#it’ll be fine I just need to whine and Lament | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

devildomimagines · 4 years ago

Note

Could u do another "I'm not (blank) enough" requests but instead of MC saying something negative it'd be the brothers saying they aren't enough at something?

This was an interesting request, thanks Anon! I'm sorry it took me a while to get through it but I really had to dig deep to figure out what these arrogant, all powerful demons could feel insecure about.

Here is my other piece Anon is referencing: "I'm Not _______ Enough."

I changed it up a bit from the original but I hope you like it! Also I got carried away and this got pretty long so the other brothers are under the cut lol.

"Am I _______ Enough?"

Belphegor

“Am I reliable enough?”

You had woken up from your nap to his words, and asked “What?” While wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Can you depend on me?” He reworded the question but didn’t make eye contact.

“Belphie?” You guided his face to look at yours.

“Actually never mind,” he backed out of the conversation and the bed.

“Wait,” You sat up and pushed out of the bed too, already missing the warmth.

Once in front of him, you stated, “You’re reliable!”

His blush was slight but you caught it before he amended, “I know that I’m not always hanging off you like Mammon or Asmo-“

“That’s ok!” You interrupted, “Sorry,” you quickly apologized when he gave you a look.

“But I know that with your sin, it gets physically uncomfortable to be awake for long periods like how Beel gets after not getting enough food. I know if I ever needed you,” you took his hand, “you’d be there.”

He took a moment to let the scene sink in before squeezing your hand, giggling, and roughing up your hair, “That’s right, bed head,” He teased.

“Yours isn’t any better!” You moved to do the same to him but he dodged.

The two of you continued to play fight but didn’t let go of the other's hand. Belphie seemed lightened by your confirmation and you enjoyed the rare bout of playful activity with the youngest.

Beelzebub

“Am I warm enough?”

“Heck yeah! You’re like a space heater!”

He laughed, “Thanks, MC.” But his smile faded too quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand?” You went from sitting across from him to sitting next to him at the table, “Do you not want to be a space heater?”

That got him smiling again, “No, that’s not it, I guess I meant warm like friendly?”

“Well then it’s a resounding yes, you’re super friendly Beel!” You gave his back a rub and a pat for punctuation.

“Oh… ok,” he went back to his snack which you assumed he would but his response wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Do you not believe me?” You looked up at him with your best puppy dog pout.

Congrats, your cuteness made the Avatar of Gluttony choke! He coughed and pounded on his chest with a closed fist.

You offered your apology and he waved it off as he took some gulps of his drink.

“No I do believe you MC.” He started covering your hand on the table with his and before your hand was completely enveloped he stopped.

“What is it then?” You prodded.

“Just a teammate commented on how I made chills run down his spine with just my stare.”

“Ah, I think Asmo would know that as a resting b*tch face,” you scratched your chin sagely

He frowned, “I can’t do anything about that, that's just how my face is.”

“Exactly! So don’t stress it, he’s still your teammate and friend, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Beel mulled it over and you could practically see the weight of it rise off his shoulders as he sat up straighter and accepted it.

“There he is,” you thought as he exuded an easy confidence but your thoughts were disrupted when he pulled you into an embrace. He whispered near your ear, “Thanks.”

“Who could think this wasn’t warm?” You thought as you snuggled into his hold.

Asmodeus

“Am I attentive enough?”

“What brought that up?” You questioned looking up from your spot on his bed. It wasn’t like Asmo to show his insecurities.

“Just some gossip going around,” He tried to minimize the claims and continued fussing with his hair.

“Oh, well, you know how gossip gets, you just have to ignore it and it’ll go away,” you repeated the same advice he had given you when you first arrived in the Devildom and there were vicious rumors and tabloid articles written about the exchange program participants.

“But am I?!”

The hurt look on his face paired with the desperation in his question made it plainly obvious this meant more to him than he wanted to let on.

“Of course-”

Asmo cut you off, “MC, you have to be deadly honest right now.”

“You’re attentive Asmo,” You confirmed without a shadow of a doubt.

He chewed his lip and cheek debating the statement.

You got up from the bed and came to stand in front of Asmo. You cupped the cheek he was chewing on and he stopped.

With a small nudge you made him swivel to look back in the mirror, “What were the rumors saying?” Your own curiosity running wild, what could bring Asmo to this?

Surprisingly Asmo looked away from the reflection of you two to answer in a small voice, “That if I didn’t pay attention to you, they’d sweep in and take you for themselves.”

That stunned you for a second, you didn’t think it would involve you. “Well first of all, I don’t even know them, how are they going to even get close to me at this point?”

Asmo considered this, you were always with him or one of his brothers.

“Second, you’re always paying attention to me, you probably know my facial expressions better than I do,” you laughed and he couldn’t help a small snort of his own.

“Third, even on days when you’re stressed, or excited about a new make-up launch and your energy is elsewhere, you always,” you squeezed his arm for emphasis, “ALWAYS check in on me.”

Asmo bit his lip once more but this time holding back a smile. He clearly couldn’t hold it back when he locked you in a hug and squealed your name.

Satan

“Am I patient enough?”

You knew this was something that he consciously worked on so you quickly confirmed, “Yes,” then turned the page of your book.

He was a little shocked at your quick resolution and not totally satisfied. He closed his book and asked, “There was never a time when you think I couldn’t have been more patient?”

“Well sure, but I think that about myself too.”

That was also surprising to Satan, “How? You’re even more patient than me.”

“I’m only human,” You shrugged, as you closed your own book, recognizing this was going to be more of a discussion.

“And I’m only demon?” Satan returned sarcastically. He did not appreciate the turn of phrase.

“Sorry, I meant, I’m not perfect, no one is. You can’t hold yourself to an impossible standard because you’ll only be destined to be disappointed when you don’t live up to it.” You paused for the idea to settle with him.

He contemplated the sentiment.

“The way I see it,” you continued, “As long as you’re trying to do better then that’s what matters.”

Satan weighed that thought as well.

“And there is an even bigger secret with patience that not a lot of people know,” you baited.

Satan asked “And what’s that?” Hook, line, and sinker.

“I don’t know if you’re ready,” you taunted and reopened your book. If there was one thing you knew you could entice Satan with, it was some kind of hidden knowledge.

He moved across the room and closed your book in your hand for you.

You looked up at him looming over you with a sweet smile.

He smiled back at you, knowing you were playing with him. “And what’s that?” He repeated but you knew it was more of a command this time.

“Fine, I’ll share the secret with you so listen well.”

He started to nod before you caught his face in your hands. His eyebrows shot up to wordlessly question your action but didn’t break the silence, his proof he was listening.

“People don’t always realize that the most important part of patience is…” you paused and savored the interest in Satan’s eyes, “that you have to afford yourself the same patience you give to others.”

His brows furrowed trying to unravel the words in his mind.

While he did so, you pulled his head down slightly so you could give him a quick kiss on the forehead. Then pat his cheek and released him.

He took a step back, almost in a daze, you certainly gave him something to think about.

Leviathan

“Am I supportive enough?”

You looked up from the manga you were reading and Levi was staring down at the manga in his hand. His hands were holding the sides tightly as he waited for your response.

“How so?” You prompted.

“L-like this,” Levi pushed the manga towards you. You scanned the panels, the scene being depicted looked like it was one where the love interest was cheering on the main character while they were participating in a sports festival.

“Well you’re not like this,” you had to be honest and you could see he was already starting to sulk, “but you’re supportive in your own way.”

He tsked and took the manga back.

“Levi, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you apologized.

“It’s fine,” Levi turned the page, “I know I’m a gross otaku shut in.”

“No, stop.” You closed the manga, you dug this hole so it was time to climb out.

He listened and looked over at you, annoyed.

“You’re supportive Levi. There are different ways to be supportive!”

He rolled his eyes, not believing you.

Alright this guy wants to play hardball, you could play with the best of them. “You always make sure that I’ve eaten and slept, even if you haven’t. For as long as we’ve had a pact, you’ve always come to my defense even though I know you hate confrontation. When I find a new show, game or book that I’m interested in, you always take the time to learn about it yourself so I can talk to someone about it.”

By the end, Levi’s face was red, his ears were red, you could swear his hands were even shaking a little bit.

“So sure, you’re not yelling your support from the roof of the House of Lamentation like that character,” you took one of his hands and his eyes darted between your face and your interlaced hands, “but I appreciate your quiet kind of support.”

Leviathan.exe has stopped working. It took a solid 5 minutes to regain his voice.

“M-M-MC!” he whined, “That’s so embarrassing!” He slumped down to hide his face but didn’t dare remove his hand from yours.

“Was it super effective?” You laughed at your joke.

He groaned from his drooped state but he squeezed your hand and you knew that it was.

Mammon

“Am I humble enough?”

At first, you have to bite your tongue to keep from outright laughing.

Surely the demon who regards himself as “The Great Mammon” would see the irony in asking this.

But he was quiet and reflective, a stark contrast to his usual self.

You sat down next to him on the sofa in the living room, with a pat on his back you opted to offer what you thought he wanted to hear, “Sure you are buddy.”

“Are ya messing with me?” of all times for Mammon to be observant.

You were as bad a liar as he was so when you looked away and scratched your cheek instead of answering Mammon knew you were lying.

He sighed and his shoulders dropped as he caught his head in his hands.

“Well you don’t have to be humble!” You defended, feeling bad for your white lie earlier.

He peeked up at you and you took the opportunity to stand up in front of him, “You’re like the third strongest demon in all of Devildom! You should be proud of that!”

He rolled his eyes but you could see a shadow of a smile play on his lips.

“Not only are you strong but you’re very caring, not only to your brothers but to me too,” you suggested and on queue Mammon flushed.

“I’m not,” he tried to deny.

“Oh that’s not true. Remember when Belphie ruined that painting and you took the fall for it?”

His eyes opened wide in shock, “How did you-”

“Or that time when I was sick and you took such good care of me?” You added in a sing-song tone.

“Shuddup!” Mammon was now standing and placed a hand over your mouth as he looked around for his brothers. He looked back at you, “I got a reputation to uphold, y’know.”

After a muffled laugh, you pulled his hand away, “What I’m saying is you don’t have to be modest.”

“Yeah I guess when you put it that way,” He rubbed the back of his head considering.

“So what’s on the agenda for the day for The Great Mammon?”

He squinted his eyes at your teasing tone but smirked and grabbed your hand to drag you along. You went willingly with a snicker.

Lucifer

“Am I compassionate enough?”

He didn’t look up from the paperwork he was reviewing when he posed the question to you.

At first you tilted your head and wondered if he was even addressing you.

When he did finally look up, you knew he was waiting for your answer.

“Yeah, I think so?” You didn’t mean to phrase it as a question but were more concerned with how this even came up.

“You think so?” Lucifer repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” you reinforced, “where’s this coming from?” You were taking a risk in questioning Lucifer, there was probably a 50/50 chance he would actually answer.

It was rare that he would even voice a question about his character.

He frowned and went back to his paperwork. You figured that was the end of the conversation, this being the 50% of the time that he would not answer. You went back to perusing his record collection to find something to play.

“Simeon mentioned how ruthless I’ve become.”

You looked back over at Lucifer. He looked more tired than he did just a moment ago. Simeon’s comment must have been wearing on him.

You picked a record you knew he liked and put it on before walking over to his desk.

He sighed, put down his pen and rubbed his eyes.

You leaned against the desk with your arms crossed and he faced you, the weariness even more apparent up close.

“Can I be honest with you?” you asked.

He grimaced, already thinking the worst but nodded.

“I think your ruthlessness comes from a compassionate place.”

From his one raised eyebrow, you could tell that wasn’t what he was expecting and he was waiting for your explanation.

“For example,” you began, “you care about your brothers, so when you punish them, it’s for their own good or to save them from a worse fate. You might not admit this one, but you’ve become sympathetic to Diavolo’s moods and disposition and so acting in accordance with how it will reflect on him and enforcing those standards has become second nature, hasn’t it?” He looked away.

You knew he wouldn’t answer that so you looked away yourself and continued, “You may have at first picked me as a candidate for the exchange program because of my connection to Lilith and housed me at the request of Diavolo,” you laughed at what you were about to say for the first time out loud, “but since getting to know me, I like to think that you’ve had a change of heart and genuinely care about my well-being despite those factors.”

There was a moment of silence and you felt your face heat up, nervous that maybe you overestimated your importance.

Before you could look back at him, he had stood up and enclosed you in a hug. You smiled, uncrossed your arms and hugged him back.

He was humming along with the song so you made one more bold choice and started swaying in time with the rhythm. He chuckled, shifted to hold one of your hands, and properly led you in a dance around the room.

You hoped his light footsteps were a reflection of how light his heart was feeling.

All signs of the weariness from moments ago were completely gone.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my writing #anon squad

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dragonsareourfuture · 4 years ago

Text

Mammon/GN!Reader — Safe

⚠️Warnings: emotional distress (caused by Lucifer) and swearing. If you are sensitive to these, please do not go further.

Sometimes I get fed up with how the brothers, mainly Lucifer, treat Mammon. I hate the “punishments” Lucifer gives him and how it’s just brushed off. I desperately want to hold the poor man when it becomes too much for him, so here’s possibly the most serious Obey Me oneshot I’ve ever written to help me cope with not being able to do just that. Begins as angst and evolves into fluff.

You feel terrible, but there is really nothing you can do but clean up the pieces.

Another night, another sleep interrupted by shouts echoing off the corridors of the House of Lamentation. You wish Lucifer would dial it back at least some nights. Hell knows that you’re not the only one whose sleep schedule is suffering just so he can punish his younger brother — then again, only half of the inhabitants of the house actually have a sleep schedule. Curse this entire house for its innate ability to let sound travel so fucking easily.

You groan, rolling to the other side of the bed in a feeble attempt to distance your body from the noise at least a little. It, unsurprisingly, does nothing and you can still hear the incessant booms of Lucifer’s thunderous voice. A pang of guilt bubbles in your chest. How could you be complaining when poor Mammon is the one who has to endure it all? It just doesn’t sit right with you, especially knowing that if you interfered you might have the slightest possibility of putting a stop to the ill treatment of the second born.

