you.

Jungkook put you in his lap, your back touching his bare chest. Oh, shit. Before you could think much about it, he turned you so you were laying in his arms princess-style. He must have removed his sweatshirt while you were talking to Yoongi, but he still wearing his pants, now sitting in the side of the bed, blue hair messy from your hands and the removal of his clothes. Your arms hooked around his neck instinctively, not wanting to fall, but he had his right hand splayed across your shoulder blades, holding you up securely.

"Mmm, this is nice," Jungkook murmured, playfully smiling. He nuzzled your nose, tongue flicking over your lips. "Why did you make us wait so long, hm?"

You frowned, breath against his chin. "The number of cases got higher... and you all were so busy... I couldn't get tested until recently."

Jungkook made a disgruntled noise.

"Hey, public health and safety is important."

He pouted at you. "But..."

"He's horny and wants to fuck," Yoongi cut in.

"Hyung…!"

Yoongi pulled up his chair and sat down, looking amused.

"He's been jacking off to your pictures."

"N-no, I haven't!"

"Really? I have."

Yoongi's face was completely neutral. It was hard to tell if he was lying or not.

Jungkook tried to hide his flushed face with your hair. "... M-Maybe I h-have..."

"Tsk, tsk, naughty Jungkookie," you teased.

"Noona..."

"And you?"

You felt Yoongi grasp your chin, tipping you back in Jungkook's arms. Some of your hair fell over your eyes, hazing your vision of Yoongi. Even so, his intent was obvious. You could feel it in his gaze, the burning hunger, his fingertips caressing your chin, leaning forward slightly to observe you.

I want to ruin you.

Yoongi didn't have to say it. You knew it, pierced by the predatory glint in his eyes. You could tell he missed this, could tell that he wanted to give in to his desires, wanted to lose control, only limited by his own physical body.

However.

He pressed his thumb into your lower lip, lifting a brow.

Jungkook was here now.

Yoongi gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk.

"Ruin me," you whispered, staring into those cat-like dark brown eyes. The recognition was instant, pleased that you knew what he wanted. You shifted your attention to the maknae, his chocolate eyes wide, watching your tongue slide out and licking Yoongi's thumb. "Ruin me, Jungkook."

You loved the way Jungkook could turn from blushing anxiousness to sly confidence, and all it took was your words and the way you said them, enabling him in the best way possible. The dark blue hair helped accented the shift in demeanor, creating cool-toned shadows over his lightly tanned skin.

"Anything for you," Jungkook purred.

You gasped sharply as you felt two fingers slide into you, Jungkook’s thumb rubbing your overstimulated clit. Your body jerked, trying to get away, but Yoongi's hand on your chin slid down, pressing on your chest, holding you still, your name a dangerous rasp from Yoongi's lips.

"Stay still."

Your eyes flickered down. Right hand. Okay. You shouldn’t be worried anymore, but you were. It was habit.

"Yoon–ah!"

You gasped, left arm firmly behind Jungkook's shoulders and the other behind you, your hand on the bed to steady your balance as Yoongi shoved the bra cups down, exposing your breasts. He lowered his head, the contact of his lips on your hot skin paired with Jungkook's thrust of his fingers into your pussy. Instant waves of pleasure overtook you, fingers sinking into the sheets and Jungkook’s hair, fuck, his beautiful navy hair standing out against your skin and, for some reason, seeing that made you feel prettier, thrusting your chest in Yoongi’s face to get more into his mouth, spreading your legs wide to give Jungkook more access.

Only a brief moment of, I should know better, I shouldn’t be doing this, and then Yoongi’s eyes were on you, tongue flicking your red nipple.

Let go.

Was this even fair to them? Could you satisfy both? Could you and should you? But Yoongi’s eyes were telling you to let go, to chase the feeling, to give in, and hunt the desperation and the want. They wanted you. There was nothing like this and there will never be anything like this again.

“Give it to me,” Yoongi growled.

You whined sharply as you felt two more fingers push into you, but not Jungkook’s fingers, Yoongi’s fingers, his thumb joining Jungkook’s on your clit and your eyes rolled back, so wet and aroused from knowing both Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s fingers were thrusting into you, four in total, your pussy sucking them in, back arching as Yoongi sucked on your nipple. So much pleasure, rapidly ascending higher and higher, so fucking full and tight that their fingers were making sloppy smacking sounds, matching rhythm so they filled you completely together, all at once.

You couldn’t stop your hips from meeting them, fingers spreading out in Jungkook’s hair and the sheets as you came hard, gasping their names, euphoria soaring through your nerves, and still they didn’t stop even though your pussy was violently spasming, creating a messy splatter of your juices on the inside of your thighs and their hands. Instead, the pace changed, Yoongi switching sides on your chest, and then you really couldn’t think, because Jungkook was lowering his head too, and now both of your nipples were getting abused, Jungkook’s arm firmly under your upper back to hold you up, not letting you fall.

“Yoongi, Jungkook… p-please, oh fuck!”

Your other hand flew up and buried in Yoongi’s dark locks, both hands in their hair now, one blue, one black, another orgasm crashing down, moan torn from your chest. And they kept going, changing the pace again, your toes and fingers curling, every muscle tense with irresistible, consuming ecstasy that you almost felt a little numb, unable to compute anything else but your body scantily covered in lace, two mouths sucking on your nipples, four fingers stuffed into you, clit engorged and sending violent shocks throughout your system. You couldn’t even discern one orgasm from another, pussy continuously throbbing and convulsing with the continuous, chained orgasms, so wet that it was soaking the tops of your stockings, the sweet honey of your cum the predominant scent in the room.

“I… I-I can’t take a-anymore, please…”

Your legs threatened to close but Yoongi snapped his head up, snarling your name dangerously.

“One more,” he ordered. “Give us one more.”

“Your pussy feels so good,” Jungkook panted, saliva dripping down your chest. “I love it so fucking much, even when it’s around my fingers.”

You were trying to hold back, trying to control it, tensing everything, your core, your legs, your arms, and you didn’t even realize it, but you held your breath too, biting your lip and seeing Yoongi and Jungkook at the same time, both watching you, fingers punishingly squelching into your tight little hole, stretching it out unforgivingly, abused clit pulsating so hard it almost hurt, and it was exactly what you wanted, brimming, boiling pleasure that threatened you on the brink, closer, closer, closer, and the world was almost hazy with how ferociously you had constricted the coil.

“Fuck!”

You threw your head back, back abruptly arching and smacking them in the face with your tits as everything came plummeting down, resolve cracking with a wanton howl, orgasm racking through your entire frame so hard that your body lurched and flinched, Yoongi and Jungkook cradling you while you rode your high, grinding your hips into their hands and carnally moaning, liquid gushing out and dripping down your legs, your ass, down Jungkook’s sweatpants and onto the bed.

It was such an intense orgasm that you were lightheaded, hands slipping out of their hair and falling down, drained, aftershocks causing your body to shudder, even as they removed their fingers. Your clit was still throbbing, pumps of pleasure spreading through you.

It was obscene witnessing Yoongi and Jungkook cleaning their fingers off right in front of you, pink tongues sliding between the digits, licking off your viscous cum, giving you a perverse sense of satisfaction when Yoongi moaned softly and Jungkook groaned lowly, savoring your taste like a fine wine. Yoongi spied your exhausted, smug expression.

“Do you think you’re done?”

You gave him a weak smirk. “I better not be.”

“Sit in Jungkook’s lap,” Yoongi said calmly. “Face me.”

You tilted your head curiously but did as you were told, shifting your still quivering legs so your thighs were on the outside of Jungkook’s thighs, the balance a little difficult, but Yoongi took your hands and placed them around his hips. You held onto him as he lifted his shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Jungkook, rip her panties off.”

Wait, what did Min Yoongi just s–?

Two strong hands dug out the lace trapped in your ass and fastened around the thin fabric.

Riiiiiiip!

“Yoongi!”

The shirt fluffed his black hair as he removed it, dropping it onto his chair. You glared at him as Yoongi looked down at you, expression blank, dark brown orbs full of mischief.

“You knew it was going to happen. If he wasn’t going to rip it, I was.” Yoongi placed his right hand on his left shoulder. His tone dropped, mockingly rueful. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself, right?”

Yeah, this was why you didn’t wear lingerie.

But, also, this was why you wore it today.

You felt Jungkook tugging off the now useless pair of panties, plucking them out from under your garter belt. Oh well. You liked the red more anyway. That’s why you had bought two sets, after all.

“Remind me to take all the bits before I go,” you grumbled.

“Sure, noona.” Jungkook dangled the said lacy bits next to your head. You narrowed your eyes and mouth into slits even though he couldn’t see. “I’ll put them in my pocket.” You felt him shove them into his sweatpants.

Were you… going to remember?

Yoongi beckoned you. You shot him a warning look, still annoyed, but Yoongi pointed down to your hands on his hips.

“Isn’t there something you want?” Yoongi mused in that raspy, dark tone, the one that made your irritation fade instantly and replace it with arousal. “Take it.”

He cocked his head, shading his dark eyes with his hair, pink lips parting, the slightest hint of a smirk. Challenging you. Go on. Show me how much you want me. Your body still buzzed with the aftermath of moments before and yet you still lowered your head, sliding your hips back, sucking in a breath as your puffy pussy lips touched Jungkook’s toned chest, smearing yourself on his skin.

“Ooh, I like this,” Jungkook murmured, leaning back a little to give you space. You rocked your hips into his torso, his muscles flexing under you opening, inflamed clit brushing against his hardness. You pushed Yoongi’s pants and underwear down, dipping your head, hearing Yoongi breathe your name lustfully.

“That’s a pretty picture.”

He was only semi-hard, but he was getting harder and harder, watching you grind against Jungkook’s pecs. You knew exactly how to get him the hardest, dipping down and latching your mouth around one of his balls.

“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped, his hand coming up and fitting behind your head. You sucked it into your mouth and then extended your tongue, bouncing the other with your wet muscle while sucking the first one. The first time you did this, Yoongi was literally speechless, sputtering and confused at how you could stimulate both at once and in two different ways, sucking with your lips as your tongue flicked against the other, slurping slightly to add vibration over the sensitive skin. You felt his cock swell, smacking your cheek, fully hard at the combined sensations.

“I still don’t know how you do that,” Yoongi gritted out, keeping your hair away from your face.

“Do what?” Jungkook asked behind you, one hand on your ass and squeezing it.

“She can suck one of your balls and lick the other at the same time.”

“What?!”

You yelped at the sharp sting of Jungkook’s slap to your ass.

“How come you never did that for me?” Jungkook complained, whining a little.

You tried to lift your head, but Yoongi’s hand refused to move. You make a muffled noise of distaste, but Yoongi answered for you as you switched sides.

“Have you asked?” Yoongi replied calmly, sighing in satisfaction.

“How am I supposed to know she has porn star skills?”

“Is this a discussion for right now?” you mumbled into Yoongi’s balls.

“No, because you’re supposed to be swallowing.”

“Wha–”

The second your mouth opened, Yoongi nudged his cock between your lips and you wrapped them around it, moaning as his stiff length slid down your throat, so satisfying, his taste on your tongue, so delicious that you didn’t even want to complain, you only wanted to bob your head up and down, hands on his hips. Yoongi chuckled above you, guiding your head with his right hand, left loosely by his side. You slid your lower body up and down Jungkook’s chest, your increased slickness adding more stimulation.

“Fuck, that’s so damn hot,” you heard Jungkook groan. There was a rustle of fabric and then skin on skin, his muscular arm brushing against your stocking clad thigh with every stroke.

If only you could take a picture and could see how sexy you were, blowing Yoongi with his hand behind your head, tucking the head of his cock into your throat a little deeper every time you descended, your pussy sliding up and down Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook furiously jacking himself off while watching you suck his hyung off, feeling your slippery clit throb against his skin.

Good thing the door was locked, because of any other member walked in on this, it might have become a damn foursome.

“Close,” Yoongi panted, fingers digging into your scalp. “You want it like this?”

You hummed approvingly in your chest, increasing your pace and fucking Jungkook’s torso harder, nearing your end too, Jungkook moaning louder and pumping himself harder. So many indecent sounds, skin on skin, mouth on skin, hand on skin, moaning, crying out around Yoongi’s cock, his saliva-covered balls smacking you in the chin, you ass slapping down on Jungkook’s chest.

Hot, wet, positively sinful.

The chain reaction started with Jungkook. He came suddenly, choking on your name, shooting up your chest, warm stickiness splattering onto your skin and you squeezed your eyes shut, moaning as you came all over his chest, slippery and sweet, drenching his skin, throat muscles tightening, Yoongi whimpering your name, a rare moment of lost control as he thrust his hips into your lips, coating your throat with thick hot strings, forcing you to swallow fast, the pressure satisfying and overwhelming, gulping it all down eagerly.

You did ask to be ruined.

Just… a little more.

Your eyes were still closed, lazily licking Yoongi’s twitching length. He was panting above you, gently stroking your hair, words so soft that they were almost inaudible.

“I love you…”

You went all the way down and Yoongi groaned, your tongue flicking the top of his balls, rapid, swift laps that made his cock swell again, bending against the roof of your mouth. Yoongi chuckled, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Still want more?”

You backed up, panting hard, Jungkook’s cum clinging to your chest and lingerie, hair a mess from Yoongi’s hand.

“Want your cock in my pussy,” you demanded hoarsely. “Want you to fuck me, Yoongi.”

He pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”

You got off Jungkook’s lap, snaking around the younger man’s body, crawling onto the bed, eyes on Yoongi, his intense gaze following you, enticed by your movement. On all fours, hips in the air, dropping your chest down a little, the curve of your back accentuating the roundness of your bare ass. Still in your garter belt and stockings, your bra half-off, the lowered cups pushing your breasts together invitingly. Jungkook turned his head, pink lips parting as your fingers fanned out over the sheets, one eyebrow arching gracefully.

“Jungkook in front. Yoongi behind.”

“Do… Do you want a towel or something, noona?” Jungkook asked, blinking rapidly at your assertiveness.

“I want to get fucked and I want to get fucked now, so get over here.”

“Bed’s going to be a mess,” Yoongi remarked, moving quickly, shedding his pants and going for the nightstand, taking out a condom.

“We can sleep in Jungkook’s room,” was your dry reply, yanking Jungkook’s hips towards you after he removed his sweatpants.

“Wha– ack!”

You spread his legs out in front of you, eyes roaming over his naked body, admiring it all, his legs, his abs, his pecs, covered in your drying juices, his adorable surprised face, navy curls around his chiseled cheeks, chocolate eyes round and awed at your prowess. Your hands were on his knees, breasts hanging down, breathing hard, adrenaline humming in your veins.

“You are so fucking pretty it’s unreal,” Jungkook breathed.

You grinned.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck my face.”

Jungkook grinned back at you.

You dove down, tits bouncing before becoming squashed against the bed, Jungkook’s drying cum flaking off as you wrapped your lips around one of his balls, moaning as you felt Yoongi’s hands firmly grip your hips.

“You have to help me a little,” Yoongi murmured.

“I will, hyung.”

“I mean her too,” the older man chuckled, smacking your ass playfully. Your tongue flitted out, slurping at Jungkook’s other ball from the side of your mouth as you sucked the first one, wiggling your ass at Yoongi to indicate that you heard him. Jungkook yelped, hands slamming down onto the pillows and clutching them, moaning out your name.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, holy shit…” His head hit the headboard lightly, speaking to the ceiling and maybe even the higher power himself. “H-How...? Why does it feel s-so good…?”

You felt Yoongi slide in, so easy because of all those back-to-back orgasms, and yet he still hissed at your tightness, muscles holding him firmly. You could cry with how good it felt, Yoongi finally fully inside you once again, filling you up just the way you liked, knowing how to hit your deepest spot right away, skillful and wonderful. You licked up Jungkook’s now hard length, moaning deeply as you slapped your hips back into Yoongi’s crotch. Yoongi moaned to match yours, enraptured by the feeling.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, nails digging into your ass. “Missed you so fucking much, my love.”

