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absolutelynotmate-archive · 1 year

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you gotta move, or move on- c.leclerc

love is so short, forgetting is so long pairing: charles leclerc x female reader word count: 5.5k warnings: angsty slay I'VE MOVED BLOGS! if you enjoy this and are looking for more, follow me @formulaforza

You were seventeen when your parents picked up your entire life and moved to the tiniest, most congested country they could have possibly chosen. You’d vacationed there, spent your summers there for years, and you’re the first to admit it’s beautiful. Paris is beautiful, too. Home is beautiful in a way Monte Carlo will never be because home belongs to you.

You’re a transplant in Monaco; a foreign organism who doesn't know the streets, the places, the people. You weren’t done with school, you had a whole year left. Why couldn’t your parents hold off for twelve months? Wait until you were in University and could stay where you belonged, let you choose your own path? You had to get familiar with a new city and a new school, new friends, new teachers.

That’s where you met him, sort of. Through school, not at school. He was friends with your friends, but you’d never seen him at school before. A driver, Formula 3, they told you. It meant nothing to you considering you’d never followed racing, and weren’t going to start now. He’s really good, you didn’t care, not really. You were with your new friends, and he was there, rarely, occasionally, always a big deal when he showed up.

Then, he was doing something else, somewhere else, and winning all of the time. He’s going to get promoted, everyone was always saying, always watching his races on their phones and on their laptops and on their televisions. You were riding along with your friends–his friends–to all of these European races. You’lldo anything for a vacation when you’re a teenager. You picked up on the obvious things pretty quickly, learned more about the intricate details in the grandstands; while you wouldn’t call yourself invested, you weren’t comatose while watching the races, either.

You think that’s what he liked about you, what sparked the interest in the first place. Half of the girls your age at home were throwing themselves at him, trying to land him before he made it big. That’s what they always tell you about athletes, you have to get in before they really make it or else you won’t ever mean anything to them, they want you to prove your loyalty to them. You think he saw you, all passive and unbothered by race results–good or bad–and it intrigued him. It’s the only plausible explanation in your head, because he had his pick of the litter and you’ve never considered yourself the smartest, the prettiest, the best at anything, really. He could have had the best, but he chose you.

It started off with these weird glances, ones where you’d catch each other’s eyes all of the fucking time. It was always so awkward, like you’d caught each other doing something wrong. Your eyes would dart away to another friend, to the sky, to your shoelaces, and your stomach would get all tangled in itself. You always felt like apologizing, like when two people are trying to move out of each other’s way and they both step to the same side; an awkward smile and a muted apology and then you think about it for the rest of the day because the whole thing was so mortifying.

Then it was conversations, ones you’d never had before and always about nothing important. The two of you were friend-adjacent, at best, but now you were always lingering at the back of the group. Ending up sitting in the restaurant booth for a beat longer than everyone else, waiting for the other to fill their plate before finding a place to sit. You’d talk about school, about your plans for the future, about missing Paris and he’d talk about racing, about his dreams, about missing Monaco. You live here, you’d always say to him.

Barely, he’d always reply, the better I get the less time I have.

At some point the group meetings became one-on-one. A restaurant you’d never heard of, one he swore had the best food in the entire world. A coffee shop you wanted to try, one he knew nothing about because he didn’t drink coffee. He didn’t tell you that until you were ordering and you felt foolish, but then he ordered a hot tea and you sat at a little table and talked some more about nothing. You took him to Paris once during Fashion Week, because you had a family friend who had a show. You showed him around and even though he’d been a million times, he let you because he liked the way you talked. Alwayssaid there was something sweet about your voice. Like candy, he said, after you pointed out the bus stop you sat at every day before school as a child, after you asked him why he was smiling like an idiot. That’s when you realized you had a crush on him– in Paris by the old bus stop.

“We’re not dating,” the two of you told friends for two months, even though the only thing that made the statement true was the lack of a label. You were doing everything people who date do. Suddenly, they were asking, and you were smiling and blushing and gushing all the details of just how he’d asked you to make it official.

You got into a fight in May, because he heard from one of your friends you were going to University in Monaco. It hurt that he heard it from someone that wasn’t you but it hurt more that you were staying. You haven’t shut up about going back to Paris since I met you, he said, over the phone because he was away at a race. Why aren’t you going to Paris? You felt like a Gilmore girl, a Jess and Rory original.

“You live here”, you said, like always.

“Barely,” he replied, like always.

That was precisely it, though. If he could barely make it back to his home, how could you ever expect him to have time to come see you in yours?

You ended up going back to Paris, reluctant that he’d be able to fulfill his promises to come see you. When you packed your boxes of things into the trunk of your car, part of you knew it was just the beginning of the end. The rest of you pretended it wasn’t, carried on with red eyes to Monaco and weekend studying done on trains following him around for two trips around the sun.

You’ve always prided yourself on being realistic, it’s what you thought helped draw him to you in the first place. But, you were coming to learn he needed optimism, the undying and unrelenting kind that you were never going to be capable of providing. You weren’t the kind of person that could watch him drive for shit and pretend he didn’t. You drove for shit, you would tell him, only if it was true and then he’d get all passive aggressive and close doors with more force than necessary and sigh dramatically every five minutes. You weren’t a villain about it, you were still his biggest cheerleader, next race you’ve got it, I know you’re better than this, but you were honest. You’d always be honest, and it was dragging him down.

He’d be better off, you thought, if he could have his choice again and find someone who was coded in a way that built him up instead of tearing him down. If you were smarter, prettier, better at all of it, you think you could be what he needs, that you’d be able to adapt and change the way you thought for him. You weren’t those things, though, you were just you.

So calls became short, time zones felt greater, and he never did come see you in Paris. You lost touch with your friends in Monaco, a year, unsurprisingly, does little to form life-long friendships. He kept in touch with them, was always so much better at relationships than you were. Charles would talk about them all of the time, about how much they were helping him, how good they could make him feel. It always made you sad, knowing you were never going to be enough.

I feel like I barely know you anymore, you said once, on the phone, in the middle of the night because it was the only time you got calls from him anymore. He’s in America, racing with Sauber now and you haven’t been to a single race outside of Monaco.

I can’t wait for your wedding, one of his friends, an old, once upon a time friend of yours said sometime that weekend. I bet he proposes, soon. You knew he wouldn’t, knew you were treading dangerously close to the extinction line. Your relationship was teetering on a cliff and waiting for a gust of wind, a breath of fresh air, a cold–hearted shove to push you over the edge and into a fiery explosion of doom, death, all other bad things. You dragged out the end of the call, worried the earlier admission would make it your last for a while. I wish you were here, you said and he didn’t reiterate the sentiment.

You never remembered Paris as being so cloudy, so chilled, so rainy. All of the colors felt gray and muted and you just wanted to be with him, wherever he was. The U.S, China, Monaco. He was everywhere but with you, and you were furious and depressed and bratty and selfish about it. Home is a person, as cheesy as it is true, you’d come to learn.

If you knew this is how it would have gone, you never would have conceded, you would have gone to school in Monaco and everything would be perfect. If you knew, you would have learned everything there was to know about Formula 3 all those years ago. You would have studied it like your life depended on it and would’ve become a fan girl and he never would have found you relevant or interesting and all of this could have been avoided. You didn’t do any of those things, though because you never could have known you were going to fall in love. Allgrandiose and emotional and comfortable. You never could have predicted you’d be counting sheep to spend time with him. You never could have known, never could have prepared.

You tried to fix it, you did. Some things just aren’t repairable. You called more often, you tried to get more time off work and blew all your money traveling. When you were together, it was so good. It was never hard to share space with him, to occupy the same air. That was the easiest part. That was why it was worth trying to fix, all the conversations about nothing and everything, about your dreams and his dreams, about the future neither of you fully believed you’d share. It was lovely in the chaos and it was pure in the silence.

We have to be at rock bottom, you told him, teary eyed on the sofa of a hotel suite on a Monday morning. You were packing your bags, you back to France, him to the next race. You just started crying, out of nowhere, while you were folding your underwear. He laughed at first, but you didn’t stop crying. The thought of going back to being apart was one you couldn’t grapple with, refused to come to terms with because it was so bad when you were away. A shredded heart apart, a mended wound together. The pain of it was becoming unbearable.

You moved back to Monaco. It felt like the only thing left to do, a last resort. All those times he told you he was barely there, he wasn’t lying. He was away from Monaco the same as he was away from Paris. “You love me,” you teased him over Facetime, cooking dinner, making horrible jokes, trying with all your might to make it all better.

“I love you,” he said, rehearsed and bored and unamused. Reminded, maybe, by your words that he was supposed to love you. Every word for the rest of the night feels like checking the expiration date on a bottle of something you don’t remember buying and can’t identify.

Winter break, he was back home for the holidays, to see his family, to see you. You didn’t want to do it then, but it felt like the only option. “I’ve had enough,” you said to him, among a million other things.

“I understand,” he told you, and you knew it was really over because he didn’t try to fight for you, to convince you otherwise. If he had tried, you would have let him, would have caved, you know it.

“We can still be friends,” you offered, a concession prize because being with him really was that great. It was all the complicated long-distance relationship dynamics that killed what you had, what you still have.

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You cried, he cried, and when you went to his apartment three days later to pack up the things you had there, you found a little velvet box on the top shelf of the closet. Curiosity killed the cat, and you opened it, instantly regretted it, memorized the diamond ring inside, closed it and returned it to it’s original spot and never told another person. You should have said no, but you would’ve said yes.

There won’t be too many drunk calls, you hoped, from either of you. A clean breakup. You figured it wouldn’t be long before he moved on, before you saw on social media that he was walking the paddock with a girl who could give him everything he needed, everything you couldn’t. You thought it would make you happy, to see him happy and fulfilled and with a partner that was better suited to him.

She looks just like you. Your sister texted you at the beginning of the next season. He was a hot shot now, the promised prince who would be bringing Ferrari to glory again. He was also walking through the paddock with another girl.

Il Predestinato, the predestined. You wondered if it held any truth. Wondering if the universe had it all planned out, if every single thing that has ever happened to him, including you, was all a part of some master plan. If it is, the universe is sick, you think.

He looks happy, good for him. You replied, cried for four hours, soaked shirt and sheets and pillowcase. You could have kept going if you had any tears left to give, but you used them all up scrolling through social media, doom spiraling until you found out who she was, found her twitter, found her Instagram, scrolled to the bottom of her tagged photos, learned the name of her sister and what color dress she’d worn in Italy with her teenage boyfriend. You needed to know all of it, because he was your teenage boyfriend before long before he ever belonged to her.

You never thought of Monaco as a small town, but, now that you’re expecting to find a ghost around every corner, to spot his car on every street, the fucking country has never felt smaller. You’re claustrophobic here, everything reminds you of him, his picture is everywhere. Formula One is everywhere. Your friends, the ones you’d reconnected with since moving back, they were his friends first.

They act like nothing’s changed, like they’ve chosen your side when they clearly haven’t. You wonder how long they all knew about his new girl, how long they’ve been together, how long it took him to move on. You expected it to be quick, but God, it’s barely been a few months and he’s already comfortable enough subjecting her to the media circus.

You try to go out, to drown your sorrows with the girls who aren’t really your friends. The nightlife is always bustling here, but every club feels empty without him there. Everyshot needs a partner and every fruity drink needs him stealing sips and refusing to admit he likes it. Your friends try to cheer you up, and guys try to hit on you, but you feel like a shell of a person. Justfloating around without purpose. Floating, waiting, hoping it’s all a nightmare.

You don’t run into him, thank God. You run into Pascale and Arthur, though, which is arguably so, so much worse. It’s just on the street, they’re heading to the grocery store, one of them tells you. You’re walking to nowhere, from nowhere. Pascale hugs you and you think you might burst into tears. We miss you, she says, and it fuels the jealous ball of guilt in your soul for another day.

I miss you guys, too, you said, and meant it. You wondered if any of them knew about the ring. Charles was never one to keep a secret, he was historically terrible at it, it was endearing. Arthur was almost hard to look at, the same eyes, the same voice. Identical laughs, all nervous and short, the same face, practically. “How’s Lorenzo?” You asked, because you couldn’t ask about Charles.

You walked home, passed his building and wished you were dead so any trace of your relationship could be buried with you. You tried to pretend you didn’t know the cracks on the sidewalk, that you didn’t have each and every one memorized from walking the same steps so many times.

Home is just as haunting as the streets are. He’d helped you pick out the apartment, went to look at this one with you and said he’d never forgive you if you didn’t lock it in. You ate pizza on the living room floor, before you had any furniture at all, before you even had an internet connection. Sauce dripped from your slice onto the floor and he hurriedly grabbed a napkin to wipe it off the wood floors. You can’t afford to lose your deposit, idiot, he told you, smiled like a goofball and wiped the sauce on your face.

The whole place sings of him, the walls have heard his favorite songs played over, and over, and over again. He picked that paint color, helped you put it on the wall and raced to see who could finish their side first. You deleted his playlist from your phone, along with all the pictures and the videos, but the memories still linger, stunt your healing and stick into your life like a stubborn splinter.

You buy out your lease the next week, move back to Paris and stay with a friend until you can get a place of your own. It’s good for you, the best, being away from a place that was never really yours. It allows you to pick up the pieces and move forward, to not spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been, what might have fixed things.

Paris gives you clarity, makes it impossible to be angry at him because it wasn’t anyone’s fault. There’s nothing anyone could have done, the universe itself never would have been able to intervene. It was just young love, all poetic and film-inspiring and heartbreak song-inducing. Innocent and infuriating and codependent and convoluted. Your first heartbreak, the first real, gut-wrenching experience with losing a love, it’s always like this. The movies and the songs proved that. You just didn’t experience that loss until you were in your early twenties. Distance allows you to recognize that. Having the same aching pain settled so deep in your chest would have been unbearable if you were any younger. You were lucky, as sick and twisted as it felt.

He swears to God he saw you during the podium in Monza. A flash of your hair, your eyes, he blinks and it’s gone, you’re gone. A figment of his imagination, he tries to convince himself he’s seeing things in the chaos of winning Ferrari’s home race, but, he can’t shake it, the feeling that you’re here.

You’d come to a race at Monza, a million years ago, 2016. It was a sprint race and he retired. It’s okay, all of his friends told him. All of them except you. You didn’t say anything, just smiled and gave him the same awkward hug you always did. “What did you think about the race?” He asked you.

“It was whatever.” You’d shrugged. “Shit for you, I suppose.” It was right there. That’s the moment he pinpointed, the exact second he decided he wanted to know you better, that he needed to prove himself to you, show you just how interesting his life could be. He always figured he would tell your kids the story one day, that he’d mention it in his wedding vows and get a spattering of laughs from the guests.

That was the last time you were in Monza together. That’s why he was seeing you in the crowd, he was projecting, surely. He asks his brother, his mother, if they saw you. They give him strange looks and ask him if he’s okay because, why would you be here?

You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t be here, he keeps telling himself. He half expects to find you in his drivers room, or lingering by the coffee machine in hospitality. You’ve never even been inside the Ferrari motorhomes, but, he thinks you’d look so familiar in there, like he wouldn’t bat an eye seeing you.

His mind races, and he feels like a teenager again. Like no time at all has passed and you and he are painfully in love and it’s stupid and young and lovely. “What’s going on in your head?” His girlfriend asks him, playing with his hair like you used to.

“Nobody.” He says, slips up unconsciously, because he doesn’t want to start an argument.

“Nobody?” She says, that incessant whine in her voice that drives him up a wall. He sighs, because she’s gearing up for a fight. He wonders if it’s too late to crash his car into the barrier, pull a few dozen G’s and have an excuse for perfectly teeing her up.

He runs into you at a Christmas party that winter. It’s the anniversary of the end of you two and he wonders if you remember as vividly as he does. One year without each other, a date he never thought he’d remember. A date he never thought would come.

You’ve got a guy with you, who just told the worst joke he’s heard in a while. You laugh, because you’re sweet, but he knows you don’t think it’s funny–knows your laugh too well, worked hard to hear it for too many years.

He watches the two of you, studies you, wonders if he looks as foolish with his new girlfriend as you look with your new boyfriend. It’s painfully obvious, he thinks, how unhappy you are, how ungenuine you appear. That’s not your smile, not your drink, not your favorite pair of heels.

“Hi,” he says when he finds you in the kitchen of the house party, alone. “It’s good to see you,” A lie. He’d almost turned around and walked right back out the door when he saw you. You, with someone who wasn’t him.

“Yeah, you too,” you said, also a lie. He knows you, whether you like it or not.

“So, new guy, huh?” Awkward. So fucking awkward. You nod. “Nice.” He sips his drink.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You asked, and he thought there was no way you didn’t know. No way you’d gone unalerted to your doppelganger walking the grid. Surely, someone told you. Your sister, likely, maybe a friend.

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his neck because his hands don’t feel like they belong to him. He doesn’t know where to put them. “Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah.” She’s nothing like you, he wants to say. Wonders if it would do more harm or good, if you’d read his words as an admission that you are irreplaceable or if you’d see them as an insult.

“Great.” You say, smile, and it might be genuine. He’s startled that he can’t read it precisely, forced to confront the notion that he doesn’t know you like he once did. Beat after beat of silence, tense and awkward and strange. He was more comfortable when you were breaking up with him than he is right now. “Do you hate me?” You finally spoke, and his heart broke a little. It broke a lot, but, your heart isn’t his to break anymore. That’s what he keeps telling himself, anyway.

It hurts to say your name, the air rips its way out of his lungs and through his vocal cords and gets caught in the back of his throat, again on the tip of his tongue. “I could never hate you.” He wishes he could. He’s tried, time and time again to hate you, to loathe you for existing. You tore him into a million tiny pieces and sprinkled them in every corner of the earth, hid them in the deepest nooks and the tightest crannies. Destroyed some, just for the hell of it. Then, you sent him on his way, handed him a bottle of glue, a good luck in the form of we can still be friends and expected him to be fine.

He knew–was able to recognize now–that he was far from perfect. Far, far from it. He was distant and pushed you away and was a complete ass, but fuck, he loved you more than he knew. You hurt him more than anyone would ever know.

There are few things as sobering as returning an engagement ring to the jeweler. It’s a sympathetic look he’ll never forget, and even then he knew he couldn’t blame you, that the blame lied solely on him for fucking it all up. His mom cried when he told her, called him an idiot in three languages, told him he needed to fix it, that you were worth it. I know, Mama, he told her, I know, but I can’t fix this.

He broke up with your twin a few weeks later because no matter how hard he tried, there was no replicating you. He wondered how long it would be before word got to you, if you’d even care when it did.

He hated being home, now. Monaco was a nightmare, you were all over his place, all over the most important years of his life. Your smell could be erased from the sheets with a few washes, but the grease stain you left on the corner of the couch? The one you cried about and apolgized for everytime you saw it? There’s no getting rid of it.

He cleaned out his closet a couple weeks ago, after all these years. Your name was written in pink marker on the wall, behind a bunch of shoe boxes. You were here, 2017, it read, and he spent thirty minutes going over it with a Magic Eraser only for it to be just as vibrant as before.

There was one time, before he broke up with his girlfriend, where he caught himself just before saying your name into her shoulder. The first syllable slipped and he had to pretend it was a nonsensical shuddered breath. He’s fallen into more of a monthly rotation since then, keeps them around until it becomes glaringly apparent they’ll never fill the shoes you left behind. Flavors of the month. It works well enough, distracts him well enough.

The more removed he becomes from you, the cloudier the memories become. Clarity, people tell him he needs it, but, the haze distracts him just the same. He can forget you for a while, live his life without looking for you in everyone who tries to buy him a drink. Distractions come in the form of driving, of friends, of family. In the form of a girl who looks nothing like you, who speaks nothing like you, who acts nothing like you. It won’t last, he knows it won’t but he can’t find you anywhere in her and it’s refreshing.