Even so, you can’t exactly blame yourself for being wary. Lucifer has tried to kill you on multiple occasions for doing just the thing you are contemplating. You figure you can let yourself off the hook for that one, just this once.

Miraculously, that one conclusion fails to ease that feeling of uneasiness lingering in your stomach. Fists clench around your pillowcase, nose digging into your soft mattress, your patience wears thinner by the second. Your limbs even twitch in an attempt begin rising and deal with the situation after all — but then the noises cease.

The room sounds eerily quiet. Not even the air conditioning is blasting anymore. You yawn, wondering if your ears had just popped. They had not. You snap your fingers. You can hear that just fine. So, you’re not going deaf. Okay, that’s a good sign, at least. You sit up and gaze around the pitch darkness of your bedroom. Nothing stirs — inside the room, that is.

Outside, however, you can hear the distant clomp of footsteps growing closer to your sealed bedroom door. You know who it is immediately, not bothering to lay back down and attempt to sleep, not even considering it. You sit up, feet hitting the floor soon after as you pad your way over to the door. You swing it open just as the footsteps stop right outside your room.

Mammon stands, fist held up in the air as if he was just about to knock on the polished wood. He blinks a couple of times, and you notice the gentle shine to his eyes and eyelids.

“Ya said that I could come...if I needed anything,” the demon croaks. All power that he ever seemed to hold over you had vanished all too suddenly and, rather than relishing in the feeling, all you can do is nod and step aside to allow him passage into your room.

“Of course, come on in,” you say delicately. The last thing you want is to be too coddling, for he might sense that as a personal threat and duck out. But you allow your instinct to care for him shine through with your soft tone. He apparently doesn’t feel that you are babying him too much, as he trudges through your threshold like a defeated puppy. It sincerely breaks your heart.

“I want you to know that you’re welcome to stop by any time you need to,” You had told him earlier that week.

The intrusive demon had never used your welcome for anything besides barging in to hang out at any and all hours, but now, with this clear predicament weighing down on him as heavy as the earth, you feel deeply touched that your words actually got through to him back then. He felt that he could trust you, which is why he is here now and not sulking in his room as he used to do after a particularly brutal scolding.

You shut the door behind him as he makes his entry, watching carefully as he shuffles around your room as if confused on what to do next. His hesitant nature directly contrasts how he would usually waltz in and make himself comfortable. You contemplate locking the door. It would be completely counterproductive if Lucifer or one of the other brothers forced their way in and made the situation way worse. But, at the same time, you would hate to make him feel uneasy, like you’re trapping him in with no way out. You opt to keep the door unlocked.

You pay close attention to Mammon’s features now, shrouded by the dark, sure, but you can make them out almost perfectly. You like to look at his face — it’s pretty, and you don’t bother to keep yourself from doing so. As a result, you can see all his ticks no matter how difficult it may be from the angle, lighting, etcetera. He often scrunches up his nose when he’s irritated, or on he verge of tears. So, seeing his nose twitch as he looks around your room is no surprise to you.

You step closer to his shifting form, and Mammon seems to get even more uncomfortable, so you move back. You rest your arms at your sides, making their positions known so that he won’t fret about the possibility of you hitting him by surprise. You would never, you know this, but Mammon isn’t aware that loved ones shouldn’t ‘lay down the law’ as harshly as Lucifer does.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask slowly, keeping your voice steady and calm.

Mammon’s hands slide into the pockets of his jeans. He shakes his head, the snowy white fringe covering his eyes shaking along with the movements. You nod, understanding his silence. Understanding that if he so much as opened his mouth to answer, a sob might find its way through instead. Even though he trusts you, you suspect that The Great Mammon isn’t keen on letting his human see him in tears.

“Mams, I won’t judge you if you cry. We all have to let off some steam every once in a while,” you reason, voice straining to keep from pleading but failing as your emotions get the better of you. “I love you all the same.”

Mammon hides his face from you, but the telltale sign of his shoulders bouncing up and down tell you that you need to step in. Your hands brush against his shoulders and he jolts. Though a shock runs through your heart at the sight, you simply have to make sure he knows that you’re there for him. You’re not going to let him cry alone in your bedroom when you’re right there beside him. Your grip becomes a bit more forceful now, only enough to turn the Avatar of Greed around by his broad shoulder and pull him close to your body.

With the contact, Mammon feels free to let go completely. Sobs wrack his entire body as you hold him steady. The intensity of them startled you but not as much as the volume. His head is buried in your shoulder, right next to your ear and you are spared no shout nor whine that comes out of the demon’s mouth. This combined with his heavy weight pressing you down tells you that it’s time to change positions.

You gently nudge Mammon into standing up straight, leading him by his hands to your bed, still warm with your body heat from when you had tried to hunker down earlier. He wastes no time at all in pulling you down with him, arms locked tight around your waist while his tear-stained face nuzzles itself into your chest. It’ll leave stains, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Instead you marvel at how much pent-up emotions Mammon let sit stewing in his head before now. Clear sorrow, evident by the tears now soaking into your night shirt. Anger and desperation, demonstrated by how tightly he clamps around your body, though you can tell he is still somehow holding back, determined not to crush you even in this fit of pure, raw emotion. And all of this caused by a family member. It’s enough to make you seethe, but revenge for Mammon’s sake is not the focus. Right now, his comfort and consolation is all you need to worry about.

You rake your hands through Mammon’s head of ivory hair, brushing it out with your fingers and noting the softness. You plant a frenzy of kisses atop his head, the last one lingering before you lean close to his ear. “That’s it, let it all out...you’re alright now...I’m here.”

Your demon’s cries have, at the very least, calmed a smidge. He shakes less in your grasp but his head remains pressed flush against your chest. You take it upon yourself to ease him further, the hand that held his back sliding down and slipping beneath his ebony-colored shirt. You trace the curve of his spine, relishing in the way it feels against your fingers. He’s more slim than the majority of his brothers, and you absolutely adore it. You get to the dip of Mammon’s lower back and your fingertips nearly move on their own to run over the dimples back there. Warm breath spreads over your chest as the demon cradled in your arms lets out something delightfully close to a laugh.

Your lips quirk upwards in a smile at your accomplishment. Mammon has calmed down enough to where low whines and wheezes are all he emits now. These eventually transform into hums, then snores. You keep Mammon’s face pressed against you — you grew to appreciate his radiating body heat in that area — but moved his mouth and nose away to be sure he wouldn’t suffocate.

Before lying back and drifting off yourself, you wipe some of the excess tears from his cheek and under his eyelids, pressing the gentlest kiss you can produce onto his tanned cheek. Mammon’s eyes only crinkle for a second before his features flatten again with the tranquility of sleep.

Opting to get some sleep of your own, you rest your head finally to your pillow, huffing a great sigh with the contact. As sleep pulls you in, you silently curse the monster that could do this to your baby, dreaming up the most vile plots for your revenge during your outwardly peaceful slumber. But that could be handled another day, preferably whenever Lucifer least expects it.

You wake up before Mammon’s eyes ever begin to crack open. Your position had changed slightly over the course of the night, but most factors still remain the same. Your demon’s face is now in the crook of your neck, steady and cool breaths fanning over your skin, making you shiver. His arm is draped over your stomach as you lay on your back, the other arm tucked underneath him. You want to pull it out from under him — the pins and needles should be bad when he wakes — but you’re determined to let him sleep longer after the night he just had.

Your goal is met, and you lay with him for what feels like a few more hours. You aren’t completely conscious, fading in and out of the realm of sleep every few minutes it seems. Noises begin to sound off outside your bedroom — doors opening and closing, footsteps on the staircase, and eventual chatter from the first floor. People are starting their days like nothing ever happened.

You hope it isn’t the noise that stirs Mammon from his heavy slumber. His eyebrows furrow and a light groan seeps past his parted lips. His head shakes, as if his sleepy self is wondering why his movements are so restricted. If that is the case, you loosen your hold around him. After a few seconds, the Avatar of Greed’s snowy white eyelashes flutter against your neck as his eyes force themselves open.

You pull away to greet him with your smiling face. “Morning, sunshine,” you say, voice coming out in less than a mere whisper as your throat is still rough from sleep.

Mammon’s features flood with realization, an alarmingly dark blush spreading across his nose and cheeks, some even reaching his ears and neck. You wish you could wake up to this face every single day.

“M-m-mornin’...” he tries, stuffing his face in your pillow in an attempt to quell the blood rushing to his face. Your chuckle at this action only makes it worse.

“Everyone’s getting up right about now,” you tell him, your hands finding their way up to his incredibly soft head of hair, twirling a couple strands around your index finger as you speak, “Do you want me to go make you some breakfast and bring it up here for you?”

“Gah!” Mammon jolts, eyes losing their sleepiness immediately to stare at you in disbelief. “Y-y-you’d do that!?”

“Of course!” You pull your torso off the bed, accentuating your declaration, and leaning on your elbows for support. “I’m not gonna make you go down there and face your brothers if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“Oh...yeah...yeah, that sounds real nice. T-the Great Mammon appreciates your service!”

You jokingly roll your eyes, heaving your body all the way up to start dressing yourself. “I’m sure he does.” You halt all movements when pressure suddenly builds around your wrist, constricting and pulling you back before you can stand.

You look back, a worried-looking Mammon staring at you with wide eyes and upturned brows. He seems to catch himself, hanging his head a bit and sinking into the bedsheets. “B-before you do that...do you think you can stay a bit longer?”

You are about to comply with Mammon’s request, positively falling victim to the pleading look he shoots you, when a loud rumble breaks the brief silence. Mammon whines and clutches his stomach, concealing his face with your sheets.

“How about I get you some breakfast, then I’ll come back and we can cuddle all morning. Does that sound good?”

Your demon peeks an eye out from under the covers, white hair bobbing up and down in an affirmative nod. You smile, getting up and slipping on some shorts to go with your nightshirt. You make it to the door, hand on the handle when you turn to ask your sleepy demon a question.

“So, did you have anything in mind? You’ve got your spicy noodles—“

“Wait! I’m saving those! It’s my last cup and Lucifer says we’re not going to the store in a week! Not...ya know, not that I’m scared of him!” He perks up, sheets cascading down his torso.

“I can always make a quick run to the store. Lucifer’s words aren’t law.”

Mammon looks hesitant. He shakes his head and grabs at the sheets to pull them back up his body. “No, no, I’ll take a sandwich. Beel bought some Melancholy berry jam the other day and hasn’t eaten it all yet. Some of that with peanut butter would be great...”

“Not a problem. Oh, and do you want toasted bread?”

Mammon hugs your pillow. You suspect he’s getting weirded out by being asked all of these questions about his own preferences. Not a lot of demons seem to take them into account on a regular basis, after all. “U-um, that sounds good... and ... ugh, never mind!”

“What is it?”

He struggles with his words for a moment before asking, rather rushed, “Could you cut off the crusts, too?”

You have to brace yourself on the door handle to not collapse at how incredibly adorable that request is. Nevertheless, you can tell he is embarrassed and decide not to tease him too much. That could be done later, when he isn’t in such a vulnerable state of mind. You nod, chirping a quick ‘Sure, sweetheart’ before exiting and closing the door behind you.

Heading downstairs feels like squaring up for a fight. Deep down you know you can’t do much, Mammon would be crushed if you got in trouble with Lucifer for his sake, but you won’t be pleasant, either. You cringe at yourself, unable to handle the empty threats you seem to have in abundance inside your brain.

You can’t give most of the brothers the cold shoulder, that much you know. It wasn’t them that forced Mammon to tears the previous night with nothing but their words and whatever other hells Mammon was forced to endure. No, only Lucifer deserves your passive aggressive wrath today.

Luckily for you, there are only a few of the brothers remaining in the kitchen instead of waiting at the table already, one of those few being Lucifer himself who stands against the counter with a mug of coffee pressed to his lips. Satan and Beel are present as well, Beel rummaging through the pantry and fridge while Satan watches with what looks like mild amusement.

“Morning,” you greet the two younger brothers, going out of your way to make as little eye contact with Lucifer as possible. Whether he picks up on this, you can’t tell, but you can sense the change in atmosphere as you open the fridge and dig around for the jam Mammon wants.

“(Name). Is something wrong?” A deep voice inquires and, as you deduct that voice to be Beel’s, you look over your shoulder, offering a smile.

“Can’t possibly imagine why there’d be something wrong.” Wrong with you at least.

“Are you sure? You seem...off,” Satan inquires, as curious and considerate as ever.

You head over to the pantry, now with the jam in hand, and search for the peanut butter. A soft ‘ah!’ escapes you as your hand closes around the jar as well as a loaf of bread and you make your way over to the cutting board.

“I’m cool,” you deadpan. The younger brothers remain silent after you hear them shift a bit.

You begin to prepare the sandwich, daring not to turn around when the sound of footsteps approaching you invades your ears. All too suddenly there is a looming presence behind you, peering over your shoulder and radiating the most intense energy you’ve ever felt.

“What.” You say. It is not a question, but a demand. You still do not meet the eldest brother’s eyes.

You hear fabric shift and body heat warm your skin as Lucifer leans down to speak quietly enough so that his brother’s can’t hear. “It is for his own good. He will never learn if he is not properly disciplined.”

Your blood begins to boil. You raise your voice to him, completely disregarding Lucifer’s attempts to keep his brothers out of the situation as you do. “You know you can ‘properly discipline’ him without hurting him, right? What kind of brother are you?”

You leave it at that, throwing the rest of the sandwich together quickly before storming out of there. But wait...you stop in your tracks and stare down at the sandwich with defeated eyes. You forgot to cut off the crusts, dammit!

So, throwing your opportunity for a badass exit out the window, you march right back into the kitchen, tear open a drawer to grab a knife, and chop every single crust from the bread — all while the three brothers stare at you in both confusion and awe.