“I’ll do the moving, love,” you gasped back, squeezing Yoongi’s cock inside you. You reached for Jungkook’s right hand and grabbed it, planting it on your head. “Fuck my face, Jungkook. Please. Don’t hold back until you cum.”

Jungkook bit his lip, exhaling your name. “I think I love you.”

“And I definitely love you, so please give it to me.”

You closed your lips around him and sank down, looking up at him and his sweaty dark blue hair, his blown-out pupils, his outstretched tattooed arm, so fucking hot, fuck yes you loved him, him and his body and his work ethic and his sweetness and his firmness as he obeyed your command, thrusting into your mouth from below, filling your throat with the thick head.

Perfect.

You rocked your hips back to Jungkook’s rhythm, matching him, slow at first, but gradually faster, rougher, planting your hands on the bed for balance, completely focused on clenching your core and your mouth to fit the two cocks, giving them the maximum amount of pleasure that you could offer, suffocating them with tightness. It if was obscene before, it was ten times obscener now, Yoongi’s hand on your hip, barely having to move as you smacked your ass into him, Jungkook lurching you forward with his force, clenching his jaw as he chased his release, the bed screaming for help and none of you listening.

“You’re so fucking sexy, fuck, you always make me feel so good, can’t help but want you, need you, miss you so fucking much,” Jungkook gritted out, fingers curling in your hair, desperately and viscerally whimpering out your name as you tipped your head to change the angle, the sensitive head dragging against the roof of your mouth as he buried himself in your throat. “You’re so good to me, such a soft and tight mouth, fuck.”

You arched your back a little more, Yoongi hitting you deeper, hearing him suck in a tight breath at your movement.

“Tighter,” Yoongi growled. “I’m close, come on, give it to me.”

And then he smacked your ass with his open palm, making you moan around Jungkook’s thick cock, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s entire length, and then again, smack! Control slipping with every hit, falling into Jungkook’s pace, the sheer force of his hips pushing you down on Yoongi’s cock over and over, now only focused on hollowing out your cheeks and gripping Yoongi’s cock, the sudden twitching indicating that Yoongi was close, so close, holding out a little so he could watch you longer, torturing you just the way you liked, but he couldn’t hold out for long because you didn’t let him, walls pulsating around him brutally as you came, stuffed so full that you couldn’t think. Yoongi groaned your name, gripping your ass with both hands and digging his nails in your softness, cock jolting as he came in thick pumps, filling up the condom and swelling it against your walls.

It took Jungkook a little longer, but not that much longer, your mouth still locked tight and he hissed out your name, whimpering as he came down your throat, filling it with cum once again, so fast that you had to swallow hastily to breathe, and yet there was more, thick salty dribbles that made you moan, so delicious that you leaned into it, sucking Jungkook dry.

“A-ah, n-noona…”

Your body ached, flinching from oversensitivity, your mind swimming with pleasure. Had it ever felt this good before? You slid off Jungkook’s cock, falling against his thigh and using it like a pillow, chest heaving, sticky all over, lips overused, pussy throbbing, barely realizing that Yoongi had pulled out, far too spent to see straight.

“Fuck, I love you two…”

Yoongi’s face suddenly appeared, smug expression above you. He had crawled over your body, ruffled black hair hanging down, dark cat eyes gleaming.

“Romantic.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Mmm.”

He leaned down and kissed you, smiling against your lips, mouthing his love to you, forming each word against your skin slowly so you knew. You smiled back, showering him with light pecks, mouthing the words back to him. Yoongi purred and lifted himself up, taking you with him.

“I can’t move,” you complained, using your arms to push yourself up to avoid straining Yoongi’s shoulders. He chuckled, not the least bit fooled by your whines. He pushed you into Jungkook’s hard chest, covered in sweat and cum, and sandwiched you between them, your face right beside Jungkook’s, cheek to cheek. You could feel the heat in his face, his hair sticking to it.

“Noona?”

“Hm?”

Everything was far too messy for this cuddle session, but that could wait.

“Is it okay if I love you?” Jungkook mumbled, burying his nose in your hair.

“Mhm,” Yoongi responded, sounding sleepy.

You brushed Jungkook’s hair away from his face. “I would very much like that.”

“Everything is dirty,” Yoongi grumbled.

“You are a main contributor,” you said cheerfully.

Yoongi grunted, leaning against you, squashing you a little harder against Jungkook. Nothing to complain about. You were enjoying every second of this.

“Jungkookie?”

“Hm, noona?”

You reached up and ran a hand through his dark cerulean hair. Jungkook hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes at your touch.

“You know this shade is Cookie Monster blue, right?”

“… Hah?”

“Does that make you Ggukkie Monster?”

Yoongi burst out laughing, raspy and full, a rare moment of Min Yoongi absolutely losing his shit.

part v "Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x you #suga x you #suga x reader

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kirishoshego · 3 years

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Moneypulated PT.2//Aizawa

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY!!!

Special thanks to Emmie for creating this awesome S&M event and letting me participate and those who requested a part two of my first Aizawa piece x

If you like Sadism and Masochism, BNHA; AOT and Haikyuu the event is definitely for you :)

Pairing: Sadist!Mob-Boss!Dom!Aizawa x Masochist!Sub!femreader Words:3.2+

Summary: When your life is threatened Aizawa realized just how important you are to him. A small fight leaves you bend over the couch, cross eyes and leads to him admitting his feelings for you.

TW: slight mention of torture (a bit more at the end), s&m, controlling Aizawa, calling him sir, knife play (no blood), slight ass and nipple play, orgasm denial, slight oral, biting, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, slight bit of degration and teasing

Three month, three weeks and three days. That’s how long it took you to develop positive feelings for him. He gave you everything, but privacy, something you had to learn rather quick because that man was strong and even though he doesn’t look like it, heavy. You told him no twice. The first time left you bruised for at least three days, fucked into oblivion. The second time left you sobbing from his impact play. You hated how little you could control your body, dripping wet before he slipped into you. Something he would love to taunt you with. „Always so quiet and modest. Yet here you are begging to be fucked by a criminal after he spanked you blue and green. Don’t tell me you like that. Tsk, dirty girl,“ he told you with a slight smirk on his face, one hand having a strong hold in your hair to hold you up so he could look at you. The other one pinched and played with clit, milking orgasm after orgasm.

He knew how to work his charm, knew how to impress you. Listened, remembered basically every detail about you. Aizawa wanted to know everything about you, from childhood memories to teenage drama to your goals and dreams. Of course he was genially interested in you, after all he wanted you at his side, but it was also helpful to know one or too secrets. Just in case. It was understandable that he was a bit shocked and also even more alarmed when Shota noticed how fast you adapted to the captive state of yours. There was no attempt of you running away, either because you knew it wouldn’t work with guards everywhere around you, or because you were afraid. So he tested it out. Gave you a car, told you to go enjoy yourself, get pampered for a surprise he had prepared.

First thing you did was getting new underwear because as much as you… appreciated him buying it for you you would like to have a few comfortable pieces that cover more than 3 inches of your skin. You stopped to get a nice drink at a small restaurant, got a small snack before you ended up buying four new plants. A smile creeped up on his face when his phone signaled him he got a new message from Shinso. Attached to it was a picture of you smiling while picking up the most sad looking flower he had ever seen.

It happened while driving back. You realized happiness started to form in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again. Excitement about showing him what you had bought. How could you be happy? After how he treated you in front of so many men, so many strangers. But then again he took care of a man who had sold you for his addiction. You knew he was in the hospital right now, after trying to enter the casino again. At first you thought he was there to get you, to show at least some sort of remorse. Even though their boss told them not to tell you those details Denki let it slip that Kirishima caught him gambling. With that your last string of attachment ripped apart. It wasn’t hard to choose between being left alone with nothing or a slightly questionable man who (as much as you would like to deny it) made you feel good, save and wanted.

That day was the first time he took you to the casino with him, introduced you to a part of his world. The one that was less brutal. He wouldn’t not let you see someone getting tortured. But he knew how gruesome it can get and even though he wouldn’t tell anyone, he threw up after his first time, felt sick the first five. It just made it so much easier to get people to talk. Or make them stop. Sometimes they need to be taught a lesson or too to not put their noses in his businesses.

Rumors started to spread around fast after your first appearance. Shota Aizawa has a trophy wife. Something that made him weak. A pretty one on top of that and she was supposed to be his little lucky charm. Every table you appeared at, the house would win. You didn’t play yourself, you only sat besides your... Well, besides the mob boss himself.

There was no explanation for it really, it wasn’t luck per se. It was math. Some liked math in school, some didn’t. What you liked more though was winning. And games like these were hard to predict, but not impossible. Another aspect were their faces. Everyone focused on their face and those of others, tried to keep cool while detecting a mistake of others that they forgot about other limbs. Some tapped their fingers against the table or cards, others would play with their drink, swirling the ice cubes around without touching it. Some bounced their legs, crossed them, scratched them. Once you caught their mistake it was over for them.

While some got scared because of it, others seemed to find a challenge in it. They wanted to beat you. How could you know that one night you will have the son of another mob boss on the table? He was supposed to be a spy, simply collect information about you and leave. But the opportunity to beat you and therefor Aizawa was too alluring. How could he know that he will lose almost 33 Million yen in one night? And with those 33 Million yen came a big target right on your back.

In less than 24 hours a collection of pictures and informations about you was delivered to Peony. In less than 24 hours your world was turned upside down yet again. The freedom you were given was taken away in order to protect you. His worry for you was understandable but when he decided to have Bakugo and Kirishima on your heels 24/7 you had enough.

--------------------------------------------

„I’m inside the house! The house has walls almost thrice as high as Kirishima’s 7 foot frame, a massive garden with six well trained guard dogs running around. You have the best alarm system there is on the market and still I’m not even allowed to use the bathroom in private. It’s humiliating,“ you explained to him angrily. „I would rather humiliate you than pick up your dead body limp by limp,“ he tried reasoning. „Do you even hear yourself? How can you say something like that? Do you not trust your men? I can defend myself! Eijiro has-„ suddenly you went quiet, realizing too late what gravitating mistake you just that you had just exposed yourself.

„Eijiro has what? Continue doll. I‘m all ears,“ he leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his in a black shirt clad chest. „We shouldn‘t be changing the subject now. I need-," „What you need is to tell me what Kirishima did,“ you wouldn‘t be so on edge if he yelled at you, screaming at the top of his lungs, slam his hand on the desk, anything. Instead he was dangerously calm, collected, ready for you to make the next step. Knowing you were trapped like a small mouse between a wall and an awaiting cat, only playing with its fear.

„I will tell you if you promise me he isn‘t going to suffer any consequences. He had no ill intentions,“ you started explaining, making a step forward and trying to look as timid as possible so he will show mercy. „You actually think you‘re in a position to negotiate? Oh darling, it is breaking my heart a tiny bit to see you’re underestimating me,“ he faked a pained expression before closing the gab between the two of you.

You knew better than to relax yourself into his touch as he caressed your cheek, planting a small kiss on your forehead.

„Now,“ Aizawa stood behind you within a second, your wrists in his hand behind your back, something cold against your neck. „Please continue before I lose the small amount of patience that is left inside of me,” he sounded threatening, his voice deep and raspy, mouth dangerously close to your ear lobe. The knife near your aorta send adrenaline through your whole body, your pussy pulsing as you caught sight of your current position in his window.

You noticed his eyes wandering over the curves of your body, as the sound heavy breathing hit your ear. It seems like he was holding back, but be the looks of it all he wanted to do was drag the knife along your clothes and watch it drop to the floor. It wasn’t on purpose, more or less, but your hand brushed against his crotch, hearing him hiss as you touched his hard length for a mere second. The grip on the red handle tightened, pulling your body into his and leading your hand back to his crotch.

Eyes met in the window as he licked his lips. He tilted your head back slightly with the tip of the sharp blade, kissing the spot behind your ear.

„Sorry kitten, but this isn’t the time to play,“ he whispered into your ear while you started massaging him through his suit pants. A smirk appeared on your face as you agreed with him ‚oh I know, sir‘ you basically purred. Within seconds you pulled yourself away from him with your whole strength, bowing as he went to grab your hair and kicking back into his stomach as you turned which send him to the floor as he stumbled. Grabbing the knife from his hand and dropping onto his hips as you held the knife to his throat.

„Eijiro taught me how to defend myself, so I don’t have creepy old men all over me,“ you told him, a sudden wisp of a moan leaving your throat as he grabbed your hips and ground his pelvis against yours. „I didn’t know I’m a creepy old man. Wasn’t it just yesterday that you begged me to stuff you? And wasn’t it you that screamed my name so the whole house could hear who fucks you ‚like a god‘? Hm… I must confuse you with someone else that came cross eyed all over me considering I don’t play with brats,“ as the last word left his mouth he flipped you around, turning you so your stomach was flat against the freshly cleaned floor, hand in between your shoulder blades to hold you down.

He thanked the sun for shining so brightly and the clouds for not appearing, considering it lead to you dressed in the shortest little sundress you could find in your closet. The color suited you so damn well and the dress made it so easy for him to uncover your ass. His hungry eyes starred at it in its full glory, feeling his rock hard cock to twitch in his pants.

The blade was dragged across your skin and he could have fucked you right then and there as he noticed how you tried to clench your legs, goose bumps appearing on your skin. „Don’t tell me you enjoy this, such a dirty girl,“ he stopped right at the hem of your underwear, dragging the flat side across your clit and earning another moan of yours. He chuckled, „I see.“

Suddenly the blade was back at your throat, his other hand massaging your ass. „If you try to move or forget to thank me I might have to use the sharp side next time and we don’t want that do we doll?“ Shota asked you, the tip slightly pressed onto your sweet spot as you took to long to reply for his liking. „No sir,“ your voice was slightly shaky as the anticipation inside of you grew. „Not so tough anymore, thought so,“ he loved your submissive state, every time he thought he went too far you were there dripping wet for him.

Without a warning his hand came down hard on your ass, massaging your cheek before disappearing again. „Thank you sir,“ you moaned, the next slap delivered right after. „Thank you sir,“ you said again, feeling our wetness slowly seeping through the thin fabric covering your cunt. Every once in a while he would dip his fingers between your folds, playing with your clit until you’re about to cum, only to stop and spank you again.

Once your ass was a bright red and noticeable handprints adorned your flesh he decided he had enough. The last few thank you’s gave away that you started crying softly, maybe slightly caused by the pain, but more at fault definitely were the denied orgasms.

„Had time to overthink your statement from earlier?“ Aizawa went down to your ass, pushing your panties to the side and dragging his tongue across your slit, dipping inside for a second to collect some of your juice. Kisses were plastered across your abused skin, bitting down onto it to hear you moan again.

„I give you ten seconds to go over to my couch, get undressed and bend over it,“ if you weren’t so incredibly needy right now you might even had begged for some more spanks.

You could hear him get undressed as you did the same, back turned to him to allow him a nice view on your behind.

You could feel his presence even before he touched you, the smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat hitting your nose. Rough hands collided with your ass once more, before wandering up your back, one finding its way into your hair, the other one holding his thick girth in his hand and dragging it from your clit to your hole. You whined as you noticed him going back down again with his tip, which lead to him plunging into your throbbing pussy all at once. Curses tumbled from the both of you, finally getting what you wanted.

Shota pulled you up by your hair, allowing his hand to play with chest. Cold metal came in contact with your nipples and only now did you realize that he had brought the knife with him. It took maybe a minute for your first orgasm to hit, considering the ones you were denied earlier had you on edge already. „Done already kitten? Does that mean you want me to stop?“ He knew it meant everything but. It’s just, having you beg for more gets him every time and he can’t deny how powerful it made him feel, which he needed now more than ever. „No, fuck. Please sir, need mo-oh, more,“ a moan cut through you as a single thrust hit your g-spot directly.

„Take it then,“ he pulled you down with him on the couch, his back against the backrest as you straddled his legs. Do to the new position his cock was even deeper than before and you were shaking with almost every bounce as you went up and down on him. Black eyes wandered from your face to your tits to your cunt, watching him disappear inside of you over and over again. Aizawa’s arms wandered from its resting place back to your body, one going to your back, the other one staying in the front.