This is so weird, I totally get if you say no, she texted him late one night. But, do you want to go to a wedding with me in a couple weeks? He should say no, he thinks. Committing to a wedding in a couple weeks is committing to being interested in a couple weeks and he can’t guarantee that. It’s commitment he can’t make and that’s if you disregard all the implications of going with someone to a wedding. It’s like the first rule of dating, you don’t go to a wedding together if you don’t see things lasting.

It’s too romantic, there’s too much love flying around. He’ll be catching side eyes all night from her, longing glances that make everything weird. The bouquet toss will be taken just a little too seriously for two people who are casually dating.

It’s too weird, right? She says after a few long minutes of radio silence.

No, not weird. He replies. Sounds like a good time.

That’s how he ends up there, believe it or not. The sickest fucking coincidence in the world, he thinks, standing in front of this intricate sign. It bore your name, your fiance’s name, written in delicate script.

There’s no way, he thinks. There is no fucking way. “How do you know them, again?” He asks the girl on his arm.

“My mom is friends with the Groom’s mom. We grew up together.” She says, smiley and lovely and perfectly dressed. There is no fucking way this is his reality. He has to be dreaming, stuck in a nightmare, surely. Even the universe isn’t this fucked up.

This isn’t the wedding you always talked about wanting, the one you daydreamed about when you were feeling particularly in love. It’s not the one he planned on giving you. There’s so many people here, it’s not like you. I want something intimate, you told him once. I want to love everyone there. You never would have had a family friend’s plus-one in attendance.

“Hey,” She says, flashes him a flask in her purse. “You wanna do a shot?”

God, you have no idea. “Yeah.”

You’ll cry when you see me, you told him. If you don’t, I’ll turn around and do it again. He thinks about that when you’re standing with your dad at the top of the aisle, beaming, glowing. Your dress is the most you thing he’s ever seen–fits you right in every spot, classy and spunky and traditional and fun all at the same time. He looks to the end of the long aisle, to your groom. He’s smiling, has his hands crossed behind his back and laughs, no tears.

He tries not to stare, because he doesn’t want to catch your eye, to catch your father’s eye, but it’s so hard when you look like that. “She looks so beautiful,” His date leans into him and whispers, doesn’t look at him. A good thing she doesn’t, too, because his eyes are bloodshot.

“Yeah,” He says, blinks away a tear.

You’re giddy at the reception. The bar serves two cocktails–his and hers mixed drinks. His date drinks yours, and he steals a sip and it’s fruity and sweet. “Can I have another shot?” He asks, and she subtly slides her flask to him under the table.

His eyes can’t stop finding you, watching you all dopey and smiley while you hug everyone and talk with grand expressions. You’re making the rounds, and he slips away before you and your new husband make it to his table.

Your sister catches him by the bathrooms. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.” He says, chuckles at his shit luck because there’s nothing else he can do.

“No, Charles.” She says it firmer this time, like he’s in trouble, which–understandable. “Why are you, here?”

“My, uh.” He twists the ring on his pinky. “The girl I’m seeing, I’m her plus-one.”

She looks nervous, your sister, like she’s fraternizing with the enemy and at any given moment someone is going to catch her and take her head. “Has she seen you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You can’t be here.” She’s practically whispering, grabbing his arm and pulling him behind a corner.

“You’re telling me.” He laughs, because he’s about to cry at the wedding of the girl he thought he was going to marry. He’s going to cry at your wedding, just like you always said he would.

“I mean it. You need to leave.”

He cocks his head, she’s not serious. She’s just being a good sister. “Come on, don’t you–”

“Charles.” She says it soft, cracked and sad. There is so much unsaid. “Leave.”

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t know how he’s going to explain this one away, but, he has the walk from the bathrooms to the reception hall to figure it out. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

And he does–go. He goes, and wonders for the rest of his life what would’ve happened if he stayed.

#f1 #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #cl16 #f1 2022 #f1 fanfiction #f1 2023 #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 x reader #ferrari

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killuagirly · 3 months

Note

Hello I hope you’re doing well :D

Would it be ok to request headcanons of a time traveler reader who is a part of a “time traveler organization” from the late 21st century who meets with Alois, Ciel and Sebastian? Perhaps they decide to stay a while to collect some history info for their organization and also because they find the characters entertaining lol ^^

I wish you a lovely day or evening! <33

Ciel, Sebastian & Alois[Separate] x Reader

Summary: As a part of a modern-day 'time traveler organization', you had gotten yourself the opportunity to meet Ciel, Alois, and Sebastian in person. What will you do with this once-in-a-lifetime chance?

Notes: This is a cute idea; it feels like it'd be more entertaining//funny if anything. I didn't know whether or not to separate them, but I tried to give them all their own pieces anyways! I hope you have a great day//night as well and thank you for requesting!! [Sorry this took longer than usual to get out]

CW: Nothing to see here..

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Ciel

☆ Seeing as you were part of a time traveling organization, you didn't think you could be so captured by a sassy Earl who enjoys throwing orders around. You were meant to investigate and bring back information for your company during the time you would spend there, but would it really hurt to stay a bit longer in the company of the Earl Phantomhive?

☆ In the beginning of the times you had yet to dig deeper into who he was, he was already picking at your history trying to find out just who in the world you were. You were dressed in clothing that was not of the Era and didn't seem to know most of the etiquette commonly used during that time. His curiosity was peaked, he wanted to learn more about you and just what you could've been doing there.

☆ It was humorous for you honestly, watching him try to uncover details about your past through any means he could come up with. In all of London, he couldn't find a single document containing any records of you or your birth. Given that you technically hadn't been born yet during this time, it made perfect sense. However to Ciel, he was convinced you were a spy of some sort, or maybe had a criminal record to hide.

☆ He was dead set on figuring you out, even ordering Sebastian to follow you around and gather information from the shadows. Although, to no prevail, the butler could only come up with some of your favorite treats from around town. Eventually Ciel just outright asked you something along the lines of, "Who the hell even are you!?" You simply laughed and brushed him off, providing nothing but, "I'm [Name], that's all there is to it."

Sebastian

☆ Sebastian almost instantly pointed out the difference in your clothing compared to the standards of the current their time, down to the fabrics used in the making. He also mentioned the odd style of manners you used and your lack of a 'wealthy appearance' as he called it. Though do you suppose people cared more on clothing than they do in modern times, it was still a bit rude.

☆ Ignoring his initial impression, you found Sebastian as good company to be around even if he seemed even more dedicated to his young lord in person. It was entertaining to watch him fulfilling his daily tasks along with correcting the other servants', all the while he held conversation with you. He seemed to be rather interested in your origins, but surprisingly didn't pry much at your short answers.

☆ He kept a watchful eye on you the entirety of the time you has spent there, which was longer than what was planned. Only because who could really resist the chance for just a bit longer with the butler of the Phantomhive Manor? Certainly not you. Getting to know him better was hard though, and he only seemed to answer your personal questions just as thoroughly as you did his.

☆ You knew he was doing this deliberately, trying to see if he could crack you open for answers without directly asking for answers about your identity. Similar to Ciel, he used what little free-time had had left in the day searching for files, records, or any sort of information on you. When nothing came up in the demon's hands, he was honestly a bit baffled. Although, he does find it humorous watching you struggle with little things that you aren't accustomed to.

Alois

☆ When you first met Alois face-to-face, he was curious about you and asking questions non-stop. It was everything from your 'odd clothing' to what your blood type was. You didn't perceive him as the type of person to want to know everything before your trip back in time, but you certainly did after that meeting. He was practically all over you like a curious puppy finding something new.

☆ Despite not knowing a thing about you, he didn't seem to have trouble telling you whatever you'd like to know about him. Of course you didn't get too personal with the questions you asked, but at some point in time you were convinced that even if you did he would still provide you with nothing less than honest answers.

☆ You often catch him looking at you funny for not understanding some mechanics of his day, but simply assists you in said task nonetheless. He doesn't quite grasp just why you aren't educated in the basics of everyday life, but he's not complaining about getting to show off or brag to you when he knows how to do something you don't.

☆ Even if he is a bit clueless on the subject of your past experiences, Alois is drawn to you because of the mystery behind who you were, The company you work for wouldn't mind if you stayed a bit longer, now would they? Afterall, spending quality time with this blue-eyed blonde is something you can only do for now. Why not embrace it with goofing off and familiarizing yourself with the day and age?

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Masterlist

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souperbloom · 8 months

Text

being in love. [A.I.]

loosely based on lyrics of the song with the same title, by Wet Leg.

roadie! reader x Ashton

in which you realize your feelings for your boss are a lot more detrimental than you thought they were.

this was supposed to be short and i went overboard. oops! enjoy my first post :^)

CONTENT WARNINGS: tension/slight mental angst, mentions of weed smokin', sex in a somewhat public place/exhibitionism, teasing, fingering(f!receiving), dirty talk, degradation, straight up p in v, insinuation of a creampie, porn with plot basically, filth, filth, FILTH (there is something seriously wrong with me).

WORDCOUNT: 7.9k

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You couldn’t fucking stand him.

As much as you wanted to believe that statement, your heart, mind, and soul found every which way to make you believe otherwise.

The days you spent with him dragged on. His over the top personality was like a vacuum cleaner that sucked every ounce of life out of you.

And yet, despite your annoyance with his ability to charm his way towards your demise, the days without him felt like a lifetime.

Since the first time you and Ashton hooked up, all you were able to think about, after the fact, were the things that you really shouldn’t have been.

Almost every night without missing a beat, you’d lie awake in bed; staring off at the ceiling through your post-show exhaustion and reminiscing on the hours you’ve spent with him. Sneaking off between down times and show times. For a quick and casual fuck.

You’d think about his terrible jokes, the little speckles of brown lost between the hues of green in his eyes, or his ability to make you feel like nothing in the best possible way.

You thought about them. You thought about him. All in hopes that one day, you’d think about him so hard that he would just vanish.

It was reverse psychology, you thought, a way to turn that fluttering feeling you get when you’re around him into something a little less existential, and more like you had both originally intended.

Something more casual.

You didn’t like the fact that he had this effect on you. He was about as brutish and irritating as the day is long. When it was just the two of you, you wished more than anything that he would stop being so damn’ sweet and charismatic. The thought of him calling you nicknames and whispering sweet nothings in your ear made you want to curl up and die.

But the vital organ pumping blood through your veins begged to differ.

Whenever he was around, the pounding of your heart against your ribcage was so deafening, you were almost certain that he could hear it.

It felt strange to wake up, to lie down, to close your eyes and think about anything else. You couldn’t even eat without the thought of him stirring up nausea in your stomach. It was almost as if nothing you did could satisfy you. Nothing you did was right.

Because any time without him felt so wrong.

There were moments in which you wondered whether or not he could feel it too. You'd catch him staring at you from across the dressing room, his eyes lingering down your frame for a millisecond longer than normal.

But you're never quite able to figure it out. To figure him out. He was a thousand piece puzzle, and you were stuck looking for the last piece between the couch cushions.

"Yo, earth to Y/N. Did we lose ya' again?"

Your trance is broken by the sound of Calum's voice. You had been so wrapped up in your own pity-party that you had completely forgotten that you were in the middle of a conversation.

"Jeez, are we really that boring?" Luke laughs out, leaning back in his seat, "I thought our conversation about green tea was quite compelling."

"Sorry, sorry..." You try to snap yourself out of whatever God forsaken rut you've dug yourself into, covering up the awkward silence with the clearing of your throat. "...I guess I don't like green tea as much as I thought I did."

"I'm with Y/N on this one. Green tea is fucking disgusting." Michael comes to your rescue with his reply, which practically had you kissing his shoes as a thank you for saving my ass.

"You guys clearly have no taste. It's simple." Luke shrugs, taking a sip of his ice water. "I know if Ashton was here he'd be on our side, right Cal?"

Calum nods his head, "Speaking of Ashton... where the fuck is he? He said he'd meet us..." he pauses his sentence to look at his phone, "...like, an hour ago."

The pit of your stomach lurches at Calum's observation. He was right. Ashton had said he'd be down in the lounge... after he took a quick shower.

But then again, a quick shower was one of those double entendres in you and Ashton's world. Was he waiting for you? Did you misread his subtle glance after he walked right past you when you tried to hand him his water?

Or maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe you’re just overthinking things.

Maybe he just looked at you because he's your boss and you're his roadie; who he just so happens to fuck from time to time.

That's all it was. That's all it ever will be.

"I can go look for him?" You blurt, immediately wanting to smack yourself in the face for sounding so small.

"You don't have to do that, Y/N. He'll find his way down eventually." Michael sighs.

"He's like a ghost, dude... He disappears for hours. Doesn't answer his phone. Then suddenly, POOF, he appears out of thin air. It's fuckin' witchcraft, I think..."

Calum's comment earns a roaring laugh from the rest of the guys, but you weren't at all laughing. You were too busy debating walking out of the door and hoping they wouldn't notice you were gone.

"I don't think I believe in ghosts..."

Another dumbass conversation ensues.

"Are you kidding?! Since when did you stop believing in ghosts?!" Luke seems genuinely offended by Michael's admission.

And yet, you were stuck there. Wanting to rip your hair out as a giant cloud of sex-driven frustration rained down on you.

"Speaking of ghosts," you can't help but interject, speaking a little louder than you had originally anticipated, "I think I’m gonna go look for Ashton. He's probably off haunting the bar down in the lobby…"

"Well, if you insist," Calum says, saluting you, "good luck, ghost hunter."

As you exited the lounge with no issue and let the boys be boys, you thought to yourself.

Hm, getting out of there was a lot easier than I had anticipated.

But what you hadn't anticipated was the sheer speed in which your feet would pound against the floorboards once you started off down the hall. For you knew just where to look for him.

You were on a mission. A mission to find Ashton, in hopes that he could be the one to free you of the confines of your frustration. In the best way you both knew how.

Once you made it to the elevator corridor, you had to take a moment. To collect yourself and think... what the fuck are you doing?

Did you really think that fucking Ashton would get your mind off of the romantic connection you so desperately craved in him? Did you really think this was the best idea you've ever had?

The answer was no. You knew that this whole ordeal would dig your metaphorical grave ten feet deeper. But you honestly didn't have the energy to care. This witch hunt has turned into merely a way to get off.

Just like God intended.

You step into the elevator, already knowing your way around this hotel like the back of your hand after only being stationed here for a few days.

As the elevator made its' trip up to the rooftop, your senses were heightened. The elevator dings sounded like sirens and the climbing of floors was pushing down on you, making you feel as though the oxygen in your lungs was being forced out by the altitude change.

Your symptoms couldn't be explained by anything other than Ashton, as much as you hated to admit it. It was typical for you to feel this way whenever you answered to his beckoning call.

Just a quick and casual fuck. Quick. And casual.

You tried to focus your mind on those two words. Forcing your conscious out of habit and tricking yourself into believing them.

But as soon as the elevator door slid open, those two words were nothing but dust in the wind.

All you could see in the darkness of the twinkling summer sky was the curve of Ashton's shoulder, highlighted slightly by the patio lights. He was looking out past the glass that surrounded the rooftop, off into the New York City skyline.

You froze up upon seeing him, barely managing to step across the elevator threshold without vomiting all over your shoes.

There were remnants of smoke lingering in the air around him, a familiar, earthy smell touching your nose upon piecing your two senses together.

Before you could tell your brain to step forward, Ashton's head turns to face you. You finally get a look at him, a good look at him.

And fuck, did he look divine.

His hair was partially wet, rogue curls hanging lowly on his forehead with that post show gleam still laced throughout his features. He scratches at the stubble on his chin, a droplet of water dripping down his temple upon doing so.

"Y/N," he leered, the blank expression that once painted his face now lifting into a smirk.

"Ashton," you reply; although small talk is the last thing you wished to be having at the moment.

"Where've ya' been?" he asks, leaning his arm to rest against the back of the couch he was sprawled out on.

"The lounge... The guys are down there waiting for you, y'know." You try to divert the attention away from yourself. But you knew for a fact that you were the only thing on his mind right now.

His eyes scan your body. Up, and down. Up, and down. Like he was stuck in some sort of trance. "Well, that's funny, isn't it. Because I've been up here… waiting for you."

You fuckin’ knew it.

"And how was I supposed to know that?"

He pauses, thumbing at his chin, "I'm not sure, actually... 'Thought you would've had me figured out by now."

It was taking everything inside of you not to run over there and smack the shit out of him for being such a snarky asshole. But you were well aware of the dynamic between you two; this type of banter wasn't out of the ordinary.

"You just gonna stand there and stare at me, honey?" Ashton remarks, calling you by that nickname that makes your stomach hurt and revealing his hand from behind the couch; a lit and half-smoked joint plucked between his fingertips.

Without another word, you walk over to him, slowly starting to display more and more of his body laid out on the couch.

He had on a loosely fitting Hawaiian shirt, one of the ones with only half the normal amount of buttons, and a pair of grey sweatpants. To contradict the tone of the outfit and make it totally clear to you where his head was at when he put them on.

The Hawaiian shirt hung off of his shoulders, revealing his collarbone decked out in beaded necklaces and braided silver chains.

You wanted more than anything to take those chains between your teeth as he hovered over you, pinning you down and fucking into you like you were the last two people on Earth.

Sidetracked, Y/N. You’re getting sidetracked.

When it came to hooking up, you and Ashton had discovered a natural rhythm. A routine, of sorts, consisting of unspoken demands and a whole lot of Ashton holding the reins.

No need to give orders, or ask for more. You both knew what you wanted and exactly how to get it.

But that routine so deeply instilled in you had seemed to vanish as soon as you stepped in front of him.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you teetered from side to side, just admiring Ashton in all of his residually high glory. You wanted to say something, but couldn't bring yourself to say anything else but these two words:

"Fuck me."

His eyes widen in shock. Amusement, even. The joint between his fingers dwindling down to the roach and leaving ashes in the wind as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

"Y/N, I—"

You cut him off abruptly, "It wasn't a fucking question, Ash."

You didn't mean to come off so bossily, but at this point you were willing to do anything to forget about the weight that came with having alleged feelings for him.

Even if that something was letting him fuck you until you cried.

"Right here?"

"Yes." Your heart was racing.

"Right now?"

"Yes." Reminiscent of a heart attack.

And then he does something that makes you even more frustrated than you were before this entire ordeal. He looks at you, without a care, and just… shrugs.

“Works for me.”

You hated that. Oh, you fucking hated that. That cocky, ‘devil-may-care’ attitude. It gets you so worked up that you consider winding up your fist and cracking him the jaw.

But you don’t end up going through with your desires to hurt him at all. Instead, you’re pouncing at him. Scrambling to straddle his comfortably spread legs as he pulls you by your cheeks into a heated kiss.

You sigh upon feeling your lips on his, Ashton just as well. The both of you tend to melt into each other’s palms when your lips connect; which is another reason as to why your head was all fucked up and sideways in the first place.

As the kiss between you grows more primal, you find yourself taking out your frustrations and feelings on Ashton’s bottom lip. You sink your teeth into the soft flesh, tugging it down gently towards his chin.

His hands fumble for the button of your jeans, grunting lowly as he struggles to get it undone.

"Fuck— Get these… Get these damn things off…" The remark flies past his lips, and yours, in a disgruntled huff. You do as you’re told, momentarily disconnecting from him.

When you rise to your feet, being held up by weak, unreliable knees, he looks up. That face of amusement was still painted on, mocking you.

Was he still thinking about your desperate demand? Or was he just enjoying the view?

"Someone’s a little greedy tonight," he says, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his fresh, now sweaty, curls.