As you go to leave again, Satan finds the will to speak up. “Where are you going?”

“To my room.” You hold up the now crust-less sandwich. “The Great Mammon’s gotta eat.”

“But it’s your turn to make breakfast for everyone!” Beel whines, clutching at his stomach helplessly.

Again, you pause. Your fight leaves you and you approach the gentle giant upon seeing him look at you with such sorrow. You know how important food is to him.

“I’ll call for delivery from Hell’s Kitchen. Just round up everyone’s order and text it to me. Is that okay?”

Beelzebub nods enthusiastically and you pat his head, then turn on your heel to head back up to your room. You feel eyes on you as you walk away and, if you weren’t so fired up right now, you might take that as a compliment. But you know it’s Lucifer. You know it’s him even as the presence behind you follows you out into the hallway.

“I don’t like being followed.” You state in a bored tone.

“You don’t have to treat him like a child, you know. He can take care of himself.”

“I don’t want to let him take care of himself. I’m gonna be there for him when his brothers are being assholes.”

Lucifer looks taken aback. You don’t curse at them, you just don’t. Unless you’re joking, you never speak ill to them no matter what. And you didn’t to Beel or Satan. Even in your fired state you calmed enough to treat them as you normally would, with kindness and compassion. It is him you have the grudge against right now, and Lucifer’s brain can’t seem to accept or handle the fact that this is because of your protectiveness over his younger sibling.

“You won’t be here forever, you know.” Lucifer knows he crossed a line, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “He will need to fight his own battles eventually.”

“How about you give him less battles to fight, hmm?”

Lucifer seems to have nothing left to say. Taking his silence as an invitation to leave, you do just that and start up the stairs to your bedroom.

“Oh, and by the way,” you begin, stopping midway up the staircase to address the short circuiting demon you left in the hallway, “I may not be in this world as long as you guys will, but if you even touch him after I’m gone, my ghost will fuck you up.”

You make your final leave, Mammon’s breakfast in hand and a smile lining your face as you prepare to greet your greedy little demon.

#obey me oneshot #obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon obey me #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #reader insert fanfic #reader insert #mc obey me #obey me mammon x mc #mc x obey me #obey me mammon x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me luficer #tw swearing #tw emotional distress

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ultimatetrashyfanfic · 3 years ago

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Non-despair AU! And ever since I watched that thirty minute anime clip with Nagito’s perspective on things, I’ve really liked the idea of him being buds with Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko. And Nagito openly talks about his past trauma on a plane so… what better way to bond than bonding over trauma? Anyway, I love these three so much. Also Komahina because I love them - Circle

(Also forgot to add this, sorry, but it’s on AO3 too) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33483538

Warning: descriptions of panic attacks, nausea, motion sickness, very mild vomiting (like barely any).

Fuyuhiko always thought Nagito was spouting a whole load of bullshit when he lamented about his talent being useless; he would’ve loved having Ultimate Luck right now.

“Haha! You got the short straw, Fuyuhiko!” Akane crowed. “Tough luck!”

“Wait, no! Can’t we do a best of three?”

“Somebody has to sit with them, man,” Nekomaru said. “You guys are already friends, it’ll be a great bonding experience.”

“I don’t want to bond with them in that situation. Because you all know it’ll be a shit show. That’s why we’re fucking doing this,” Fuyuhiko growled, glaring at each of his classmates in turn. Only two were missing, the pair who’d triggered this whole unfortunate drawing of straws in the first place.

“Why can’t you sit with them, Hajime? Nagito is always hanging off you anyway. And Kazuichi is your friend too,” Fuyuhiko said.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Fuyuhiko.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I didn’t draw the short straw.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Fuyuhiko stomped away, his classmates’ laughter echoing behind him. This class trip was already more trouble than it was worth and it hadn’t even started. He was almost tempted to skip the plane journey with the rest of them and hop on a different flight to Novoselic, just to show them. It wasn’t like he needed Sonia to pay his way. But she’d been so enthusiastic about taking her friends to see her home country, and Fuyuhiko couldn’t think of any way to tell her without causing offence. He couldn’t really say he just didn’t want to be stuck babysitting Kazuichi and Nagito on a flight.

It wasn’t that Fuyuhiko didn’t like Kazuichi and Nagito. Sure, Kazuichi could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, and Nagito would go all weird and self-deprecating if you didn’t watch out, but Fuyuhiko still considered them close friends. But the flight to Novoselic was long. Kazuichi could get motion sickness on a fucking bicycle, and Nagito hadn’t set foot on a plane since his parents died on one right in front of his eyes. There was no way it could possibly go well. Fuyuhiko pictured hour after hour of Kazuichi puking and complaining and Nagito… well, he wasn’t sure what the hell Nagito would do. He’d never seen Nagito get flustered before. Hell, that was much more terrifying. He had to get out of this.

In the days before the trip, Fuyuhiko kept trying to convince his kinder classmates to take responsibility for at least one of the other men. “It’s gonna be impossible to help them both,” Fuyuhiko said. “It’ll be better for them if you help me.”

“You could sit between them,” Mahiru said. “And I’ve already promised Hiyoko I’ll sit with her. Sorry.”

Asking Twogami was a no-go too. “It’ll be more considerate to the other passengers if they’re both in one area,” he said. “To limit the disturbance if they become distressed.”

“I’m the one who’ll be feeling fucking distressed,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

Peko overheard, and came over at once. “I’ll take your burden, young master.”

“No, not you!” Fuyuhiko hated the whine in his tone - and he hated the smirk on Twogami’s face too. “You don’t have to do it. You sit with Gundham and pet his hamsters or something. I… I want you to be happy,” he mumbled, blushing fiercely.

Damn it. He could be as bad as Kazuichi sometimes.

There was no way to wriggle out of it. The morning of the trip dawned bright and sunny, and Fuyuhiko’s ticket set him directly between Kazuichi and Nagito. Fantastic.

At least check-in and security went by reasonably peacefully, the walk to their gate quiet. Only Akane and Nekomaru seemed to be properly awake this early in the day, and they stuck with each other. Fuyuhiko glanced at his two friends. Kazuichi still seemed half-asleep, curled on one of the uncomfortable chairs by the gate, watching the planes take off and land in the distance through the huge windows. Nagito was much more concerning. He was smiling brightly… but he didn’t look happy at all.

“Hey, Fuyuhiko, want to know how a plane engine works?” Kazuichi asked.

“No,” he said, but he sat down with a sigh as Kazuichi started talking anyway. He tuned out after a second, though Nagito looked like he was listening.

“Seeing you talk about your ultimate talent is so inspiring, Kazuichi,” Nagito said - and smiled. That weird smile again, desperate and strained.

“It’s nothing. I just think planes are interesting. From an engineering point of view. I really wish I didn’t have to fucking ride one,” Kazuichi groaned.

“Aha, I can’t help feeling apprehensive too. The last time I was on a flight, both my parents died.” Nagito spoke emotionlessly, as if reciting a shopping list, but that smile was still fixed on his face. “But it’s okay. That bad luck brought me a lot of good luck later on. You just have to have hope that things will work out.”

Kazuichi stared at him, mouth open. “Um. Okay. Sorry.” He caught Fuyuhiko’s eye and mouthed what the fuck? Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure if Kazuichi was just now hearing the story or if he was confused by Nagito’s weird behaviour. He shrugged helplessly.

There wasn’t much conversation after that. You couldn’t really carry on your casual chit-chat right after somebody brought up their dead parents. Fuyuhiko kept an eye on Nagito. He was bolt upright in his seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, hands clasped so tight in his lap his knuckles bleached white. With his pale hair and ashen face, he looked like all the blood had drained out of him completely.

Their flight number was called far too soon, and Fuyuhiko dragged his motley crew to the right aisle, pondering where to put everyone. Kazuichi should probably be on the end if he’d be passing vomit bags to some poor stewardess. Fuyuhiko needed to be in the middle, so that left Nagito by the window. He’d have to keep the shutter pulled down.

Hajime passed them on the way to his own seat, and stopped short when he saw Nagito’s face. He leaned right over Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko, ignoring their complaints and curses, and took Nagito’s hand. “Are you alright? You look… off.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hajime.”

“Your hands are clammy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. How disgusting for you,” Nagito said, smiling. Always smiling.

“That’s not what I meant… Look, do you want to sit with me?”

“Can we move it along please?” somebody called irritably down the aisle.

“You’re holding up the line, Hajime. Don’t worry about me,” Nagito repeated. Hajime looked like he was worrying dreadfully, but he was forced to move along. Nagito clasped his hands again and fixed his gaze on the seat in front, smiling smiling smiling. It was freaking Fuyuhiko out. He looked like he was wearing a mask and his eyes were the only real part of him, swirling with turmoil.

“Hey.” Kazuichi nudged Fuyuhiko’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Are Hajime and Nagito… you know. A thing?”

“Mate, you told me you’ve seen them leave Hajime’s cabin together in the mornings.”

“They could just be having a sleepover. As bros.”

“I don’t think it’s that, Kazuichi.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want Hajime to get a new best friend,” Kazuichi said.

Fuyuhiko sighed. “I think you’re safe.”

There was a pause. Then another shoulder nudge a second later. “So Hajime and Nagito? Seriously? Am I the only person on my own in this class?” Kazuichi muttered.

Fuyuhiko was spared from responding by the flight attendants starting the safety briefing, demonstrating how to use the oxygen masks and the life jackets in case of emergency. He had to admit, it was pretty eerie to think that you could, however unlikely it may be, crash into the ocean or need extra oxygen to live long enough to get to land. He glanced over at Nagito nervously. His arms were now curled across his chest, hands gripping his elbows. His head was bent, a cloud of puffy hair hiding his face. Maybe that was for the best.

“Can you try not to puke as long as possible?” Fuyuhiko whispered to Kazuichi. “I feel like I might have a situation to deal with.”

“I’m never trying to puke,” Kazuichi said, but he seemed worried too, glancing past Fuyuhiko. “Hey, Nagito, you doing alright?”

“Don’t worry about me, Kazuichi,” Nagito said, eerily calmly.

“That’s not the same thing as saying you’re fine, is it?” Kazuichi whispered to Fuyuhiko.

“He’s clearly not fucking fine,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

“Should I ask Hajime to swap?” Kazuichi asked.

Fuyuhiko nodded, but before Kazuichi could even undo his seatbelt, the plane jerked and started reversing out of the gate. Fuyuhiko heard Nagito draw in his breath sharply - then he was the one fumbling for his seatbelt, standing unsteadily.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Fuyuhiko yelled, catching onto the back of Nagito’s coat as he tried to clamber over the seats. “Sit down!”

“I’m afraid I need to get off,” Nagito said, voice still calm despite his frantic movements.

“It’s already moving, for God’s sake! Sit down before a flight attendant sees you!” It wasn’t hard to force Nagito back into his seat - he seemed light enough for a strong gust of wind to knock him over - and Souda hastily got the belt fastened again just as the plane rolled onto the runway.

“Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine,” Fuyuhiko gabbled, trying hard not to shout or swear or scream at all his classmates for making him deal with this. “Just sit still and… I dunno, plug your ears. The takeoff part is the worst.”

There was a cacophony of whirring as the engines roared to life and Fuyuhiko would be very grateful for all that noise in a second, because Nagito started to laugh. Dry, hysterical laughter, his eyes over-bright and manic, lips bared in that grisly parody of a smile.

“Has he lost his fucking mind?” Kazuichi asked, sounding genuinely frightened.

“You must really hate me, Fuyuhiko,” Nagito gasped. “To restrain me here… You must despise me.”

“I’m not restraining you!”

“Then let me off.” He locked eyes with Fuyuhiko and for a second the manic grin faded. “Please…”

The engines roared to a crescendo and the plane shot forward so quickly everyone was pinned to their seats with the force, zooming on and on until they could feel the entire structure lurch into the air. Kazuichi groaned softly, shutting his eyes, but Fuyuhiko was far more focused on Nagito. He had his eyes squeezed shut too, but his hand clamped hard onto Fuyuhiko’s arm. Really fucking hard. Shit, maybe Nagito wasn’t as weak as he looked. Fuyuhiko cursed as his terrified companion started digging his nails into his skin, actually drawing blood. The pain prompted Fuyuhiko to try prying the hand loose a little, but Nagito clamped on harder, carving several new scratches. Fuyuhiko didn’t dare attempt again; he’d get his arm cut to ribbons.

When the plane was flying high and the swirling, disoriented feeling had eased, Fuyuhiko checked on both men. Kazuichi had his head in his hands, but he gave a shaky thumbs up when Fuyuhiko prodded him.

“‘M okay,” he mumbled. “Got through takeoff. Gets better when it’s levelling out.”

“Right, good. Try to stay that way, yeah? I’ve got a lot to handle right now,” Fuyuhiko sighed. Nagito was still shredding his arm up, but he could feel one finger tapping for attention.

“What? What do you need? Please, no bullshit, Nagito. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do,” Fuyuhiko said. He was practically yelling in his panic, and the people across the aisle turned to glare.

It was several seconds before Nagito could gather enough breath to speak. Fuyuhiko saw that awful smile stretch across his face again, like somebody had twisted his frown the wrong way round. “Aha, I’m sorry to trouble you, Fuyuhiko, but I think I might be having a panic attack.”

“What?” Fuyuhiko felt like he was going to have a panic attack too. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t seem to catch my breath. And the cabin has been spinning for several minutes.”

“Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you say anything?” Fuyuhiko hurriedly pushed Nagito’s head down as far as it would go before it bumped the seat in front. “Fucking… think of things you can see or something? Shit, I don’t remember.”

“Five things you can see,” Kazuichi chimed in. “Is he really gonna pass out? Hajime is gonna kill us.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him for leaving this shit to us! How stupid can you get?”

“Ahh, I’m such a nuisance. If I’d known I’d react in such a shameful way, I’d have been sure to take a seat away from all the Ultimates. Why are you taking care of someone like me?”

“Nagito, shut up, this isn’t your fault,” Fuyuhiko said shortly. “Stop babbling on about ultimates and do the panic attack thing. Listen to Kazuichi, he knows how to do it.”