You hissed, eyes growing wide as you felt rough fingers circling your puckering hole, while the other ones drew lazy patterns on your clit. Every now and then he would meet your movements, burying himself even deeper inside of you. By now you were a moaning mess, clenching around him as you could feel another knot building up in the pit of your stomach. „It’s alright, I got you. You can cum, I know you want to,“ Shota groaned, picking up the speed of his fingers and watching in pure bliss as you came undone once again, slowing down and pulling you into a deep kiss.

As you went to get up from him, your body now sensitive he grabbed your hips, pushing you down again. „Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you get to control when we’re done,“ he said, delivering a harsh slip to the left side of your tits, before grabbing your throat and pushing you down into the mating press. „You have to remember your place doll. I get decide when we’re finished and I’m not done yet,“ he grunted, snapping his hips as the hand around you held you in place firmly. A warning slap heated up your tears stained cheek when you tried to wiggle away from him and he felt you clenching around his dick.

You looked so good with mascara running down your face, he thought, feeling himself getting closer and closer as you moaned his name like some sort of prayer. „Again, please,“ you said, feeling the third high coming. It took him a second to understand what you asked for, but when it finally clicked he cursed under his breath, telling you how perfect you are. As he slapped you again, holding your face in his hand and kissing your lips hotly you were holding onto his arm for dear life. Stars appeared in front your eyes as you came once again. You barely noticed anything but his thrusts turning sloppy before he released himself inside of you, buried deep and painting your insides white.

„I didn’t know pain turned you on so much,“ he said with a lazy smile on his face, looking down on your face, your embarrassed expression hardly hidden. „Me neither to be honest… You know how it went in the past,“ you hinted at your unsatisfied sex life with your ex husband, who thought doggy style was already pretty kinky. No shame to vanilla people, but now you knew it wasn’t what you wanted. „It’s good to know, we will test out more things in the future,“ the thought of it turned you on again already and you kissed his chest, letting him know you like the sound of that idea.

„I love you, you know?“ He mumbled as the two of you laid on the couch while drawing patterns on your back lazily. Your heart skipped a bit, this was the first time Aizawa mentioned his feelings for you. „You don’t gotta say it back, I know it’s all a bit messy,“ he said, kissing your forehead. „No, it’s just… After sex the mind is always bit-,“ „Yours might be after that but mine is as clear as ever,“ he cut you off, making you roll your eyes and laugh gently. „I love you too,“ it was mumbled, almost unnoticeable, but he heard you just fine which was all he needed.

————————————- Extra—————————————-

„I run this town. Piss me off again and your wife will find out about your little affair with your little lover boy. She’s pregnant, right? And you would like to be able to care for her don’t you? If so, I suggest you to never threaten my wife or my men ever again. It won’t just be your finger that I cut off, understood?“ He knew killing him off immediately will only cause war. He would win, of course, but it would be unnecessary and taking too much of his energy. „Yes Mister Aizawa,“ the hatred and fear in his eyes pleased him enough for the day, so he walked out of the room, ordering Bakugo to drop him off a few miles away from everyone. A nice nightly walk might clear his head he explained so the man bound to the chair could hear him just fine. „Don’t worry, I will let you keep your finger, but you should hurry, they turn bad fast,“ with that he went into the dark, ready to get home to you.

©kirishoshego//do not repost on any plattforms

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

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LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - MAGNUS & MAX

“How about Mexico?”

“No.”

“Hmmm. Madrid?”

“No.”

“Paris?”

“No.”

“They have a Disneyland there,” Magnus winked.

“I’m not eight anymore,” Max rolled his eyes.

“Who said Disneyland is just for kids?” Magnus demanded. “Alright then. What about Singapore?”

“No.”

“Okay then let’s keep it local and go to Los Angeles,” Magnus suggested. “You love the beach. And you can even hang out with Octavian.”

“No.”

“Max, why are you being difficult?” Magnus sighed.

“Because it’s my birthday,” Max pointed out. “Why should do I what you people want?”

“Well, we people are your family,” Magnus raised a brow. “We are just trying to make the day special for you! And you know it’s tradition. We go somewhere every year!”

“Well, traditions change,” Max snapped. “I don’t want to go anywhere. In fact, I don’t want to celebrate. So, enough with the planning!”

Magnus tried not to show his disappointment. He loved planning and he loved Max. Alec and Rafe were excited about the trip too – but it was Magnus who loved it the most.

The tradition had started on Max’s 8th birthday. They usually celebrated at home. But Magnus had suggested that maybe the Lightwood-Banes should visit a new country everywhere.

He loved it. He loved sharing little corners of the world he had once discovered on his own. Places that had blessed his eyes but broken his heart – because he had convinced himself that his wandering heart would only ever wander alone. So, he loved returning to those places with his family and silently whispering ‘I made it’ as he held his family close to him.

But Max was right. This wasn’t about Magnus. It was Max’s birthday.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Magnus said now. “I didn’t mean to push you. We can just have a small par-”

“I SAID I DON’T WANT TO CELEBRATE!” Max yelled.

Magnus flinched.

He was used to temper tantrums.

The cute tantrums like the time when Max had cried when he had found out that Santa wasn’t real.

Even the ugly tantrums like the time when Max had fought with Alec after Rafael had gotten injured during a mission.

God, he was used to the temper tantrums.

But this one hit different – because Magnus couldn’t help but feel it had something do with him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Magnus asked quietly.

“No,” Max whispered. “You can’t help who you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Magnus demanded.

“Nothing,” Max said. “Just…nothing.”

“Alright, blueberry,” Magnus said softly, and he saw Max wince. “We don’t have to celebrate if you don’t want to.”

“Good,” Max replied shortly.

Magnus should leave him alone. Max always came around after a couple of hours – or sometimes days.

There were still a few hours till his birthday – the day Alec and Magnus had found him in the academy.

But Magnus didn’t want to leave him alone. Max looked just as helpless and alone as he had all those years ago.

“Do you want to tell me why you don’t want to celebrate?” Magnus asked.

“Because I’m not a kid anymore,” Max pointed out.

“Birthdays are not just for children,” Magnus said with a chuckle. “I mean look at me. I’m 900 and I still celebrate my birthday.”

“You’re not 900,” Max rolled his eyes. “And that’s cause you love parties. You threw a party when dad got his first grey hair.”

Because throwing a party is sometimes easier than crying in the bathroom, Magnus wanted to say.

“This is not about parties,” Magnus pointed out. “It’s about you. Why do you not want to celebrate your birthday?”

“Why are you making a big deal out of this?” Max demanded. “It’s not even my real birthday.”

“It’s real to us,” Magnus said, trying not to sound hurt. “Besides, that has never stopped you before. We had so much fun in Shanghai last year. Maybe we could go bac-”

“Bapa,” Max said. “I said no.”

Magnus had taught both his children to say no – to things they didn’t like and to things that made them uncomfortable. He never wanted them to do things that they didn’t want to do.

“Of course,” Magnus nodded and got off the bed. “Okay.”

“It’s not just this year,” Max said when Magnus opened the door. “I never want to celebrate my birthday again.”

Magnus closed it back. No. this conversation was not over.

“Never is an awfully long time, Max,” Magnus said carefully. “Especially for a warlock.”

Max just stayed quiet. Magnus walked over to his and sat down next to him.

Unlike Raphael, who was tall, lean and lithe, Max was broader. He was still tall of course. All Lightwood-Banes were above six feet – a fact Clary was not particularly happy about.

“I know something is bothering you,” Magnus said gently. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s okay. But at least talk to your dad.”

“I’d rather not,” Max replied. “What good is talking going to do?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Magnus laughed.

Max was quiet again.

“Blue,” Magnus called softly. “What is it? Talk to Bapa.”

Max took a shuddering breath. “I…I don’t wanna grow old.”

And Magnus’ breath hitched.

He knew those words. He feared those words. He had been preparing for a long time to hear those words.

From Alec. From Rafe.

But they had never said it – and Magnus hoped they never will. A part of him was secretly glad that the discussion didn’t come up. He was relieved that the nightmare was over.

But hearing those words from Max – the last one person expected it from – pushed him right back into his nightmare.

“Is it David?” Magnus asked, feeling confused “But I thought you’d be happy about this. You and David both get to grow old together.”

David had been Max’s first boyfriend – and the only person he had loved. Magnus knew they had something special. He had been worried that Max would have a fate similar to his – stumbling around searching for love for centuries and losing all hope.

But Max had taken up after Alec. He had found his love on the very first try. Magnus was glad for these small blessings. He was glad Max didn’t have to stumble.

“Did something happen with David?” Magnus prompted when Max didn’t talk. “Did you guys…have a fight or something?”

Max looked down. “Everything is fine with David. I told him why I didn’t want to celebrate. He understood.”

“And you think I won’t?” Magnus asked. “Come on, blueberry.”

Max winced again. He looked up at him directly then, his blue eyes mournful. “What if you stop calling me that?”

“Why would I ever stop calling you that?” Magnus asked.

“Because I’m growing older,” Max replied quietly. “Tomorrow I’ll be officially older than you are.”

Magnus hadn’t even realized.

Unlike mortals, warlocks looked at age as an abstract concept. It didn’t make sense after a while. Like most things.

Magnus had simply assumed that Max would feel that way. But Max was still very young. He hadn’t lived long enough to understand the beauties and absurdities that came with being an immortal.

“I don’t want to grow old,” Max said again. “I don’t wanna grow older than you.”

“Oh, Max,” Magnus pulled him closer. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” Max demanded, his eyes still teary. “How about if I only stop aging when I’m 40?”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Magnus pointed, ignoring the lump in his throat. “It means David can grow-”

“Not everything is about David,” Max sounded angry. “What about you? What about us?”

“You’re always going to be my son, Max,” Magnus promised. “How you look isn’t going to change that.”

Max looked away.

“I promise,” Magnus urged. “It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“I’m sorry, Bapa,” Max whispered.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I…I don’t want to make it any harder for you.”

“You’re not making anything harder,” Magnus chastised. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because everyone keeps growing up around you,” Max sniffled. “You already have to deal with dad and Rafe. I thought me being a warlock would make things easier. But apparently I was wrong.”

Magnus had thought so too.

But his life had never been easier. It had been a long one. A difficult one. But he liked where he was right now. He wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.

“I tried to do something about it,” Max said hesitantly. “I went to the shadow market and tried to see if I can stop ag-”

“You did what?” Magnus demanded. “Max, you can’t change who you are. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“But I-”

“But nothing,” Magnus interrupted, feeling angry and terrified all at the same time. “I know people who have tried using this kind of magic – warlocks and mundanes. It doesn’t end well. I don’t want you dabbling with dark magic, Max. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Max said in a small voice.

“Please,” Magnus said. “It’s dangerous. If something happened to you…Please promise me you won’t try anything like that again.”

“I won’t,” Max said. “I promise.”

Then they were both quiet. Magnus wasn’t used to that.

“It doesn’t matter whether you are a warlock or a shadowhunter or mundane,” Magnus pointed out after a while. “These are things beyond all our control. We need to accept them as they come.”

“It’s hard,” Max only said.

And for some reason Magnus laughed. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Max rested his head on Magnus’ shoulder. He was just the right height. But Magnus knew it wouldn’t always be that way. Max was still growing.

“It is hard when everyone around you keeps growing up,” Magnus said. “It makes you feel so young and so ancient at the same time. It makes you feel like you are standing still while everyone is running towards something. But it is the life we were given. It’s part of our magic. It’s part of who we are. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“So you don’t mind…You don’t mind me growing older? You’re not mad?”

“Of course not,” Magnus said. “Max, this is something you can’t control. I would never hold it against you. That’s hardly fair.”

“I wish I could control it,” Max whispered.

“I know,” Magnus smiled. “But there are lots of other things you can control.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether you are going to let this ruin your birthday,” Magnus grinned. “Besides, I’m still very much older than you. I’m basically 800.”

“You said you were 900 five minutes ago,” Max laughed softly.

“Ah, it’s hard to keep track of these things,” Magnus shrugged. “I'm such an old, old man.”

Max rolled his eyes. “You promise you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Magnus promised. “You’re still with me, aren't you – wrinkles and all.”

“I don’t have wrinkles!” Max said indignantly.

“Well, you might,” Magnus shrugged. “And probably crows feet too.”

“I see you are once again using humor to deal with the angst,” Max pointed out dryly.

“Always,” Magnus winked.

Max smiled, just a little.

“Listen to me,” Magnus took his blue hands in his. “It doesn’t matter how old you are or what you look like. You will always be my blueberry.”

“Promise?” Max asked, his voice small.

“I promise,” Magnus smiled.

“Even if my hair turns white and I get…crows feet,” Max chuckled. “What if I only stop aging when I’m 50? When I look like your father? You won’t find it strange?”

Magnus remembered the day they had found Max. The first time Alec had mentioned the topic of marriage. The first time Magnus had realized that maybe happily ever after was a possibility for someone like him.

He still remembered the words Alec had whispered to him that night, as they both rested beneath the crib, where Max was sound asleep.

“It would be strange,” Magnus smiled now. “But I never want a less strange love.”

Max choked back a sob and threw his arms around Magnus. “I love you. Bapa.”

“I love you too, blueberry,” Magnus whispered.

Max held him closer for a long while and Magnus let him. He wasn’t going to let him go – not now. Not ever.

It would be the two of them one day and they had to get used to holding onto each other.

“Now about this trip,” Magnus said, as he pulled back.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Max rolled his eyes fondly.

“Oh, come on!” Magnus complained. “We hardly go on family vacations anymore. You and Rafe are too old and too cool to hang out with your parents.”

“Fine,” Max put his hands up. “But I get to choose.”

“Anywhere you want,” Magnus promised.

“Alright then,” Max said, his eyes no longer tearful, just plain wicked. “I want to go to Peru.”

#AND THEN THEY BROKE INTO PERU JFSNHGKJSHDFK #sorry for the angst homies #max lightwood #magnus bane #lightwood bane family #lightwood banes week #dani writes stuff

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 13

First

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo @khneltea @raeuberprinzessin

Tim was in the middle of a particularly boring meeting when a tiny buzz in his pocket alerted him that Marinette had left the house.

He blinked a little and, after mumbling a quick apology, pulled out his phone to silence it.

He couldn’t tell where she was going right then, it was too early to tell, but he noted absently that she was walking a little faster than normal. He shook his head to himself and resolved to check again once the meeting was over.

But he didn’t have to!

His secretary rushed in just as his last business partner left. She looked frazzled. “I tried to keep them out but they insisted and --!”

“Who? What? Janet, what’s wrong --?”

His attention was quickly pulled away from her, though, because Marinette was stumbling through the threshold.

He rushed forward to catch her on instinct, slipping his arms around her tightly. “Bean?”

She pulled her face out of his chest and smiled awkwardly at him. “Uh… hi, darling. Hate to disturb you during work, but...”

Tim frowned, concerned. He didn’t think she was clumsy (and he would have noticed by now if she was) and, now that he was looking, she looked a little pale. Was she sick? Did she even get sick?

And then he noticed someone standing in the doorway she had stumbled through -- no, she had been pushed through it, he thought as he took in the blond’s cold expression. Tim’s frown deepened and his grip tightened on his girlfriend.

Then, the blond sighed. “I’m Adrien, her friend from Paris. Don’t know if she’s told you about me, though.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed just a little. “Janet, it’s my lunchtime, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, looking between the three of them with barely concealed interest.

“Great. Lock the door behind yourself, please.”

Janet seemed a little put out but nodded and went to do what he asked without complaint. He made a mental note to give the poor girl a raise.

He waited until he heard the familiar click of the lock before turning his gaze back onto Adrien. The blond’s scowl had deepened. Tim bit his lip anxiously, considering what deescalation method would be best, but he didn’t know enough yet. He decided to just wait a little longer before doing anything. Marinette was safe in his arms and Adrien was still a little away so there wasn’t any immediate danger as far as he was aware.

“So, you do know his schedule, then?” Adrien asked.

Marinette wouldn’t quite look at the man. “We live in the same house.”