"I don’t wanna hear shit from you. You’re the greediest motherfucker alive." You tease back at him, undoing your zipper and shimmying out of your jeans.

"I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you, Miss ‘I never know what I want and I need Ashton to tell me’.”

"I knew what I wanted tonight, didn’t I?" His threats were empty, but you were loving it. You loved to tease, loved to be teased.

"That is true,” he sighs, looking down at the roach he had flicked onto the floor. He stomps it out with his steel-toed boot. "But that’s, what, one time—? Out of the however-the-fuck many times we’ve slept together?"

“You’re making this a lot more complicated than it has to be, Ash. Fuckin’ live a little.”

You were now in your t-shirt and underwear out on this rooftop, telling Ashton to live a little while you’re practically caving in on yourself in embarrassment.

"But, honey... why out here? Why right now?" he asks. Genuinely. Almost sweetly.

You didn't want to admit the real reason as to why you were acting so curtly. The embarrassment of sounding desperate and needy was doing numbers on you already.

"Does there always need to be a reason why?"

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling overexposed. But Ashton’s eyes scan down your frame as if there’s no shame left in the world.

"My apologies for seeming hesitant... You know full and well— I’d do you any time, any place.”

"Is that so?” you quip.

"I don’t think you realize how often I think about having you bouncing on my dick while I’m out on stage performing, so— yes, that is so.”

The way he admits this all so casually makes your stomach turn. You knew he was dirty, but not this dirty. You just assumed he knew that there was a time and place for all of these thoughts.

And the fact that he was thinking about you at all wasn’t making this any easier.

"Well?” Ashton snaps your mind out of the gutter. Ironic.

"Well what?"

"You just gonna stand there in your underwear?"

Oh. Right.

After a moment of blundering awkwardness, you walk towards him timidly, feeling as if your soul was freeing itself from your body as he extends his arms out to hold you.

You make your way back into his lap, digging your knees into the cushions comfortably beside his thighs and letting him run his blistered palm down the side of your face.

His bloodshot eyes find yours like a magnet. Your breath is trapped somewhere in your larynx as his hand continues its journey to your neck.

You felt like you were about to burst at the seams, the tension and friction building between you was like a bottle rocket, ready to set off into the sky.

And with that, exactly on cue, your heart is racing, as he cups your throat between ring finger and thumb. Your rattling ribcage was telling him all he needed to know when the pads of his fingers began to squeeze gently.

You close your eyes, "Ashton..."

"Y/N..." He repeats matching your hushed tone, swallowing the lump in his throat as your noses brush together.

His nose grazes yours with fragility and tenderness, his touch as light as a feather. But you couldn’t stand the space between you two. The clear disconnect between your lips and his.

He seemed to be lingering longer than usual. You found yourself wondering what the hell was going on in his head. Since you had clearly told him what you wanted a long time ago.

"Why aren’t you kissing me?" you ask quietly, still so close to his face that his features had gone blurry.

"Could ask you the same question, honey." His breath fans across your face and suddenly you’re reverting back to your old ways. Back before you were so— demanding.

“Well, not to be clichè, but— you’re meant to take the lead here, Ash.” You say it as if it were obvious, but he disagrees.

"Clearly not tonight."

Now, you were stuck.

You came up here to find him for one reason, and one reason only. To fuck him… to get your mind off of him.

But that all sounded a bit complicated, though. Didn’t it?

"Y/N…" He says your name again, reminiscent of pure honey dripping off of his tongue.

"Hm...?"

God, what is with him and saying your name?

"Is there something on your mind?"

You cock your head, "Would you still fuck me if I said no?..."

Ashton’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead.

"…Even if I wasn’t telling the whole truth?"

He backs away from you, giving you a better look at the confused expression laminated across his face.

"You’re a real card, aren’t’cha?”

His confusion melts into a smile, as he removes his hand from your neck to match his other at your waist. "You know I’d never force anything out of you, Y/N. But— just so you know… Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom."

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his terrible cliché, finding your hand lost in his unruly curls. "You’re such an old man."

He winces, "God— please… Don’t put that picture in my head… It’s killing the mood."

In the brief moment of silence and sweetness shared between you and him, it was taking everything inside of you not to scream at the top of your lungs.

You wanted to scream; Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you. Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you… over and over again.

Until it didn’t mean a thing.

"Not gonna lie to you, honey— M’gettin’ impatient." Ashton lets out a deep sigh, his eyes snapping you out of a downward spiral.

"Right, right. I’m sorry—"

You cut yourself short by reconnecting your lips to his. You missed this feeling, even after only a few minutes; something inside of you dies every time you pull away from him.

He pulls your waist into his torso, pushing you down and grinding you against the already hardened length in his sweatpants. The wildly thin material left no room for the imagination, as it was now creating friction against your wet panties.

"Fuckin’ hell, Y/N—" Ashton mumbles through your lips, and you just sigh. You sigh into him like putty in his hands, creating a rhythm of swiveling hips and only furthering the fireworks that were occurring in the pit of your stomach.

He removes one hand from your waist, blindly finding the waistband of your underwear like it was some mindless, natural instinct.

Muscle memory is a damned thing.

Detaching your lips from his, you whine. "Ash, please—"

You wince internally at how needy you sounded. How desperate and completely disheveled you’ve become at his touch. Yet the blistered pads of his fingers continued to trace slow, taunting patterns along your bikini line.

But as your breathing becomes more erratic, Ashton reads you like the book he already knows so well. Front page to back, cover to fucking cover.

He dips two fingers down into your underwear, attaching them to your sensitive bud.

You writhe above him, but he keeps you grounded, anchoring his hand on your waist with his forehead pressed against yours.

His eyes flutter closed in delight. "So fuckin’ wet for me, yeah? This’ all for me, honey?"

It felt like he was mocking you. Of course it was for him. It was all for him. Anything you ever did was for him. Any feelings you’ve felt, thoughts you’ve had, stories you’ve told… they were all for him.

You can only bring yourself to nod.

"Good, good…" he sighs, breathlessly, "Gonna’ take me so easy tonight…"

He continues his rhythm. One finger circling your clit while the other ghosts over your entrance. Heavenly sighs fall from your lips. You want to close your eyes, you want to enjoy the sensation as it were.

But you just couldn’t look away.

"Look at me, Ash."

A bout of confidence rolls through your veins and you aren’t quite sure where it was coming from, but you had no complaints. Your foreheads being pressed together was making you antsy.

His features were still blurry through glossy eyes, which you didn’t really like. You wanted to get a good look at him before you tried to dismiss these feelings, and pretend as though he meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

He does as he’s told, and backs away from you. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he took in every single feature, etching, God knows what else, on your face.

"You know how fuckin’ beautiful you are, Y/N?— Always so good for me… like an angel… heaven sent."

Those words unleash something inside of you. Tears begin to brim at your lower lash line and you’re suddenly reminded of the feeling that you are so desperately trying to forget.

Existing in this world with him felt so strange. You truly believe he was sent down to Earth to smite you and haunt your memories.

And hearing him call you an angel didn’t help a damn thing.

The words you utter next come out just above a whisper. Your throat feels gravelly, and dry. Like you hadn’t drank water in years.

"Fuck me, Ashton. Just— fuck me, please—"

"M’gettin' there," he grunts, ignoring your plea and still chipping away at your decorum with his bare hands.

You let out a loud, high pitched mewl as you feel his two fingers now inside of you. He always took his time when it came to pleasuring you, always making sure that you’d be the one getting off first, even if he didn’t get the chance to.

Now, you’ve found yourself thinking in depth about just how thoughtful he is.

Jesus fuck, give it a rest.

"You know how much I adore those sweet sounds you make. But you’ve gotta be a tad bit quieter for me, alright angel?"

Oh god, you thought, this nickname better not become a recurring thing. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to fathom the thought of him thinking of you so highly.

"Okay, oh— fuck, Ashton"

Your brain was moving at a mile a minute. While trying to be quiet and simultaneously losing your head in the process, a smirk slides across Ashton’s face. He picks up on the signs, he notices your movements on his lap becoming more and more frenzied.

You knew you were close. He knew you were close.

Oh, of course he fucking did. He knew you like the back of his hand.

"Ash, I’m close… Please—" You begged empty pleas, finding stability with your hands clasped around his neck as you jerk forward with that fluttering feeling.

"I feel it comin’. Bein’ so— so good… C’mon— give it to me."

His two fingers thrust in and out of you while a third circled your clit. You wanted to scream, but he told you to be quiet. You wanted to kiss him, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from the purely concentrated, almost sadistic look in his eyes.

"That’s my girl… that’s my fuckin’ girl…"

The sounds of your wetness boom through your head along with the sounds of his praise, slowly meshing into a garish ringing in your ear. The butterflies once encased in the pit of your stomach had set free, fluttering along your body as Ashton’s rhythmic fingers come to a slowdown.

"Fuck!" You cry out, as your body collapses into his chest.

You could feel his ribcage shake with laughter, as he takes that free hand of his to rub your back. Your head is tossed over his shoulder as you manage your breathing.

"…Is that all you’ve got in you tonight?"

You could barely hear his voice over the ringing in your ears, as you heave like this was the last breath you’d ever take. He then removes his fingers from inside of you, causing you to jolt, still sensitive from the electricity coursing through your veins just moments before.

"N—no…" You stutter into his neck.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

Your head was still spinning while you tried to cool down. The temperature of your bodies entwined was like a hot stovetop, setting your skin ablaze. But you couldn’t find it in you to lift yourself up from the crook of his shoulder.

You liked it there. It was comfortable. It felt natural.

After a few moments of silence and messy breathing, you lift your head up.

"All good now?" He asks, running a hand down your waist.

"I think so... Almost knocked me out with that one Ash, not gonna lie."

All he does is laugh, before hovering the two fingers he had used to unravel you with in front of the both of your faces.

"See this?" He examines his fingers, still glistening with your secretions, "Is this what I do to you?"

Your jaw falls open slightly, "Wh—"

He takes a moment to think to himself, pushing his lips to the side while you just watched in complete awe.

"…I wonder if my honey girl tastes as sweet as she looks?"

You don’t even have a moment to blink before he takes those two fingers into his mouth. He sucks whatever’s left of you off of his digits, before pulling them out with a pop.

"Mmm," he hums, "Just as I’d imagined… Sweet as fuckin’ honey"

Something inside of you snaps, and you’re suddenly reattaching your lips to his. He moans into you, taken aback by your actions with his hands fumbling to grab your ass and grind you down into him.

"I need— I need you…" You mumble into his lips, not long before he juts his tongue out to run it across your bottom lip.

His stubble scratches against your palms as you grab ahold of his face, trying to ease him into you as if it were even humanly possible to get him any closer.

"Need me t’fuck you, honey? You— you want me that badly?" He asks quickly, sounding out of breath already from the sheer friction of your hips grinding against him. You nod rapidly, and he dips down to kiss your neck to let you know that he heard you loud and clear.

“Please, Ash…" You couldn’t help it, your mind was still reeling, "I need to feel you—"

Your words come out airy and forced, like somebody was squeezing them out of you. But you couldn’t stop yourself no matter how hard you bit down your tongue.

"...Fuck me like I’m worthless… Fuck me like I mean nothing to you at all…"

His head pops up from the crook of your neck, a sardonic look in his eye.

"Say that again for me?"

"…Fuck me like I mean nothing to you, Ashton. Fuck me like I mean nothing at all.”

You couldn’t describe the way his face changed. The way it morphed into something that you weren’t at all used to. It wasn’t sarcastic, no. It wasn’t the usual cheeky grin, either.

You were afraid that you had just dug your grave even deeper this time.

"Stand up." He demands shortly, which brings goosebumps across your arms.

"Stand up?" You repeat, like a goddamn lovesick puppy.

"Stand the fuck up, Y/N."

You do as you’re told, wearily, lifting yourself off of him and rising to your feet. You watch in anticipation, crossing your arms over your chest as he remains sitting.

The dynamic between you two had shifted drastically. It was clear that Ashton was still in charge, only this time, it felt absolutely terrifying.

You wished you hadn’t said anything at all. You wished he had just let you ride him, as you were planning to do. But your emotions gotten the best of you. The thought of caring for him so deeply had actually brought you to spiral out of control.

What you had been longing for, all this time, was about to come true.

With that, you planned to do everything you were told. Each and every single order barked at you was to be followed. You wanted to see what it felt like. What it felt like to feel nothing for a change.

"Walk to the balcony." Another demand. You hesitate, still dealing with a subconscious battle of self. Your heart and brain were going at it like two bulls in the ring.

"Are you— are you gonna come with me?" You find your gaze glued to the patio, feeling as small and as meek as ever.

"Meh, I’ll make my way over eventually."

Fair enough.

You walk over towards the balcony; left only in your thin, grey CREW v-neck and a pair of frilly, sage green underwear.

The fact that Ashton didn’t comment on the color of them made you feel a bit discouraged. Green was his favorite color, after all. You at least thought he’d take a moment to appreciate it.

God knows that moment won’t be happening now.

You start to near the glass railing that surrounded the rooftop. But despite your back being turned, you could completely feel his eyes searing bullet holes into your flesh. A chill ran down your spine, uncomfortable with the feeling of being watched, yet enjoying the fact that it was by him.

"Keep walking."

You were getting so close to the glass that it actually started to feel cold, despite the lingering August air.

You also weren’t sure where his head was at. Him having you walk towards the balcony that was completely out-turned and visible to the street below almost felt like he was trying to humiliate you.

But that feeling was quickly washed away when you felt his footsteps behind you.

"You have any idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into, honey?” He inches close to you, close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating onto your back yet still too far away to touch you.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “No… I-I don’t think so…"

You were telling the truth. No, Ashton, you had not a clue what you had just gotten yourself into. The absolute wormhole that you had just unlocked for yourself.

A new way to feel about things. A new way to feel about him.

Another wave of chills runs down your back as he takes the back of his hand and runs it down your shoulder. You wince, wanting nothing more than to turn around and kiss him.

"I didn’t think you had it in you."

"What?" Your voice comes out high pitched. Almost… nervous.

"To order me around like that. To finally buck up n’ tell me how to have my way with ya’… It’s honestly— kind of impressive."

His hand strokes down your arm once again, but this time, you just sigh.

He thinks this is just roleplay.

Little did he know that all of this nagging and bossiness had come from the truest, most integral parts of your soul and your longing to forget about the way your heart beats for him.

"You think so?" You try to gain back your sparkle with a witty reply, "How else can I impress you, Ash?"

All of these words exchanged between you two were said facing away from one another. You hadn’t the energy to care, nor the energy to make this anymore meaningful than it was, or was not, supposed to be.

You’ve finally decided to let go.

"Well, you can start by bending over." He snaps back. He’s always been so quick with his words.

To follow your mantra from before, you do as you’re told, bending over slightly and exposing your bare asscheeks to him. You lean your arms over the glass railing, your wrists going limp in doing so.

"’Like the view?" You ask, sparing him a glance over your shoulder in hopes to get a little more of a rise out of him.

"The view won’t mean much while I’m using you, honey."

Your face grows pale, a rush of static that felt like pinpricks crawls across your body. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ashton.

The excitement and rush of it all is now, finally, catching up to you. You were about to have meaningless sex with the person that means the most. In a way, it did feel like roleplay.

Except your role was pretending like you didn’t give a fuck about him.

"Gimme’ your wrist." You hear Ashton bark another command from behind you, along with the shuffling of fabric. Before you could even offer your wrist to him, he’s taking it upon himself to reach up and grab it.

He swiftly pins one of your arms behind your back, making you gasp and teeter on your feet.

"Ashton…" You try to say, but are immediately silenced by his other hand hooking a finger to the waistline of your panties.

"Don’t say another word, Y/N. You’re in no position to talk right now."

Your breath gets caught in your throat, now with your one free hand anchored to the railing. It was all a waiting game, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely turned on by him and his newfound unpredictability.

"I have a job for you." His voice rings in your ears, as he bends down above you to be parallel to your curved back. "…Think you could follow some orders f’me? Just for tonight?"

Just for tonight, you thought. Just for tonight.

You nod at his question. It was the only thing you were capable of doing, anyway.

"You’re gonna take my cock… But I don’t wanna hear a peep from that dirty mouth of yours. One fuckin’ sound and I swear… I’ll send you back downstairs with mascara running down your face and nothin’ to fuckin’ show for it."

You nod again. You were a nodding, blubbering mess.

"Think you could do that for me? Think you could be good enough for me to let you cum again?"

You nod, once again.

"And you told me what you wanted, right? Told me loud and clear how you wanted me to treat you? Out here— where there’s a small chance somebody could walk in on this?"

His pelvis presses against you as he taunts, and you’re left feeling even weaker in the knees.

This time, it wasn’t a nod. It was more of a sob.

"Good, good to know…" He softens his tone, lips now centimeters away from your ear.

"…Now bend the fuck over n’ let me use you like you’re nothing."

In a flash of vibrant colors swirling around the backs of your eyelids, you feel Ashton push your panties aside. He runs two fingers up your damp slit, bringing your face to a pinch.

You were still so sensitive after letting him have his way with you the first time. But you couldn’t fathom going another minute without the feeling of him buried inside of you.

"Please—" You whisper, but only to yourself.

You didn’t want to know what he’d do if he’d heard it.

His next movements were methodical, and slow, like he was a puppeteer playing with your strings. His hands dance along the sides of your hips, moving up to rub the small of your back.

He puffs out a breath, seemingly taking you in from behind.

"You're a fuckin' vision, Y/N... It's too bad you don't want me to treat you that way."

His ceaseless taunting was making your vision go shaky.

But you needed to keep reminding yourself... you fucking asked for it.

"Gonna let me use you, honey? Like my own personal doll... that I can toss around n' rough up... Mmm, 'bet you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Ashton..." You can help but let his name tumble from your lips. But in a flash, his hand is cracking down on your bare asscheek, creating a loud clap that you swore could be heard for miles. You let out a yelp, but quickly clamp your lips shut.

Your skin burns from the contact, your mouth going bone dry.

"What did I fucking say about that mouth of yours, Y/N? Not a fucking peep."

As he guides himself up and down your slit, collecting your juices on his leaky tip, you choke back the tears in your eyes. You still wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him, which was just a damned thing.

"So wet f'me... God, I'm in heaven."

It was almost as if each string of sentences that came out of his mouth were traveling in through one ear and right out of the other. I suppose this was your karma for being so demanding.

But this is what you wanted, wasn't it? Even though Ashton's means of 'fucking you like you're worthless' still came with bouts of praise, he couldn't help it. He was only human. Testing the waters for the both of you.

Roleplay.

He traces one last drag along your folds, pushing your panties aside with his tip before suddenly slamming himself into you. You gasp at the sudden feeling of him, your body lurching forward towards the railing as his grip on your wrist grows tighter.

"Jesus fuck—." He groans through bated breath before starting his rhythm of pounding into you.

It starts off slowly. The feeling of him filling you up as your walls clench around him must've felt like heaven to the both of you, for he let out a long, dreamy sigh. The hand that was once toying with the hemline of your lacy panties was now planted on the small of your back, using you as leverage as he slammed his cock deeper with each stroke.

Ashton hums, the sounds of slapping skin now engulfing the air around you. "Fuckin' love this pussy... Like it was fuckin' made for me..."

The air in your lungs started to dissipate, practically leaving you begging for mercy at his expense. Your body jolted with each of his deep thrusts, still trying to stay quiet and do exactly as he had demanded of you.

His grip on your wrist had begun to feel raw, surely to leave you with some kind of marking, reinstating the absolute chokehold he has on you.

"Ash..." You whisper again, as he's grunting and whining from behind you.

"Whose fuckin' pussy is this? Whose fuckin' pussy is this?" He asks the question and you whimper, unable to gather any syllable of a sentence on your tongue.