Nagito did as he was told, working through the grounding techniques with Kazuichi while Fuyuhiko held onto his shoulders feeling helpless. Nagito was shaking so hard it was difficult not to drop him altogether. He didn’t pass out, but even after the grounding Nagito looked far from what you’d consider calm. He was grey-white when Fuyuhiko carefully hauled him back upright.

“Are you okay..?”

The smile came back, though it seemed a lot more tired than manic this time. “Ah… I don’t think so, Fuyuhiko.”

“Well. At least you’re honest. Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Physically, I mean. Clearly I see you’re fucked mentally. And please stop smiling like that, you’re creeping me out,” Fuyuhiko said.

Nagito finally released his grip on Fuyuhiko’s arm, his nails coated with blood. He bent forward slowly, carefully, like he was terrified any sudden movements would send him spiralling again, and let his elbows rest on his knees. “I still feel slightly lightheaded. And nauseous. I’d still like to get off.”

Fuyuhiko examined the long scratches on his arm, sighing and mopping the blood with his sleeve. “Well, you’d have a long drop if you tried to get off now. You should cut your damn fingernails too. I’m going to get Hajime.” He turned to Kazuichi. “Watch him for a minute, okay? I don’t fucking care about drawing the short straw anymore, I can’t handle this.” Fuyuhiko scrambled over Kazuichi’s lap into the aisle, ignoring the flight attendant yelling for him to remain in his seat until the seatbelt signs went off.

“Hey! What did you mean drawing the short straw?” Kazuichi called behind him. Fuyuhiko didn’t look back.

“Hajime!” Fuyuhiko yelled when he was still more than six aisles away from the startled man. “You’re swapping with me!” He lowered his voice when he reached Hajime’s seat, but only marginally. “I can’t handle this. I don’t know how you expected Komeada to react to this shit, but whatever you thought, it’s worse. Way fucking worse. And I can’t help him. So go fucking do it yourself.”

“Well, I was going to swap as soon as the seatbelt signs were off,” Hajime said pointedly.

“I don’t give a shit. Look at my arm! Your fucking boyfriend nearly ripped it off at the elbow.” Fuyuhiko brandished his scratched, bloodied arm, and Hajime looked genuinely shocked.

“Oh my God…” He stood up hastily, clinging to the seats in front as the plane was still slightly off-balance. “I’m sorry, Fuyuhiko. I didn’t expect him to panic so much. He never said anything much about it when I asked.”

“Yeah, well, no offence, Hajime, but you can be as thick as three short planks sometimes. So if he implied anything, I don’t doubt you missed it,” Fuyuhiko snapped, taking Hajime’s empty seat - next to Chiaki, thank goodness. She hadn’t even looked up from her Switch this whole time. Perfect.

“I have taken some offence…” Hajime mumbled, then turned to go back down the aisle, trying hard not to catch the eyes of the other passengers staring like they were all part of a circus act. He was pretty sure the whole class was going to get banned from this airline. Gundham had been in trouble already for taking his hamsters out of their little travelling cage - several times. He was insulted by the insistence of the staff that all pets had to be contained, both by their labelling of his hamsters as mere pets and from their implication that his dark devas could ever be contained.

Hajime followed the sounds of more disgruntled passengers to Nagito’s seat. He was in the middle now, hunched over one of those white sick bags, while Kazuichi awkwardly patted his back. He looked relieved to see Hajime, beckoning frantically. “Come help me! I think he’s gonna spew. Weird that it’s not me for once.”

Hajime sighed, struggling to shuffle past his friends to get to Nagito’s other side, squashed by the window. Nagito didn’t acknowledge him. Hajime could see he had his eyes closed, his face strangely calm and smooth, though his breathing was erratic.

“Hey, Nagito? You hearing me?” Hajime called, tapping the other man’s pale cheek.

“Did I drive Fuyuhiko away?” Nagito said, voice strained. “I’m not surprised. To bother the Ultimates with the problems of an insignificant nobody like me.”

“Dude, shut up,” Kazuichi groaned. “Nobody thinks that. Stop being so weird. Fuyuhiko just doesn’t know how to look after people.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up? I doubt you’ll throw up, you wouldn’t eat anything this morning,” Hajime said.

At that exact moment, almost as if to pointedly prove him wrong, Nagito made a choked retching sound and ducked his head down further, cringing.

“Oookay. Or not. Um. You’re okay,” Hajime muttered, placing a wary hand on Nagito’s hair to keep it out of the way. It was strange hair; soft yet thick at the same time, and it poofed up determinedly no matter how many times Ibuki tried him out with different hairstyles.

The seatbelt signs were now off, so Kazuichi stood up hastily, trying to shield Nagito from the people hurrying up the aisle to the bathrooms. Hajime was grateful, but part of him wished he could switch places with Souda. He didn’t think he’d be having to coach Nagito through something so strangely intimate so soon into their… relationship? They’d never come out and actually said they were boyfriends, not even to each other, but their classmates seemed to think they were a couple.

As Nagito really hadn’t eaten much of anything all day, the actual vomiting didn’t last too long, but the dry heaving continued for several agonising minutes, and the nausea remained indefinitely. But Nagito felt safe to lift him head, his pale cheeks dusted with pink. He smiled shakily at Hajime. “How embarrassing. I caused a scene in front of all these people. You must be lamenting the day you set eyes on me.”

“Stop,” Hajime sighed, taking the soiled bag and handing it to Kazuichi.

“Hajime!” Souda squealed, hastily handing it off to a flight attendant, who offered a bottle of water for Nagito in response. Her smile didn’t slip once. Hajime was impressed by her poker face.

“Drink,” Hajime prompted, forcing the bottle into Nagito’s hands. “I want you to try eating something later too. You’re going to pass out.”

Kazuichi sat down again, glancing at Nagito. “You feeling… okay now? Like as okay as you can?”

Nagito took a long drink of water, eyes blank. Then he smiled again, that strange, forced smile. “I really am pathetic, aren’t I? Causing such a dramatic spectacle over something that happened years ago. I don’t deserve such attention from the Ultim-“

“Stop!” Hajime took Nagito’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. Hajime thought he saw something flicker in them, some semblance of an honest emotion. “Nagito, can you please stop trying to act like you don’t have feelings. I know you’re scared. And you know what? It’s okay. It’s completely fucking normal to feel like this right now. I shouldn’t have left you. That was me being dense, and I’m sorry. But you can stop pretending. It’s just me here - and Kazuichi, but he’ll understand too. He’s scared of everything.”

“I am not!” Kazuichi cried, outraged.

Hajime didn’t break eye contact with Nagito, both breathing heavily. Nagito glared back at first, his face twisting into a scowl, but Hajime didn’t falter.

“Let me in,” Hajime muttered. “I know you, for God’s sake. You’re not gonna scare me off. It’s okay to need help. Please.”

Another silence for several long, tense seconds. Then - finally, amazingly - Nagito made a soft frustrated noise, lunged forwards and wound his arms around Hajime’s neck so tightly that for a second Hajime thought he’d messed up so badly Nagito was trying to throttle him.

“Hey, careful,” Hajime said, but his voice was gentle and he didn’t try to pry Nagito off. Nagito let his forehead rest on Hajime’s shoulder, his hair falling to shield his face completely. Hajime snaked his own arms awkwardly around Nagito’s slender waist. He could feel Nagito shaking, feel the warm puff of his breathing against his shoulder. The shaking never eased, but as time passed the breathing seemed to calm slightly.

Nagito didn’t speak as he clung to Hajime for dear life. Not a single word. But Hajime hadn’t really expected him to. This was already a degree of vulnerability that Nagito was completely unaccustomed to showing anyone, let alone his almost-boyfriend, his classmates and an entire plane full of strangers. It was a good place to start.

Kazuichi watched them slightly bitterly. “It’s alright for some. I wouldn’t mind someone to cuddle up to,” he muttered.

“That’s your other talent. Ultimate Third Wheel,” Hajime quipped.

Their row of seats was reasonably peaceful after that, though Hajime could hear the laughter and yelling from their classmates further back. He hoped the sensible members of the group could stop them causing too much trouble. Hajime couldn’t go tell them to knock it off himself; whenever he moved at all Nagito would tighten his grip.

He sat there, hour after hour, until he had to pry Nagito off him for a bathroom break. It wasn’t easy. Nagito fought him and clung on as much as he could, though Hajime explained he’d be back in five minutes.

“Look, cling onto Kazuichi while I go pee,” Hajime suggested. Kazuichi didn’t look overly enthusiastic about that idea, but he didn’t protest.

Nagito sighed. He slowly drew back his arms, and whispered three breathy little words into Hajime’s shirt before he went, perhaps the most raw, vulnerable words Hajime had ever heard Nagito say: “Please come back.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured.

Nagito shifted shakily in his seat, turned to Kazuichi and lunged at him too, wrapping his arms around his neck. Kazuichi squealed and whined that he was being strangled, but he didn’t shove Nagito away. Hajime almost felt like they were new parents, passing their newborn between them: “I’ll hold him for a bit, you go to the loo.”

There was a queue for the tiny airplane bathrooms. Hajime stood impatiently, wriggling his cramped shoulders and rocking back on his heels; he was glad Nagito seemed to be trusting him more, but he was pretty stiff after sitting in the same position for hours.

Two women ahead of Hajime in the queue seemed to be having an animated discussion about something, and when Hajime caught the word “school” he started to listen properly.

“I don’t know what sort of school they come from, but they’re a strange bunch,” one lady hissed. “There’s an odd boy in the row ahead of me, one of that lot, who has a collections of rodents, all free from their cage! Running all over the seat trays! Well, that’s not very hygienic, is it? But when I told him as much, he gave me the most incredibly rude answer.”

“Young people have such foul mouths these days,” the other lady agreed.

“No, he wasn’t swearing. It was ever so strange, almost as if he was… well, you’ll think I sound silly. But it was like he was cursing me.”

It was a good job for Hajime that the toilet became available and the lady rushed inside, because he was biting his cheeks to contain his laughter. When he’d used the loo himself and gone back to release Kazuichi from Nagito’s vice grip, he recited the story for both of them.

Kazuichi laughed, poking Nagito gently. “There you are, Nagito. No need to worry. No matter how weird we are, we can always count on Gundham to be weirder.”

Nagito didn’t respond, but Hajime saw a hint of a smile - a real smile - on his lips before he buried his face in Hajime’s neck again.

#super danganronpa two #danganronpa 2 #emeto tw #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #kazuichi souda #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #panic attacks #past trauma #komahina #fear of flying #non despair au #mod circle #our writing

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ahatintimepieces · 3 years ago

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Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

#a hat in time #ahit snatcher #ahit prince #ahit hat kid #ahit dadtcher #my writing #build-a-bear au #'im gonna take a break'#*proceeds to post exactly one day after the old posting schedule #im still writing lol just gonna be all over the place for a bit #ALSO FINALLY WROTE THIS #ITS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR FOREVER #ITS JUST REALLY FUNNY TO ME TO IMAGINE SNATCHER RUNNING A BUILD A BEAR PLEEEEEEASE #i have one more short thing for this that addresses the heart-shaped hole in the room and then u might find me #ricocheting around other aus like a pinball #anyway that's all for now #thank you so much for reading as always!!!!!#catch ya later!

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eliegloryofficial · 3 years ago

Text

Chasing Stars - Chapter Five

summary: Once a world-renowned musician, Lucy Heartfilia put her violin away for the last time when she was seventeen. Five years later, she finds herself drawn back into the world of music after meeting a pianist with a fiery style of playing.

fandom and pairing(s): Fairy Tail, Natsu Dragneel / Lucy Heartfilia, minor Gajeel Redfox / Levy Mcgarden, others to be listed as they appear

Chapter Five: Run, Run

ao3 | ff.net

“I’ve decided you’re going to perform with me next week at Fairy Tail!”

For a full ten seconds, Lucy just started at him. Honestly, he looked so sincere with his one hand resting on his hip while the other nearly poked her in the nose that she almost just said yes through sheer force of his will. But as the words slowly registered and took meaning in her thoughts, the only reaction she could give them was to laugh. “No, I’m not,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning back away from him to place the book on the shelf. “What pat of ‘I don’t play anymore’ did you just completely miss?”

Natsu huffed. “I didn’t miss anything,” he grumbled, letting his hand fall to his side once more. “And I’m not askin’. You’re gonna play with me. It’s decided.”

“You can decide all you want,” Lucy said, still laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. Her? Perform at a bar? Her father would strangle her dead if he found out about that. “I’m not doing it because I don’t play anymore. I haven’t played since I was 17, and that’s not about to change just because you decided something.”

“Give me one good reason why you can’t.”

Lucy paused, turning back towards him with a frown. “Excuse me?” she said, laugh dying on her lips now. “Why should I?”

He had that insufferable little grin back, eyes twinkling with what she could only assume meant danger. “Because otherwise I’m just gonna keep bugging you about it,” he said. Natsu shoved his hands into his pockets, looking up at her expectantly. “Well, out with it. One good reason, and I’ll never ask again.”

She rolled her eyes a little, hopping off the stool. Natsu moved out of her way, but kept himself closer than she would have guessed a near stranger to feel comfortable with. “I don’t have to give you any reason other than ‘I don’t want to,’” she finally told him, hooking an elbow around the spreader of the stool to hoist it up. “Or are you always these pushy with people you barely know?”

Again, she heard Natsu huff. Lucy didn’t look back at him, somewhat awkwardly pushing the cart around the shelf and onto the next one a few stacks away. “Come on,” he whined, and she didn’t need to look back to hear the eye roll that followed. “You obviously have a nice instrument. Why not use it?”

“I just don’t, alright?” Her tone took on a sharper note than she intended, causing her to pause a little. Perhaps she was more like her father than she had realized. Lucy took a slow breath, turning back to face him. “I gave it up for a reason, and just because it unceremoniously found its way back into my life, doesn’t mean I intend on playing again. I’ve done just fine without it the last five years, thank you very much.” Natsu didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t leave her cart as she took her place back on the stool. Without thinking about it, she pointed out which book she needed next, and he carefully handed it to her without arguing.