“Did you know before you were living in the same house?” He pressed.

She didn’t answer.

Adrien scoffed a little, shaking his head. “Of course. I knew I should have kept you in Paris where I could see you.”

Well, that’s a little controlling, a tiny part of Tim piped up. He would have said it aloud, too, but there was something bugging him about the blond. He couldn’t place it, but he was pretty sure he recognized him from somewhere...

It clicked and he took a half-step back with Marinette still silent in his arms. “Agreste, right?”

The blond winced. “Dupain-Cheng now,” Adrien said carefully. “In everything but name, at least, I’m still waiting to see if I can get a name change.”

Tim glanced down at Marinette for confirmation and she quirked her lips upward, which was bat for ‘yes’.

He relaxed just a little and let her go now that he knew it was safe. Okay. So, this was just her friend -- no, her brother -- and apparently he was annoyed about something. Their relationship, maybe, since he had brought her to Tim’s work.

… oh, shit, maybe this was Chat Noir. Tim’s eyes flicked down to where the ring usually was in pictures and, yep, that was the same ring but in white. That explained how he’d gotten there quickly despite the fact that he had to be on the no-fly list with a father like that.

But his anger seemed focused on Marinette, which was odd. Tim had figured it would be pretty even.

Tim cracked a grin. “Nice to meet you. You could have just called, though.”

Adrien looked a little sheepish, now, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What I need to tell you isn’t really the kind of thing you can tell someone over the phone.”

“I meant a call for an appointment. You’re my girlfriend’s brother, I obviously would have wanted to meet you in person.”

He snickered. “You’d be the first. Most people don’t want to meet the family for a good long while.”

Tim shrugged. “I would have liked to know when you’d appear. Easier to prepare that way.”

“I see.”

There was a beat as the two men sized each other up before Adrien sighed and leaned back against the door. “I guess it’s easier to show you than explain it to you.”

Tim watched with interest as Adrien pulled an object from his ear and tossed it over. He caught it easily and turned the object in his fingers. It was like his comm but it was red with black polka-dots.

Oh. He knew what this was.

He handed it over to Marinette without even bothering to listen (Who wants to hear their own voice? No one. Ew.).

“Yeah, she listens in on all of my conversations, I know.”

Marinette and Adrien both froze up, then turned their gazes on him in shock. Tim might have laughed if Adrien’s expression didn’t morph into a horrified look.

“You… you know I planted bugs on you?” Asked Marinette tentatively.

“I’ve known since day one -- I think. Or, at least, near day one,” said Tim with a shrug. He pointed over at the flower on his desk, the bug hidden in the petals. “I don’t mind, though, that’s just part of being a vigilante, in my opinion.”

“You’re a --? Nevermind, that’s not the point here.” He sighed and shook his head. “No, it’s not. She does this to all her crushes.”

“I do it to anyone I care about.”

Adrien seemed to think he was insane.

Marinette, however, was nodding vigorously. “See?! I told you! It’s a thing!”

“It’s a thing,” agreed Tim. “Everyone in my family does it, too, though we tend to prefer trackers and following people to auditory bugs…”

“What the heck?” Muttered Adrien.

Tim continued on despite this: “Even Duke does it sometimes, and he’s the closest thing we have to sane, so it’s probably okay.”

Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at nothing for a while, clearly thinking hard about how to approach this. Tikki floated out of Marinette’s purse to go over and pet his hair in an attempt at comfort. It wasn’t working, but at least someone tried. Eventually, he pulled out his phone.

“Stalking: the act or crime of willfully and repeatedly following or harassing another person in circumstances that would cause a reasonable person to fear injury or death especially because of express or implied threats.”

“... I haven’t followed or harassed him,” said Marinette.

“And I’m trying to prevent injury or death. Have you met Marinette? Leave her alone for too long and she will find a new way to get herself killed.”

Marinette huffed. “Like you’re any different. I can already count at least three major villains that you regularly piss off and I’ve only lived here a few months.”

“One of the first things you said to any of us was that you had broken your leg but it was fine. I have reason to be concerned.”

Adrien groaned. “We’re getting off topic here, guys. The point is that this is the textbook definition of stalking --.”

“But neither of us feel even a little bit uncomfortable about it,” Marinette argued.

“That would cause a reasonable person to fear injury or death. Clearly, neither of you are reasonable.”

Tim shook his head. “That’s not really what the reasonable person clause is for. It’s for people that are trying to get money over nothing.”

“It still applies!”

Tikki shook her head. “Adrien, they’re not going to get it.”

“But they need to.”

“We’re still here, y’know,” said Tim. Marinette waved her arms in the air to see if they had somehow gone invisible.

“They don’t want to,” Tikki explained gently, ignoring them.

Alright, they were going around in circles it seemed and Adrien and Tikki weren’t responding well to their current arguments… so, new arguments were needed. A short recess was called so the two teams could discuss their rebuttals in opposite corners of the room. When had this turned into a debate? Who knows.

They decided to go after morality first (it seemed like the best bet since they were all vigilantes): “Bean, you’re happy, right?”

“Yep. You?”

“Of course. Happier than I was when I was single, that’s for sure.”

Marinette blushed a little and laced her fingers with his. “Great. Me too. Now, Adrien, don’t you want us to be happy?”

Adrien scoffed. “Okay, no, you don’t get to do that. I obviously want you to be happy but I don’t want you to be in an unhealthy relationship. Because that’s what this is: unhealthy.”

“Unusual doesn’t necessarily mean unhealthy,” said Marinette with a frown.

“No, it doesn’t, but… listening in on his private conversations? Following and tracking her? Don’t you think that maybe you should be setting more firm boundaries with each other?”

“... nah,” said Tim.

“How about this: if he crosses a line I’ll tell him.”

“You don’t have lines and that’s the problem!”

Tim shook his head. “Adrien, I can tell you’re trying to help but, really, it’s fine.”

… fine. Time for their last real argument.

“Would you prefer we ‘stalk’ some random civilian?” Asked Tim. “Or you? Don’t you think it’s best we’re together rather than with some person who wouldn’t be able to deal with ‘stalkers’?”

“Sure, but it would be better if you worked on yourselves before getting into relationships,” said Tikki with a sigh.

Marinette groaned. “Gods, this is never going to work. It’s a love language, Adrien, why can’t you just understand that?”

“Love?!” Tim and Adrien said in unison, though the expressions on their faces couldn’t be more different.

“You love me?” Asked Tim.

Marinette’s face flared red. “I -- uh -- um --... yeah…?”

Holy shit, he's won at life.

“I love you, too,” he said quietly.

“It’s only been a few months, what the heck?” Adrien whisper-yelled. They ignored him.

Marinette pulled him down by the front of his shirt for a short kiss. Then, she split into a grin. “I said it first.”

“Not really, I did,” said Tim, smiling fondly.

“No no no I did. I have two witnesses to testify. You said ‘too’, I win.”

“Hm. Nope.”

“You can’t just --!” She huffed. “Stop smiling like that, it's hard to argue with you.”

He only smiled wider. She pouted until he pecked her lips.

Adrien dropped into one of the business chairs and hung his head.

“... I think I made it worse, somehow.”

Tikki patted his hair again.

Adrien ended up accepting them, albeit a little reluctantly. Marinette and Tim were right, after all: it was better that they ‘stalked’ each other rather than some random person who could/would take it worse.

Now, apparently, it was time for the shovel talk.

“Her parents are huge softies so this falls to me. You’d better not hurt her. She may be an idiot and a stalker --”

“Hey!”

“-- but she is still my sister.”

Tim gave a tiny smile. “Yeah, I get it. You’ll kill me if I hurt her and, since you have the power of destruction, there won’t be any way to bring me back.”

“Oh, not quite. I’m going to ‘randomly misplace my ring’ and whatever happens while my ring is ‘missing’ is up to whoever happens to find it. You’d better hope that whatever you did was small enough that Mari would be merciful.”

Tim swallowed thickly. “Ah. I see.”

Adrien smiled a smile worthy of the model that he was and clapped Tim on the back. “Welcome to the family!”

“Yeah… yay…”

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you done threatening my boyfriend?”

“No. If she --.” Adrien cut himself off with a laugh at the glare she sent him. “Kidding, kidding. Do you want some of Pere’s food.”

“Obviously. Tim, do you want some?”

Tim hesitated. Marinette tried not to laugh at how carefully he considered the question, as if he thought it was some kind of test and not two people trying to make up for taking up his lunch period.

“... sure?”

“Cool. Macaroons?”

Marinette scowled. “If you get us passionfruit macaroons I swear to the kwamis --.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll implement a systematic takedown of both me and everything I love, I get it. I’ll grab the tea ones you like.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “You have contingencies for your friends? What’s mine?”

“... you do realize you have no powers, right?”

“Can’t believe even my own girlfriend underestimates me --.”

“I could drop an elephant on you and call it a day if I really felt like it.”

Tim paled. “I regret asking.”

Tim was sick the next day. That was kind of on him for forgetting that America has weirdly intense food safety standards, which meant food from other countries would likely mess him up. Also, he had no spleen. Wild that he had forgotten that but, nonetheless, there he was.

He groaned and buried his face in the pillow. How was it possible to feel cold and hot at the same time?

He heard the quiet creak of the floorboards and carefully opened one eye.

Marinette stood at the end of the bed, frown on her face, glass of water and a bowl of soup in each of her hands.

He reached a shaky hand for her and she handed him the water. He grumbled a little but his mouth was pretty dry, so he took it.

Once she was satisfied with his water-drinking, she took a seat beside him with the soup. When he made no move to eat it she rolled her eyes and set it aside temporarily in favor of pulling him on top of her. He smiled and rested his head on her stomach.

“You’re cute when you’re sick, maybe Adrien should bring over Pere’s food more often.”

He frowned. “But... work.”

“Don’t give me more reasons to do it,” she teased lightly.

When he pouted she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. He stopped her with a hand.

“I’m sick.”

“And I’m a meta with an enhanced immune system that wants to kiss her dumbass boyfriend.”

He huffed a little but he didn’t try to stop her when she tried to kiss him a second time. He smiled and buried his face in her stomach, looping his arms around her like she was a pillow.

“How’d you know I was sick?” He asked after a few moments.

She snickered. “Well, I woke up and you were really warm instead of cold.”

“I’m cold?” Tim asked and, despite knowing that it was just a fact, he felt extremely insulted. Damian’s insults had nothing on the fact that his skin was, apparently, cold.

She smiled a little and pet his hair despite the fact that it was probably pretty gross at the moment. “It’s fine. I’m usually pretty warm so it balances out.”

“Awwwww, we reach thermodynamic equilibrium together,” he joked quietly. He let himself sink into her, closing his eyes.

She gave a tiny laugh. “Wow. Romance.”

He smiled. “It is.”

“Hm.” She pet his hair for a few moments longer before pulling them away. “Right, c’mon, get up. I made Alfred teach me to make your favorite kind of soup.”

He blinked an eye open. “Alfred? He knows?”

“Alfred knows everything, I think,” Marinette half-joked. She handed him the bowl and he sat up to eat some. “But I’m pretty sure everyone else at least suspects it, too. I followed all of you bats on Twitter, after all, and I only know a few of you out of costume.”

He nodded his understanding. “So all the secrets are out.”

“Yep. Now I don’t have to worry about accidentally calling people the wrong names when we’re all just hanging out. Still don’t know how you keep it all straight.”

“Nicknames, mostly. Less likely to slip up. Also Dick’s name works for both.”

Her lips twitched. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s why he uses the name Dick.”

“He never answered, y’know, when I said he had a degradation kink. You might be onto something,” he joked.

She grinned now. “I’m always right.”

“Hm. Sure.”

“Glad you agree. Now eat your soup.”

His grin dropped into a pout. “But my stomach hurts.”

“You’re sick, you need your energy to heal. Eat.”

He groaned but reluctantly took the soup when she pushed it into his hands.

She glanced over at the kid that they had taken in. They liked to stick around while Marinette made the food and, if possible, make it herself. She was pretty sure she was checking to make sure they didn’t drug her but Marinette didn’t mind. If it made the kid feel safer then she didn’t see why she wouldn’t allow it.

Now, the kid was mumbling curses in Russian.

She tipped her head to the side. She could chide her about her language but, considering the fact that it was in a language that she couldn’t conceivably understand, she let it go in favor of asking: “What’s wrong?”

“… I can still smell jalapeño on my fingers but my eye itches.”

“Oh.” Marinette handed her a towel. “Alright, Rordan, rub your eye with the side your hand hasn’t touched.”

Rordan wasn’t their actual name, obviously. It was actually Robin (it wasn’t an uncommon name in Gotham or anything, but she and Tim had both had to fight back their amused grins when they had… magically figured it out through completely legal means).

“Yeah, obviously, I’m not stupid.”

She grinned. “I can never be too sure anymore. I’ve cooked with rich kids before and you would be stunned at how little self-preservation instincts they have.”

The kid rolled her eyes. “Can’t be that stupid.”

Tim chose that moment to get off work. He stepped through the door, blinked at the second person in his house, then split into a grin.

“Hey, R...Ronda?” He greeted.

Robin smiled. “Still no.”

“Darn, maybe next time,” he said as if he wasn’t getting it wrong on purpose. He set his scarf on the coat rack and then walked over. “What’s for dinner?”

“For you? A microwaved meal that I’m going to try and pass off as my own cooking.”

Tim huffed. “Bean, come on, it was one time --.”

“And that ‘one time’ is enough to never let you in the kitchen again. C’mon, darling, three steps back.”

Tim groaned but stepped back until he was sitting on the kitchen island.

Robin turned off the burner. “Fajitas are done.”

He pouted playfully. “Can’t believe the kid is allowed to cook and I’m not. I’m an adult!”

“A hazard, that’s what you are,” Marinette teased, smiling. She let Robin set half of the food in her tupperware. “Want to eat with us this time?”

“No thanks.”

Tim nodded. “Alright. See you later?”

Robin glanced back at them from the windowsill. She gave a two finger salute, grinning. “Sure. Bye.”

They watched tiny fingers shut the window behind her before slipping out of view.

She reminded Marinette of an outdoor cat. Kinda just does what she wants and then drops by for food every once in a while; might want affection but probably not, do not approach unless approached; gets in a lot of dumb fights and then comes back with a messed up nose but acts like nothing happened and you’re insane for bringing it up…

Yeah. So, they now have another cat. At least they were both cat people?

Tim grinned as she handed him a plate. “Thanks, Bean. Any progress?”

“Nope,” Marinette said, taking a seat beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. “But she’ll see that we’re safe eventually. I can wait for that.”

He hummed his understanding. “Can’t wait until we make enough progress to be able to eat with her.”

She grinned. “Your bar is too high, darling. It’d be nice if she gave us her actual name.”

“Yeah… I’m still holding out for it, though. She has, what, six years before she is able to legally get a job and won’t need us? We should be able to have food with her once in six years, don’t you think?”

Marinette smiled. “Kwami, I sure hope so.”

Tim rested his head on the windowsill, a tiny frown on his face.

They were on a stakeout. According to Sources there was supposed to be a handoff within the next week.

Marinette sat down beside him and pushed himself up some to send her an awkward grin.

She offered him some Oreos from the packet she held.

There was a long silence as they sat there, listening to the warehouse through their comms. The most interesting thing so far had been the fly buzzing past one of their bugs.

“This feels like cheating,” she said with a sigh.

“I know, right?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Also you guys’ bugs are better quality than mine and I hate that.”

He snickered. “I can… ‘lose’ some bugs for you if you want.”

“You’d end up ‘losing’ too many.”

He thought for a minute, then shook his head. “Not if we put it in my watch.”

“Doesn’t it get stolen every other week?”

“Sure, but B replaces it all the time. Still more sustainable than bugging every item I wear.”

She thought about it for a minute before smiling at him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Marinette sat in a coffee shop, sipping a cup of coffee as she tried to explain to Kagami Tsurugi that, no, a full ball gown wasn’t possible in three days and that she should have given more warning. The power in their apartment building had gone out while she was talking to a client and her phone had low power so… nearest coffee shop. There was free wifi, places to plug in her phone, and, of course, coffee.