Suddenly, he releases your wrist, picking up his rhythm of fucking into you. Your arm drops to your side like a ragdoll, as you scramble to balance it next to your other on the railing.

The hand of his that once held your wrist captive had traveled down to meet his other, gripping your waist and digging his blistered fingertips into your flesh.

"Fuck... fuckin' shit, Y/N... Takin' my cock so well..."

Using his hands anchored to your waist, he starts to pull you into him, slamming your hips into his pelvic bone and hitting that sweet spot with every. Single. Stroke.

"Fuck, you’re heavenly…. My sweet, sweet girl…"

At this point in time, you could care less about the semantics of this all.

Although the point of this was for Ashton to have his way with you without a single feeling attached, it seemed as though he couldn’t really help it. He was a blubbering mess of compliments and praise, a true gentleman through and through.

But that was something to think about while you lay awake in bed tonight.

For now, you just decided to live in the moment.

Ashton’s rhythm had grown sloppy. He was awfully close to making you finish for a second time, with each buck of his hips— meanwhile it was taking every last bit of your consciousness to keep yourself quiet. The pit of your stomach squeezed with each primal sound that fell from his plush lips.

"M’gonna cum soon, honey… ‘Gonna fill you up, yeah? Would you like that? Want me t’fill you up?"

Unsure of whether or not to verbalize your consent, you nod. Like a bobble-head on a broken spring.

"That’s my girl. That’s— my fuckin’ girl.”

Despite Ashton’s imminent orgasm, you could only think about two words.

My girl. My girl. My girl

They were flashing around your mind like the billboards in the Manhattan streets below. Each thought of those two words produced vibrant colors behind your eyelids, stars now fogging up the blackness as he slams into you a few more times.

"Gonna' cum, honey... G-Gonna' fill you up, m'kay? Fuck..."

With one final pound into you, the pulsing throbbing of his cock had come to a slowdown. You both let out a collective gasp, as the heat ignited between your bodies had meshed into a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Ashton collapses onto your back, the front half of his body slicked with sweat and pressing into you. Your breathing had begun to sync up collectively, only for him to pull out of you and make your entire body jolt.

"Fuck, Ashton."

You were finally able to speak again. You had gotten your words back, as well as your confidence. And the feeling of his presence behind you was all you needed to get you there.

He huffs, finally lifting himself off of you. But you lag behind, taking a moment to collect your breathing as he pulls his sweatpants up.

"Jesus Christ, honey. You're a goddamn dream." He chuckles, stepping back and allowing you the space to turn around.

And that you did. Finally faced with that dream he was on about.

Sweaty, messy curls glued and rearranged to his forehead. Glossy, hooded, fucked-out eyes. The fabric of his Hawaiian shirt soaked with the mixing of your sweat and his.

He looked obscene. He looked ethereal. You wanted to tell him how absolutely picturesque he was in that moment. You wanted to give him every gorgeous compliment you could think of.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

So you said this instead.

"...It'd be a dream if you could grab my jeans."

"Don’t be impolite, Y/N. What's the magic word?" He teases, motioning towards your jeans that had been discarded in a pile on the patio.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk, tough guy? After you just fucked the goddamn life out of me?"

He shrugs, "I wouldn't say I fucked the life out of you... If that was the case, you wouldn't be standing upright."

You huff, frustrated, but loving every second of it.

"Just– grab me my damn jeans, Irwin."

He does as he's told, begrudgingly walking the short few feet to grab your jeans as you stand, cross-legged, bare-assed, with your back against the glass.

"Your majesty," he bows, holding your pants out on his arm like a knight with your crown.

"Thank you."

As you put on your jeans, Ashton watches you. With those whiskey, honeypot eyes. Scanning down every inch of you as you put one leg in, then the other.

"If it were up to me, I'd send you back down pants-less."

"Yeah, right." You scoff, reverting back to your old ways of a thumping heart and a pain in your chest, "You know how much trouble I'd be in?"

"Trouble by who? I'm your boss, aren't I?"

You puff, pulling up the zipper of your jeans, "You don't act like it."

"Want me to start then?" He quips.

"...No. Absolutely not."

Ashton tosses you a smile, not long before he's holding out his arms.

"That's what I thought, honey," he motions for you with his hands, "Now c'mere."

Without even thinking, almost as if it were rehearsed, you spin around, falling backwards into his arms. He wraps himself around you, broad biceps squeezing your shoulders like a butterfly in its' cocoon.

The Manhattan night sky was twinkling with lights and stars. You stare out into it, and he does too.

As you stand cradled in his arms with the lingering of pitiful, degrading sex still in the air, you sat in your thoughts for a moment.

What happened tonight couldn’t have been a mistake. You had been speaking it into existence for so long, that it finally became a reality. From the way he so passionately kissed you, to the way he so effortlessly dropped everything to fuck you like you were worthless. Just like you had asked. Just liked you had intended.

But you knew, despite everything that happened tonight, that not a single thing would change.

Your heart would still flutter out of your ribcage whenever he walked by. You’d still answer his calls late at night, or spare him passing glances in the concert halls.

You’d still come to meet him, no matter when or where. All with that same, God awful weight on your chest.

It all made you feel terrible. Everything about him made you feel terrible.

But you were willing to get used to that feeling.

To be completely honest with yourself…

You kind of liked it.

It felt like being in love

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#ashton irwin #ashton #ashton 5 seconds of summer #5sos #5 seconds of summer #oh this is filth #what have i done #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin smut #5sos smut

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youtellmeman · 4 months

Text

Spoilt

jake sully x Neytiri Sully x Metikayina!Reader

smut

warnings - p in v, vaginal fingering, slight scent kink, oral (f recieving), threesome, lil tiny bit of angst, kinda implied age gap but nothing more than 5 years,

i love jake and neytiri sm

——————

This was your clan. Your clan, your territory, your people, everything that covered this expanse was yours. And maybe you had gotten too comfortable with getting everything in sight being yours, but it wasn’t like you were going around exploiting your power. You were clan princess, the people liked to give you things and you never took more than you gave.

That being said, you were currently in the biggest of moral dilemmas, considering the thing that you currently wanted was a married man and his wife in your bed. A man who had brought his family to your clan in hopes of being spared refuge from the blasted sky people that had returned, and had been oh so grateful when you’d convinced your parents olo-eyktan and tashik of your clan to grant them their wish. You’d taught them your ways, saw to it that your siblings were as kind as possible, you yourself had even taught them how to ride their very own Ilu. And as it seemed developed a certain curiosity for the heads of the family,

A curiosity that left you wondering what other biological differences were hidden away from your prying eyes could see and how the differences you could see would take effect in the mating process. For instance their fingers, while thinner, were longer than those of the Metkayina people and believe you’d spent multiple nights trying to replicate how deep they’d be able to reach inside of you. The way Neytiri's breasts were smaller and firmer looking than yours, which were slightly more full and soft to the touch. It made for countless nights of trite replication of something you’d never experienced and days where you couldn’t look either of them in the eye due the prior night's activities.

Like today for instance, your people gathered around for festivities, celebrating the full moon that had blessed you with high tides and bountiful catches. But instead of being completely enveloped in the festivities of your people as you usually would’ve been, your eyes were glued to the pair of dark blue people sitting next to one of your many fire pits, secluded from the dancing that was happening all around them.

So you paused your dancing and made your way to them, acknowledging their children who had been dragged into the festivities by your little siblings.

“What are you both doing sitting here, so still.” You ask a smile toying on your lips, discreetly checking them you, You’d organized for them to be made traditional Metikayina clothing for the night. “Tonight is a night of celebration, you should be dancing.” Neytiri’s eyes bored into your own and her lips twitched upwards slightly, but she said nothing.

“We hate to be rude but you all dance a bit differently than we’re used to, kid.” Jake recipes looking around at the clusters of people and you couldn’t help but do the same, face wrinkling in confusion before sparking with an idea.

“Then I teach you! Come come it is easy I assure you!” Your face breaks out in a smile and you can see in Jake's face that that wasn’t what he’d hoped would happen in response to his comment, Neytiri on the other hand seems more than amused.

“Yes Ma Jake, go learn. You should learn all you can remember.” You laugh as the words leave her lips, missing the way Neytiri's tale thumps against the ground in response. ‘You should learn all you can.’ were words Jake often used against his own children when they complained of your different ways.

“Yes Jake see, you must learn. Be more like your mate with her eagerness to learn!” You say making Neytirir’s ears shoot up, eyes darting back to your face forming a small frown. Jake shooting her a shit eating grin and before either of them can deny your impromptu lessons you’ve grabbed them both by the arms to drag them towards the music.

Stopping in a less dense area that still thumbs with the vibrations of music you face them once more. The both of them standing a tad awkwardly still amidst the groups of dancing na’vi.

“ Come, Jake I teach you first.” You say ling yourself up with his side so you're both facing the same direction.Giving him the directions of stepping back then sliding forward slightly. “It is easy, see? Watch my feet.” Speaking as you guide him.

“Come Neytiri you do the same with your feet.” You keep at this for a moment letting them get the footwork down. Having to spend a bit of time coaxing Neytiri into trying at all, while Jake seems to be a more focused student. Eyes glued to your every movement in what you take to be an attempt to get down the moves, it really isn’t.

Eventually though Neytirirs stubbornness subsides and she begins to try the foot work, picking it up much quicker than Jake.

“Good, good! You are both doing very well, now it is time to add what truly makes this dancing.” You move to be in front and facing them going over simply the foot work again before speeding up and finally starting to move your hips. Shaking them rapidly, moving them side to side along with alternating the sides you tilt up and down. Even going as far as to spin in a circle while you move. “Your hips! Move with the rhythm, feel it in your bones. Let your body become fluid guided by the beat of your heart and music.” You say immediately realizing that the both of them have stopped dancing.

Without thinking you move towards Neytiri. “Move your feet and I will do the rest, hmm?” You ask and she obliges, aware of your every movement. Maybe that’s why she doesn't seem to move away or flinch in shock when your hands come to settle on her hips from behind.

You both move your feet but instead of working on the movement of your hips you focus on hers. Using your hands to guide their movement, slowly at first then spreading up slightly until you can feel her body beginning to move without your guidance. You let her take the reins, movements spreading up and though a bit clumsy and out of beat she catches on quick, you’ve yet to release her waist. Taking a few seconds to enjoy the way your skin feels below your fingerstips before letting the slide back to your sides.

Then moving onto Jake, his eyes move from the grip you had on his mate's waist to your face, eyes filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t seem to place. Still you surge on, grabbing his waist next and moving it the way you had neytiri’s before.

“The way men dance is very similar to our women. The only difference is the occasional move of hips which the women don't usually replicate. It’sthe rolling of hips. Look at the other men around.” You guide him and your voice has found a softer tone then the previously energy filled one you’d held. Watching as Jake's eyes glide across the crowds around you resting on multiple of the men, before rolling his hips experimentally before falling into the previous moves you taught him. “Good.” You urge him on and he continues as you correct his form here and there before you eventually pull away, letting the tips of your fingers graze the protruding bone of his hip as you pull away.

Maybe they weren’t dancing perfectly, like one of the natives might, but they were dancing. And eywa did look they good doing it. Neytirir had lost all previous restraint she’d had, letting herself fall into the way your people danced. Arms swaying in the air around her. Jake slightly more stiff yet seemingly enjoying the experience of it all, Locking eyes with you before his eyes slide to his mates moving form. Pulling her into dance closer, hips rolling and hand caressing her arm as she preened at the touch.

And all of a sudden you felt as if you were watching something intimate, something you could never be a part of. It left your chest tightening in yearning and a smile on your face faltering. You needed to get away.

“You are both wonderful students. I’ll leave you both to enjoy yourselves and continue to learn without me. It’s getting quite late and I must retire for the night.” You excuse yourself as quickly and politely as possible,missing the way the pair's eyes lock then darting you in concern. Leaving before they can try to convince you to stay.

You make your way through the crowds, smile wiped clean completely and instead replaced with a frown and glassy eyes. Heading towards the direction of your hut, before deciding you didn't want to go there quite yet, instead finding a closed off part of the beach, a place that had always offered your comfort in life. And that was what you needed the most now as your mind was flooded with thoughts on inadequacy and the prospect of living in solitude forever. A few tears slipping down your cheeks before you're able to wipe at your eyes.

“ Ma Tanhi? What is wrong?” For once it’s Neytirir’s voice that breaks the somber silence of your self wallowing, causing your head to snap in her direction. Seeing the mated pair standing a few feet away from where you’re sat on the sand. You promptly shoot up to be standing. Trying to remove any trace of sadness from your face. “What did we do that has made you run from us.”

“Yeah i didnt think our dancing was that bad.” Jake tries to lighten the mood but it does nothing to ease the sadness heavy on your chest. Neytiri smacks his shoulder, clicking her tongue while shooting him a warning glare. “Really though, what's got you so down all of a sudden kid?”

“It is nothing, do not worry yourself with silliness such as my problems.” You try and force a smile on to your face, waving off their concern.

“Hey, if you’ve got a problem it's not silly at all. We’re here to help baby girl, but we can’t do nothin if you don’t tell us what's wrong so why don’t you talk to us.” It’s almost stupid the way your stomach churns at the pet name that falls out his mouth, almost adding the hypocrisy of this all.

“Yes, what Ma Jake says is true. We care for you, let us ease your pains.” Neytiri urges you forth alongside her husband as they take steps closer. Still as kind as they are, what could you possibly say, that you had feelings for mated na’vi who also happened to be them. You shook your head wordlessly denying their help, though you can't help the way your eyes dart between them longingly. This doesn't go unnoticed

“Ah I see.” Your ears perk up at Jake’s comment. “Tiri, do you see what I see?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, watching them communicate wordlessly had become a norm when you’d become their guide, but it had never bothered you not knowing what they were thinking more than it did in this moment. And within a few seconds of wordless communication, Neytiri's body seemed to relax, all worry dissipating as her tale sways slowly behind her, eyes finding yours once more, gaze almost predatory as a smirk slid across her face. You clench involuntarily at the look in her eyes, arousal ill timed according to you

“I certainly do.” Neytiri almost purrs. “Shall we help her understand?” She raises a brow in Jake's direction as she moves around you slowly and you almost move to keep face with her.

“Understand what?” You try to follow her with your eyes, but that thought is thrown away when you find Jake suddenly incredibly close, fingers grazing your jaw before pinching your jaw between his thumb and index. Guiding your gaze to his own.

“Understand the fact that we want you too, baby.” Jake's eyes are hooded with lust, pupils blown wide as one of his canines digs into the meat of his bottom lip.

“what?” The words leave your lips in an airy whisper.

“Your feelings do not go as unreciprocated as you thought.” Neytirir’s voices husky and you’re suddenly very aware of how her lips brush against your shoulder with every word, breath fanning over your skin.

“I-i don’t-”

“You don't what?” Jake’s words are sharp as they leave his lips. “You don’t feel the same? Cause if thats it lets be real cause I can smell ya from here and I'm sure Tiri can too. Or do you not understand, because if that's the case we’d be more than happy to make ourselves crystal clear.” His last few words are intentionally slow yet pointed and they have you pressing your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the need to be touched. “Just say the word and we’d be happy to show you just how bad we want for you.”

“Show me.” The words have barely left your mouth before his lips are slamming into yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip in a silent demand for access to the inside of your mouth and you oblige without a second to waist. Neytiri on the other hand has found a job in leaving dark purple marks along your shoulders and neck as she caresses the side of your hip and letting a hand wander to the front of your waist moving to cup your barely clothed breast in her hand. Both of their movements have you keening between them.

Soon Neytiri's hand is moving from your breast to the side of your neck dragging your face away from Jake's hungry mouth so she can get a taste for you herself. You welcome the change wholeheartedly. While Jake kisses to consume, Neytiri kisses to savor. Hand on your jaw as she takes her time enjoying your taste. And whiles she's busy exploring your mouth Jake takes the opportunity to explore other things. Kissing down the side of your neck that’s exposed, even sucking a few marks onto the parts of your chest are exposed, that is before seemingly growing fed up with the barrier or needed cloth pulling it down so that it sits right below your tits. Giving him full access to what he wanted he surges forward taking one of them into his mouth while he grips the other in his hand, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he pulls at the other gently with his teeth. The action has you whimpering into Neytir’s mouth and she swallows the sound with a pleased hum, not missing a beat.

After you’ve been deemed sufficiently marked Jake does what he’s been imagining since the first time he’d allowed himself to acknowledge his attraction to you. Dropping to his knees in front of, nose almost pressing a kiss right on your pelvic area before untying your tweng, bringing himself face to face with your glistening folds and taking a deep breath through his nose. Groaning at the scent of your arousal. It’s only once Jake lets out a groan of anticipation that Neytiri pulls away, hand on your jaw now guiding you to look down at her mate.

“Look at him so eager to taste you Ma Tanhi, will you grant him the pleasure.” She says low in your ear while you gaze down into Jake's hungry eyes.

“You gonna let me eat this pretty pussy baby, hmm?” His hands massage the sides of your thighs and don't doubt that he probably saw the way your walls fluttered at the sound of his voice.

“Please, Jake.” It a quiet whimper of a plea but it seems to be just what he needs to hear, inhaling your scent once more before licking a stripe up your slip, flatting out his tongue as it comes to rub over your clit and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. His large hands brace you by your hips and ass while Neytiri holds you against her by the waist effectively letting you melt at their touch without collapsing to the floor.

Jake's assault on your pussy might start off slow but it certainly doesn't stay that way, not when your hands find roots of his locks tugging and pulling him impossibly closer. No instead he focuses most of his attention to your clit dipping his tongue into you here and there. And soon you feel a finger tip prodding at your entrance, sliding in ever so easy with how wet you've grown plus his own saliva. The intrusion has you gasping and you can't help but think about all those nights you tried to replicate what you thought this would be like.

The job you’d done had nothing on the way it actually felt. Thin but long fingers able to reach that spongy spot within you with ease, messaging it as he sucks and flicks at your clit.

“More Jake, more, more.” Your moans are no longer quiet or meek as you grind against his finger and tongue all at once. He’s quick to grant your request, slowly but surely sliding in another finger which has you throwing your head back onto Neytriri’s shoulder. Neytrir who had been watching oh so silently, free hand come up to pinch and tease at one of your tits now found herself moving so that her lips just barely touched the shell of your ear.

“Look at you taking Ma jake’s fingers so well, tell me how good it feels.” Her lips brush your lobe as she speaks and you can’t help the rapid nods that follow.

“So good, Jake’s tongue feels so good Tiri, so so good!” All comprehensible thought has left your mouth at this point and been replaced with repeated phrases of ‘so good’ ‘more’ ‘please’ . Your climax was growing closer by the second, you could feel it burning below your skin begging to see the light. And soon enough it did, Jake slipping in a third and final finger curling so perfectly inside of you as he pays attention to your swollen clit is what has you shuttering around him. Legs shaking and snapping rigid to hold him between them as you bucked your hips mindlessly against his face. Moans and whines of gibberish leave your lips as you ride out your high before slowly coming down. Releasing Jake’s head from between your thighs, chest heaving, eyes lidded as you watch him look up at you while licking his lips.

“You think you can take another for me babygirl?” The questing has you nodding numbly. There was no way you’d let this encounter over without having had his cock inside you or without having touched Neytiri the way you’d been dreaming of for ages.”Good girl, love. C’mon baby help me lay her back on the sand.” he instructs Neytiri and they do so easily. Once your back is touching the sand, they both remove their respective tewngs, before letting their lips meet and Neytiri hums at the taste of you still on Jake’s tongue.