For a few moments, it almost seemed as if he had given up on his mission to force her back into playing, but just as they once more reached the edge of the shelf, he finally spoke up, “It’ll be fun.” Lucy turned to him, eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs.

To her surprise, Natsu had taken on an almost sheepish look, mouth hidden by his scarf while he avoided eye contact. “Don’t you think? Getting back to the music without the bad stuff you left behind?”

Lucy blinked a few times, not quite sure what to say. Had she not been lamenting just earlier today about leaving behind the good when she fled from the bad? She turned away, tongue swiping across the back of her teeth as she tried to think of the right way to respond. Compared to earlier, Natsu seemed much more subdued, as if he was actually trying to ask her rather than simply demand. “Sure. It probably would be,” she finally admitted with a shrug. “But I’m still not going to agree to anything.”

This time, there was no huff. No dramatic whine or insistent request for a good reason why not. Natsu just watched her, half his face still hidden behind his scarf and eyebrows pulled together. “Don’t you miss the music?” he asked, voice going soft.

Again, Lucy found herself at a loss for words. No one had ever seemed to understand her connection to the music before. Not the judges that praised her technical skill, or her father who forced perfection. To her, it had never been about any of that. It had always just been about the music.

But with the music came the memories, and the nightmares, and the twinges of pain across her knuckles.

“Of course I do. But that still isn’t enough to convince me to play with you next week.”

Though she tried to make it sound final, Natsu was persistent. He continued arguing with her throughout the rest of her work shift, alternating between why not and whined please’s. With each attempt her made, Lucy rebutted with a firmer ‘no’ than the one before, refusing to relent to this. Even for the music. Even for someone who understood the importance of the music. Nothing he could offer her would be enough to convince her to play again after she had spent half a decade untangling herself from the fame. If Natsu knew she had been famous, it never came up and for that, Lucy was grateful.

Not grateful enough to change her mind. But grateful. And by the time she was walking out of the library, Natsu still following after her with an increasingly high pitched whine, her decision had never felt more solid.

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, coming to a stop at the first crosswalk outside of the library. “You’ve made your case, and did so very adamantly. But my answer is still no. I’m not playing again, not ever.” He huffed, crossing his arms against his chest. “I mean it. It’s never going to happen, so you might as well give up.”

The crosswalk chimed at her that she was safe to walk, and Lucy didn’t hesitate, expecting to hear him walking beside her as he had been the whole afternoon. When she didn’t, she silently rejoiced in her apparent victory, sighing a little in relief.

“Lucy.”

At the sound of her name, she stopped - right in the middle of the street. Lucy turned, brushing some hair out of her eyes as the breeze picked up around them. Natsu stood at the corner still, hands shoved in his pocket and scarf tail fluttering behind him a little. To her surprise, he had a grin on his face. “I’ll see you next week. Be at Fairy Tail at about 5-PM and we can practice some. I’ll find the sheet music for the song I wanna play and shove it under your door, alright?”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left her standing dumbstruck in the middle of the street.

Lucy stared after him, mouth slightly agape at the strange turn of events - after all that, and he hadn’t heard a word of it! Red splotches appeared on her cheeks, and she considered for just a second calling back to him to angrily remind him that she was most certainly not going to be there at 5-PM or any time next week no matter what he thought. However, a car horn startled her back to reality, and she hastily crossed back over, practically stomping the rest of the way back to her apartment.

As soon as the door was shut behind her, she let out an aggravated noise and flopped onto the sofa. Plue lifted his head to watch her for a bit before stretching out and joining her, tail wagging despite her clear irritation. After a seconds of pouting, Lucy finally gave in and ran a hand across the top of his head, scratching behind his ears the way he liked. “It’s ridiculous,” she told him. “In, like, two days, all the work I did to get away from that part of my life has completely come undone. Next thing I know, it’ll be Cana and Levy coming over with recording equipment to put me on Youtube or something outrageous.”

She said it in jest, but a small shiver zigzagged down her back anyways. Lucy groaned, head falling back against the couch as she tried to push the nasty thought aside. It wasn’t happening. Absolutely, positively, under no circumstances.

And yet…the idea was tempting. Like Cana had said, it’d certainly be one hell of a way to get back at her father for the years of pain and reluctant perfection. She knew that he wanted to come back, was certain that the only reason he wanted her to get the violin now after all these years when he could definitely have continued holding onto it was because he hoped that having mama’s violin staring at her from a corner of her room would force her back into playing. As if that had been the real reason she managed to break away from it.

Jude just didn’t get it. No one did, not even her friends. It wasn’t about wanting to get away from the music or distance herself from her mother; it had always been about making her own choices. All her adolescence, her father had dictated her every move. What she wore, who she saw, what pieces she performed. This wonderful thing that she shared so lovingly with her mother had deteriorated down into nothing, and Lucy didn’t think that a few years away was enough to reforge that. Not when her mother was long since dead and the memories she had of playing were so irreversibly tainted. Lucy sighed, rubbing the corners of her eyes as she tried to push it away.

Natsu was not going to get into her head like this. Not after she had finally found some semblance of peace in merely having the instrument back in her possession again. She wouldn’t allow it.

From her bag, Lucy heard the soft rumble of her phone vibrating and somewhat reluctantly fished through it to find it, expecting the worst.

From: Levy

(16:03) Okay okay so I talked to Lisanna a little bit more about girls night, and she’s actually free tonight if that’s alright with you!

(16:03) I know it’s last minute, but Saturday’s are like the only time any of us can get together anymore, so she kind of jumped right on it, you know? Erza’s free too, so it’ll be a party!

(16:04) But I know your schedule is usually kinda busy, so if you can’t, then we can definitely schedule something for next week instead!

Lucy stared at the messages for a second, trying to remember what she was talking about. Oh, right. Girls night. With Lisanna and the mysterious Erza person they kept mentioning. She glanced at the time and scowled a little; definitely short notice. But, maybe a night with her friends and some potential friends was just what she needed to get herself back out of this funk her dad’s text message had sent her into.

To: Levy

(16:06) Definitely last second! But, I’m down! Had kind of a stressful day at work, so I can definitely use some down time.

(16:07) Oh, fantastic! I’ll let everyone know! Cana’s dad is out of town for the weekend again, so I think we could probably go there? I’ll double check and let you know.

(16:07) Sorry about work, btw! Hope it wasn’t too serious.

(16:07) Whoever told Natsu where I work is getting strangled tonight.

(16:09) Uhh….

(16:09) Well it wasn’t NOT me?

(16:10) He said he wanted to apologize for something!

Lucy groaned a little, smacking her forehead against the device once. Good, well natured Levy, ratting her right out.

(16:11) Yeah, well, he apologized which was nice, and then proceeded to make the rest of his time there a problem.

(16:11) I can tell you more about it later, since I’m certain Cana will want to hear all about it.

(16:12) Ah…yeah, I’m sure she will. Sorry!!!

Setting the phone back onto the couch, Lucy looked around her apartment. Probably just a few hours of peace before they’d be meeting up. Already, her mind was running ahead with the things she’d need to do — pack an overnight bag, take Plue out, ask the landlady a few floors down to check on him before she went to bed, check the violin…

Lucy blinked, thoughts stopping shorting. She most certainly did not need to check the violin. It was safely in its case, hidden in the corner of her closet that she didn’t often check.

But, like Natsu’s piano melody, the thought persisted even as she tried to force it away. She had been rather forceful when she had shoved it back in here, what if something jostled it? Lucy bit her lip, reminding herself that the case her father had purchased for that violin was far, far too good a case to fail just because she didn’t gently set it down.

If mama knew you had treated it so carelessly, she’d be heartbroken.

The thought came unwanted, and Lucy groaned loudly as she pushed herself up. “Fine! One check! One check to make sure nothing happened, and then it’s going gently back into the closet,” she announced to no one in particular, stormed through the living room and into her bedroom. Still huffing a little, she slid open the closet door and rifled around for a second before she found the handle and pulled it back out in one fluid motion.

Once it had been extracted, she moved a little more carefully to set it on her bed, fingers running across the latches for a second. It had been five years since she’d seen it; could she handle doing this again?

Taking a deep breath, and knowing she was being beyond ridiculous on every front, Lucy hooked her thumbs under the latch and carefully pulled them up, almost reverently lifting the case open and guiding it back onto the bed.

Inside sat the worlds most precious instrument. Lucy let her eyes rake over it hungrily, remembering every single minor detail - every slight dip in the wood, every swirled pattern. The top curves were still a little lighter than the bottom, the dashes on the f-holes still worn down to almost nothing at all. Once, this had been her entire world. The world could only start when she played music, after all. Lucy let her fingertips run across the smooth wood, closing her eyes at the familiarity of it all.

When she was very little, her mother had sat her down in her music room and introduced her to it. It was an old friend, she had said. Passed down through her family for generations for nearly 400 years. Lucy could still remember the gentleness of her mothers eyes as she picked the violin up to show her how it was properly held, remembered the way her whole body leaned forward that first time she plucked a string to show her what sound it made. Lucy had been enraptured from that very moment, unable and unwilling to look away from the worlds most beautiful woman holding the worlds most beautiful violin.

Her own eyes opened, smiling a little down at the instrument as if it could see her. It was an old friend. An heirloom, just as her mother had said. Lucy had taught herself how to play on this very violin, even when it was far too big for her little hands to properly handle. But she had been determined.

She would play no other violin, learn no other instrument. Only mama’s violin.

Lucy sighed, shifting the case a little so she could sit on the bed as well, still carefully running her fingers across it. The strings were somewhat loose but felt rigid as if they hadn’t been played before, and she guessed that was the case. Leaving it properly tuned for that long could cause the wood to warp, and her father no doubt wanted to make sure it would be in pristine condition should she ever announce a return. Without thinking, she carefully pulled the velcro strap holding the neck in place free and wiggled her hand underneath it to extract it from the case.

For all her fighting with Natsu and the others, there was absolutely no denying that even just holding it again made her feel better. Whole. Complete. Like the world could start again if she could only be so brave as to draw her string across it once more.

Lucy swallowed the lump growing in her throat, setting it down on her knee standing up and carefully reaching for the upper pegs. The hand holding it steady plucked the E-string and she nearly winced at how truly out of tune it really was. That wouldn’t do. So she sucked in a deep breath and, with all the practice she had thought was long gone now, began tuning it again.

It was cathartic, in a way. Just plucking the strings until the notes came out clear and tuned. Lucy had always enjoyed the maintenance aspect of playing, had familiarized herself with the pegs and the fine-tuners well before she dared to play it. Only once that final string rang clear did she release the breath she hadn’t realized she was keeping, closing her eyes again. It was so close. Her fingers practically itched to play more, and she could already feel the tingle of her neck and collarbone where it would rest.

For a second, she nearly did it. Just to feel it again. Just to know if it would even feel the same as it did all those years ago, before the bad memories. Could it ever possible?

Taking another deep breath, Lucy set it back down. Not yet. Not now.

Her fingers trembled a little as she secured it back in place, double checking that the bow had not warped either before closing it and snapping the latches back shut. Plue had come into the room, trained as he was to follow her anxiety and make sure she was fine. He sat at her feet, watching her with his endlessly dark eyes as if a manifestation of her own thoughts - are you alright?

She didn’t know. How could she be, when she had just closed away the world once more?

Lucy rose quickly, keeping the violin in the middle of the bed as she stepped away. She couldn’t deal with this right now, not when there was a million other things that needed to be done before she disappeared for the night. So she carefully scooped it back up by the handle and put it back in the closet - carefully this time. Once it was secured and Lucy was certain it wouldn’t tip or fall over, she grabbed a small duffel bag and began to pack a pair of clothes to change into tomorrow, as well as a clean pair of pajama’s.

There was no time to worry about the lure of the music. She had friends waiting for her. Real friends. Not ones made of string and 400 year old wood. But, as she tried to ignore it, Lucy knew. Something had shifted. Whether she liked it or not.

She was definitely going to strangle Levy for telling Natsu where she worked.

#fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fanficiton #musician au #chasing stars #nalu #elieglory writing

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Overnight

Summary: It may have been a mistake to get off the highway, your car breaking down on an abandoned back road. But just in time a tow truck appears, and the mechanics garage isn't far away... but when you find out the parts will be delivered overnight, you storm off towards town... and somehow find yourself where you least expect.

Pairing: AU Mechanic Chris Evans x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Dubious Consent, AU, Greasy Mechanic Chris, Backroads Fic, Unprotected Sex, Thunderstorms, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, unprotected anal sex, Sloppy Seconds, Kitchen Sex, Dark Chris, Slightly Creepy Fic

A/N: This is a slightly twisted story, i wouldn’t say it was ‘dark’, but it does have a slightly sinister undertone. I’m also tagging it as dub-con (dubious consent) as although reader never says no, she is never asked either. This is very much a work of fiction, and i urge the reader to take responsibility for their online consumption, so ensure you read the warnings before reading and then only proceed once you have accepted what this story may contain. It is not a light and fluffy fic.

I do not operate a tag list, but you can follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, as every time i post a story i will reblog there. I have too many stories to do a masterlist, but you can find my entire back catalgoue on AO3 through THIS LINK.

A while back i also wrote a Seb AU Mechanic fic, and here is the link for that: Caught In The Storm

Overnight

You should NOT have turned off the interstate. Sure, you would be stuck in bumper to bumper tailbacks in the searing heat, but surely it would have been better than this. The further you’d driven, the worse your car had sounded, the metallic clanking sound getting louder and louder the further you drove. Something made a loud THUD and you felt the power steering go, and glancing in your rear-view mirror a large oil patch was appearing behind your car as it slowly started to cough and splutter, before coasting to a halt on the side of the cracked road. As the engine died you thumped the steering wheel, cursing and screaming at the broken piece of junk, before with heavy limbs you pulled yourself from the car.