A glance at the time showed that Tim would be off work in about half an hour. Hm. She went alone. She figured she’d see him there, anyways.

She blinked as a hand tapped her on the shoulder, expecting to see Tim, only to find the friendly barista that had given her her coffee. She whispered to Kagami that she needed to hold and lowered the phone a little.

“Here, ma’am, I’m sorry I forgot this earlier. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Marinette stared at the new drink that had been shoved in her hand. There was some writing on the label.

Dont look now but theres a man watching you.

And an arrow pointing to her right.

Marinette smiled up at the woman. “It’s alright. Thank you.”

The woman didn’t seem all that convinced, so Marinette spun around in her seat. “Darling, you’re being a creep, get over here.”

“I’m not a creep! You were on the phone!” He complained, but he walked over and took a seat across from her.

“Excuses, excuses.”

The poor barista looked so confused.

She sent her a smile. “Thanks for looking out for me.” She handed over a twenty. “For the drink. Keep the change.”

The woman left and Tim pulled out his computer to do some extra work while Marinette finished up her phone call. Then, she smiled at him.

“A random lady found you. You’re off your game.”

He pouted. “I was being obvious on purpose. Wanted to see if you could find me.”

“Maybe I just think you’re cute when you don’t know people are watching you.”

He did little more than raise an eyebrow at her disbelievingly. She grinned and leaned across the table to kiss him on the nose.

After a few second’s thought she pulled out her phone and changed Tim’s name to Spy-derman.

He snickered at the tiny notification, rolling his eyes. “Great.” Then he squinted at the name. “I never asked: why Spiderman?”

She grinned. “Well, the first time we met we met on the roof of a super tall building… but the door was super creaky and loud so all I could imagine was you swinging up there like Spiderman… wait, actually, did you?”

He rolled his eyes again. “You were just too concentrated on your work to hear me.”

“... oh. Well. that’s less fun. I’m choosing to ignore that.” She grinned. “Still can’t believe you called me Frenchie of all things. Did you use all two of your brain cells for that one?”

He gasped as if offended. “It was a reference to that character from The Boys.”

“Of course it was. Fucking nerd.”

He pecked her on the lips. “You love me, though.”

“Hm. Yeah. I do.”

#i almost feel bad for ending it without getting them professional help #but like #they were never going to do that as characters #and there wasn't a natural way to change it #so...#happy?? ending #stalker x stalker #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

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angelofthequeers · 2 years

Text

Free to Be You and Me: chapter 7

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

After Alya finally leaves – after Marinette’s worked out weeks of stuff, that’s the only word she can even think of – Ladybug takes to the skies, swinging through Paris and letting the cool wind whip her hair around and streak over her face and surround her with sensation. Against her will, her path takes her past the Agreste mansion, pulling her along on a string, and Ladybug finds herself drawn to Adrien’s window like he’s a magnet and she’s a lump of iron. She shouldn’t –

He looks so unhappy, his eyes glued on his TV –

She can’t put him in danger –

But he’d been so happy last time she’d visited –

Safety –

Happiness –

Danger –

But she loves him –

Ladybug’s internal war collapses when she somehow ends up dangling in front of Adrien’s window and her fist raps on the glass without even being instructed. The way Adrien’s eyes light up and he rushes over to open the window for her leaves happiness as the firm winner, and Ladybug’s surer than ever that she’s making the right choice as he helps her inside – again, both of them know it’s not necessary, but just let her have this illusion – and beams at her.

“Ladybug!” Adrien says, like her name is the most precious word in the world. “I talked to Chat Noir, and he told me he talked to you, but then you never came back. Did I do something? Is everything alright?”

“You could never do anything,” Ladybug says immediately. It takes a moment for her flustered brain to realise the implications of her choice of words. “I mean! Of course you can do anything! You do everything! But not to me, even though I wish you would – gah, I mean, you didn’t do nothing wrong!”

Adrien’s brow furrows. “So…we’re good?” he says. Ladybug moans and slumps against him.

“Yes. We’re good. I mean – you’re good. I’m a hot mess.”

“Emphasis on the hot part,” Adrien says with a distinctly Chat Noir-esque wink. Ladybug squeals and shoves him away, her superhuman strength sending him stumbling back and collapsing on his sofa in a sprawl of limbs.

“Gah!” Ladybug rushes over to help him up. “I’m sorry!”

“No, I’m sorry,” Adrien says. He grabs her hands and squeezes with a reassuring smile, and that’s it, rest in peace Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she’s deceased and flying with the angels, except that they all have Adrien’s face and she’ll just never get away from him, will she? “That was inappropriate of me.”

“No! No!” Ladybug shakes her head wildly. She pushes him again, this time in a controlled fall back onto the sofa, and she practically throws herself down next to him. “Not inappropriate! Just – you reminded me of Chat – and you’re too pretty to get away with what he does –”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Adrien says, this time with a wide grin that makes him look so unfairly like Chat Noir that Ladybug finds herself yearning once again, wishing that her crush and her kitty could be the same person and just make her life easier since everything else is going to hell in a handbasket.

“Only if you promise never to bring this up again,” Ladybug mumbles, covering her flaming face. “I’m supposed to be the hero of Paris. I’m supposed to be cool, chill, smooth –”

“But you’re clumsy and you get flustered and angry and sad sometimes and you’re not always right and you don’t always know what you’re doing,” Adrien says. “Just like today. And I love that about you. It makes you so much more real than just the big superhero of Paris who’s always there to save the day. It – well, it makes me feel like I can touch you. Not like that!” he splutters when Ladybug squeaks. “I – just – you know what I mean!”

“Yeah,” Ladybug says, still not daring to look at Adrien in case she either dies of embarrassment or throws herself onto his lap and kisses his brains out for his description of her. “And I appreciate how you see me. I guess it’s kind of the same with you?”

“Yeah.” The quietness of Adrien’s voice finally makes Ladybug dare to peek between her fingers. He’s looking down, fiddling with his fingers, and the tension bleeds out of her body as she finally uncovers her face and leans toward him. “It just feels like my whole life is lies.”

Alya’s face swims before Ladybug’s eyes, and she lets out a choked laugh. “I know what you mean,” she says thickly. “And I forgot to thank you for today. I was just…losing it. And you were there, and you didn’t mind getting dirty –”

“Ladybug,” Adrien says, his voice a mix of fondness and exasperation. “I’m not some pure white angel or something. You’re more important than any photoshoot. Especially if it means getting away from Lila.”

“That means a lot,” Ladybug says, only half-joking. Adrien smiles at her.

“Did you find Marinette?” he says. “Is she okay too?”

“And I – I’m Ladybug.”

Ladybug gives him a small smile. “Yeah. I think she’s doing a lot better now.”

“Good.” Adrien slumps back against the sofa. “I was wondering all afternoon after the six-in-one akumas. She must have been really upset.”

“You could say that,” Ladybug mumbles.

“I just wish I could’ve helped her,” Adrien continues. “Even if it was just a hug, after all the times she’s been there for me.”

“O-Oh?”

“Marinette’s the best when you need one. She just…hugs. You know, with her whole body. She doesn’t hang off your neck and put on a show of it. I love whenever I can get a Marinette hug.”

“Oh!” Ladybug’s voice is so high that every dog in Paris can probably hear her. And her face is ten times hotter than the surface of the sun; so hot that her brain’s turning to mush inside her skull. “Wow! She sounds – um, great!”

Silence falls on the room, while Ladybug’s brain is the exact opposite. Garbled thoughts and images rush through her head, and her entire body sits up straight and stiff, and this is a horrible idea, a stupid one, but a daring one, and what’s the harm that can come from it?

You’re supposed to be keeping people at arm’s length, whispers a nasty little voice. Look what happened to Luka. Do you want the same to happen to Adrien?

But I won’t be dating him! It doesn’t have to be romantic!

You’re not fooling anyone. You told Alya.

“Shut up!” Ladybug shakes her head to shoo away the voice.

“Um…I didn’t say anything?” Adrien says slowly. Ladybug groans.

“No, not you. My brain. Today’s just been…a lot.”

“I bet.” Adrien gives her a twisted little smile. “My life must be a breeze compared to yours.”

“Doyouwantahug?” Ladybug blurts out. She takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Do you want a hug? You mentioned liking Marinette’s and, well, I don’t know if mine will hit the same spot, but I figure there’s no harm in asking and it’s totally fine if you don’t because I know I’m not who you really want to hug but –”

Ladybug’s babbling cuts off in a strangled gasp when warm arms throw themselves around her and her senses are assaulted by the warm, spicy smell of Adrien, by the crinkled white of his pyjama top, by the ticklish rustle of his golden hair against her flaming face. It takes her a moment to reboot her brain and force her body to obey, but then she’s wrapping her trembling arms around him in turn and hugging him just as she’d hug anyone else as Marinette.

“She just…hugs. You know, with her whole body.”

Letting out a soft hum, Ladybug shifts closer and tightens her grip until it’s firm and snug but not painful. She takes a deep breath, breathes in Adrien, then rests her chin on his shoulder and lets herself curl against him, enveloping him with her body like he’d praised Marinette for doing. She’s rewarded with a sharp inhale, which she feels deep in his chest as much as she hears it, and she can’t help but let out a soft little giggle and mumble, “Take as long as you need.”

It could have been a few minutes, or it could have been ten hours. Either way, Ladybug’s totally lost track of all time by the time Adrien finally releases her – wait, he’s lingering, he’s pulling away, but his hands are still on her arms, trailing down to her wrists, what is she supposed to do –

“Thanks,” Adrien says quietly once he’s finally pulled away. He ducks his head. “I didn’t realise how much I needed that.”

“You could make millions off professional hugging,” Ladybug blurts out, then groans and slaps a hand over her mouth. “Why am I like this?”

“That’s a compliment, coming from you,” Adrien chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “But I don’t think I’d like that. I don’t really like hugging…unless I really like the person. Most people just jump on me.”

“That’s awful. You don’t deserve that! You deserve way better than having to deal with that sort of thing all the time.”

Adrien just shrugs. “It is what it is. Complaining won’t get me anywhere, so I can’t do anything except deal with it.”

“But that’s wrong!”

“I know.” Adrien gives her a sad little smile. “And it means a lot that you see that. That helps me way more than you think, I swear.”

Ladybug huffs and crosses her arms. “I still hate it. I wish I could just hang anyone who does that to you off the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Not a good look for the spotted saviour of Paris,” Adrien teases. Ladybug giggles and elbows him.

“If I’m a saviour, does that make me a knight?” she says.

“If you look at it that way, then I’d say so.”

“Then I guess that makes you the princess in his tower. And as a knight, it is my gallant duty to protect and rescue the fair princess!”

Adrien’s already laughing at their antics but when Ladybug jumps up and thrusts her yo-yo in the air like it’s a tiny round sword, he ends up sliding off the couch and onto the floor, doubled over.

“M-My b-brave knight,” he chokes out, clutching his stomach. “However can I thank you?”

“Hmm.” Ladybug pretends to think. “How about a kiss from the fair maiden?’

Adrien’s laughter dies and he stares up at her with wide eyes. Ladybug freezes as what she’d just said sinks in, and she groans and collapses on the couch and covers her face.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I took it too far.”

“No, you didn’t.” Adrien pulls himself back up off the floor to sit next to her. “Sorry. I just…wasn’t expecting that. From Ladybug. A superhero. I’m the one who made it awkward.”

“Let’s just both agree that we’re idiots and leave it at that,” Ladybug says. Adrien’s laughter is encouraging, giving her the courage to uncover her face, and what she finds isn’t a look of disgust or weirded-out but rather a soft smile that makes his green eyes sparkle. Ladybug gives him a tiny grin in return.

“Just so you know,” she says, “my civilian self is just as messed-up. But people don’t generally find it funny when she does it.”

“I know I would,” Adrien says. “Marinette – she’s not always fully there. Sometimes she goes off on these weird tangents and says things that don’t really make sense. But I love it.”

“Oh.” Ladybug’s cheeks flare hot. “Y-You do?”

Adrien nods. “I may not always understand her, but she always makes me laugh. That’s why I like her so much.”

“She sounds like a great friend,” Ladybug says in a voice so high that her brain is probably liquefying in her skull. “Sounds like you really do like her.”

“Yes!” Adrien nods vigorously. “I’m so glad she’s my friend. I didn’t think she’d be at first – Chloé pulled a mean prank on her and she thought I’d done it, and she wouldn’t talk to me at all – but I’m so glad she’s forgiven me. All my friends are special, and I couldn’t imagine not having even one of them.”

It’s not a love confession. It’s not a love confession. She’s a friend, and he values all his friends. But if he’s going to continue with these “friendship praises that could be love confessions if you just squint sideways”, Ladybug’s not going to make it another second. She squares her shoulders and decides that if Adrien can keep pulling these sideways love confessions on her, she’s just going to do the same back and not feel awkward about it at all. So there.

“You’re special too, you know,” she says as she wills her heart to slow down to a pace that even somewhat resembles a normal heart rate. “Even back when I decided that I couldn’t be friends with you because of the lies, all I wanted was to come right back here. But then…everything happened.”

“What changed?” Adrien sidles ever so subtly closer, until their arms brush against each other. Ladybug almost spontaneously combusts. “To make you come back?”

“I told you. You’re special. I just can’t stay away.” Ladybug groans and ducks her head. “That probably sounds really silly.”

“Not at all! I’m just glad you came back. Really glad. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“I can’t stay away,” Ladybug repeats. “There’s something about you that won’t let me, especially after you talked me down today. I’ll just have to be extra careful that Shadowmoth doesn’t find out I’m here. Especially after…you know…the whole Miracle Queen thing.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Adrien raises his arms, then stops and starts to lower them. “Can I –?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Ladybug says with a small smile. “You can touch me whenever you want.”

“U-Uh, yeah,” Adrien says with an awkward laugh, while Ladybug prays that the ground will just swallow her up already. “You too. You can touch me too. Whenever you want.”

“Just hurry up and hug me before I die,” Ladybug mutters. Adrien laughs again, this time much less awkwardly, and wraps his arms around her, letting her sag against him with a sigh of relief.

“I wish I could help more with that,” Adrien says.

“It’s okay. You couldn’t help being…brainwashed…” Ladybug pauses and frowns. “I didn’t see you there with the other Miraculous holders.”

“Oh!” Adrien tenses. “I don’t know. I was walking with Kagami and these wasps came at us and then I was just…standing there. If I was there with the other holders, I wouldn’t remember.”

“Hmm. Maybe it’s because you’re not the current Snake holder. I still don’t really know how akumas work.”

“That makes two of us.”

There’s no conversation after that; no awkward jokes or scrambled sentences or tongue-tied babbling. Ladybug just sits there with Adrien in silence, drinking in his presence, committing every little micro-aspect of his touch to memory so that she can squeal herself to sleep whenever she thinks of what it feels like to have his arms around her. Eventually, though, reality comes knocking, and she sighs and wiggles ever so slightly.

“I really don’t want to go,” she confesses. “But I can’t afford to be late to school more than I already am.”

“Saviour of Paris needs her sleep,” Adrien laughs. He squeezes her, one last hug within a hug, and then lets her go and stands up. “Just don’t take weeks to come back again?”

“Oh, trust me, it’ll take Shadowmoth getting my Miraculous to keep me away from you,” Ladybug says, finger guns and all.

“Well, good thing Chat Noir will never let that happen,” Adrien says with a strange smile. Ladybug scoffs.

“Dumb cat keeps throwing himself in the way for me and giving me heart attacks,” she mutters, crossing her arms. “I’m gonna throw him myself one day.”

Adrien’s strange smile widens. For a split second, with a crackle of lightning in the background through the window, it’s like Chat Noir is staring back at her. But then the lightning gives way to the low rumble of thunder and it’s just Adrien grinning at her. Ladybug shakes her head.

“I’m seeing things. I need to sleep for a week,” she mumbles.

“Well, don’t keep me from your catnap.”

Ladybug groans. “No. No. I already get enough of that from Chat.”

Adrien laughs in response. “Okay, okay. I wouldn’t want to upstage Chat Noir.”