“You’ve been good so far baby, why don’t you show us how good you can really be, yeah?” You're agreeing dumbly before you can even think to ask what he means, but something inside you registers it wouldn’t matter what either of them asked of you as long as they kept touching you. You don’t have time to think any harder about that, not when there’s a leg crossing over your face and your face to face with Neytiri’s core in seconds.

“Show me then.” It’s a demand the way it leaves her lips and it has you drooling over her. Neytiri’s hands gather your hair in her hands as she leans over you simply holding it in her hands as she braces herself on the sand. In the meantime you can feel Jake lifting one of your legs over his shoulder as he lines himself up with your entrance, head sliding between your lips and prodding at your hole a bit.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” You answer his question with total certainty and immediately they're both moving. Neytiri settles herself on your mouth and Jake slowly sliding into your warmth. Your walls quiver at the intrusion, but you don't get much time to focus on that, not when Neytiri is tugging at your hair in anticipation. Leaving no time to lose you lap at her cunt, drinking up everything she has to offer and she gives it all so willingly. Rocking against your head, he clit rubs against the tip or your nose as you consume her so completely, tongue diving as deep as it can into her core and it leaves her panting and groaning above you.

“Ah Ma Tanhi, so good.” Her words only encourage and you, you push on devouring her to the best of you ability. It's when you finally get the hang of pleasure Neytiri that Jake decides you’ve had enough time to adjust. Having slipped in his whole length while you were occupied. Sliding out leaving on the tip inside before slamming back in and the roughness of the move has you gasping into Neytiri’s cunt, that move causing a moan to rip through her.

“Shit, feel so good baby, damnit.” Jake continues drilling into you at an unforgiving pace that has you sucking and moving so unpredictably against Neytiri's pussy she can’t help the way she continues to pull at your braids. “Gonna mold this pussy to my cock, never gonna want anyone but me, fuck.” Jake’s words are rushed and his breathing is ragged and it has you clenching so tightly around him that he’s seeing stars.

Jake knows he won’t be able to hold on for all that long if you keep this up and he wants, needs you to cum first. His thumb finds your clit with ease, rubbing in tight circles that have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and you feel another earth shattering orgasm nearing faster than ever.

Neytiri though, she’s right on the edge and all it takes is a few more dips of your tongue into her hole and ruts of her clit against your nose and she’s unravelling above you, back arching so much it has you raising your hands to her waist to help hold her up as you continue to lick her dry. Letting her ride out her orgasm until she’s lifting herself up and off your face. Straddling your head and moving to sit on her ankles, placing your head in her lap. Giving you just the right amount of elevation to see the way your cunt swallows Jakes dick with every thrust. The sight alone is what has you cumming again.

“Oh eywa, Jake!” Are the only real words you get out before its incoherent rambles and moans. Your orgasm is what begins to set off jakes but he holds for as long as possible. Letting you ride yours out for as long as he can bare before pulling out. Stroking himself once, twice, before he's spilling onto your stomach with a groan of both or your names.

Your orgasms leave you gasping for air, but soon as you all recuperate you aid each other in redressing. Walking to your hut, sweet kisses pressed to your lips with promises of visits come morning.

You always did get what you wanted.

——————

Yuh lmk what you think

Likes and Reblogs appreciated

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ghouljams · 11 months

Note

I'm already so obsessed with fae!price and his witch

Because price is a debt collector I'm just imagining he's got a lot of disgruntled beings that would do anything to get out from under his thumb. Do you think anyone would notice price's tether with the witch or his relationship with her and attempt to use that to gain leverage on him. I can imagine him cutting short anyone who tries with brutal efficiency. But his witch is also smart in being able to see through not just price's intentions but others too

If they did notice the tether, they'd probably assume it was just another person indebted to Price. But if they saw him hanging around the Witch they might start to think it was something more.

Your roses are growing better than they usually do. Their blooms open a little longer, petals turning brown slower than you expected. When you inspect the plant there isn't anything different about it, nothing magical at least. The soil around the base is wet, though you can assume that's from your watering can.

(In the dead of night Price drags a knife across the throat of the would be intruder testing your threshold. He grips their hair, careful to make sure the quickly draining corpse doesn't fall over your fence and onto your flowers. The blood arcs and sprays over the brick, the patter of it like rain against deep red rose petals and thick thorns. The gurgle of life chokes its way out of the lesser fae's throat. Price shushes them, before dragging their limp body back towards Winter.)

The besom over your door has dried out more quickly than you would like. Doing its job well, you suppose. You make a note to go out and grab supplies for a new one this weekend. You break the handle apart and toss the spent magic in your fire. You grab a jar of feathers from your bookshelf and knot a quick witches ladder to take the broom's place. You tuck a root bundle on the top of the doorjam for added warding.

(Another lackey of the Court's. This is getting tiring. This one is stupid enough to try the front door. Price wraps his hand over their mouth and thrusts his favorite knife into their back, once, twice, again, and again. He aims for vital organs, and tries to keep the bleeding to a minimum. He hates cleanup, and you're bound to notice if there's blood on your front step.)

Price leans against your garden wall, looking as pleased as ever to see you. You don't see a gift this time. Strange. You greet him all the same, and enjoy talking with him as you work. You clip a few roses and neatly slide your athame along the stem to slice the thorns off. They've gotten so sharp recently, you're almost considering selling them to some of the other witches in the area. You hold a de-thorned rose out to Price.

"What's this for?" His smile is as amused as his tone, he doesn't move to take it.

"For keeping me company." You tell him, although you're reluctant to put a price on that. You know it could be considered rude. It's a relief when Price takes it gingerly from your fingers.

"It's my pleasure," He tells you low, eyes heavy as he spins the rose between his fingers.

(You're his prize and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else get to you first.)

#captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #x reader #oc: witch #fae!Price #You think the court didn't notice him playing with her tether #and think goddammit we need him focused get rid of that thing #All of them get very threatening gifts in the mail #just a little reminder that he can and will destroy their whole shop #I think fae Price and fae Valeria get on well lol

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defectivehero · 3 months

Text

The villain squints at the silhouette at the edge of the rooftop, before ascertaining that it's indeed the hero, their enemy. They take a step closer, wincing as the gravel beneath their feet makes a slight noise. With any luck, the hero didn't hear that. They take another step, only for the hero to laugh. It's a dry laugh��one devoid of any genuine humor.

"You caught me," the hero announces, placing their hands on the railing in front of them. Their back is turned, as if they're hiding their face. "I hoped no one would see me." Their enemy admits.

"What are you doing?" The villain feels the need to ask. Typically, they'd be fighting by now. But the hero doesn't seem to be in the fighting mood.

Their enemy takes a moment to respond. "Hanging up the cape, so to speak," they eventually answer. The villain's heart drops to their stomach.

"You're retiring?" They choke out. The hero doesn't utter a word of confirmation, but the villain is able to sense their resolve nonetheless. "Not of your own volition, surely," the villain remarks, squinting at their enemy's shadow. They must've been bribed, blackmailed-

But the hero is silent. There is an utter lack of objection, argument, anything to dissuade the villain from the grim reality staring them straight in the face. "Really?" They hear themself ask. "You're quitting? Just like that?"

"What, going to miss me?" The hero asks. "We could work something out-" The villain can envision the smile on the hero's face—playful but manufactured, amusement failing to reach their eyes.

"No, you're missing the point," the villain interjects. They can't seem to organize their thoughts. There's a terrible foreboding itching at their skin. "What happened to your mission?"

"My... mission," the hero echoes hollowly. They rub a hand over their face. Their enemy looks horribly mortal in that moment, their shoulders hunched and their posture crumpled.

"Don't tell me you can't remember," the villain says, resisting the urge to grab the hero's jaw and force them to turn to look at them. "Right the injustices of the world. Give people a better life than I had. Any of that ringing a bell?"

The hero's nose wrinkles. They're still staring out at the horizon, a distant gleam to their eyes. "My dreams were just that: dreams. Too lofty and optimistic to ever become reality."

Anger bubbles in the villain's chest, white-hot and fast as lightning. "How do you know?" They demand. "You didn't even try-"

"Didn't even try?" The hero snaps, finally turning around to look them in the eyes. The villain immediately regrets wishing to see the hero's expression, as they stare at the uncharacteristic rage and defeat written all over their enemy's face. "I can excuse everything else you've just said to me. But I tried. I fucking tried—more than you can possibly imagine."

The villain is struck silent. The hero takes a step closer, slowly breaking the distance between them. "Do you know how long I spent pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion and injury, just for the idealistic hope of change?" The hero continues, fury glittering in their eyes, "Do you have any idea how tiring it is to work every day of your fucking life for a system that doesn't give two shits about you?"

"I think we both know that I do," the villain finally chokes out, once their tongue no longer feels glued to the roof of their mouth. The hero's eyebrows furrow.

"No," they say with a shake of their head. Their enemy clenches their fists at their sides. The villain suddenly feels nervous, for reasons they can't quite explain. "You don't understand. You gave up." Dread prickles along the villain's skin as they comprehend what the hero just said. Perhaps the worst part of their accusation is that it's entirely true.

"Where you saw an insurmountable obstacle, I saw an opportunity," the hero continues, "I fucking tried. You didn't. You were content to drown in your hatred, to let your own selfishness override the fact that, out there, thousands of people are still experiencing exactly what we went through."

"So don't you ever say that to me," the hero hisses, pointing at the villain's chest. Their touch is light as a feather, yet the villain feels as if their enemy's finger is tearing through their flesh and bone. "Because I gave everything I had to this job. And the agency chewed me up and spit me right the fuck back out."

The hero's eyes are glassy, the villain realizes. Tears are falling down their enemy's face and they watch as the hero furiously wipes at their face with the back of their sleeve. They're beginning to realize why the hero hid their face at first—they were hiding the tear stains running down their cheeks.

The villain is at a loss for words. Truly, there is nothing they can say that will change the reality of the situation—nothing that will fix the horrible injustices and cruelties that lay the foundation for the very system the hero operated in for so long.

"So, yes, I'm quitting," the hero says, their voice raspy and cracked. A part of the villain's stone heart breaks at the devastated tone of their enemy's voice. "I'm done and, if I'm lucky, you will never see me again." Something akin to fear strikes at the villain's chest.

"I'll still find you," the villain maintains, their stomach turning as they try to imagine a world without the hero, a life without an enemy.

"And what will you do?" The hero hums. Their voice sounds empty; there is no sign of the unending determination that first drew the villain to them. "I won't fight you." They state.

"You don't need to," the villain tries.

But the hero simply shakes their head. "Goodbye," their enemy says instead, their visage fading as they disappear into the shadows. The villain stares at the space the hero had just occupied, wondering how it all could have fallen apart so quickly.

MWAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHHHHHHHH. ahahahahhahhahahhah. HAHAHAHAHHA. hahahaha.... ha.... ah.... ha.... heeheehee

happy ending? never heard of her! :3

tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello

click here if you’d like to be on/off the tag list!

#defectivehero #whump #whumpee #whumper #sort of #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfort #hero x villain #heroes and villains #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #short fic #snippet #guys im so so so happy with this piece #I love it so so so so much #so proud of it

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dpr-stay · 11 months

Text

Whoops | YT22

Yuki Tsunoda x driver!reader

SMAU & written

Warnings: A little bit of smut (more lime iykwim) Still would recommend MDNI

Wc ~ 2.3k

Hey y’all 🤪

Anyways, wrote this last night and spent forever doing the social media part bcs it was fun. Haven’t edited it! Sorry! And it may be a bit ooc (?) but I imagine Yuki as some suave guy behind doors so whoops.

(Also sorry if you’re here for stray kids)

———

Heavy hands lay secure on your hips as you sat perched on his lap. Dark eyes stared into yours, both of them encapsulated in unrestrained lust. Yuki squeezed your hips as he brought you in for another kiss.

If only Franz Tost could see you now, huh. He’d been hesitant about hiring a girl to fill Gasly’s seat after he left because he was worried that her and Yuki wouldn’t get along. Boy was he wrong.

Yuki groaned into your mouth as you lowered yourself down till you were aligned. A quick nudge of your hips caused you both to moan, as the tension from the day released out of the both of you.

It was tough race, you barely making it into the points and Yuki a bit below you. The car was shit, but that was to be expected. You’d both spent countless hours in the sims, trying to somehow uncover a way to make the car work better but it was a lost cause.

After one long day that you’d both spent in the sims, you’d arrived at your hotel rooms that were side-by-side at the same time and the rest was history. You wouldn’t say you used each other, there was definitely some level of emotion involved (if the way you spent more time together than anyone else and the numerous times you’ve contemplated moving in together count) but it was definitely a more effective stress relief than collapsing in the gym.

His hips shifted upwards, causing a tingling sensation to spread through your lower half, a sensation that was increased the longer he continued doing that. You brought your arms around Yukis neck, bringing him in for a kiss as you adjusted your hips to match his speed.

He leaned his head back as he closed his eyes and you smiled, quickly leaning in to begin kissing his neck.

“Honey…” He sighed, as you continued moving your hips, his excitement very obvious even through the jeans he was wearing.

“Feels good right?” You murmured on his neck as you began sucking, trying your very best not to leave a mark. That may have been a lie. A deep mark started to form on his skin and you smiled as he continued sighing his pleasure.

“I may have left a mark.” He groaned, this time in mock annoyance, and a giddy smile overtook your lips this time as he brought his head down to look at you, his own smile making your glow brighter.

“It’s hard to be mad at you.” He whispered against your lips and you responded with a quick kiss on his lips, continuing your eye contact, as you didn’t trust yourself to respond appropriately with words.

He gently bucked his hips in response to your kiss and you gasped as a jolt of pleasure ran up your spine. He smirked against your lips and he leaned forward to grab the back of your thighs.

A loud banging on your door startled you both out of your daze, a yelp leaving your lips as Yuki nearly dropped you. You both, almost comically, turned to face the door as the banging continued and the person behind it started to shout.

“Hello? We’re here to film that room tour?” Shit, you’d totally forgotten about that. The team had organized for a film crew to come over and do a nice tour of the hotel room you were staying in. Wasn’t that tomorrow? You cleared your throat before yelling out.

“Yep just give me a minute! I’m finishing a round of Mario Kart!” You quickly hurried to jump off Yuki and started running around the room, turning on your switch and throwing a controller at Yuki.

“Just go with it!” You pleaded and he nodded, a firm nod with a small smile on his lips. God his lips are gorgeous aren’t they? Fuck, not right now!

You sprinted to the bathroom and tried to smooth your hair to look normal and splashed your face with water, hoping it would cool you down.

You ran back to the main area of the room, threw on your Alpha Tauri shirt and turned around to find Yuki booting up Mario Kart on your room's TV.

You sighed, physically feeling your shoulders and tension deflate, before leaning in for one last kiss.

“You look beautiful.” He said as you pulled away and you slapped his shoulder, duly noting the blanket he had thrown over his lap as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“I’m supposed to be turned off right now, not turned on.” You said bashfully and he grinned before you turned back the door and opened it.

You came face to face with a man holding a camera and a man holding a microphone. Your eyes widened.

“Hi there! Should we get straight to it?” The man holding the mic asked and you nodded before turning to the camera and introducing yourself.

“This is the uhh standard room. I’m pretty sure all staff got it, it’s pretty good.” You said as you opened the door.

Yuki waved at the camera from his spot sitting at the edge of your bed and, to their credit, both the other men tried to look unsurprised.

“We were playing Mario kart together, getting out all the aggression from the track.” You explained, over-gesturing with your hands. They both nodded and ‘ahh-ed’.

“So anyways, here’s the bathroom.” You led them into the bathroom, did a little tour, showing them around the room. You opened a few drawers, forgetting about the one that held Yuki’s toiletries bag and quickly slamming it shut. You met their curious looks with a quick “Can’t reveal my hair-care secrets!” And tried to carry on.

You took them through the small kitchenette, showing them the teabags you brought from home and showing them the high quality green tea bags Yuki bought you as a gift. You asked if they wanted a tea and the cameraman took you up on the offer, so eventually you were brewing four teas, one for every person in your room.

Eventually you all moved to the dining table beside your bed, the cameraman setting up his camera to face your bed with you in front of it before you were asked some relatively normal, non-invasive questions which you really appreciated. Yuki was also asked some questions, mostly about how good he is at Mario kart.

You ended up giving them a small tour of the bed, not much to see there. You took them through your switch, let them play a game on it, before eventually showing them the view from the hotel room, letting them onto the balcony.

As they surveyed the view, Yuki came up behind you, quickly muttering into your ear a complaint that they were taking too long. You rested your head back on his shoulder and murmured that they would be gone soon.

And they were, with a final sweep of the room and a panned shot of you sitting at the table watching Yuki play Mario Kart, they were out, thanking you for the tea and for being such a good host.

The second you had closed and locked the door, Yuki was at your back, missing your neck and grabbing at your waist to lead to your bed. You smiled and let yourself be walked backwards before he turned you around and kissed your lips.

“Been holding back for an hour lovely.” He whispered as he subtly pushed you backwards onto the bed, you landing with an ‘umph’ which he released a giggle at.

“Mhhmm I’m sorry about that.” You responded to his previous statement. “I thought it was another day.”

“It’s ok.” He said as crawled over you, beginning to mouth at your ear. “Just means I get less time to fuck you, yeah?” You groaned in response and he laughed at you.

“If people knew how much of a smooth talker you were…” You trailed off as he continued down from your ear to your neck to your collarbones, leaving small bites as he went.

“Lucky they don’t, means I get to use this.” He said smugly before leaning over to the bedside table and retrieving a condom. You rolled your eyes, a fond smile playing on your lips, as he flashed the condom at you. He reached back to place the condom back on the table and moved back to you.

Wait. Hold on.

Yuki continued to kiss down, leaving small nibbles on your collarbones as your eyes shot open.

Oh fuck.

You released a loud gasp and Yuki pulled back and looked up, worried.

“I’m sorry! Are you ok…?” He trailed off at your flabbergasted expression as you both sat up.

“Yuki.” You began, grabbing his shoulders.

“Did you reach in the drawer to grab that or not?” You asked, drawing him close to you. His face immediately paled as he took in the implications of what you said. He scrambled to move closer to the edge of the mattress, turning to look at the side table.

“I swear I reached in, didn’t I?” He said, turning to you but you could only look on in horror.

“There’s no way right?” He started. “We didn’t just film a room tour with a condom on the side table?”

You groaned, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes as you learnt back into the bed, hoping the mattress would swallow you whole. Yuki let out an incredulous laugh, barely registering the hand you slapped his thigh with.

“What do we do?” You eventually asked, staring at the roof.

“I have no clue.” He said as you rolled to face him. His face softened as he reached out a hand to put on the side of your face.

“We might have to tell people.” You groaned in despair, closing your eyes. The last thing you wanted was for people to think the only female driver was fucking the other drivers. You were only fucking one.

You also didn’t want to have to deal with HR and the complications that would pose, you’d mentioned Franz Tost as a joke but damn. You really don’t want to have to deal with all the questions about your loyalty to the company and if you were just there because of Yuki.

Saying that, you were also reminded that you’d have to face the media and twitter if you confirmed it. Cheers to more speculations as to whether you were the gridwhore or the gridslut. Somehow the same thing with different names.

To be fair, you'd have to face the media anyway in this scenario. You couldn’t just chase them down and ask them to do the story again ‘just because’ and you were certain some eagle-eyed fan would definitely notice the package in the original video anyway. Yuki interrupted your thoughts by speaking.

“You know I’d fistfight someone for you?” You opened your eyes to face his genuine ones, the seriousness of his face causing you to smile.

“I know. I’d do the same for you.” The smile he had in return caused you to grab the hand he was holding your face in and turn your face to kiss it.

“I could call Pierre, he’d probably know what to do.” You immediately scoffed, closing your eyes and laughing into Yuki’s hand as you grasped it.