Standing on the rough gravel at the side of the road, your hands on your hips, you glowered at the car, a faint hiss of steam coming from beneath the hood. The sun beat down and you could feel the heat of the day sinking into your bones, gnats and midges trying to gnaw at your skin as you slapped them angrily away. Dark clouds grew on the horizon but did little to obscure the beating sun high above you.

Checking your cell phone you weren’t surprised to see the no service icon, you were in the middle of nowhere, more likely to be dragged into the surrounding swamp and eaten by god knows what than to be able to call anyone. Just as you were lamenting your woes, the sound of an old diesel engine came rumbling to yours ears, and glancing down the road you saw an ancient tow truck coming into view. Standing in the road you waved your arms to flag the vehicle down; even if it couldn’t help then maybe it could take you to a working phone.

The truck came to a stop in front of your car, and as the engine cut off and the driver’s door opened, you felt your body go tight. The man that climbed down from the cab looked like sin on a Sunday, long denim clad legs striding towards you, ball cap on backwards doing little to shade his face from the pounding sunshine, and a t-shirt that seemed to be painted onto his broad chest and wide shoulders;

“In a spot of trouble there darlin’?”

You let out a huff, you weren’t about to let some back roads hick try and charm his way into your panties… though said panties were suddenly becoming damper by every second he stood close to you. Shaking your head, you stood tall and puffed your chest out;

“My car has died. If I could borrow your phone to call Triple A, I haven’t got any signal on mine…”

The guy looked you up and down, his gaze resting on your chest as a bead of perspiration ran down your neck and between your breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his lips;

“AAA don’t come out here, its subcontracted out to us locals. I’m on my way back to the garage now if you want a tow Sweetheart?”

Letting out a deep sigh you nodded, returning to your car to grab your purse as the man started to unreel the towing line and called out to you;

“Hop up into the cab Princess, this won’t take a moment”

Rolling your eyes at the pet names you bit your tongue; the guy was after all helping you out. Gripping the handle of the tow trucks door you looked down at the old worn paintwork ‘Evans Autos’. You quickly fished your phone out of your bag and snapped a shot, setting it to upload to the iCloud once you got in range of any signal… at least that way if this greasy backroads mechanic chopped you into little pieces you had left a trail of evidence.

Pulling the door open you let out a small yelp when you came face to face with a big brown dog sitting on the passenger seat;

“Scoot!”

The dog looked at you with utter disdain, and firmly remained sat on the seat. Waving your hands a little you frowned at it;

“C’mon, scoot over!”

Over the sound of the towing winch whining at it pulled your car up onto the truck, you heard the mechanic call out;

“You’ll have to climb over Dodge… he likes the window seat”

Turning back to the big mutt you could have sworn it had a smug ‘so there’ look on its face, and as you climbed up and around the dog, you sat in the middle of the wide bench seat. Looking around you couldn’t find any seatbelts, so just sat with your hands firmly clasped in your lap. The sounds of lockers being shut hit your ears before the driver’s door opened and the mechanic climbed into the seat next to you and grinned;

“Best hold on Babe, it’s a bumpy ride to the garage”

“I’ll be fine, thanks” you muttered as he gunned the engine and pulled away.

He hadn’t been lying; the roads were atrocious. With each bump and pothole you were bounced closer to him, the dog the other side of you seemingly able to spread out across not only his seat but part of yours. You could have sworn the mechanic was aiming for every single bump possible just to be able to watch your breasts bounce as the truck hit each stone.

With each jolt and jiggle your thigh was pressed closer and closer against his, and when the truck hit a huge hole in the road you felt yourself almost lifted from the seat, suddenly pinned back by his strong arm quickly thrown across your torso to hold you down and from slipping from the seat. The skin of his tattooed bicep was pressed against the exposed neckline and chest, his scent invading your senses; a warm spicy aftershave and motor oil and gasoline. You could feel your panties getting wetter as your legs parted so you could plant your feet on the dusty floor of the truck but it did little to alleviate the aching between your thighs.

Finally he slowed the truck and turned the wheel into a sharp left-hand turn, the truck bouncing along a gravel driveway until an old wooden auto shop came into view. Pulling the truck to a stop he climbed out, holding his hand out for you;

“Dodge likes to sleep in the cab…”

Rolling your eyes you took his hand and climbed out as gracefully as you could, your short sundress sticking to the seat before you yanked it down to retain what was left of your dignity;

“So Babycakes, there’s a coupla’ chairs round the side if you want to take a seat whilst I look at your car, and an icebox on the counter just inside the shop, help yourself to a water”

“Umm, thanks”

You glanced at the time on your phone. You’d been waiting three hours; the sound of your car being taken to pieces by the mechanic was all you’d heard for most of that time. The only thing that seemed to have changed in those three hours was the humidity rising and the storm clouds coming closer. Rising to your feet you stretched your limbs and turned the corner of the auto shop, glancing at the mechanic as he lay on the floor below your sorry looking car as it was raised on the hydraulic lift;

“Sir?”

“Chris”

“What?”

“It’s Chris, not Sir…”

“Ok, Chris. Do you know how much longer it’ll be?”

Chris pulled himself out from beneath your car, wiping his hands on a rag that was hanging from the back pocket of his jeans;

“For today, I’ll probably be done in an hour…”

“Great!”

“... but I need to overnight the parts I need, so it won’t be ready until tomorrow”

“What? When were you going to tell me that?”

“I’ve just ordered the parts Honey”

You let out a grunt of frustration;

“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow… you could have told me sooner”

You turned on your heel and started to walk away;

“Where ya’ goin’?”

“To find a motel, or a guesthouse, or somewhere to stay at!”

“On foot?!”

“YES!”

You had stormed off, anger driving your feet as your white sneakers slowly got covered in brown dust that puffed up from the gravel driveway with every step you took towards the road. Finally you reached the cracked asphalt, taking a sharp right-hand turn and you started along the road. By now the humidity was hanging in the air and it felt like you were walking through soup. Even the midges had given up, their tiny wings not strong enough to cut through the cloying stillness. The sun was now obscured by dark clouds, but you continued on. Finally a crossroads came into view, and you willed your heat-tired muscles to push on, coming to the sign and stopping. The shortest distance was to take a right, so scrambling over the accumulated gravel you continued your journey.

An hour later your legs were weary. Your dress clung to your skin as sweat beaded across your brow, down your chest and back. You held your arms out as you walked, hoping just by moving they would cool your skin, but having little affect.

Finally a small house came into view, further buildings behind it mostly hidden by trees. The hair on your arms stood on end with Goosebumps and you could smell petrichor on the air, you knew the storm was about to break. Quickening your step you found the energy to trot down the rest of the way, past the worn mailbox with most of the letters worn away, the last three just spelling out ‘van’, but you were oblivious, the first raindrop hitting your skin and you sprinted towards the house.

By the time you reached the porch the parts of your dress that weren’t stuck to your skin due to sweat were doing so thanks to the rain. A crack of thunder boomed as a flash of lightning lit the sky, and as you cowered under the porch you heard a bark and a very wet brown dog suddenly ran for cover, shivering on the doorstep. Another crack of thunder made you jump, and the dog cowered against you, you crouching down to wrap your arms around the scared creature. Looking at the name tag that hung from its collar you read it; ‘Dodger’, and your heart plummeted to your stomach. Before you could even fathom what had happened, a familiar voice was behind you;

“You were walking over an hour and you still manage to find your way back here?”

Turning you looked out to the lawn where Chris stood, the rain pouring over him, his t-shirt stuck to every curve of his body and his jeans hanging low on his narrow hips. Slowly striding towards you he wiped the rain from his face as he stepped under the porch, reaching around you and opening the door to the small cabin;

“You took a right and another right, didn’t ya?”

“How did you…?”

“Well, if you hadn’t stormed off in a huff, I woulda told you to turn left at the end of the driveway. Instead walked a giant triangle and found yourself back here”

You let out a strangled noise, not quite a cry, not quite a scream, before your body sagged;

“Can you… can you give me a ride into town?”

“Nope”

“No?!”

“The town is tiny. All we got is a church, a market, and a drug store. Nearest motel ain’t for thirty miles, and you wouldn’t wanna stay there… unless you like cockroaches”

You could feel your bottom lip quiver, trying to hold back the tears before Chris’s voice softened;

“I got a couch you can stay on, no funny business, no obligations…”

He was close, so close. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and you found your mouth moving before your brain could stop it;

“What if I wanted funny business?”

There was no more preamble, no more hesitating, he stepped forwards, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other on your waist as he pulled your body flush against his own, his lips meeting yours.

The kiss was fierce, your mouth willingly opening as his tongue pushed against your own, dancing together as you tasted one another. His hand on your hip pulled at your dress, curling it up in his fingers until your skin was there to touch, his large hand gripping the soft cheek of your ass. He pushed you back, the hardness of the wooden clapperboards of his cabin rough against your skin, but you were blissfully unaware of it. He pressed one leg between yours and you ground your hips against the firm denim clad muscle of his thigh, in turn the thick hardness that was growing between your bodies he rubbed against your hip, moaning into your mouth as the friction helped release some of the tension that had built during the day.

Snaking a hand between your bodies, your dress had already ridden up so he was easily able to slide a hand into your panties, leaving streaks of motor oil across the pale fabric as he sought out your clit. Pushing two wide fingers down he found your soaked entrance and gathered some of your wetness, before bringing his fingers back and rubbing firm circles against your sensitive bud. His lips parted from yours, resting his forehead to your own for a moment you panted into his mouth, the air between you hot and thick, before those kiss plump lips make their way to your neck, sucking and licking at your jugular as his beard scratched against your skin.

Your head lolled back and rested against the wooden side of the building, the storm raging around you as you felt your orgasm starting to build. Your hands clung to Chris’s strong arms, his skin patterned with tattoos that you yearned to run your fingertips over tenderly. Your body started to shake, your orgasm growing closer as that coil in the pit of your stomach wound ever tighter, your hand finding its way to the firm bulge that was pressing against your hip, and as you squeezed the hot muscle through the denim you started to come, Chris’s mouth finding your own against as he swallowed your cries of passion.

He stilled his fingers as you trembled against him, quickly unfastening the buttons of his fly and pushing the garment down just enough to free his thick cock, taking hold of your thighs as he lifted you. With strong hands he gripped at your panties before ripping them from your body, the ruined pieces of cotton falling to the floor at your feet. You felt the wide tip press against your still trembling entrance and with a grunt he thrust into you, filling you completely as you screamed out his name.

You clung to him as he started to fuck you roughly against the wall, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting being drowned out by the storm now wild overhead. With each thrust your body was sent to heavy, the thick stretch of him inside you making your legs tremble as he held one leg over his hip, letting you try and keep the other held up as he pawed at your breasts, pulling your dress and bra down until you spilled out, your tits bouncing with each of his powerful thrusts.

No words were spoken, your moans the only thing that could leave your lips as Chris fucked you so hard you were sure you’d never be able to close your legs again and made roadkill of your pelvis with his powerful thrusts. You were trembling around him and you were getting closer and closer to coming again. His lips were on your neck again and muttering the dirtiest things in your ear;

“Are you gonna cum on my cock babe? Make me fill you with my cum until its dripping down your legs… you’re squeezing me so damn tight, gonna pump you full then take you inside, make you sit on my face, would you like that? Wanna feel my tongue on your cunt?”

“Oh fuck… Chris, yes… fuck, keep going…”

He laughed quietly before picking up speed, the slapping sound of his heavy sac against your ass filling your ears as the wide root of his cock rubbed and dragged against your clit. With a grind of his hips you were coming, your fingernails clinging to his back as you shook with pleasure, triggering his own orgasm as he pumped hot ropes of creamy seed deep within your womb.

Holding you against the wall, he kissed you, his tongue working against your own before he slowly pulled out of you, letting your feet fall to the floor. Your head swam from the pleasure surging through your body, only partially aware of Chris pulling his jeans up enough to keep them on his hips before he wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you inside.

Moments later you were being dropped onto a large bed, the covers messy from when the previous occupant had simply gotten up and dressed that morning, and you watched as Chris stripped his soaked clothes from his body before crawling onto the bed, his gaze feral as he pressed a line of kisses up your sternum before his lips found yours again. His fingers worked deftly against the ties of your wrap summer dress, pulling it open and helping you to wriggle out of it; all whilst his lips never left yours.

Finally he pulled away, his strong arms bulging as he flipped you over and pulled your hips up until you were resting on your knees. His wide tongue pulled a thick stripe through your cum soaked folds, from clit to asshole, before grinding his face against your crotch. His tongue was everywhere, sucking on your clit before moving to your well fucked entrance, then moving up and pressing against the tight ring of muscle between your asscheeks. With more insistence he pushed his tongue against your back door and you sighed into the old sheets below you, your fingers curling in the cotton as he slid two thick fingers into your soaked channel whilst his tongue worked against your asshole. When his thumb found your clit a shockwave bolted through you, your scream into the mattress from sheer pleasure as you unashamedly ground back against him, moaning his name as your legs shook. He pulled his mouth away and spat on your asshole, working a finger in up to the knuckle and you started to cum, his fingers in your cunt rubbing against that spongy spot whilst his thumb worked figure eights over your clit, and you found yourself squirting your release as you screamed with pleasure.

You were aware of Chris pulling away, your body trembling and fluid in the prone position. You heard the quiet click of the cap of a bottle before a cool viscous liquid was slowly spread over your ass. The touch of Chris’s fingers exploring your most hidden of places had you pushing back against his touch, relaxing as he slid two oiled fingers slowly into your ass, massaging you, stretching you. By now you were drooling, your tongue working against the cotton sheet as you bore down as he pushed a third finger into your ass, the quiet squirt of more oil being applied directly inside you had you knowing what was coming, and humming a low moan as you felt his fingers pull away only to be replaced with the well-oiled fat crown of his cock.