“Thanks.” Ladybug rolls her eyes. Then she smiles and gives him a little wave. “So…see you later?”

“Any time,” Adrien says so quickly that his words tumble over each other on their way out. “Literally any time. Please.”

“Just…thanks.” Before she loses her nerve, Ladybug does a little leap over to Adrien and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. Adrien’s face immediately flushes as scarlet as her suit, and he lifts a hand and slowly brushes his fingers over the skin her lips had touched, his mouth hanging open. “You know – for the support! I really needed it.”

“Ok,” Adrien says dazedly. Ladybug decides to quit now, while she’s ahead, and she bolts for the window and pushes it open. She prepares to give Adrien a super cool goodbye.

“Bye!” she says with a wave so vigorous that she almost sprains her wrist. Adrien says nothing. Groaning, she tosses her yo-yo and launches herself out of his room before she can make even more of an idiot of herself in front of the boy of her dreams.

#aotq fic #aotq: free to be #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #ladrien #ml season 4

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propsugar · 3 years

Text

jealousy . — kaeya alberich

pairing(s): childe x gn!reader, kaeya x gn!reader? (he wishes LOL)

warnings: jealous kaeya, mentions of alcohol, some suggestive parts, umm you get marked with one of those seals?

loud, quick steps echoed through the hall of the building. the panic behind them was n early audible with how your panting breaths fell erratically. you thanked the gods it was a short walk into the building and to kaeya's office. you hooked a left and were in the dead end corridor, repeating to yourself that it was the "third door on the left," until you reached it. grabbing the doorknob quickly, you tuned it and pushed to enter. you were only met with resistance. frantically, you jiggled the knob before pushing your weight in full onto it. your breath sped up impossibly faster, heart beating through your chest and causing a deafening thrum in your ears. why was the damn door locked?

suddenly you hear a familiar voice from inside. you would yell for him, but you were nearly certain you didn't have the energy to do that and keep yourself upright too, evident in the way you continued to brace your weight against the door. everything started to spin when the warm light from the room flooded the dark hall, and you realized he wasn't alone. inside were multiple knights, some familiar, some not, apparently being briefed on something or other. had your cheeks not already been as flushed as possible, you would be turning red. once he assessed your situation, he apologized and excused the men, all of which were now staring quizzically at you, now trembling where yo stood without the strength of the door. you knew kaeya wouldn't offer his hand. as they got up from the table and shuffled you, you could hear the heavy sigh leave the man now towering above you.

"kaeya, he..." you started, huffing with the effort before being cut off.

he mumbled a short, "up," pointing out to you that you had sunk to the cool tile of the floor without even realizing. on shaking legs, you stood and approached the area you had now grown used to; a small stool behind his desk. he closed the tall, heavy door, letting it slam shut carelessly. he silently moved to reached into a cabinet under the largest bookcase sitting directly behind his desk. in it was a basin, a corked bottle, a rag, and a flask-type bottle filled with fresh water. his face was cold, as silent as the room, until he spoke again. "where?"

"where?" you questioned, gripping at the neck of your shirt. it all felt too constricting.

"where is it?" he shuffled to you, dropping the basin on his desk and emptying the contents stuffed inside in no real order. he still hadn't looked at you for longer than a few seconds.

as he filled the bowl you responded, "my lower back," this time feeling the heat bloom impossibly further down your neck with embarrassment.

"tch." you winced at the icy way it was uttered, practically spat under his breath. your eyes cast downward to your bare feet and fumbled clothing. even if you had been in this position many times before, it never got easier on either of you, it would seem. kaeya didn't seem to care much for your comfort as he went around to the back of you, pulling a tie before loosening your pants and pulling them down just enough. a faint purple glow illuminated his hands when he found the seal embellished right above your tailbone. it pulsed with heat, almost like a burn. from what you had told him it even felt similar, regardless or whether it was hydro or electro. this time, though, it was more dangerous latter. he cursed his hands for freezing up at a time like this. he thought he was able to steel his mind to this process by now, but apparently not.

there was nothing said between the two of you as he held the now wet rag in one hand, and the uncorked potion in another. he felt bad at the way you flinched, a sharp whimper tumbling from your lips, but continued to pour the liquid until the seal was coated. he was glad he had half the mind to roll up his sleeves to the element neutralizing concoction before he wiped carefully up your back. the motion was firm, but careful. affectionate in a way. finally when you nearly gasped in relief, he spoke.

"why did you go back?" he didn't mean to ask so quietly and cursed the way his voice stumbled over each syllable. you stared at the floor, just long enough for him to wonder if he was even heard.

"i.. i wanted to." ah, you did hear. he didn't have to hide back here, a disappointed expression gracing his face. after another beat of silence he finished quickly and quietly, wiping everything from your skin as the light dimmed and any sigh of the mark disappeared, save for an irritated swatch from the rubbing. once he returned to the side of you, you fixed you clothes, tying the bottoms back around you and adjusting the wrinkles in everything else. he finally placed everything back, reminding himself to get a clean rag, fresh water, and yet another potion from albedo in return for a favor. it was becoming his morning routine.

even as you thanked him, exiting and telling him goodnight, he just hummed in acknowledgment, too lost in his own head. once you clicked the door behind you, he finally let go. he chewed the trimmed nail on his thumb, paced a bit, pinched between his brows, and finally sat heavily in his chair. he sighed deeply, but it still couldn't seem to rid the tight feeling in his chest. he wondered who really hurt more after all of this.

he searched in his drawers for something to accompany the glass he didn't even remember getting out, retracting a large green bottle previously residing in his brother's cellar. it seemed that this was routine too. you came, he avoided looking, he looked, he thought, he overthought, you left he drank. he tried to use anger to push out the deep sadness that blanketed him. he would convince himself you had to have been attacked, that there was no way the harbinger didn't do something heinous to bring you to his presence like this. but the sucked on bruises decorating your neck and collarbones were far from battle wounds. your clothes were removed delicately, rather than shredded. and you left with company, joining hands once you exited the knights' headquarters and speaking to him softly while you walked down the stairs.

from the first time you've told him it was an accident. you explained his delusion, how it was sometimes out of his control, and even more so when childe was highly … "entertained." he understood fully, and he could see the worry in the man's face when you returned to find him outside. but he couldn't shake that something about all of this was wrong. he ran over possibility after possibility, thinking over Stockholm syndrome, an ultimatum, maybe a deal being settled? truthfully, he knew the answer.

the only thing "wrong" about the fact that you had someone at your side was that it wasn't him.

#sugar writes #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #kaeya angst #unfortunately #please this is bad isnt it #tell me its bad

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

Ficlet: Forgiveness (Namaari)

(tw: lil bit of violence. Finally managed to finish this!)

The Council of Kumandra has finally arrived at an agreement on article 7, clause 15 of a mutually beneficial trade agreement, when Benja raises his hand, and calls for a break in proceedings.

‘Now is a time for feasting,’ he says, ushering the Council members away from the chamber, and Raya could almost weep in relief. Her boredom had been so intense during the last thirty minutes of the meeting, it took all she had not to fall asleep right in the middle of negotiations.

She pulls herself out of her chair slowly, aiming to be the last to leave the room as she allows the visiting dignitaries to file out ahead of her - sometimes, playing the role of a good host can be exhausting. Her stomach is beginning to rumble loudly, but she’s torn between going to hunt for a plate of food first, or going to search for Namaari, who had been helping to represent Fang’s interests at this meeting, and hence had to sit with their party rather than next to Raya, where they can usually whisper back and forth on all sorts of ridiculous topics.

Although she hides it well, Raya has noticed Namaari struggles sometimes with attending meetings in other lands, especially in Heart where there are curious looks, or sometime downright hostile glares towards her and the rest of the Fang delegation.

It’s with this thought in mind that Raya stumbles out of the room and towards the distant hum of people already congregating for dinner. She bypasses the array of mouth-watering dishes however, nodding at her Ba as he catches her eye. He’s deep in conversation with Chief Virana, so she decides to avoid disturbing them, and focuses on scanning the room with a singular purpose in mind. She cannot see Namaari anywhere, but before she can venture forth to search other parts of the palace, Sisu bumps her shoulder gently.

‘Raya, my girl!’ she says, body curling around Raya slightly, and nose poking against Raya’s cheek. ‘What’s making you so distracted? Was it that long boring meeting? Cos I have to say, I totally dozed off for most of it, so I sure hope Pranee spoke up for us…’

Raya tunes her out slightly as she resumes her searching of the crowd, hoping to see Namaari’s broad shoulders somewhere in the room, until a soft ‘thwack’ of a paw lands on her arm, Sisu’s claws tapping gently on her skin.

‘Raya?’

‘Sisu, have you seen Namaari anywhere?’ Raya asks. ‘I haven’t been able to find her.’

‘Oh, she went outside a few minutes ago,’ Sisu proclaims, flicking her tail in the general direction of the door that leads to the gardens. ‘She said she wanted some fresh air or something.’

‘Thanks, Sisu!’ Raya calls absently over her shoulder, already heading for the exit. The negotiations had gone on for so long that dusk is beginning to fall, and a light breeze sweeps through her hair as the summer heat fades away. Lanterns flicker on as she hurries down the pathway that she assumes Namaari’s taken. Usually if everything gets too much, and Namaari feels overwhelmed, she tends to hide with her serlot for a while. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be there, perfectly fine and safe, but for some reason there is an anxious knot in Raya’s chest…a feeling that she needs to find Namaari now, just to be sure.

As she rounds a corner, she hears raised voices in the distance, and squinting her eyes, she spies a group up ahead. There are five young men – warriors, dressed in the clothes of Heart, Talon and Tail – and they are talking loudly and angrily at a sixth person, their hands already grasping their swords. Raya knows it is Namaari before she even sees the figure dressed in white, boxed in by the men with a large rock wall at her back.

‘’Maari!’ she calls, hastening her steps, but the people before her are too engrossed in their showdown to hear. From the direction of her approach, the men’s backs are turned to her anyway, and whilst she can see Namaari’s face, the other woman has all her focus trained on the threat.

She doesn’t want to spark a fuse by racing in unannounced if Namaari has it under control, but as she hurries along the path towards them, she sees one of the men take a step forwards, waving his sword around dangerously as he continues to shout. Five against one is not exactly fair odds, but Raya knows Namaari can handle herself well in a fight – indeed, has been on the receiving end of some of those punches both in battle and on the training grounds. If something is about to go down, she’s confident that Namaari will be able to hold them off long enough for her to arrive and join the fight.

She’s almost upon the group when it happens. Namaari grasps her two swords, pulling them out with casual ease, and then…she throws them down by her feet, her chin raised proudly. Raya’s blood runs cold as she watches the ringleader lash out, kicking Namaari down to the ground.

‘’Maari, get up!’ she cries out, sprinting the last few steps.

Everything seems to occur simultaneously. Namaari’s eyes widen as she sees Raya for the first time, her hand reaching out as if to stop her from coming closer, whilst several of the group begin to turn around at the sound of Raya’s voice. But Raya only has her sight set on the leader, as his arm raises and she sees a flash of metal swinging down towards Namaari. She desperately launches her own sword towards him, hoping Namaari won’t be caught in the crossfire, and its extended blade wraps around his, pulling his arm back abruptly.

Raya slides across the ground, foot kicking out at the two nearest opponents, and she can see them tumble down out the corner of her eye as she spins around, flinging her into the fight. She’s a skilled combatant herself, with years of being out on the road and having to watch her own back, and she manages to draw blood in the first few seconds of facing down a now rather surprised looking ringleader. But as soon as one goes down, there are two more circling around her. The men are all trained warriors themselves, and she realizes with a jolt that she recognizes several of them, especially those from Heart, making her reluctant to take a kill strike.

One moment of distraction by someone managing to slice her left arm means she is vulnerable, and in the next moment she lands heavily on her back, the breath knocked out of her. The Talon man peers down at her with an ugly twist to his smile, and there is a flash of a weapon coming towards her face before twin blades thrust into view, blocking his attack.

Namaari grasps her wrist, pulling her up with one hand, and then they are fighting back-to-back, a team of flashing swords and bloodied knuckles. Their opponents have no chance, and the five men lie on the ground with various wounds before Raya can even take a deep breath.

‘What were you binturis thinking?’ Raya feels the rage burning inside her as she looks at their prone forms. The ringleader – a warrior from Heart, she is shocked to see – spits blood onto the dirt, and then snarls up at her with red-stained teeth.

‘She’s the one that destroyed the world,’ he croaks, gesturing towards Namaari. ‘And yet now you welcome her here to our lands with open arms? After everything she’s done? We demand blood for blood.’

Six years of surviving alone during the reign of the Druun has made Raya observant and fast with her reflexes; as he pulls out his crossbow and begins to raise it towards Namaari, she has already lifted her foot, stamping down hard enough to feel the satisfying *crack* of his fingers under her heel.

‘No, you almost destroyed the world right now,’ she hisses, a white-hot rage sweeping through her mind. ‘You almost destroyed Kumandra and the peace we’ve sought for so long, with your inability to let go of the past and refusal to remember she also helped save this land.’

Her hand clenches in a fist, and she moves to lunge down for another punch to his face. A muscled arm curls around her waist instead, hauling her upright.

‘It’s alright, Raya,’ Namaari says softly, pulling Raya’s back against herself. ‘He’s not worth it.’

Raya is about to say exactly how worth it she thinks it would be, when they are suddenly surrounded by Ba, Virana, Sisu and other concerned guests, who have followed the sounds of the commotion.

Later, they are sat on Raya’s bed in silence.

‘Let me at least deal with that,’ Namaari breaks the stand-off, nodding her chin towards Raya’s arm, where the thin scratch still bleeds sluggishly.

‘I’m still angry at you,’ Raya says grumpily, but shuffles sideways slightly so that Namaari can have easier access to the wound. Namaari says nothing in response, leaving instead to collect up some bandages and a damp cloth, and when she returns, she focuses on cleaning the cut with precise focus.

‘It won’t need stitches,’ she murmurs as she wraps the clean bandage around Raya’s arms, her fingers gentle but firm in their actions. ‘I’m sorry you got hurt for me.’

‘Namaari, do you know why I’m angry?’ Raya interrupts the moment, ducking her head so that their eyes meet for the first time since dealing with the aftermath of the attack. Namaari holds her gaze for a moment, before her eyes slide away to fix on a point somewhere over Raya’s shoulder.

‘That man from Talon…Raya, his wife died in a Druun attack. Not turned to stone, but was actually killed in the chaos. Same for one of your own citizens – he told me his brother had drowned trying to swim away from the Druun in the initial attack. How do you expect me to hear that, and not…’

‘Not what, Namaari? Not hand yourself over for execution, or whatever they wanted to do?’ Raya is unimpressed. ‘Not everything is your fault, you stubborn binturi. And I refuse to let you become some sort of martyr due to some misguided quest for forgiveness.’

Her voice is raised slightly by the end, but one look at Namaari’s troubled face has her sighing deeply. She reaches out instead to wrap her arms around Namaari’s shoulders, pulling her into an embrace despite the stiff muscles she feels under her hands.

‘I wish sometimes that you’d simply forgive yourself,’ she confesses softly, the words coming easily. ‘But until then, I guess I’ll just keep reminding you instead.’

She feels arms tentatively rise up and wrap around her waist, and in response, she tucks her face in against the crook of Namaari’s neck. They sit embracing in silence for a long time.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #raya and namaari #raya x namaari #rayaari ficlet #forgiveness of self can be tricky #and namaari carries so much guilt #but i'm sure she'll learn to forgive herself eventually

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drarryruinedme7 · 3 years

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Last year I made a post with all my fave Drarry fics from my first year of fandom. Have my second year wrap up! Listed by Rating and then length.

RATING: TEEN AND UP AUDIENCES

Beautiful by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2017; 8.9k)

Summary: With the second task looming closer, Harry escapes to the Black Lake to open the egg, in the hopes of avoiding Myrtle. The Mersong isn't just helpful in figuring out that Mermaids are real, it attracts his very own handsome Merman.