“I’m serious! He might have some sort of way for it to be passed off as something else!”

“Darling, I’m not sure about that.” You were careful to make your voice not sound condescending.

“You never know!” He said, pulling away (which you did definitely not whine at) and grabbing his phone from the table, quickly dialling Pierre’s number.

You watched as Yuki paced, giving you a thumbs up when the call went through. The loud blasting club music through the phone did clue you in to that though.

“Hi Pierre!” He started and you watched as he moved from foot-to-foot.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He said and then continued. “Sorry to take you away from your party but I have a question.”

A pause.

“Ah ok. If you needed to pass off a condom wrapper as something else, what would you choose?” Yuki said, giving you another thumbs up.

The raucous laughter Pierre released was heard through the phone (he really ought to turn the volume down) and it made you start to giggle, especially as Yuki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course I’m serious!” He said, starting to pace again.

“Why? We accidentally had one out on the side table when a room tour was taking place.” He explained as he finally sat down after you patted the space in front of you on the bed.

“What? Who? You know who!” He said and you tilted your head in confusion. He sighed before muttering into the phone.

“Yes, the person I had a crush on the whole last year. Go away.” You tilted your head back as a wave of elation washed over you, it was always nice to know the people you want, want you too. Even if you’d been dating, it’s still nice to know.

Pierre’s reaction to this could also be heard through the phone, a loud “WHAT?” that had Yuki sighing before hanging up. He took a second before looking at you.

“Useless.” He simply said and it was enough to send you into a minutes long laughing fit. He giggled along with you, though he admittedly found it a lot less funny.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” You asked and he nodded.

“Seems like we just have to let things run their course.” You nodded in agreement, already having mentally prepared yourself.

“However…” You looked up at the tone of his voice.

“We could… Y’know… use the condom?” He said and you started to giggle again before nodding.

“Seems the only acceptable course.” You replied and he smiled before climbing back onto the bed.

—-

Yippee, does this mean I can make a masterlist?

#Yuki tsunoda x reader #f1 x reader #Yuki tsunoda x you #Yuki x reader #driver!reader #female driver #formula one x reader #I cant not tag like ao3 #f1 #smau #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #Yuki tsunoda fanfic #Yuki tsunoda one shot #wrote in a haze lmao #bit of a deviation from normal

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satancopilotsmytardis · 7 days

Text

Romantic Gestures

Pairing:Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @swordcrossedlover. So a few months ago Duster blew him out of the water when it came to celebrating Valentine's Day, and then Dabi completely fucked up returning the favor on White Day. Now, as they hit their one year anniversary of dating, he really, really wants to get things right as he and his lover spend the day together.

Contents: Tooth-rotting fluff, BDSM, Sir kink, Praise kink, Feminization, Lingerie, Anal fingering, Anal sex, Creampie, Riding.

Word Count: 7342

It probably would surprise absolutely no one that Dabi has never been in an extended romantic entanglement in his life. He's not sure how or when in his life he ever would have been able to make some kind of romantic relationship work at all, given how he spent his youth obsessed with living up to his lost potential, his adolescence in a coma, his teenage years on the streets trying to keep his skin from falling off, and time as a young adult trying to figure out how to kill his father. So realizing that he wasn't just hooking up with his boss but that they were actually dating had been a shock. Realizing that they kept dating, that they were sharing their space, and now living together completely in the PLF, that Tomura wants to keep him for as long as he can have him, and in no way seems ready to run for the hills, was a bit of a shock. But what ends up being even more shocking is the fact that they have been dating for a year. Sure there was a chunk of that time where Duster was off floating in a tube, but it's been a year now. Their work with the PLF is getting stronger and stronger, and they're getting so much closer to being able to tear apart hero society before anyone sees them coming. They're stronger than they were when AFO was commanding the organization from the shadows. And, perhaps most astonishingly to him, they're happy.

Toga is thriving being around so many people without anyone being scared of her. Twice is getting treatment for his condition and is making strides to actually be able to use his quirk to its fullest effect. Compress has the best prosthetic that could be designed and has fully adapted his fighting style around his disability. Spinner's finally not a Stain fanboy anymore and is actually working to grow his own fighting style around his quirk instead of trying to mimic the serial killer’s. Tomura's body is no longer at risk of falling apart under the strain of his teacher's quirk and is making it his own with each new piece he unlocks. And he's... better. He's never going to be good, his quirk will always be too strong for his body, and the scarring across his skin is permanent unless he gets years and years worth of reconstruction, but having access to medicine, money, and a safe place to live means that his open seams have finally closed, the burned skin slowly fusing back together with the other parts and leaving him no longer falling apart if he loses a few staples for whatever reason. He's put on more muscle, his chronic pain has gotten less severe, and he's... happy.

And that's to say nothing about how he and Duster have been since they became, like, a real couple. A real couple that shares a living space, sleeps in the same bed each night, shares meals, and spends their downtime together. The sex, of course, is nothing to overlook, but the domestic things, the emotional things, that they've had in and around that, is more shocking to him overall. He didn't think he was capable of having anything in him besides his anger and revenge. Duster agreed to take up space right alongside that however, never pushing to be more to him than that. It's unbearably sappy that he'd managed to fall in love with him anyway.

Which is why, when they start to come up on their actual anniversary, Dabi alternates constantly between being pleased that they literally made it this long without anything disastrous happening, and humiliated because that means he has to come up with something to do for said anniversary. He got lucky that neither of them did anything for each other's birthdays because they just hadn't even mentioned them until well after they'd passed. Christmas had been a League thing instead of a couple thing after how much of a year they'd had so far, and Dabi had thought he was safe from holidays. In his defense, he had never once celebrated Valentine's Day, or seen his parents celebrate it when he was growing up. It was absolutely not on his fucking radar. In fact, he had been extremely annoyed when his schedule had suddenly been cleared and he was without anything to do for a whole day, especially when the others all seemed to be turning and running the other way whenever he tried to find or talk to them. To top it all off, Duster wasn't even around either because he was with the doctor.

So he had been annoyed, alone, and without anything to do. He went to train with every intention of just letting that wear him down to nothing and then going to pass out for a while, possibly after getting high. He was even more furious when he found out that his training area was currently blocked off as something he couldn't get a clear answer about was going on, so he skipped it and decided, yeah, no, he was going to get absolutely loaded, pull the curtains shut, turn off all the lights in their room, and curl up under the blankets until he passed out from heat stroke. And he had gone back to their room.

To find that Duster had his lunch already delivered and waiting for him, that the bath was filled and steaming with milk, honey, and fucking rose petals, and his love had left him a bowl to smoke as well. Dabi had caught on then that this, of course, was Tomura's doing, but he didn't know why he'd arranged for this while he was away. Maybe he just felt bad that so much of his work had gotten shifted onto Dabi's pile while he was busy, but Dabi had decided that he would give his lover shit about it later. He had his lunch, smoked in the bath, and when he'd gotten out, it was to find new clothes laid out for him on their bed, his e-reader all loaded up with new books, a set of confidential files that his lover somehow got out of the Endeavor agency, and a note asking him to get dressed and go to the roof at seven. He was more than happy to lounge around mostly naked, reading and scheming to kill time for a few hours before getting dressed in the red lingerie, black dress pants, and black silk shirt that had been left for him before he headed up to the roof.

To where Tomura had been waiting with a whole candlelit dinner. He fucking went all out wining and dining Dabi, who was already reeling just from the fact he'd paused his treatments to come see him. He'd pampered Dabi and made him feel like a princess before the other man had even taken him to bed, and then he had taken him to bed and made him float so high, for so long, that Dabi had really, seriously thought he was in danger of dying from bliss. And he still hadn't caught on to it being Valentine's day until Duster had murmured it in his ear.

He was a little mortified then to realize what he'd been missing the whole time, but he was able to deflect that by punching him in the side and telling his lover not to treat him like a girl outside of their sheets. But he still felt like he had to do something for White Day. Tomura told him that he didn't have to, he was more than happy to just spend the day with Dabi, but he had been so thoroughly shown up, he was desperate to prove that he was capable of being as romantic as Duster. Which was a hell of a lot harder to do when he didn't have any clue how to be romantic for Duster. The classic shit worked on him because he had never been treated to any kind of classical romantic gesture, and the embarrassment that came alongside the thin curls of pleasure at being treated as precious now, had made it heady. But Duster didn't care about that stuff, and Dabi had spent a humiliating month trying so hard to plan something only to end up burning dinner because his emotions were going too high and his quirk was out of control, chocolates that melted, and so frustrated and upset at his failures, that Tomura wouldn't take him to bed for anything but cuddling to calm him down and make sure he felt better. It was a massive failure and Dabi was bound and determined not to let anything similar happen for their anniversary.

///

Dabi wakes up early the day of their anniversary. He has a plan god damn it, and he's not going to sleep through it. Duster isn't in their room which probably means his insomnia kept him up for most of the night, to the point he went to his office to work. So Dabi goes and showers quickly before going back into their closet. He had his lover pick out three different sets of lingerie that he would like to see him in and Dabi settles on the set that he wants to wear and throws on his normal lounging clothes overtop, though he does opt for one of Tomura's kitten-soft fine-knit red sweaters because he knows how much Shig likes it when he wears his stuff and his color. And when that's finished, he heads right to their common area and kitchen. The rest of the League isn't around, and he didn't expect them to be this early in the day, so he starts prepping ingredients without having anyone breathing down his neck.

He and Tomura agreed that they both got to plan things for the day in equal measures, and Duster gets to plan and surprise him with their scene tonight if Dabi gets to decide on dinner. And this time he's not going out of his way to attempt making the fanciest thing that he can think of. He's not going to stress himself out over any of that. But making dessert in advance and leaving it to chill until later will make it perfect. He does, perhaps, make certain that all of the ingredients that he had delivered were the best quality that money could buy for this, but the recipe itself isn't complicated and he's made it for the League before. It's the only dessert that he's ever had Tomura not only eat, but eat more of without prompting, and he figures that will be perfect for tonight.

He brews up the strongest espresso he's ever made in his life and makes sure to let it cool a bit before he moves onto the next steps. He also puts aside a smaller container to make a miniature tiramisu without alcohol since Toga hates the rum in the original recipe. It only takes him a short while to have the dessert assembled in its dish and put into the fridge. And then he pauses, , takes their memo pad off the fridge and writes a note,

'If any of you fuckers cut into this before I do, I'm burning off your dicks. Don't fuck with me.' And then a second note for the little container, 'For Toga, alcohol-free :)'

He slaps them on, puts them away, and then brews fresh coffee for he and Duster, along with some toast and a rolled omelet and then he heads to the other side of the villa to their offices. He knocks on the door as a formality more than anything before catching the handle and slipping inside. Shig is at his desk and smiles when he comes in, and from the budget reports he's reviewing, Dabi knows that he's happy to see him for more selfish reasons than usual.

"Happy anniversary, firefly."

"Yeah, yeah, happy anniversary, come have breakfast with me."

They sit together on the little couch and have their food and coffee, and when they're done, Tomura pulls him closer and gives him a kiss. "What are you doing up so early, baby?"

Dabi nuzzles right back in. "Had my own shit to do this morning. But now I'm finished and I want to know what you have planned for the rest of the day."

"I don't have anything planned outside of tonight, precious." Tomura says.

"No hot air balloon ride?"

"No."

"Picnic on the burned out remains of my childhood home?"

"Not unless you want to go on a fieldtrip."

"Proposal in front of the entire organization?"

"No, you wouldn't say 'yes' if I asked in front of other people." And he looks beyond amused at this point. "But if you want a ring--"

"Don't you fucking dare. I'm not gonna marry you until after the end of the war." It's an easier thing to say now, because after about six months of dating, Duster told him bluntly, that he was it for him. Dabi was the only person he'd ever been in a romantic relationship with and thought that he wanted that to last forever. He would have probably married him then, just in case they got arrested so that they might still be able to have visits with one another in Tartarus, but Dabi had smacked him across the back of his head and told him to stop being a sap.

"I guess I better win then." He murmurs, pulling Dabi in for another kiss. He lets himself melt into that. It's been a year. He's tired of pretending that he doesn't soak up every drop of affection that he's given. Tomura kisses him slow and sweet, one hand cupping the back of his neck, all five fingers on him because he can control his quirk completely now, because he made himself so much more powerful, but instead of showing the world what a threat he is, he'd come right home to him so that he could hold his hand without making it hurt.

Dabi all but crawls into his lap, tangling his fingers through his lover's soft hair, so long now it's curling down his back, and lets his lover hold him close and lick behind his teeth. But when Tomura's hand strays to the hem of his sweater, Dabi catches his wrist and parts just enough to breathe, "Not until after dinner."

"Alright princess," he rubs their noses together before giving Dabi another sweet peck. "So what do you want to do today?"

///

And instead of killing himself trying to think of something romantic for them to spend their time doing, Dabi just wants to spend the day with each other. They head back to their room, and it's not fancy baths, rose petals, and candlelight, it's he and Shig lazing about, his feet in his lover's lap as he taps away at one of his games and Dabi reads. They talk when they feel like it, they kiss and press in close for cuddles when the mood strikes them, or strikes Dabi mostly. He doesn't try to outdo the romantic gestures that Shig did for him before. He just lets himself soak in the gentle affection that they've been cultivating between them for the past year. And Tomura seems more than happy with that. Dabi knows he's prickly most other times, too embarrassed, too self-conscious to let himself be as unabashedly warm as his lover is to him. But he doesn't let himself get into his head about that today, he just lets himself enjoy the things about their relationship that he's been receiving for so long now, and he puts away the fear of them being ripped away if he does something wrong. Tomura wouldn't ever abandon him. He would tear down the entire world for him and then put it back together dust particle by dust particle if it meant that he would finally believe that this is something he doesn't have to earn.

The hours pass, but it's so easy to not notice the time going by. When they were apart, every hour felt like sandpaper being dragged across his mind, but when they're together, time flows like water and it's hard for him to feel like they've spent the whole day together as the sun begins to set because he has just been in a heavy fog of contentment. He only notices because he had an alarm set so that he would know when their dessert had been chilled long enough to be ready to cut. He takes that as an opportunity to text for the dinner he'd already set up to be ordered to be picked up and goes right back to being cuddled close and with his lover.

It takes about half an hour before his phone chimes and says that the food is ready, so he reluctantly extracts himself from his lover. "Are you cooking?" He asks, and there's no expectation or judgment in the question, just, maybe, a faint concern after how poorly things had gone on White Day.

"Nope. I'll be back in a minute."

"Do you want--"

"Stay."

Tomura's brows raise and Dabi knows that's going to earn him a punishment, though he hopes he saves it for tomorrow and doesn't change whatever he has planned for tonight. He does stay where he is though, turning his attention back to his game as he looks for a save point.

Dabi goes and is happy to see the two brown bags of takeout sitting on the counter with his name on them, and is amused to see Toga sitting on the couch with her container of tiramisu, eating it smugly while the others look like they're vibrating as he goes over to the fridge. He takes out the container, cuts two sizable portions, sprinkles on a bit of cocoa powder, and then gathers his bags on one arm and holds the plates in his hands.

"Go for it, you freaks." He's fairly certain he hears the others descending on the dessert like rabid dogs, but he doesn't pay them any mind. He goes back to his and Shig's room and finds the other has put away their electronics and has clearly remade the bed and probably picked out whatever he wants to use on him tonight and relocated it to the bedside drawer for easier access.

Dabi sets down the bags and they start to take out the food. Shig blinks in surprise. Dabi tends to gravitate towards more traditional dishes when he picks dinner, or really any meal. His formative years cooking were for things that were traditional because his father was traditional and focused on keeping his house as traditional as possible. But the others, and Tomura especially from his upbringing of meeting with and traveling all over with AFO, means that he is more likely to pick out food from other places around the world if he is tasked with picking their meal. So the Indian takeout instead of an elaborate, romantic Japanese dinner, and the ice cold six pack of beer is definitely a surprise.

"Why Indian, firefly?" He asks, but it's definitely not a complaint as they start to open up the different takeout containers.

"Cause the night that you and I stayed up until past three working on getting the summer camp job ready, this is what you ordered, and apparently it was the first time you ever got me to laugh, which you also apparently could not shut up about for a solid week--"

It is rare that someone as shameless as Duster ever manages to get embarrassed, but faint splotches of pink start on his cheeks. "I don't--"

"Spinner ratted you out."

"I'm going to kill him."

"He also said that you consider that our first date, since we didn't really have one before I let you blow my back out." Technically, if that were true, then their anniversary would have been two months ago, but Tomura had actually asked for them to be something beyond fuck buddies a year ago today, and presumably hadn't wanted him to know about how sappy he was, so today is the day they're celebrating. "You can't kill him, he's your best friend."

"I can maim him."

Dabi doesn't argue with that, he knows his lover wouldn't ever do it anyway.

///

They eat and the food is good, talking is good, it's so easy to be with Tomura now. He came clean about Toya a few months ago, and doing that had removed a barrier that Dabi hadn't really thought he was feeling in their relationship. Easy for them to talk shit about Trumpet's haircut, to speculate about exactly how much inbreeding Geten had to have from that side of his family for him to be as fucking dense as a pile of bricks now, to talk about their plans, the ones that they'll be putting into practice soon, and the ones that will be getting finished far in the future after the war, and feel... hopeful for the first time in their lives. It's different than things ever felt before, and he is laughing again by the time they're finished with dinner and dessert and he's being pulled into his lover's lap for another kiss.

"Show me what you're wearing, princess," Tomura orders, his lips curved into a smile as he nips along his jaw. Dabi doesn't protest this time. Tomura let him have the day, let it be what he thinks has been an easy redemption for the absolute mess he made of White Day, and he's always more than happy to show off for his lover.

He sits up a little and lets Duster pull away his sweater, showing him the lacy red bralette he's wearing underneath, thin, strappy, and see-through the way he always likes. Never wanting Dabi to hide his scars, always wanting him in something delicate because he thinks Dabi's,

"Beautiful, baby girl." His lover has had so many other words for him and about his body, but the sincerity of this one never fails to take his breath away.

"Thank you, sir," he manages before Tomura gives him another kiss. He doesn't push to go any faster, but there is a different kind of heat that's crackling through their space now, that slow burn of pleasure that is getting hotter and hotter as his hands move over his skin.

Duster finds the places on his body that he knows so well now. He touches his sides, along his back, teasing just under his staple punctures on the healthy side where his skin is so sensitive, and he does it without being disgusted he wants to be touched there, or scared that doing so could hurt him because he knows so completely what Dabi can handle. He licks along his neck, over to his pulse point, and nibbles and sucks there to put the promise of a bruise under his skin that no one else will see, but Dabi will be able to feel for a long while, little marks of ownership that he knows he'll carry for the rest of the week with satisfaction deep in his bones. He lets out a fluttery sigh, working his hands under his lover's shirt, touching his cool skin and trying to work it up as he goes. Tomura pulls away and lets him remove the fabric, but once he has, he shifts how he's holding him.

"Come on, princess, I want to see you all laid out."

It's effortless for him to lift Dabi now, and a heady heat goes through him as he's carried bridal-style over to their bed. Being made small and easy to carry and care for, being delicate when he's a gnarled mess of scars and sharp edges, makes him feel like he's going to float away already, and Sir has barely started with him. He wraps his arms around his neck, pulling himself even closer so that he can press his own kisses there as he's taken over to the bed. Tomura laughs when he clings to him for a moment longer to give him a few more before he lets himself be put down.