Turning your head you watched as he pushed the wide mushroom into your tight ring of muscle, groaning as your secret walls gripped him so hard. His large hands pulled your cheeks apart and he spat on his dick as he started to push into you, filling you, parting your walls with his meaty girth. You could feel every vein and ridge as he pushed harder, reaching around and rubbing at your clit whilst he rocked his hips back and forth before he was finally balls deep in your ass.

“So fuckin’ good, feel so tight around my dick Baby, taking me so well... “

His mouth was as dirty as you had hoped, praising you for taking his dick in your ass as he started to fuck you, pushing his legs open to widen your own and allow him in even deeper. Your hands scrambled at the covers trying to find something to grip onto, some sort of purchase, before he was suddenly pulling your arms behind your back and gripping your wrists with his massive hands. Folding your arms across your sweat drenched back he used them to anchor himself as he fucked your ass even harder, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you as your empty cunt ached to be filled. As if reading your thoughts - or you could even have said it aloud, who knows you were so high on pleasure - he grasped your arms in one large hand before curling the other arm beneath you, pushing three fingers into your soaked pussy as he fucked your ass so hard you doubted you’d be able to sit down for a week without feeling it.

“Fuck… gonna cum Baby, gonna fill this ass with cum so deep…”

“Yes... Chris, FUCK, fuck my ass, I want your cum…”

“My fucking gorgeous anal cum slut, your cunt is gorgeous, but I’m gonna fuck this ass from now on… never had an ass this good, this tight… gonna have you gaping by the time I’ve finished with you… my cum dripping down your legs, gonna make sure you never wear panties again, need you ready for me to bend you over and push my dick up this tight ass to fill you with another load…”

Your orgasm took over, gripping Chris’s dick and fingers so hard it set his orgasm off, a second wave of your orgasm so intense that as you felt your body milking Chris, the room went dark and you blacked out.

The room was dark, the sound of rain outside soothing to your ears as you tried to figure out where you were, then snippets of your memory came back; your car, the garage, Chris… the storm… fucking him… Turning you saw him quietly asleep beside you, you winced as your muscles protested against moving, but the need for water and the bathroom was too much as you quickly slipped out of the room.

Having found the bathroom, you attempted to clean yourself up a little before walking through the small cabin to the kitchen, taking a glass from the counter before filling it and drinking the whole thing at the sink and filling it again. Two warm hands wrapped themselves around your naked body from behind, warm lips and a rough beard found your neck and Chris started to kiss along your shoulders, his hands finding your naked breasts as he cupped them whilst grinding his hard dick into the crease of your ass. Setting the glass down you spread your legs a little wider, and a warm hum of appreciation reverberated through Chris’s chest as he dipped his hips whilst pushing you forwards over the old porcelain sink, the smooth crown of his dick pushing against your used asshole, and you felt the pop as he sank into your cum soaked walls.

Groaning as you leaned forwards and gripped the cool porcelain, you opened yourself up for him as he ploughed into your murky depths, his thick thighs pushing your legs wide apart before he lifted one of your knees until it was resting on the countertop, your other foot only just reaching the floor as you were stood on your toes, Chris fucking your ass harder this time, gripping your hips as he filled you again and again. His hands moved to your breasts and he pinched your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling the hardened teats until they were painfully hard. Snaking his hands up your front he wrapped his fingers over your shoulders so he could pull you back onto him harder, his thrusts increasing in speed. Your cunt was leaking juices down your inner thighs, and with each thrust his heavy sac would slap against it, reminding you of its emptiness, and you found yourself begging;

“Chris please… fill my pussy…”

Chuckling he pulled one hand down and spat on it before pushing three fingers into you, all whilst continuing to fill your ass with his fat cock;

“You like that? You like having all your holes stuffed? You’re just begging to be filled, used, fucked…”

“Oh fuck… harder… fuck me harder…”

With a grunt he increased the speed of his thrusts, the front of your thighs pushing painfully against the sink, your leg muscles screaming at the way you were stretched wide open, but the pleasure was too intense to stop, you needed it, you needed the release.

You came again and Chris fucked you straight through it, somehow finding the skill to fuck you even harder, sliding a fourth finger into your slick channel as he stretched you so wide. Your head swam, the sound of the storm outside closing the world in around you, and as you came again so did he, filling your ass with another load of his cum.

Afterwards he carried you to his bed, wrapping his hard body around yours as you fell into a dreamless sleep, the reality of the world far far away.

Handing over the keys you smiled at Chris as you took them from him. Your body ached and was sore beyond belief, but it was certainly a night to remember. You had slept in until well past midday, only waking when your stomach had growled from not eating anything. Picking at some leftovers in Chris’s fridge, you’d found your soaked sundress draped over the back of a kitchen chair, pulling it on you shivered at the damp touch of the fabric before you’d stepped out of the cabin and found Chris fitting the parts he’d had on overnight delivery to your car. The bill had been more than you had expected - the parts costing more than you had in your purse - so when Chris had smirked at you and suggested an alternative payment, you had sighed with pleasure as he’d fucked you bent over the hood of your car, his dick filling your cunt as he had three fingers stretching your ass. You’d cum so hard you were left shaking, and he had pulled out just before he came only to push an inch into your ass and fill you with another load of his cum.

With your keys in hand you kissed him, your tongues sloppy before you pulled away just as the sound of tyres could be heard on the rough gravel of his driveway, another tow truck pulling up alongside Chris’s.

Sitting in your car you gave him a wave as you pulled away, watching the garage disappear into the distance before you turned your attention onto the road ahead, pulling out onto the dry again asphalt, another summer storm starting to gather on the horizon.

Not thirty minutes later you were standing at the side of the road, kicking the flat tyre before screaming out at the sky in frustration. You checked your cell phone, groaning when you saw the out of service sign, before stashing it back in your purse.

The sound of an old diesel engine could be heard in the distance, and you looked up to the sky before closing your eyes;

“No… it can’t be…”

Taking a deep breath with your eyes still closed, you heard the engine get closer until it came to an idle beside you, and familiar voice greeting you;

“Baby… you need a ride?”

Chris hopped out of the cab, slipping his hand beneath your dress and giving your ass a squeeze;

“Gotta watch out for that sharp gravel, it’ll blow tyres out real bad…”

Sitting in the cab you watched as Chris hooked your car back onto the tow truck, before ducking back inside the truck, this time just the two of you;

“Where’s Dodger?”

“Sleeping on the porch… Now, we’re gonna have to order you a new tyre Baby…”

“Let me guess, it’ll be delivered overnight?”

He leant back and started to unbutton his jeans;

“You never got to taste my dick last night… how about you try it now whilst I finger that ass ready for the next round? Huh Baby?”

Settling onto your knees on the wide seat, you took him into your mouth, sucking him as he started the truck, unaware of the rusty nail that he dropped into the pocket of the door, a small piece of tyre rubber still attached to it… he’d found you, and he wasn’t about to let you drive off into the sunset...

#chris evans fanfic #mechanic Chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #dub-con #dubious consent #chris evans smut #dark fic

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

Note

Could you please do the cute and awkward hcs for the undateables if it interests you please ☺️

This has been sitting here a while. Lets take a stab at it ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭

This turned out really long and became all Diavolo so expect Solomon, Simeon and Barbatos sometime later. Luke is baby so he may not be included. Or his will all just be fluff cannons. I tried to make it about all of them, okay? Somehow I just got carried away with Diavolo

Diavolo

This guy may be a 5,000+ year old Prince of Hell but he still has the mentality of a child. You have definitely been shoved under his desk or the dining table if someone (advisors, Barbatos, etc.) caught you two together when you weren’t supposed to be

Some of them think it’s cute, some of them think the Prince needs to behave and schedule your time like an adult. They assume all of those awkward shoving instances are just him trying to hide you (because you distract him from his princely duties) but at least two of those times were getting him worked up under the table ;)

Diavolo is basically a walking, talking puppy. Just so happy to see you and so full of love and joy for you. He’s literally dropped whole conversations to throw his arms open and greet you because it would be rude of him not to

When he starts to catch feels there’s no throwing his arms open or big, joyous laugh. He actually becomes more subdued because he’s trying to pump up that charm. And he’s secretly a shy boy.

His eyes turn this peculiar, noticeable shade of gold that is so very different and almost impossible to describe with human words when he’s feeling frisky. Or when he’s serious.

Being princely and of royal blood, any demonic traits the bros or lesser demons have (mind control, charming people, etc.) are basically cranked up to 11. He’s accidentally hypnotized you into focusing only on him when he secretly wished for your attention. It was in the beginning stages when he was kind of jealous/shy about others stealing you away. Diavolo’s over a thousand years old. He honestly forgot he could do it, okay?

Loves to steal you away from the House of Lamentation and have quiet sleepovers that are basically dates

Diavolo just has this THING for seeing you in silk and jewelry and all the fine things just collecting dust in the castle. It brings life to the dull formalities of his life

Seriously. His favorite thing to do is plop you down (tease and throw you) into his silk sheets and watch them flutter around you. IT. JUST. DOES. IT

Ride his thighs. Touch his chest. Give this guy literally ANY affection and the kingdom is yours

Likes to regale you with stories of demon culture (that humans think are myths) and anyone who watches (Barbatos, checking in) can’t tell who looks more star-struck--you or him

He might have had the Little D’s scare you so you grab onto him. Hold his arm, hug him...whatever.

If he’s caught naked or semi-naked, he forgets to be a demon and pull out the charm. He just turns super awkward and almost trips/rips the towel trying to cover himself.

When he’s in his demon form, trace his jewelry. It makes his pupils do this weird hyperfocus thing and he just starts cooing/purring to you. He’ll play with it, too, like he’s teaching you how to hold it

Has a size kink and is weak for your soft skin. Sit on his face and smother him. It is his one desire.

Not a morning person whatsoever. If you spend the night, he whines and burrows into you. Expects you to wrap your arms around his head and do your best to protect him from Barbatos

A leg and thigh man. Also a sucker for those little accidental glimpses of skin

Diavolo is a traditional romantic so expect flowers and chocolates but he’s absently showy so there will be GARDENS of roses and probably dates where chocolate is made IN THE DEMON LORD’S CASTLE by experts

Break him out of the castle for date night once in a while, even if it’s something simply reckless like darting out the nearest window and having him fly you through the Devildom. It’ll be one of your best memories

This loveable himbo is 100% down for wearing “disguises” to sneak past Barbatos and go out in to the Devildom (like to AkuDonalds!) but doesn’t realize his way of speaking and posture give him away

Sleeps in silk boxers and a plain tee shirt. No one knows where he picked it up from.

The second you two are officially a thing, he’s slowly sneaking in matching hand towels and small couple things into the castle

Surprise him by taking a tray of lunch in (instead of Barbatos) and he might just even eat pickles for you

Did you take the royal dogs for a walk and say something about ‘bringing them back to daddy’? They’re officially your kids now.

Give him sneak attack kisses and you get this big, bassy purr that somehow beats out Beel’s and maybe does something to your human brain. You’re not sure what, but your brain definitely does something.

Hurting for money or just wanting to earn some Grimm? You’ll be temporarily hired on as help for the castle. He’ll even have an outfit waiting ❤️

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years ago

Text

Camping Trip - July 27th

Contents: talks of various sexual things, drinking

[8:48]

“Okay,” Nayeon grinned. “I think it’s about time for ‘never have I ever’.”

“I concur,” Called Bora from her place next to Siyeon, clearly already tipsy.

“Can’t say no to that,” Jihyo agreed. You had wandered over earlier with Yoohyeon to find that all the girls who had come on the trip were sitting around with drinks and chatting. You joined them. It was not at all surprising to hear Nayeon’s suggestion.

You dropped down onto a blanket between Yoohyeon and Sana, getting comfortable. You cracked open the hard apple cider in your hand, already a little buzzed, while everyone crowded over. Quickly, a circle formed, Nayeon looking out over the group with mischief in her eye. You knew sooner or later it would come around to you but she wasn’t staring you down just yet.

“Let’s start easy,” Nayeon said. “Never have I ever used a fake ID.”

“Why do I not believe that,” you chuckled to Yoohyeon. Everyone looked around the group. Laughter flitted through the air at the confident way Bora took a sip. Handong also took a sip, nearly getting away with it without anyone noticing.

“Hey!” Gahyeon called, almost looking betrayed. “No way! You’re too sweet for that.”

Handong quirked an eyebrow at her. “I simply choose when to let out my wild side.”

“You’re smarter than most of us,” Jeongyeon called. “Alright, never have I ever been skinny dipping.”

Half the group cried out and protested while taking sips of their drinks. You chuckled to yourself as you drank from your cider, resting back on your hand as the breeze blew past your face.

“Wait, have you really never gone?” Questioned Nayeon.

“Clearly you are not the corrupting influence you claim to be,” Jeongyeon laughed, most of the group joining her.

Nayeon gave her a smirk, running her fingers along Jeongyeon’s thigh. “We’re fixing that this week.”

“Get a room!” Dahyun called, throwing a pillow at them as they started laughing.

“Okay, my turn,” Siyeon said, leaning against Bora a little in her tipsy state. Her gaze turned to you. “Never have I ever had sex in someone’s office.”

You held her gaze as you took the sip, only just noticing Jeongyeon and Momo drinking too.

“Okay now I’m curious,” Sana pressed, looking back and forth at you both.

“Mine was during the school year,” Momo said.

“A professor?!” Jihyo explained.

“T.A.” Momo replied. “They had such a nice T.A. lounge.” She looked at you. “And you?”

“I- What about Jeongyeon?”

“Also at another job,” she called.

“Fine,” you grumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I might have spent some time in the pool office.”

“I knew Hongseok was gonna get to you!” Nayeon cried as everyone let out “ooos.” You could tell from the look on her face that she was now planning to one up him.

“Okay okay, we can move on now.” You said.

“Cool,” Bora giggled. “Uhhhhh, never have I ever gotten a lap dance.” Most of the group drank from their drinks. Bora brought Siyeon’s drink to her lips. “Drink up.”

Everyone let out squeals and giggles as Siyeon’s face turned red. “I-I When did you give me a lap dance?”