*I didn’t know I love merpeople AUs until I read this one. It was cute and sweet and I’m really glad I read it.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi (2017; 93.3k)

Summary: 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

*What can I say. This is a masterpiece, it absolutely entered my heart to never leave it again. Best AU ever!!!

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered (2018; 153.8k)

Summary: Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

* This has been the turning point of my Drarry passion this year. First, I discovered Lettered (good Lord why hadn’t I before?!) and then, well. This fic brought out so many feelings in me and I’ve already re-read it something like 5 or 6 times in the span of a few months. Amazing.

RATING: MATURE

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018; 20.7k)

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

* The angst!! It’s usually not my cuppa, but this was bittersweet and just so well written, I couldn’t stop reading. Find the rec for this one at this post.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by @tryslora (2012; 4k)

Summary: Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

*Super hot, I love finding old gems like this one. Plus, Italy. Go, folks!

Shiny Things, Slightly Damaged by @lqtraintracks (2020; 5.3k)

Summary: Harry may not ever have had to see it if McGonagall hadn’t decided it was a good idea to hold a ceremony on the grounds outside before the Sorting in the Hall. And by ‘it’ he’s referring to Draco Malfoy on a motorbike.

*jsklajdksajfa This one! THIS ONE! Slayed me. I read it feverishly and then like, fainted at Draco on a motorbike.... this fic surprised me and I 100% loved it.

A Ghost of Blissful Feelings by @alpha-exodus (2020; 6k)

Summary: Harry hadn't expected to spend his eighth year fucking Draco Malfoy, but it's the only thing that helps him let go.

*Dunno guys, I’m amazed by how much this one hit me. You should read the tags before diving in, but it was darkish in the right way, Harry and Draco suffers and find peace in a ‘’special’’ way, but I stand by it. Hot and intense.

Tell Me (What you Need) by @keyflight790 (2019; 6k)

Summary: Even though Harry was paying for his Dom, there were limits; breaking points in which someone would refuse, no matter how many Galleons were pushed in their direction.

*Okay, I may be biased because this is a gift for me, but Chris never lets down with her amazing writing and this has everything I need and more: Dom!Rentboy!Draco and a perfectly sweet Harry with a Daddy!kink. I mean.

Dangerous by Faith Wood (2014; 6.3k)

Summary: Being trapped in a dungeon with Malfoy — who's a werewolf, a former Death Eater, and a giant git — is definitely dangerous. Harry has no reason to be excited. None at all.

*Y’all know Faith Wood is like my n.1 fave Drarry author. I have no idea why I had never read this one though!!! It’s actually phenomenal, scorching hot and just dsjkafjaks love this werewolf!Draco. OMG.

Scent and Sensibility by aidaninkling (2018; 7.5k)

Summary: [...] Draco's always known he'd be married off as a trophy omega, but suddenly his mother's trying to make him king by promising him to some stupidly good-looking alpha and she just won't stop smiling at him. Does fate's cruelty know no end?!

*This blew my mind. A/B/O AU so hot I melted while reading it and I loved it so much that I re-read it three times IN A ROW. No kidding. Read it.

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered (2012; 12k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

*Back to Lettered. I love Time Travel fics, and this just delivered perfectly. The ending was also enigmatic enough to keep me wandering, which I always appreciate in these kind of stories.

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum by @letteredlettered (2011; 17.9k)

Summary: This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

*LOL alright, I’ve developed a new obsession this year (clearly). This was ...gosh! Hot but it also gives away a certain level of intimacy and trust between Draco and Harry to be so open about their kinks... it was perfect.

On One’s Knees by pir8fancier (2008; 33.8k)

Summary: The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

* The fic which made me fall in love with DownAndOut!Draco.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette (2019; 49.2k)

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

*Okay y’all. Nerd is a great person and author. She is phenomenal. And this fic shows it so well. The pirate!AU the Drarry fandom both needed and deserved. Sublime.

Unhook the Stars by jad (2016; 70.5k)

Summary: [...] Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words. Guest appearances by Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin, Gregory Goyle, the Weird Sisters, ex-wives, several Weasleys, a Boggart, and a Honey Badger.

*Again, Dom!Draco and such a beautiful sub!Harry. They stole my heart. In this fic they grow up together through the aftermath of the war and they just... they have this intense Dom/sub relationship, I can’t... explain how much I loved this. Scorpius also makes his appearance and it’s so real and cute!

Such Great Heights by aideomai (2015; 93.3k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

*This is one of the last ones I’ve read. Find my rec for it here. Such a cool fic, with a shunned Draco who gets to be so happy in the end, it made me happy too.

Burn The Witch by @lettersbyelise (2019; 95.8)

Summary: When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

*I do not have the words to express what this fic means to me. First of all, it’s how I met Elise who’s an amazing person and who I’m glad to call friend. She’s the sweetest. And also incredibly talented. This fic will take your breath away from the first word to the last one. Smol!Scorpius is perfectly characterised and my absolute favourite bit of the fic.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (2019; 99.7k)

Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

*Another incredible person who I got to know better thanks to her breathtaking storytelling and her sweetness for sharing it with me. Quick made something amazing with this fic and I urge you to read it. It was my first creature fic ever, first time I read about werewolves and I totally fell in love with it. Sheer perfection.

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid (2019; 169.5k)

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect. Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

*Well, could I just miss out on another one of Quick’s great works? With, again, Dom!Draco!??? No, I couldn’t! This is such a great exploration of BDSM and what it means and Harry’s path into it.

19 Years and 5 Minutes Later by TheMightyFlynn (2015; 202.8k)

Summary: Five minutes after his happily-ever-after, Harry finds himself locked in the public loos with an angry Draco Malfoy and a need that he has denied for 19 years.

*Find my rec for this fic here. It’s really long and has Ginny bashing, but it’s totally worth it!!

#drarry #drarry squad #drarry fic rec #drarry rec #draco x harry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fics #drarry fanfictions #my recs #two years of drarry #amazing authors #amazing stories

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

As Long As It's You

Chapter One

Summary: Boston AU which predates the show in which Hotch and Morgan are together when Gideon's decisions with Adrian Bale change the course of their lives.

Warning: typical violence and bomb stuff

Pairing: Hotchgan/Mortch

The air conditioning in the room rages through the August heat, Boston has nothing on Quantico humidity but the air is still dense. Uncomfortably thick and showing no reprieve in the days since they arrived. On top of the sheets, the thin comforter underneath his sweaty body, Derek looks up at the spackled ceiling. The room’s too poorly lit to see it well but the whirling patterns are still there, easy to track in their simplicity. The shower runs in the background. The bad water pressure and too hot water working to wear down Aaron’s edges, leave him in his bare-bones. Sleepy and compliantly ready for bed.

“Oh Aaron,” Derek sighs. He props himself up on his elbow, his face eaten by a smile he feels no control over. Wet hair standing in crossed, leaning patterns Aaron steps out of the bathroom. He’s wearing his favorite pajama pants, the one’s he packs on every long case away. An old worn cable knit sweater pulled down over his hands. “It’s too hot for that.” Derek sits up, shaking his head affectionately. Aaron’s cold natured but the room is too hot for that sweater.

Yawning, sweater-covered hand coming held over his mouth, Aaron trudges to the bed. Feet scuffing across the cheap worn carpet, he pays Derek no mind. Their physical differences are so apparent in this little room. Derek’s abs hard and flexed with his arms stretched up above his head, a toned leg thrown over the side of the bed. Foot dangling just above the carpet. Aaron is worn and scarred in places where Derek is hard and smooth. He’s marked and scuffed across his stomach, scars scattered over his skin. And Derek sees right through him. To the self-conscious fool underneath the layers of clothes he puts between them.

Aaron’s rolled over onto his side, back facing Derek. He’s attempting and failing to settle down. The comforter is miserable and the bed much too small for two grown men. Especially with the amount of distance Aaron’s attempted to put between them. He flinches when Derek’s hand comes to his back, slowly creeping up under his sweater until warm fingers spreading out over his skin. Derek’s palm over his stomach, holding him together. Attempting to pull Aaron into Derek’s skin, meld them into one person. “Is this okay?” Derek asks.

Aaron nods, the tears in his eyes slipping down to the pillow.

“For breakfast,” Derek mumbles, “we should get waffles.” He yawns, pressing closer until his chest is against Aaron’s back. “Mmm and bacon,” he whispers, dreamily. His stomach growls and Aaron laughs a deep chuckle. Derek squeezes him, kissing the back of his neck. “What are you laughing at? I’m basically wasting away! I’m starving.” Wet hair against his forehead, Derek presses his face into Aaron’s neck. Squeezing him tight, holding him to his chest so he can’t get away. Worm away like he sometimes does in the middle of the night.

With a yawn, Aaron taps Derek’s hand and turns around until he’s facing Derek. He scoots down until he can fit his head under Derek’s chin, presses his face against Derek’s chest. Crinkling his nose he mumbles, “your breath stinks.”

Derek huffs, “you are so mean to me, Agent Hotchner.” His hand comes down to tilt Aaron’s head up, Dere kisses Aaron’s forehead, then his nose. Smirking when Aaron tries to worm away from this too. He turns himself into a koala, throws a leg over Aaron’s hips, and pins his arms to his chest. Aaron fights it, always does, but he secretly loves it. Being held that close. “So terribly mean,” Derek whispers.

Aaron falls asleep first, the anxious feeling he’s grown to be quite accustomed to stifled by how tightly Derek holds him. It’s easier to sleep with someone else. He’d never asked for this particular treatment, had always assumed he was actually more of a hands-off kind of partner. In a lot of ways, he is but not in this one. He’s not asleep though when Derek kisses his cheek, his warm palm dragging up his back. Coming to rest against his cheek, thumb brushing against his lip. Aaron smiles, Derek smiles back catching the edge of his lips in a kiss.

It’s not surprising Derek never moves in the night. Aaron wakes up on his stomach, lifts his head up out of where he’s wedged his face between Derek’s shoulder and the pillow. Out of the warmth. He looks over his shoulder, frowns at how far his squirming has caused his sweater to ride up his back. He really doesn’t sleep all that calmly but that doesn’t explain everything. Especially not Derek’s hand resting against his ass, above his boxers but in his pants.

Aaron’s mastered the art of crawling out of Derek’s arms but the pants situation is not something he’s equipped for. Derek groans when he moves, unhappy to be shifted in his sleep but he stays asleep. Aaron gets dressed in the dark, his slacks making soft swishing noises as his legs slide into the designated holes.

“Aaron,” Derek whispers. The bedsheets make a soft swishing sound as Derek moves his hand along the sheets, making another discontent groaning sound. He rolls over, squints into the darkness until he can see Aaron moving around. “What’re you doing?” He rubs his eyes, sits up. “Babe, it’s early. Why are you up?”

Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand Aaron stumbles over to the bed. He trips on Derek’s pants, his disregarded clothing leaving a trail of tripping hazards for him to break his neck on. “I was gonna go to the hospital? Get the reports that Gideon was talking about. I have to get a jump on them because Gideon thinks there might be something in them we can use to build the profile.”

Derek hums, laying back down. He waves Aaron over, “lay back down.” He yawns, pulling the comforter back and leaving Aaron plenty of room to do just that. “Come on,” he whines. “Fifteen minutes, you don’t even need to go just yet.”

Aaron wants to disagree, to keep going on about his morning, but Derek reaches over and snags his hand. Tangles their fingers, pulls him closer. “Fine,” Aaron whispers. “Until you fall asleep.” He lays down where Derek was, immediately warmed by the heat Derek’s body left seeped into the covers. Derek attaches himself to Aaron’s back, pushes his face into Aaron’s back, and falls back to sleep. Like it’s nothing.

It’s much harder to get out of bed this time.

He shuts the door behind him softly, fighting the lock thudding back into place. As childish as it must look, he eases past Gideon’s door. Knows that if he’s found out Jason will chase him back to the room, he won’t find Aaron’s early start to the day ambitious but rather foolish. They’re all exhausted, they need to sleep. They’ve been in Boston for four intense days, split out across the city watching three different victims fall prey to a bomber. Derek’s breaking his back profiling bomb fragments, angry that he can’t provide the final answers they need in the profile. In whatever dark room he’s afforded, Aaron closes himself off with the case files. Looks over Derek’s notes and relays information about the victims to Jason.

They’re stuck.

At five, Derek wakes up alone. It’s not unusual.

He’s halfway down the stairs when he hears Gideon come out of his room. Derek looks over his shoulder, nods his head in acknowledgment to Gideon, and keeps walking. Neither have to say a thing to know where Aaron is. “Will you be joining us for breakfast?” Derek asks. He fails to keep his tone even, to not sound annoyed by Aaron sneaking off so early in the morning. It’s not healthy and if he’d been more awake he’d have stopped him. Aaron’s answer is no but he dancing around the answer enough to make it sound like a yes, Derek just isn’t stupid enough to fall for that anymore. “Here,” Derek shrugs it off. It’s too early for a fight. “Gideon wants to talk to you.”

He has blueberry pancakes because they’re doing a physically demanding job and living on an empty stomach isn’t healthy. No matter how Aaron dances around it. Gideon hangs up the call, Derek simply holding up his hand and shaking his head when Gideon tries to let him have the last word. He doesn’t want to talk to Aaron right now. He’s still bitter about his own four a.m. wake-up call and too hungry to make it through a conversation with him without snapping. And that’s not what either needs right now.

“He’s been distance lately,” Gideon says into his tea.

Derek grunts and keeps his head in his pancakes, doesn’t want to encourage the conversation.

“You going to be okay?”

Gideon knows but… Aaron and Derek aren’t sure about how much or to what extent. They know that he sees right through them and that’s a dangerous thing but he says nothing. Aaron dispels Derek’s fear with practiced words, a profile he’s been building since he met Gideon. He’s been watching how what little trusted information Aaron gives him blows over. What he reacts to and what he doesn’t. He’s only actually a little certain that Gideon won’t have them hung and tried for their crimes. Leave them for dead. Worse, outed to the entire government.

“I’m not sure,” Derek mumbles. He’s looking down into pancakes, picking one up with his fork and examining how pathetic and unappetizing it looks. “I think four more days in this city is going to kill him.” He drops his fork, runs his hands over his head, and just sits like that for a moment. This relationship and this silent moment go against everything he’s ever taught himself. Not to trust men, especially ones in power, but Gideon… When Aaron shuts a door like this Gideon has the flourish to pick the lock.

“Mmm,” Gideon agrees. He sets his mug down, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and clears his throat. “Well, I guess, we better get to work.”

Work pays in migraines.

Aaron comes back with reports upon reports. The receptionist offers them coffee when they step in -- she has a thing for Derek, which they all ignore in favor of her bringing them the freshest coffee -- she beams a smile at Derek and motions to Aaron sitting in the press conference room they’ve been given to work in. “He’s been here all morning, he’s like a robot.” Derek takes her coffee and doesn’t exchange the flirting like he has been, though it’s the unspoken payment for her coffee.

Gideon winks, patting her shoulder and expressing his gratitude for the coffee. “He is,” Gideon agrees, “that’s why we keep him around.” He laughs even he doesn’t find it that funny. He busies himself outside of the room they’ve been working in none-stop since they got here. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Derek wake Aaron up, purposely distancing themselves so the outside world doesn’t see. To hide how badly Derek wants to wipe the file’s imprint on Aaron’s cheek away with his sleeve. He gives them enough time to settle things and he steps into the room, clearing his throat. “Well, it seems since Hotch has such a jump on us this morning, why don’t you tell us what you’ve found?”

Hotch looks up at Derek but stands, clearing his throat. He has to move his shirt around, sleeping on paperwork has worn down his charm and carefully curated look. “I was looking at the -- the metal rods Derek found in the bombs--” his trembling hands hunt through the files. Searching for the pictures that Derek took but he ends up making a mess, the papers too thin for his uncoordinated hands. Derek pushes him away, takes over the mission and finds the prize before Aaron can start stuttering through his findings again. “I thought they made it seem like all that matters is the bombs. Not the victims, that explains why there isn’t a type, in the victimology. He’ll kill anyone because it’s about the bombs, not the victims. It’s about the rush, the fire, and the control.”