But when he's on his back, Sir's hands go to his waistband and Dabi lifts his hips, helping him to take away the last of his real clothes. Duster's eyes drag up his body and Dabi is breathless from how he looks at him. "You're so gorgeous, precious." He murmurs, a hand moving up along the back of his leg as he shifts to kneel on the bed. Dabi spreads his to make room for him, and the hand hooks behind his knee, pulling that one up and open further so that he can see how his panties cling to his crotch and ass. "I love seeing you all dressed up for me." He would replace his wardrobe entirely with the clothes Tomura likes if there weren't practical reasons to not. Maybe when they rule Japan together. He could let Tomura keep him in lingerie, dresses, and finery for a whole year just for the hell of it. "But I think you're missing something to make you perfect, princess."

Through the hazy bliss already pressing in along his nerves, Dabi's mind twinges with confusion. This is the full set, this one doesn't have stockings to go with it-- Tomura leans over to the nightstand and extracts a thin square box wrapped in black paper with a brilliant blue bow on top. Dabi sits up so that his lover can give him the gift. "Thank you, sir." Tomura leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead before pulling back to let Dabi open it.

The ribbon pulls easily and he runs a nail underneath the edges of the paper until he can slide out the crisp white box inside. Tomura takes the paper and ribbon from him before Dabi opens the lid and finds, nestled in pearlescent white tissue paper, a new collar. Unlike his day collar that is just black leather with a few modest spikes and an O-ring, this one's for scening, and is a thicker pale pink ribbon and lace with gold findings, the ring at the center in the shape of a heart with letters in-- he runs his thumb over the first and realizes that they definitely aren't plastic rhinestones. No, these feel like real stones of some kind, though if his lover actually got him diamonds for their first anniversary, Dabi is going to have to kill him-- gemstones of some kind, spelling out 'Sir's Princess'. It's frilly and pretty, and tells Dabi exactly what he is, what he's supposed to be when he's like this, and how much Sir loves him for giving himself up so completely to him.

"Can I wear it?" He wants it on now, but that's not for him to decide.

"Of course you can, baby girl. You know I'll give you anything you want if you are always so sweet when you ask." Tomura takes the collar out, and Dabi gives a soft sigh as the delicate lace and ribbon kiss his neck as he wraps it around his throat. The findings and letters are heavier, making the piece feel substantial even though the body of the collar is made out of lighter materials than his day collar. Tomura secures it and then leans back to look at him again. "There. Oh, baby girl," he sounds breathless when he speaks again, his eyes and words soft with his affection, "I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I love you." He traces a finger along where the lace and his skin meet, "Or how happy I am you're mine."

His face feels hotter, his whole body feels hotter when he manages, barely above a whisper. "Love belonging to you, Sir." He never thought he would ever be able to dedicate himself to anything beyond his revenge, but he is... he is so dangerously close to letting that go if it means he can be Tomura's sword and shield in the final fight. If he can be certain that being at his side will mean that they win their war. He catches one of Shig's hands, his damaged one with his prosthetics in place, and presses a kiss to his palm. "Keep me?"

"Forever, princess." His lover tells him emphatically. And then his mouth is back against his and he's pulling Dabi close, his hands are back on his skin, stroking and teasing. Every touch screams with the desperation to show him that he means it. He would spend an eternity with him, he would tell him every day for the rest of time how deeply he's loved. Heat starts to spark hotter through his veins as Sir's hands move to his chest and he rubs a finger over his covered nipples. He changed his piercings today, studs with little dangling heart chains for the occasion, and when Tomura feels them, he smiles against his lips before he reaches back to unhook his bra.

"You're so cute, baby girl. I love how you dress up for me." And he knows how much Dabi loves his praise. He lives for it, and of all of their play, nothing makes him hotter than Tomura's sweet words in his ears as his hands move across his body. "It makes me so happy to see how much you've embraced being so pretty for me, princess."

He mewls as Sir uses one hand to unclasp his bra, but the other goes down his back, pulling him up from the mattress and then into his body until he's in Sir's lap, his thighs spread so wide. There wasn't a chance of hiding his building arousal already in his thin, tiny panties, but his cock is rubbing against Sir now in this position and his lover is smiling again as he murmurs,

"Even prettier when your clit starts to blush like that, baby girl." Which only serves to put embarrassment inside of his veins alongside the heat. He tangles his fingers back into Tomura's hair and pulls him into another kiss to staunch the flow of his words for a moment as he shrugs out of his bra and his lover brings both hands to his ass, cupping him and squeezing just firmly enough to have him moaning as he's dragged in even tighter to his body. His panties don't cover his skin completely, and even then, Sir slips two fingers underneath the lace so he can tease him as he steals his breath. He moans as he is touched, clinging onto him and rolling his hips against him to put more of that pleasure against his clit as Sir makes him get hotter.

Tomura pulls away only long enough to see the charms dangling from his chest, and he spares a hand to tease them, tugging gently on the chain so that the little tug there makes him gasp. "Should've known from the first moment I saw you that you would like having your pretty tits admired and played with." He cups one as his mouth goes to the other, licking along his seam and kissing down to his nipple. Dabi whines as he teases at the bud, nipping just hard enough that the sensitive nerves tangle that spark of pain through him and makes his clit even harder. He sucks and licks at his chest until there is a constant stream of moans coming out of him, and when he switches to the other side, he's so sensitive that just the weight of the charm hanging off of his skin has him trembling. By the time he pulls away from them completely, they're swollen and red and Dabi is even hotter because, "There, now your tits are blushing as cutely as your clit, baby girl."

"More, Sir, please?" He begs, rocking himself into his lover's hips and feeling his cock against him. That gets them both moaning, and Tomura holding him even tighter.

"You can have anything you want, princess. I'm going to give you the whole world." He promises. Dabi would give it right back if it meant he could just have Tomura like this forever. He expects his lover to make him shift positions so that he can get him naked, but Sir doesn't. He reaches to the nightstand and pulls out their lube, their best lube, the silicone lube that Sir only uses when he wants to take his time. Dabi trembles and his lover laughs warmly. "I should have had you wear white if you were going to act like my sweet virginal little bride."

And he humiliates himself by whimpering as he grinds against him again.

Tomura's eyes light up. "Oh, princess, after all of that protesting? You want to be my bride? Do you want to pretend, baby girl?"

"Sir," he whines.

"Not the words I need, baby." He's still smiling as he pulls his panties to the side and exposes him to the cooler air. "Does my baby girl need my vows first?" He teases again. He kisses Dabi before he can protest, his body going impossibly hot. It's been a long time since he felt like he was going to completely combust because of his lover's words, his pleasure and embarrassment both burning through him as Tomura slicks his fingers and starts to tease them around his rim. He goes slowly as he pulls back, his lips never fully leaving his skin as they move over his body and as he speaks. "I'm going to stay by your side forever, princess. I'm going to make sure that you reach all of your goals-- and I'm going to be there to help you even after you wish I would have given up."

The sensations in his body feel like a knife-point he's balancing on the edge of. He can't tell if he hurts or if he feels good as his lover promises those things as his fingers start to work inside of his body, slicking his skin and stroking along his walls. His nerves cry out for pleasure, but the sharpness in his chest, like every word is being taken into his heart and threatening to burst as it gets fuller, is a keening ache. But he's still moaning and desperate, trying to catch Tomura in kiss after kiss as he grinds their cocks together and rocks back onto his fingers, getting more desperate to try and get more of his skin, and fewer of his words before he shatters.

"Going to tell you every day how beautiful you are, how much I love you," Dabi whines, pulling at his hair as he fucks himself back onto his fingers. Sir gives him what he wants, angling to rub against his prostate on every subsequent thrust, bringing his need higher and higher. "Love how you moan, precious, and the way your skin smokes when you lose control. I never know if I should ever let anyone else see how perfect you are when you're feeling good, baby. They'd want you for themselves, but you're so lovely, and you love to have all eyes on you. I would let them watch so long as I know you're mine. You're going to be mine forever, won't you, princess?"

"Yes, Sir," his voice is higher, thin with his pleasure, and desperate for more. "Tomura--"

"Those still aren't the words I need for you to be my bride, baby." He sinks a third finger inside of him and Dabi keens, his clit so achingly hard it's smearing pre all against his panties, so wet that he's making Tomura's pants wet too as they move against one another. "What else? In sickness and in health? You've already been there for me when I was shattered. You took such good care of me-- of our family," Dabi's eyes burn as his chest feels like it's going to burst. "And I'm going to take care of you just the same. I'm going to change every staple, help heal every burn, and I'm going to let you know every day that your quirk didn't break you."

"Duster," his voice cracks, tears slipping over his cheeks. Tomura kisses them away and Dabi can't stand it anymore. He reaches for his pants and fumbles messily with the button and zip, knowing his hands must feel so hot against his lover's cooler skin as he pulls him out and strokes him, needing to have his cock inside right now.

"For richer or poorer? We've done both. I wouldn't ever give up the times we spent sleeping curled up together under your coat--"

"Tomura," he tangles a hand in his hair and yanks hard enough to make his lover wince.

"Just two words, princess, and I'll be yours forever."

He keens, tears on his cheeks and a desperation in him that he's never had before, as he pulls their mouths together again, "I do."

Tomura kisses him so hard their teeth click, pulling his fingers out of him. There's a fumble of movement as he gets the bottle again and slicks his cock, but as soon as his hands are around Dabi's hips again, they're shifting to bring their bodies together. They both lose themselves in a moan as Dabi takes him deep inside, his muscles trembling as he's stretched everywhere he's wanted to be.

He's too frantic to try to take things slowly. He needs his lover, needs Tomura across every inch of him so that he can be completely consumed. He wants to belong to him. He has belonged to him since the first second he walked into the bar in Kamino, and he's never known how to tell him that. Tomura doesn't struggle with his words. He doesn't doubt anything he says, and he almost never lies. He would make Dabi his forever. He would marry him if Dabi just let him ask. He would give Dabi the world and then some if it meant they could stay together forever.

"I love you, Iloveyou, Iloveyou!" He babbles against his lips as his lover helps him to move in his lap, drawing him higher and pulling him down faster than he could have himself as his muscles shake and tears drip off his cheeks.

"I love you, firefly," Tomura tells him, more conviction in this declaration than any he has made to the PLF, the League, All For One. He loves Dabi more than his war, his quirk, his people. He won't ever abandon him for any of those things. He won't ever let him go unless he asks to leave.

Dabi knows he never will.

This isn't scening, isn't fucking, it's something different and softer that Dabi never thought he would experience, no matter how much faster and rougher their movements are getting as they creep closer to their completion. For the first time, Dabi really thinks he understands what people meant when they said that they felt like they were one with their partner as they make love. They are so entangled now that Dabi doesn't think that they will ever be able to be separate again, and he never wants to be. He wants this for the rest of their lives.

It's not a surprise then, as their pleasure builds, that it builds together, and Dabi is aching, loud moans spilling out of him as his lover moves inside. "Tomura," he gasps, "close."

"I know princess," he murmurs, kissing away another track of tears. "I can always feel it when your pussy gets so hot and tight like this." Dabi mewls, his clit aching, and he can't help it, he has to reach between them so that he can cup himself through the thin, soaked lace, and grind himself against his palm as the thrusts grow harder. "That's it, baby girl. I want you to feel good. Show me how good it is, baby. Cum with me."

He's smoking as that sends him over the edge in just a few more thrusts, his lover's cock hitting his sweet spot on each one. And as his muscles tense as he cums, Tomura's groan entangles with his moans as his cock twitches before he's painting his spend all along his walls.

He feels like every bone has been replaced with jello as he slumps against his lover's chest, eyes slipping shut as he tries to catch his breath, soaked inside and his panties stained and dripping with his cum. But he doesn't care. He just knows that he has never felt safer, more complete, more loved than when he's in Tomura's arms.

///

Duster kept him full and happy a few more times before he ran them a bath and soaked with him in the tub for a long while. Then he'd dried them off and carried Dabi back to bed, and spent the rest of the night finding a hundred other ways to tell Dabi how much he loved him until he'd passed out. And when he wakes up, he is still curled into his lover's chest, Tomura stroking his hair as the sun rises behind their curtains.

"When I said you could plan a scene, I expected some fucked up, kinky shit with a lot of edging," Because that's usually what he gets when his lover wants to indulge them both for a long time. "Not wedding roleplay."

"We can do all of that today if you want to, precious. And who said that was roleplay, firefly?" Tomura presses a kiss to the crown of his head and then stretches an arm out to the nightstand, reaching into the drawer and extracting a piece of paper and a pen. Dabi gapes, incredulous as he is presented with a marriage certificate that has already been signed by their officiant (Compress) and their witnesses (Spinner and Twice). "Toga wanted to sign too, but she's not an adult."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Tomura smiles and gives him another kiss. You don't have to sign if you don't want to, baby, we didn't put any dates on it--"

"I hate you, give me that." Dabi snatches the pen and scrawls down his legal name. "I'm only signing this because I'm going to divorce you next week."

"That's fine, firefly, it just means that I get to ask you to marry me again." Tomura signs his name too, and the license looks wrong with 'Tenko Shimura' and 'Toya Todoroki' on it.

Dabi takes it and shoves it back in the drawer. "This is for the cops and the heroes. If something goes wrong, if we fail, then that's for them. But when we win," he's never been an optimistic person about his future, but he wants a life with Tomura in the world they build after the war. "You can actually ask me and if I'm in a good mood I may say 'yes', and then we can have a real wedding, as us."

He has never had someone look at him like he was the sun and moon, but Tomura never fails to. "I think that sounds more than fair, Dabi."

His lover wraps his hand around the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss again. Maybe when they get married for real they'll do it on the anniversary of their first date, or maybe they'll make it the anniversary of the end of the war. He supposes they'll have time to think about it before then. Dabi nips at Shig's lips.

"I can't believe you showed me up again."

"What are you talking about? All I did was get a piece of paper. You recreated our first date. I'm definitely going to have to think of something extra special for our next holiday."

He can't help snorting when his lover sounds completely serious with that declaration before he leans in for another kiss.

#shigadabi #my writing #mha fanfiction #fanfiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for shutting down a trans man who was maybe just trying to be helpful?

A bit of background: I'm over 25 and I've known I was trans for about 15 years. Despite this, I've had a lot of trouble getting myself to a point where I can reliably afford hormones/surgery. As a result, I've spent that time learning to control what I can and accept what I can't for the time being. I'm not "comfortable" in my skin, but it's a very familiar and sometimes tolerable experience I can handle with some support from my other half for now.

As a downside to this, I have far less tolerance for insecure masculinity, especially from younger trans men who go through a toxic phase.

The actual story: I was trying out a new thing in a friendly, helpful, freelance kind of workspace. Think something like an artist community, not strictly "professional" but somewhat organized. I was trying to make friends to follow to get some mutual support when I posted a picture and a little bit about myself, mentioning that I was trans and was hoping to follow more trans creators.

I got a message from another trans guy (post-op, on T) who was excited to support and get to know each other when I got a follow-up message along the lines of "By the way! You'd look great with a shorter hair cut!"

I didn't really ask and I liked my longer hair so I sent something back akin to "Thanks! I usually keep it short but I'm trying out something different this time!" I checked out his page again just to make sure he wasn't just trolling people but he was supportive of others and posted regularly about himself. I didn't think much of it and went to sleep for the night.

I woke up the next day to a few more messages (that I'm paraphrasing). "It just looks fem right now is all. Did you know they make lifts for the insides of your shoes? They're really comfortable but if you can't afford them you can fold socks under your heels and it gives you another couple of inches of height!"

I tried to answer politely. "I'm not really insecure about that! There are plenty of short guys and guys with long hair!" Honestly I was pissed. I know I don't pass, it isn't my goal right now to pass and the advice felt unsolicited and condescending.

He told me AGAIN that he just wanted to help me "look more masculine, if that was the goal" and sent me a list of shoulder workouts to try with an article about dieting.

I finally told him to hop off my dick, mind his own body and worry about his own presentation because he was projecting his own insecurities on a stranger. I told him I didn't ask for his opinion, that I'm older than he thinks, that I've been out far longer and know all the tricks, I just choose not to present male for others when I can choose my own comfort first, KNOWING who I am.

He replied with a short apology, another "just trying to help" before blocking me. It doesn't bother me at all that he did, but I don't know how gentle I was expected to be when it felt Iike someone was essentially saying something was wrong with me.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thatfreshi · 2 months

Text

"Light-Headed"

A short sequel to "Undeserving," commissioned by @mosshugs

(Please note that the original piece dealt heavily with disordered eating behaviors and that this one is similar, but a happy ending <3)

It’s been a while since the fall of Cazador, and all your other adventures have come to an end. You’ve settled down since then, Astarion by your side. You stopped counting the days a long time ago, how long it had been since his old master had died. Maybe he stopped counting as well, but you know against your better judgement that he probably hasn’t. Since those times, your group has found new ways of life. Gale has started teaching young wizards, Wyll moved on with Lae’zel to help the army of Baldur’s Gate, and so on. You and Astarion though? You’ve spent a lot of time in your new home, organizing, collecting new trinkets, decorating, building, and overall enjoying having a home. This hasn’t stopped your personal ongoing struggles though.

The two of you have your own issues, things that didn’t end after Cazador died, and things that would probably never end. Especially in Astarion’s case, immortality leaves him with a lot of problems to solve, and a lot of those problems may never have solutions. One morning though, when the two of you are lying in bed, he manages to solve just one debacle.

“Darling? Are you awake?”

It’s slightly lit, the bedroom, with Astarion on the darker side of the bed. You are awake, having just woken up from a long slumber. Turns out being new homeowners is quite tiresome, leaving the two of you with much rest to catch up on.

“Yes, I am awake. Sadly.”

It seems a though shuteye is never enough these days, especially afte trying to catch up on all the missed sleep on your journey.

“I thought… and only if you’d want to of course, that we could try feeding again? I don’t know what it is but today, I feel better than normal. As if this pang of hunger is somehow, more delicate than it usually feels.”

You barely spoke about his feeding habits, but it has been quite difficult for him to find energy with his lack of drinking from you. You try every now again to let him drink your blood, but it never seems quite right. Even with Cazaor gone, the wounds are still there. It seems like maybe, some of them will always be there, no matter how hard either of you try.

“Of course my love, always.”

A common response on your end, one that he quite likes. It’s nice for him to know that there is always a source of food for him, that scarcity is no longer in existence. Security, what a luxury that should only be a necessity.

Somewhere in the middle of your thoughts, you feel a sharp pain in your neck. This process must have happened over a hundred times by now, so you’re used to the cold, the sting, and all of those fun metaphors people use in reference to vampire bites. While you’re thinking though, trying not to put any pressure on him, you ponder what is on the agenda today. There’s still much to be done, many more pieces of furniture to procure, a garden to start outside…

And after a while of listing things off in your head, you realize that for the first time in a long time, you’re starting to get light-headed. Soon after, he releases from your throat, and there’s a sense of joy in your dizzy state. You try not to make a big deal out of it, considering you don’t want to scare him with some big gesture or make it seem like a successful feeding is abnormal, but he’s the one to outwardly express it first. When you lock eyes with him, he’s actually tearing up a little.

“That was… good. It was good for once.”

“It was?”

“Yes.”

And that response brings down the dam, and he fully begins to cry. This isn’t something you see from him often, but this issue with him being unable to feed has been plaguing the two of you for months. You find yourself soon crying along with him.

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know. Strong? Peaceful? Not like I should be punished?”

That word pangs in your chest, ‘punished,’ as if he should ever be punished for sustenance. Sadly, you know that reality was all too real in the past.

“Good. You should feel strong, because you are.”

He takes one of your hands in both of his.

“Thank you my dear. Maybe I’m stronger than I thought I was.”