Derek nods, he’s not so sure that’s what the metal rods are there for. It’s maximum carnage for a great distance, over-kill for one soul person. To him, it just sounds like Aaron isn’t sleeping enough.

Gideon seems to agree but he’s pleasantly forgiving. Aaron’s worked hard for the last four days carrying more than his share of the profile. “It’s good, that’s good.” With a nod, he shifts the focus to Derek. “I think I’m going to split us up today. Send Derek to look at the bombs again. There has to be something we’re missing there.” Gideon steps to leave the room but turns back, “keep looking into the rod thing, Hotch. I think you’re on to something.”

With two light slaps to the doorframe, Gideon disappears back into the station. To the whirs and light conversation being had by the officers. Where Aaron knew Derek would eventually abandon him too as well. Disappearing into the uniforms easily, not returning until lunch or dinner. Coming back to reprimand him about whatever meal he’s missed or how he didn’t call Derek back. But for just a second Derek keeps his hand on Aaron’s shoulder, soaks in all the physical proximity he can before he has to step away. Turn themselves into different people, with different motives.

“I love you,” Derek whispers, stepping away from Aaron. “Please, please get lunch with Gideon. Do not sit in this room all day. You need to get some sun.” He hesitates to leave the room completely, wants to stay here just a little longer. Bask in Aaron’s proximity before he has to go sit in front of his own reports all day, looking at pictures of charred bodies and analyzing bomb fragments. “We should take a day when this is over. Go to the beach, drink vodka out of a watermelon on the sand.”

Aaron’s head has already gone back to his hands, fingers seeping through his dark hair. “I don’t like the sand,” he mumbles. It’s childish, it’s picking a fight where there doesn’t need to be one. He doesn’t like the sand but he does like the beach. How happy that it makes Derek and even dragging chairs and an umbrella down to the water. Letting Derek pull him into the waves and falling asleep hours later with skin warmed by the sun, Derek’s arms holding him down, and the residual rocking of phantom waves easing him to sleep. It sounds… amazing but he’s just in the mood to be an asshole.

“Think about it,” Derek asks, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He does think about it. He wants to spend hours in the car with Derek, listening to his music shift in styles and decades the farther they get away from Quantico, Virginia. To feel the residual ache of a nap he takes in the car, neck bent awkwardly to rest his head against the window and Derek’s hand on the inside of his thigh. To be awakened by the sun on his face, the heat of it good against his chilled skin. To go on long walks along the boardwalk, taking bites out of the greasy food Derek loves, and to hold his hand when it gets dark enough. To initiate contact only when the night swells his chest with bravery, daring anyone to say anything when the buzz of alcohol in his veins fills him with liquid courage. Just the sun and the beach and Derek.

But there isn’t a break in the case.

Only a hostage.

A forty-seven-year-old white man, the bomb held in his shaking hands. His front porch is too small for most of the officers so they have to regroup, come up with a proper plan. The hostage won’t last much longer in the heat. Adrenaline and humidity will do him in. They’re fighting two clocks. They need Derek here but he’s halfway to Virginia, consulting with Gideon in angry shouts as the two feverishly disagree with the plan they’re making. Derek doesn’t trust Bale to tell them what they need, Gideon thinks he’s a coward, he’ll cave.

“I’ll do it,” Aaron interrupts. He’s wearing his vest, already hooked up. If Gideon mans the negotiations, tries to get Bale to tell them what to cut he can handle getting closer to the bomb. Being their man in the field, the filter between what Gideon says and making sure what Derek says gets done. It would be far more helpful to just have Derek doing it, someone here who understands everything. Aaron knows about bombs… he learned about them as a cadet but he knows enough. To help. To get this handled.

“No,” Derek says and Gideon nods his head, “go. Keep your radio on 4, I don’t want anyone else out there.”

Aaron nods, all he needs to say is done. His vest agitates the skin under his arms but as he pulls the straps in tight it stifles the anxiety hammering through his bones. It’s comforting, it’s dangerous.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Aaron looks up, knows he’s the only person that can hear Derek through his earpiece but he still freezes a little. Glances over at Gideon now bowed back over his preciously set up desk, on the phone with Bale and trying to find some way to make this disastrous situation end without more death. Under his breath, he answers Derek, “my job. Someone needs to be out there. You’re not here. So it has to be me.” He looks down at himself, vest pulled down to meet his belt. Zipper up. Radio properly fed to his ear. “Are you ready?” Aaron asks, clenching his fists tight. Calm, he needs to be calm.

“Aaron, please be careful.”

There isn’t actually much that he can do. He’s a mid-point, a place wedged between phone calls. A voice to be drowned into the mix of others, not as important as Gideon’s sharp no non-sense negotiating. He’s a body in the sea, a calm voice. “Eric,” he offers calmly, “just hold still for us. We’ll get you out of here.” The poor man’s hands are showing no signs of steadying out. The bomb explosive element is mercury -- perhaps it’s not the explosive element but Derek was telling him about all this while they were laying in bed, Derek’s fingers scratching at his scalp so no he wasn’t paying enough attention. Mercury, though, is very unsteady, and the way the bombs are made the mercury is unstable. It’s going to tilt over and… boom.

“Agent Hotchner,” a bomb squad agent steps forward. “I’m going to approach the bomb now. Agent Gideon and Agent Morgan have spoken to Bale, he’s helping them.”

Aaron nods steps out of the way. “Eric, this man is going to help you, okay? Just keep steady, alright?”

It’s agonizingly slow. Aaron stays close, he’s only allowed at the bottom of the porch. Eric standing right by the door to the house. He says what he has to, what he’s trained to. It’s not that hard, he trusts Derek and he trusts Gideon. No matter how his gut twists. How at the back of his mind he’s reminded that he thinks this is all end-game, it ends in a bang. How seven federal agents would make the best ending, a great story for a bad guy.

“Eric,” the bomb squad agent says. “I’m going to disarm the bomb now--”

Seven hundred miles away and Derek Morgan feels that bomb shatter his world.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #as long as it's you #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #mortch #hotchgan

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clusterbuck · 3 years

Text

been trying to tell you i want you the most

(2k, rated M, chapter 1/2; vampire!buck au) read it on ao3

Eddie’s walking past the ladder truck when a hand shoots out to grab him, yanking him back and guiding him into the supply closet. He stumbles over something on the floor, but strong hands wrap around his forearms and hold him steady.

“Buck,” Eddie groans. “We’ve talked about this.”

There’s a click, and the light flickers on. It’s not much, just a single bare bulb that barely illuminates the shelves full of cleaning products. But it’s enough for him to see Buck, leaning against the door and grinning down at him with his fangs on full display.

“About what?” he asks, voice full of faux innocence. The effect is eerie, some instinctive part of Eddie bristling at the combination of the sound and the mouth it comes out of. A mouth whose sharp teeth glint in the barely-there light, every single one whispering predator.

A mouth that Eddie desperately wants on him.

“Using your words,” Eddie grumbles. “You don’t need to do the whole creature of the night, snatching innocent victims routine.”

Buck laughs, head thrown back and eyes bright. “Creature of the night?”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of stereotypes you’re trying to live up to.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want me pulling you into dark corners?” Buck asks, leaning closer, and there’s a hint of something dangerous in his voice. But the danger isn’t about the fangs flashing at the corners of his mouth. It’s in the way he looks at Eddie, like drinking Eddie’s blood isn’t the only way Buck wants to devour him.

Eddie really doesn’t think he’d mind.

But then Buck straightens up again and Eddie thinks maybe he imagined the whole thing. Maybe he’s just wanted Buck for so long he’s seeing things.

“I’m saying if you need to feed, you could just say so,” Eddie says. He tries to keep his tone in check, because he knows that despite the bravado, Buck still isn’t convinced that Eddie’s doing this because wants to. Even if the mere idea of it makes it hard to keep a quiver of excitement out of his voice.

After all, it’s only been a few weeks since Eddie walked into Buck’s loft that first day. It’s been less time still since Buck showed up at his house on a Friday night, a restless jumble of emotions Eddie couldn’t even begin to parse.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his first instinct in every situation. “Are you—is it not healing right?”

“It’s fine,” Buck says, and Eddie’s quick once-over doesn’t reveal anything he could use to argue. “It’s just—a little slow?”

“So it’s not fine,” Eddie says, and steps back to let Buck in. “Wait, do I need to invite you in or something?”

Healing slowly or not, Buck still manages to roll his eyes at him. “Eddie, how many times have I been at your house before?”

“Okay, fair enough.”

“So the thing is,” Buck says, collapsing onto Eddie’s couch with a wince, “Is that iron is a real bitch.”

“Yeah, you mentioned.”

“So it’s not—I’m not, like, actively dying anymore, but it does still kind of suck.”

“Was that a—”

“Eddie, I swear to god, if you make a joke about vampires sucking right now, I am going to walk out of here.”

“You’re the one who showed up at my door,” Eddie shrugs, but he recognises the way Buck tends to bristle when he’s threatened, or worried that he’s about to be. “So why did you?”

“I—” Buck starts, and bites his lip. His fangs are out, pressing against his lower lip, and Eddie has a sudden, visceral flashback to the way they’d felt sliding into his throat. It takes him considerable effort to tear his gaze away.

Eddie thinks he knows what Buck is trying to say, but he’s curious to see whether or not Buck will actually manage to say it.

“Do you trust me?” Buck asks suddenly. It’s not where Eddie had thought this was going.

“Implicitly,” Eddie says, without hesitation. “Buck, you know I’d trust you with my life. With Christopher’s life.”

“Even though—”

“—Even though,” Eddie interrupts, and they both hear the words neither one of them is saying.

“Okay,” Buck says, still not looking at Eddie. “Okay. I just—I just want you to know that you don’t have to—that I’m not going to…” he trails off.

“Not going to what?”

“Not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m not scared of you, Buck,” Eddie says. He’s aiming for reassuring, but maybe it comes out a little more flippant than he’d intended, if Buck’s expression is anything to go by.

Buck blinks, and then a heartbeat later Eddie is flat on his back on the couch, Buck hovering over him. Eddie swallows in a way he’s pretty sure would be audible even if Buck didn’t have superhuman hearing, and prays Buck can’t somehow sense the way his every nerve ending has come alive, singing at the feel of Buck’s weight above him.

“What about now?” Buck says, and there’s a slight growl in his voice that hadn’t been there before. Combined with the way Buck is baring his fangs just a little, the sound goes directly to Eddie’s dick. He takes a deep breath and tries to think about cold showers, about dead old ladies or his fifth-grade science teacher. Anything to keep his traitorous body from telling on him.

“Still not scared of you,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I told you. I trust you with my life.” He stares up at Buck, trying to keep his gaze as open and honest as possible.

“You really do, don’t you,” Buck whispers, and drops his head so his forehead is resting on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Told you,” he says. “So, if you need to feed…”

“Can I?” Buck asks, his incredulity half-muffled by Eddie’s shirt.

And Eddie knows this is where he should reassure Buck, should make a real effort to convince him that Eddie would give his life for Buck, so giving a little blood is nothing. But he doesn’t trust himself to say that and then stop talking, so he tries to deflect instead. “What, did you think I’d save you once and then just cut you off?”

“There isn’t exactly established etiquette for this, Eddie,” Buck grumbles. “I don’t—I didn’t want to assume.”

“From now on, assume I’m going to want to help you not die.”

“I—okay.”

“Now come on,” Eddie says. “Time to help you not die.” He doesn’t even think about the fact that Buck is still lying on top of him, not until Buck lifts his head and shuffles a little to reposition himself so he can reach Eddie’s throat.

And Eddie might pride himself on his self-control, but—he thinks saints would probably be led astray by this. By Buck’s hand curling around the back of his neck to keep him steady as he sinks his fangs into the place his neck meets his shoulder, tongue occasionally darting out to catch drops of blood threatening to escape. By the weight of Buck’s body pressed against his, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.

He’s so focused on Buck’s mouth that he doesn’t even register that he’s hard until Buck shifts against him, and the movement sends electricity tingling down his limbs. He lets out a noise, something between a grunt and a moan. Buck pulls back in alarm, and the sight of Eddie’s blood smeared around his mouth is nothing short of obscene.

“Are you—oh,” Buck says, the concern in his features being replaced with embarrassment. “Sorry, I should have—that happens sometimes, I should have warned you. It’s supposed to, uh, make it easier to feed, I guess. If you’re not running away.”

Eddie has no intention of running away from Buck, ever, but this doesn’t seem like the time to bring that up. He fights the urge to hide his face, because this might be the one situation in which being embarrassed about a boner is more damning than just going with it.

Not that he thinks the feeding has anything to do with his current situation, except in the sense that he is disastrously in love with Buck, and extremely sensitive to any contact between them.

And he might be developing a thing for the fangs. Which isn’t something he ever saw coming, but—he’s woken up dreaming about sharp teeth on his throat several nights now, and there’s no denying the full-body shiver that passes through him when Buck bends down to continue what he was doing.

It’s fine. This is just his life now.

“Okay,” Buck says now. “I need to feed. Please.” The words are cocky, but his tone is anything but, and Eddie fights the urge to sigh. Clearly, it’s going to take a little while longer for Buck to internalise the fact that Eddie is really and truly willing to be his personal blood supply.

That’s fine. Eddie has time. “Look at you, using your words,” he says, smirking. “You gonna use your mouth for anything else any time soon?”

“How are you the impatient one right now?” Buck wonders, and then he’s pushing Eddie against the wall, tugging at the neckline of Eddie’s uniform.

They try not to unbutton his shirt anymore, because one time the alarm had gone off when Buck was mid-feed, and the team had definitely had a lot to say when Buck and Eddie had tumbled around the corner together, Eddie still buttoning his shirt. He doesn’t remember what excuse they’d used, but he remembers it wasn’t very believable.

They hear about it approximately twelve times a shift, now, and so they’re putting a little more effort into being careful.

But only a little, because they get carried away sometimes, and being careful or covert is pretty much the last thing on Eddie’s mind.

He’s only thinking about one thing, and it’s Buck. Buck holding him against the wall, one hand on Eddie’s hip and the other on his shoulder, using just enough of his supernatural strength to drive Eddie wild. Buck’s lips on his throat, the way his mouth is working like the blood is secondary and he’s trying to give Eddie a hickey.

Buck’s thigh shoving between his legs.

Eddie’s been half-hard since Buck yanked him into this supply closet and it’s no time at all before he’s straining against his uniform, grinding against Buck as much as he can while Buck is still pinning him to the wall.

“Buck,” he groans, “please.” He punctuates it with a jerk of his hips and Buck seems to get the message, because he loosens his grip.

It’s hard to tell, with the angle, and the way most of his brain is fixated on the points of contact between him and Buck’s thigh, but he thinks Buck might be grinning against his throat.

Eddie starts moving the moment Buck lets go of his hip; his thrusts are sloppy and inefficient and barely get him anywhere, but it’s all he can do as long as Buck’s fangs are still clamped in his throat.

He whines in frustration, and suddenly Buck’s hand is scrabbling at his fly, struggling with the button one-handed until he just yanks it off.

Better not be an alarm right now, Eddie thinks half-hysterically, and then he isn’t thinking about anything other than the way Buck’s hand wraps around him and starts to move, somehow in time with the pulsing at his throat.

Eddie’s embarrassingly close embarrassingly fast. He spills into Buck’s hand barely a minute later, collapsing bonelessly against the wall. Buck withdraws his hand slowly, and even through his blissed-out haze, Eddie can tell that something is wrong.

“Buck—?” he tries to ask, but Buck takes a step back, eyes wild and panicked. His gaze darts back and forth from Eddie’s throat to his open fly to Buck’s own hand, faster and faster like a possessed pinball machine.

Eddie is still trying to decide exactly what he needs to reassure Buck about when Buck abruptly turns on his heel and runs out of the supply closet like a bat out of hell. By the time Eddie manages to fix his pants enough to follow him out into the hallway, Buck is nowhere to be seen.

#buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #vampire!buck au #shush emma #emma writes #this is my last buddie contribution of the day and now i really need to sleep so i don't hate my life tomorrow

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