Is every other feeding from then on perfect? No, of course not. Healing is never quite as linear as we would like it to be, and it certainly isn’t as pretty either. There are horrible moments in the future, but also grand ones, ones like these that pull at your heartstrings and remind you why you ever fell in love. And slowly, day by day, the grand moments outweigh the horrible ones, and your dear Aster becomes better and better because of it, and the two of you become better because of each other.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #comfort

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idkaguyorsomething · 5 months

Text

The Problem of Susan Fic Recs

For many reasons, The Last Battle is probably the most contentious addition to the Narnia canon. The standout, though, has to be the infamous Problem of Susan, wherein the Pevensie children are all killed in a train crash and brought to Narnia 2 Electric Boogaloo aka heaven, then declare that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia because of her interest in “lipsticks and nylons”. Hardly any time is spent on this, but the implications have been the ground for a lot of argument and discussion. What exactly would happen to Susan, and should it have happened? Over the years, dozens of fic writers have thrown their hats in the ring and weighed in on the subject, making the Problem of Susan almost a prism for the fandom: everyone shines through it a bit differently, resulting in a wide spectrum. Here’s some of the highlights under the cut.

http://shedletsky.com/blog/the-god-who-loves-you

Starting with the fic that coined the term, written by Neil Gaiman himself, this fic is a reflection and deconstruction of the idea that Susan would be able to find Narnia again by delving into the trauma that the experience of losing all her family at once as well as the social injustices that a young woman of her time would’ve faced, something that the narrative of The Last Battle never really addresses. It took off for a reason, as it presents a lot of good food for thought, but it’s also got some pretty weird shit that can feel like it’s conflating adulthood with edginess. Well worth a read for all the points it raises, but if you’re fond of canon you probably won’t like the way it takes a hammer to it.

Now this one is exactly what you’d want to read if you wanted some feel-good time. This story is probably the closest to how C S Lewis would’ve written Susan’s return to Narnia, detailing her rediscovering all the things she put away as well as what led up to her rejecting Narnia in the first place. It falls more to the end of being almost uncritical of canon, with the focus on Susan basically having the same sort of religious rediscovery that C S Lewis himself had in his life. Because of how she was treated in canon, that can be pretty frustrating, but the ending feels nothing short of joyous.

Swinging back to the other end of the spectrum, this fic is very critical of the idea of The Last Battle being a pretty happy ending for everyone, unambiguously stating that life is always worth living for all the Pevensie kids. It explores what their lives could’ve been like if they didn’t die, being a rebuttal of C S Lewis’ themes rather than a continuation of them while feeling equally as happy as the fic directly above.

And this story feels like a midway point between the above two. It dives really deep into the emotional damage that Susan would’ve suffered before and after the train crash in some absolutely gorgeous prose, showing both her and Aslan with great sympathy while maintaining that what happened to her is not a punishment in any way. Bittersweet and very, very good.

Heading back towards the more critical end of the spectrum, this fic presents a Susan who is not interested in finding Narnia again, only her family. She is very much a character straight out of an ancient myth rather than a teen trying to make sense of a senseless situation here, filled with determination as much as desperation. It’s probably the closest fic on here to having something close to a plot as well as a character study, with the exception of The Queen’s Return and one other:

Being a crossover with what’s pretty much the antithesis of the Chronicles of Narnia, His Dark Materials, it’s probably easy for you to guess which side of the spectrum this story falls on. It’s more of a HDM story than a Narnia one, but the two worlds blend together surprisingly well, and it gives us a rare look into a Susan who’s lived decades of her life when the story picks up. She’s pretty much the Professor and it is fascinating, as is everything left to interpretation by this gem of a fic that is ambiguous yet deeply satisfying.

¡And here’s Susan as a Doctor Who companion! This isn’t directly a Narnia story so much as it is one about two people much older than they look mourning the loss of their worlds, with a Susan who is a queen wise beyond her years. Reading it is like taking an ice shower. It doesn’t hold back on the grief, and as a result it manages to feel honest as it reaches a warm ending.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/24311

Despite also being a crossover, this is in some ways the opposite of touch the sky with two arms. Susan is more of an everyday young woman than a queen, and [SLIGHT SPOILERS] Narnia itself does feature directly. But y’know, that’s part of what makes fandom so interesting. Not everyone is going to have the same take on everything, and the ending of this leans more happy than melancholy.

¿A shipping fic that’s also a crossover with Peter Pan that features neither Neverland or Narnia? Yes, this one probably has the least to do with Narnia or Aslan, but it tells a very compelling story about living life and growing up, something that isn’t perfect but can be good if you find someone you want to spend your life with. Susan Pevensie and Wendy Darling are a really good couple, pinky promise.

Technically more a series of ensemble oneshots, but Susan features very prominently in a lot of them, and they will make you feel every feeling that everything else on this list might’ve given you. Satisfaction, devastation, simple joy, just go give it a shot.

#phew that’s probably just barely scraping the surface but those would be my top recs #feel free to add on any others that you know about #the tournament will go up soon btw #narnia #chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia #susan pevensie #the problem of susan #the last battle #his dark materials #hdm #tcon #pevensie siblings #wendy darling #doctor who #fic rec #ao3

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not-freyja · 5 months

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Ravio grins, rolling up the map and placing it on a shelf beside him. “Now… where to begin?” “At the beginning?” Sky offers, tentatively hopeful that something in his life will start to make sense. Apparently he set his hopes too high, because Ravio laughs and rubs his hands together before picking a stick of charcoal up off the mantle and scrawling in large font next to his notes, ‘Where does a Circle start?’ “That’s the ask, isn’t it? Where is the beginning? What is going on, to whom and why?” Ravio turns back around and his eyes are bright and glinting, a kind of mania sparking through them that puts Wild’s ‘something is about to explode’ face to shame. “You’re in a loop. A long winding circle, made of tinier little circles in time and space and every single one of you are a walking paradox and I have been trying to figure out how it is that all of reality has not collapsed or faded away into nothing or how you all haven’t accidentally erased each other's existence and frankly, boys, it has been a headache and a half.”

This chapter comes with supplemental material. As in, I spent way longer than I should have recreating the vision in my head of Ravio's crazy red string conspiracy board wall for your viewing pleasure. Here it is:

(Please keep in mind that these are not my notes, they are Ravio's, and what he has written may or may not be entirely true and accurate. Also the image zooms very cleanly if you click it.)

#freyja writes fic #this is an adjuration #fic update #linked universe #lu fic #lu ravio #lu legend #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu warriors #lu wind #ravio #just... fucking ravio #my best boy

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gh0ulvi · 2 years

Note

What will be the obey me characters reaction to you wearing their jacket?

this ended up taking WAY longer than expected because i made up lore for this scenario for some reason 😭 so sorry about that but i hope waiting was worth it!!

> audience: gender neutral

> format: headcanon/drabble

> characters: the brothers

THE BROTHERS' REACTIONS TO YOU WEARING THEIR CLOTHES

lucifer had been extremely busy the past couple weeks. he hadn't been able to spend any time with you, even at night when he came home he would go straight to his desk and continue working. some nights he even had impromptu sleepovers at diavolo's castle when work became too stressful and important for either of them to focus on anything else.

on nights like those, you would sit at his desk for a long time. tidying things that were already clean or organized, refilling the coffee station you made him for christmas one year, and sometimes you would just sit in his chair. it still smelled like him because of how often he's stationed there. his scent was permanent, it made you feel like he was there and not in some business meeting or late night conference with lord knows who.

while you're laying in his chair, you feel something soft tickle your cheek, when you look up, low and behold: his suit jacket is draped on the back of the chair just as it was when he came home the night before. he must've been in such a rush this morning that he forgot to put it on, which isn't like him at all. no matter how busy he is or how stressed he never forgets things like that— especially something that's usually on his person every single day.

you bring the fabric up to your nose and smell cherries and demonus. which is funny, because he doesn't drink very often. but the smell suits him. you don't even realize you're walking to his bed until you feel the plush sheets and soft pillows surrounding you.

when lucifer gets home in the early hours of the morning, he sees you curled up with his jacket to your nose as you hold yourself, trying to keep warm from the chilling breeze that wafts in through the large window next to his bed. his heart swells with pride, but he curses himself for leaving you like this for so long, he wonders how many nights you've spent in his room waiting for him to come home just to fall asleep and still wake up to an empty bed.

he slips into pajamas and takes the jacket from your grip, replacing it with his own body, you wrapping your hands around his waist as he lays on his back with you curled up to his side. "oh honey, i'm sorry i've been away..."

mammon's greed works in mysterious ways. he's a genius when it comes to scheming and scamming. even when it backfires on him, sometimes he comes up with the craziest ideas if it means he gets as much money as possible. but, he's also greedy when it comes to you. he's a massive tsundere so he'll never admit it, but he doesn't want anyone else to have you. if he could he would make it so that nobody else could look at you.

but he's not an asshole, he wants you to be extremely happy in your relationship so that he might not need to go that extreme. his love knows no bounds but his money doesn't either when it comes to you.

anything you want, he will give you. receiving gifts from mammon seems like a daily occurrence for you. he absolutely adores buying you clothes because even if you aren't there to pick them out, he's never missed when it came to a piece of clothing looking stunning on you.

mammon obviously loves spoiling you, but sometimes you think no other clothing is better than a tshirt from your boyfriends wardrobe.

he was out at a modeling shoot the entire day, taking pictures at different locations in different outfits, and you missed him. you slipped on a baggy tee from his dresser. it was just a plain gray shirt but it was super soft. you noticed his jacket folded in the same drawer where you found the tshirt, picked it up, and smelled it. it smelled just like him, with a hint of some floral scented detergent. you slipped it on nonchalantly, and headed towards the kitchen.

while making dinner, beel had accompanied you to eat the rest of whatever was in the fridge, but soon left because the rest of the brothers and yourself had already eaten, you were just making dinner for mammon, he's had a long day.

not long after beel stepped out, you felt a pair of hands around your waist and a sloppy kiss press against your shoulder.

"hi."

"how was your day?"

"mm..." he said, burying his face into your shoulder, "tiring. we had to move to a different location twice because it starting rai- is this my jacket?"

both of you kind of froze, mammon out of disbelief and you out of literally forgetting you were wearing your boyfriends jacket.

"maybe." heat rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel mammon's face have the same reaction. he didn't say anything, but you felt his lips twitch up into a smile against your skin.

leviathan is a massive introvert, but not when he's with you. whatever's on his mind, he'll say it if it's just you and him.

even though he's open with you, that doesn't mean he doesn't get flustered easily.

levi had left the house before you even woke up. he mentioned the day before that he was going to camp outside all day just to get first grabs on tickets for a concert that he wanted to see. he would've loved for you to come, but exams had just ended and quite frankly, you were exhausted. he agreed that you needed the sleep and that he would go alone.

it's around 4 pm when you start getting really, really bored. so, you decide to look through his room. you assumed he wouldn't mind considering he's always ripping his room apart to show you things, there's few corners of his room that you haven't seen.

it's actually pretty funny, because one corner of his room is dedicated to broken down akuzon boxes. he can't throw them away or else lucifer will see that he blew money on yet another figurine or game.

ignoring that corner, you walk over to some drawers. there isn't much inside but a couple scattered papers with passwords on them and some trinkets. you look through a couple other things in his room, some cabinets and old boxes that contain collectibles that have lost their worth, under his "bed" which presents some manga and questionable but predictable magazines, and finally over to his dresser.

while searching through the drawers, you find some old cosplays that he's never showed you, and a jacket that he doesn't wear often, but you wish he did. it was a dark brown jacket and the inside was fuzzy and white. it looked amazing on him.

you slipped it on and looked at yourself in the mirror. it was massive on you, considering levi's height.

in that moment, you heard his bedroom door click and he stepped inside, waving the covert tickets around. he didn't even get halfway through the doorframe when he saw you wearing his jacket. he stopped in his tracks, mouth agape, face red. you heard the door creak as he slowly backed out of his room and closed it. "don't scare me like that!!! i won't come back in until you take it off!! oh no— did i see some books on my tub?? never mind— just take it off!!"

satan has perfect style. dark academia. which suits him perfectly of course. old libraries, flower fields, baggy brown pants and a loose collared tee with a brown suit jacket on top.

he was out feeding the stray cats while you were in his room. you were shuffling through a couple piles of books when you see that he had left his coat on the rack, and it was awfully chilly outside.

the jacket was one that was really long, it extended past his knees when he wore it and it had a big collar, and big flat buttons on one side with elastic loops on the corresponding side.

you had planned to take it out to him, but you knew he was probably fine anyways, a little cold can't hurt a demon. plus, he'd most likely shove you back inside because "humans are too fragile to bear winters in the devildom."

you decided against it, even though you already had it in your hands. you thought again, and then looked out the window while caressing the soft fabric that lined the coat.

he was crouched down, feeding some breeds of cats that could clearly withstand the cold because they were all longhair, and bulky. you could see at least ten of them, all rubbing up against his legs and hands.

you slipped on the jacket, a hat, and a pair of boots. making your way down the stairs of the house of lamentation and out the back door.

as you open the door, he doesn't turn to see you, but he says hello, and of course tells you "you should go back inside, it's cold."

"i think i'm okay." you say as you walk over and crouch next to him, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. he caressed the head of the cat that he's feeding, and more come up to you as well.

as you're scratching the chin of a grey cat, satan puts an arm around your shoulders and brings you closer to him.

it was only now until he looked at you, and saw you wearing the coat. his face blushing immediately and leaning his head on your shoulder. "did you steal my coat?"

you couldn't tell if the red dusting his cheeks was from the cold or not, but you decided it wasn't.

asmodeus loves going to clubs and bars with you. and you'd think— or maybe i'm just being presumptuous— that he may lose himself in the people and the music, flirting with other succubi and demons, getting too drunk because everyone and their mother decides to buy him a drink.

but no, he doesn't. he's there with you the entire time and never leaves your side. if he gets lost in the alcohol and music it's always with you.

one night, you had gone to a new club with him. it was pretty big, easy to get lost in. your arms were linked together at all times.

you both walked up to the bar, ordered some drinks, and chatted for a bit. ignoring the small crowd of people that seemed to form near you two. some were trying to discreetly take pictures, some were whispering to themselves.

it was of course because of your partner. the public got used to seeing you and asmodeus together, but of course people still swooned no matter who was accompanying him. the avatar of lust attracts many, of course.

you had gotten used to it over time, asmodeus used to see you get anxious and take off whatever coat he was wearing, and let you put it over your head. you would count down from three in unison, and run as fast as you could. anywhere you ended up was usually near where you would stay the night due to the plethora of asmo's connections, if not already near the house of lamentation.

"wanna get out of here?" you gave him the same look you used to back then, but with a hint of playfulness to it. he smirks and starts shrugging off his coat.

"wherever you want to go, dear", he says as the coat gets placed lightly on your shoulders. no need to pull it up, everyone already knows you.

"3.....2......1...... go!" you whisper together, asmodeus is holding your hand and for the first time, you're guiding him. though guide isn't quite the correct term. this district of the devildom was entirely new to you, but you didn't care.

the second you were able to pull him through the front door of the club, you ran. down the street, across it, you two almost cause an accident but you keep running, you use your free hand to keep the jacket snugly around you.

you finally stop to catch your breath in an alleyway between some stores and apartments. "holy shit" you say, panting and gasping.

as you both catch your breath and asmodeus gains a sense of where you two wound up, he takes out his phone and starts typing, a couple seconds later you hear a ding and he looks up at you. "ready to head to our hotel? i found an open room at an inn nearby."

"yes please." you say in faux desperation.

asmodeus swings an arm around your shoulder and shimmies fhe jacket back up around your shoulders. you're looking forward as you two walk, but he still looks at you, adoration in his eyes and a little adrenaline still running through his veins.

"you look cute in that, keep it."

beelzebub and you often have movie nights in him and belphies room. usually belphie falls asleep not even halfway through the movie, but sometimes he'll stay up with you if he decides to join.

one thing beel really cherishes is the alone time you two have together. it's not often that you get to spend time alone with him, especially because you're usually being pulled into some situation that his siblings always need your help with.

today had been a really, really long day. you had a bunch of tests at school, people were being extra rude, and you had been pulled into countless antics. luckily, tonight was your scheduled movie night with beel.

as much as you loved his company, you hoped belphie wouldn't join in with you guys tonight. you just wanted beel to yourself.

as you walk home from school, a text from beel pops up on your phone.

"i'm at hell's kitchen. i was going to walk home with you but i was hungry. sorry."

you sighed with a smile. typical, you can't blame him. he doesn't know you've had a bad day, and he doesn't always need to walk you home.

you approach the side door of the house of lamentation. it's the closest entrance to your room, and you wanted to avoid bumping into anyone.

you open the door and head straight to beel and belphie's room. usually, belphegor is curled up in the corner of his bed sleeping, but his mattress is vacant. your phone vibrates again.

"i'm sleeping in the attic. relax with beel tonight."

you could almost cry, belphie knew you had a rough day, he was in a lot of your classes and essentially saw you on the verge of tears multiple times that day, as well as sitting in the background of all the brother's antics.

you send a thank you message and put your bag on the floor next to the dresser, heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

due to the hot shower, you're even more tired than before. your legs feel like they're going to collapse beneath you and your eyes can barely stay open. walking out of the bathroom, you head over to the twins' dresser and grab the first things you can find that aren't a long sleeve or long pants.

not long after you slip on a tshirt and shorts, you find yourself laying in beel's bed waiting for him to come home. you feel yourself dozing off while a random tv channel plays some cheesy romance series in the background.

before you can drift into sleep, you hear the door open and beel walks inside. he throws his bag on the floor and immediately flops on the bed, half on top of you.

"you smell like gigadeath burgers." you mumble into his hair, you get a chuckle in response.

"you smell like me." he says, gliding a hand along your torso. you can feel him grinning against you.

you hadn't even realized you slipped on his favorite shirt that he wears every chance he gets, so it smells like him permanently, now with a mix of you.

belphegor loves stargazing with you. usually he falls asleep, but you both enjoy the time you spend watching the stars while he's awake.

something you've yet to do is bring food though, like a picnic. which is exactly what you're planning on doing tonight, except he doesn't know.

on the nights you have stargazing planned, belphie tends to sleep through his classes more than usual during the day, and promptly go to sleep as soon as he gets home from RAD.

he wants to have more energy so he's able to stay up with you later. but he'll never tell you that.

you take the chance to go out to the store so you can buy some food for tonight while he's asleep. with a demon of your choice accompanying you of course, the brothers lose their minds if you even think about going out in the devildom alone.

you check the weather app on your DDD, it's going to be a warm summer evening. "warm" being somewhere around 80° in the devildom. once it gets dark out for a while, the temperature drops drastically, it's like the desert.

now that you know the temperature, you know exactly what kinds of snacks to get. at the store you pick up some cans of fizzy drinks, chips, fruit, a sushi platter, and some pastries.

you prepare the basket when you get home, packing up the food and drinks, as well as piling up a blanket or two.

when the time comes, belphie is waiting for you outside the house of lamentation. you got to choose the spot this time, so you decided on a secluded area in the woods nearby with a perfect opening to view the stars.

"give me a second, i have to grab something!" you say, going on your way to get ahold of the basket. when you come back, you have belphie hold the blankets and he see's the picnic basket but doesn't say anything about it.

when you two get to the location, you set up everything. "you" as in literally just you. belphie is a couple feet away, facing a tree. you decided you wanted everything to be a surprise even though he saw the basket.

"surprise!" he turns around and see's the setup you've completed. a smile appears on his face and he giggles.

"what's all this for?"

"i just wanted to do something different."

after snacking and picking out the constellations, you lay down next to him. "i feel like i should give you something in return."

"no need i promise, i'm just glad you're here."

he ignores you and sits up, you do the same as you watch him shrug the hoodie off of himself.

"i never take this off— i always thought it would look better on you anyways." he tells you as the hoodie is placed on your shoulders, he smiles and lays back down, taking you with him.

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