Bora leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made Siyeon even more flustered. You chuckled to yourself. It was too funny how easily she got affected by the things Bora said. At this point you weren't sure if Bora was just messing with her if there was something there.

“Okay well, while they have a moment,” Gahyeon said. “Never have I ever given a lap dance.”

“That’s not a surprise,” Handong teased from across the circle. Gahyeon flushed pink while Momo, Bora, Nayeon, Yoohyeon, and Sana drank.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gahyeon grumbled.

Chaeyoung patted her on the back, snickering. “It’s alright, it’ll happen when you’re ready.”

“I never said I wanted to!” She cried.

Chaeyoung was still laughing as she took her turn. “Never have I ever eaten whipped cream right out of the can.”

“Okay that was an attack,” Dahyun whined, taking a drink. Everyone burst out laughing but you noticed a few others also drinking.

“And we have all eaten things that would be disgusting if anyone caught us. Whipped cream out of the can is a middle of the night existential crisis snack” She added. “Never have I ever faked an orgasm.”

Chaeyoung gave her a pout before drinking. You noticed Jihyo, Handong, and Momo drinking too. You bit your lip. You didn’t fake it with Wonwoo so you didn’t think it counted. Even if it almost felt like you should drink for it.

“This is sad,” Nayeon lamented.

“Are you planning to rectify it yourself?” Jeongyeon teased. Nayeon swung a pillow at her while you all laughed.

“Alright,” Said Jihyo loudly, sounding tipsy. “Never have I ever lied during never have I ever.”

Jeonghyeon and Handong quietly sipped and the group erupted with protests.

“I’m not telling any of you what I lied about,” Handong grinned.

“Same,” said Jeongyeon. “I like to keep something for myself.”

As the yelling died down Yoohyeon next to you sat up a little taller. “Never have I ever,” she sided eyed you. “Had sex in the music studio.”

You and Siyeon both snorted and took sips of your drink while everyone laughed or let out an “ooo”

“I had fun with you, babe,” she called to you with a wink.

“We should record more,” you said, blowing her a kiss. The whole group squealed and you laughed as Bora looked between the two of you.

“I can’t believe I miss all the fun stuff,” she whined.

“Yeah Siyeon,” you teased. “Invite Bora next time.”

“Why don’t you take your turn,” she hissed.

“Fine, never have I ever,” you looked over at Yoohyeon. “Had sex in the pool.”

Yoohyeon blushed deeply as she sipped her drink while Jihyo sat up almost more proudly and took a drink.

“Wait, together?” Chaeyoung asked as everyone watched them curiously.

“I don’t need to kiss and tell,” Jihyo said. Yoohyeon only blushed more and the whole group cried out and laughed again.

After a few moments the group calmed enough for Sana to speak. “Alright, never have I ever had a dick in my mouth.”

Everyone laughed at her admission, no one was all that surprised. Much of the group took casual sips before the attention turned to Momo.

“Hmm, never have I ever called someone Mommy in bed before.”

Sana blushed a deep red as she drank and excitement erupted again. It only got worse as Jihyo cleared her throat at Yoohyeon who also drank.

“Uhhh, excuse you!” Nayeon called to Jihyo across the group. A slight blush dusted her cheeks as she slowly took a sip of her drink too. No one calmed down as everyone laughed and chattered with each other about the admission. It took a few minutes before Handong was able to take her turn.

“Alright, never have I ever had a crush on one of my coworkers here.”

Everyone burst into excitement and it was almost hard to keep up with everything that happened. Nayeon, Momo, and Chaeyoung drank easily and proudly. Siyeon took a shaky sip, staring down at her can and completely missing how Bora looked her up and down as she took a sip of her own drink. Jihyo and Yoohyeon looked at each other blushing but didn’t drink. Sana took her sip as quietly as she could. Tzuyu tried very hard to hide her sip too.

Handong pointed right at Gahyeon. “Drink!”

“I don’t like-” She tried to protest.

“If you say you don’t like Chan you’re lying.” Handong said.

“I don’t!” She protested. “I definitely don’t!”

“Drink!” Handong insisted. “And stop lying to yourself.”

“Speaking of which,” Siyeon piped up, pointing at you. “You too!”

“I don’t like anyone?!” You laughed.

“Oh please,” She said.

“Don’t tell us there’s nothing between you and Wonwoo,” Jihyo said.

“Wonwoo?!” You laughed, heart racing from the absurdity of it. “I mean okay we fool around but there’s no feelings there.”

“Suuuuure,” Said Yoohyeon.

“Okay none of you know what you’re talking about,” you rolled your eyes. “Also Tuzyu, why were you trying to hide the fact that you drank too?” Tzuyu blushed deeply as she started to stutter shyly.

“Ohhhh tell us!” Nayeon said.

“Yes, tell us,” Handong added.

“I-I,” she looked down at her drink. “I just think Seokmin is really cute.”

Everyone let out squeals and “awws” at her wholesome her confession was. You bit back your grin. They liked each other. It was perfect. All you had to do was get Seokmin to stop questioning himself.

“I guess I should go?” Tzuyu asked shyly. Everyone encouraged her. “Never have I ever given someone a hickey.”

Everyone gave her more “awws” and Handong leaned in to say something which made her smile while very few drank.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Gahyeon whined. “Why are you so nice to her when she hasn’t done something but I get sass?”

“If you don’t want sassy don’t treat me with so much sass,” Handong teased.

Everyone laughed as Gahyeon threw a pillow across the group at her.

#cns au #camp north star au #dreamcatcher imagines #twice imagines

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greatbigbellies · 4 years ago

Text

New commission story. This is an anonymous commission about a dysfunctional couple who wind up pregnant with sextuplets! Contains heavy multiples pregnancy, stuffing, humiliation, and discomfort.

They had been dating for three months, and living together for one, and Morgan was already at his wits end. Lilith, his girlfriend, was lovely, and sweet, and pretty, and all the things he wanted in a girl… but she was also ungodly frustrating because of one reason, and one reason only: she refused to do ANYTHING that might be considered work.

She was between jobs, hadn’t so much as taken out the trash, and still hadn’t unpacked from moving in with Morgan! Now he made good money. Morgan could support the two of them and then some, and he didn’t want a maid for a girlfriend, but what he did want was some backup. Coming home from work every day to see Lilith sitting on the couch playing videogames, with a sink full of dirty dishes, a can full of trash, and a pile of takeout containers was absolutely grating.

So finally, he hatched a plan. Something almost cartoonishly vindictive, but it had to be done, as far as Morgan was concerned. He’d ruin her. He’d knock her up, stuff her full of food, and watch her inflate like a balloon. If she wasn’t going to move, then he’d make her physically incapable of moving! Multiples ran in both of their families, so with any luck, she’d land pregnant with more than one. He also did all of the cooking. ALL of it. So sneaking fertility meds into her meals wouldn’t be too difficult either, he’d decided. And so, his campaign of corpulence began.

13 Weeks

“Nrrrrggghhh… come ON! Damnit!” Lilith swore as she attempted to button her favorite jeans. They had been holding up well through the first trimester, stretching with her skin, but that was starting to change. Of course, a lot had changed in the last 3 months… she’d found herself pregnant, with SEXTUPLETS no less, and was dealing with the ramifications poorly. She’d been stress eating a lot, something Morgan had been enabling quite a bit, and her tummy was already showing some growth. Both from food and babies, her waistline had a definite visible baby bump, and her belly button was flattened and preparing to pop.

“What’s wrong?” asked Morgan as he stepped into the room, a smile in his voice. He looked to see her wearing just jeans and a bra, fighting with the waistline of her pants. “I’m too big for my favorite pair of jeans! These have the cute patches in them!” she lamented. “Oh babe...” he trailed off, circling around to her front. He pulled something out of his pocket and knelt down. She eyed him suspiciously, not sure where he was going with this. He revealed the item to be a thin rubber band, which he stuck through the button hole and wrapped both ends around the base of the button. “Voila!” he grinned. She frowned in return. “Really? A rubber band? They’re not buttoned properly, people will judge me!” “Babe, we’re just going to the mall, it’ll be fine, now put a shirt on and do your makeup so we can get going!” he urged. “Are we going by JCPenny’s to get me a bigger wardrobe?” she asked. Morgan had turned to leave but stopped at the question. He had to think of an excuse quickly.

“Not yet…” he said. “But I’ll get my quarterly bonus soon, then we’ll go clothes shopping then!” he lied. She crossed her arms and glared at him, somewhat temperamental from pregnancy hormones. “You’re really going to make me walk around with unbuttoned pants and a top that rides up because you want to wait for a bonus?!” he grumped. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “We can’t be all willy-nilly with money anymore, Lilith, we have six kids on the way!” he retorted. Her face tightened, then softened. He was right. She rubbed her tummy and sighed. “Yeah, okay, what’s like… one more week with tight clothes? Your bonus is coming in soon right?” He nodded, “Any day now,”

20 weeks

7 more weeks came and went, and Lilith saw no sign of that bonus… or her feet. Now looking full term with one baby, Morgan had been doing a number on her figure. All of the weight seemed to gravitate to her midriff, and so her tummy grew both with child and with a thin layer of fat. Still despite the small wrapping of chub, her bellybutton managed to work its way into a full fledged outie, about as big around as her thumb.

She sat on the couch in her usual spot, playing a first person shooter on the console, but it didn’t feel the same anymore. She’d gotten in an argument with Morgan before he went to work. A conversation about job prospects got ugly when Morgan pointed out she was too visibly pregnant for anyone to hire her. “Get comfy babe,” he’d said, almost mockingly, “You’re not going anywhere for a while,” There was some yelling, and swearing, and Morgan ended up stomping out the door, it was an all around rotten day.

That was, until the door opened, to reveal Morgan carrying what had to be $40+ dollars in takeout from Lilith’s favorite restaurant. “Oh my god, babe, what’s all this?” she asked, turning to watch him. “I felt bad about our fight earlier, so I bought enough food to keep you and the babies happy, as a gesture of good will,” he explained. “Oh, honey, that’s so sweet of you, but I already had dinner! I-” “All the better!” he cut her off. “You’re eating for seven now, and the doc said to let you eat as much as you could, so…” he set the bags on the coffee table beside her. Morgan smiled down at Lilith, looking at her with those cold steel blue eyes. Lilith brushed some of her bright blue hair behind her ear and broke eye contact. “I don’t know hon… that’s a lot of food there…” she trailed off.

Morgan sat next to her, between Lilith and the food, and placed a hand on her bare midriff, running a palm over her stretching skin. “I know it feels like a lot, but this is for the babies! We have to get them up to weight by the time you’re full term, and the only way to do that is to eat everything your stomach can handle,” he explained, somewhat firmly. She sighed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, for the babies,” she took the first of three heaping takeout containers full of teriyaki chicken, chow mein, and rice, and got to work.

Morgan kept close to make sure she ate every last bite, only getting up to bring her water when she asked for it. The first box went down pretty quickly, her pregnant appetite getting the best of her. The second was remarkably slower, and Morgan could see it filling out her tummy, causing it to push farther out, just slightly. By the time they hit the third box, she was struggling. “Babe I’m too full… I’m done,” she whined in protest. “Nope, you need to finish what you started,” Morgan said, once again rather firmly. “Morgan I’m gonna throw up if I push it any more…” He took the plastic fork and gathered a mix of rice, chicken, and noodles, and slowly delivered it to her mouth. “Just one more bite, for the babies,” he smiled coyly. She begrudgingly took the bite and began chewing, brushing her blue hair out of her sweaty face.

She was the fullest she’d ever felt, her belly feeling overstretched from a combination of growing babies and filled stomach. The pressure radiated from her midriff to make her whole body uncomfortable. She was miserable, and Morgan knew it. He tried not to show his enjoyment, but the truth was this was going better than he could have hoped for. 6 babies would leave her massive, and his mission to stuff her with every calorie under the sun was going smoothly. At this rate, they’d need a bigger bed to both fit on, an expense he was more than willing to make happen.

33 weeks

Lilith’s flip-flops pattered against her feet as she waddled toward the mall food court, moving as quickly as she could, which admittedly wasn’t very quick at all in her state. Wearing shorts that were stretched to capacity, held up with Morgan’s rubber band trick, and a “PINK” tank top that functioned more as a bra than anything else, she blushed red as she made her way. Everyone, from the young to the elderly, stared at her, or more specifically, her massive, mountainous middle. She was rivalling octomom in size, and the bigger she got, the more Morgan found excuses to take her out. He held her hand and tugged her along, leading the charge to the burger joint.

“Babe everyone is staring! I want to go home!” she hissed at him. He turned to give her a side-eyed look and hiss back “You’ll be fine. Now come on, the babies are hungry!” the pair rounded a corner and Lilith came face-to-face with her highschool BFF. Gwen. “Lilith?” she asked, recognizing the hair color. “Y-yeah…” stammered Lilith. Morgan beamed. “Oh my god! Girl you didn’t tell me you were preggers!?” Gwen smiled and circled around to give Lilith a genuine hug. The two girls looked to Morgan, Gwen with excitement, and Lilith with embarrassment. “And Morgan, you’re looking suave as usual,” Gwen smiled. Morgan smirked. “Why thank you,” Gwen turned her attention to Lilith’s pendulous belly, “Gosh I wondered why I haven’t heard from you in months!? When’s the baby shower? I wanna spoil this little…” she trailed off… “These little… guys?” she asked. “We don’t know the sexes yet-” Lilith was cut off “In about a month and a half, we’re going to have lots of fun little games centered about this tank right here,” Morgan gave Lilith’s belly a hearty pat, “So tell all your girlfriends they’re invited, cause it’s going to be big!” he grinned. Lilith shot him a radioactive death glare, but he ignored it, his plans already in motion. “Okay! I gotta run cause I can’t be late for an interview but I’ll catch up later! Bye hon!” she said, running off.

“Bye… Gwen…” Lilith shot another look at Morgan. “What the hell was that?! We’re NOT having a babyshower!” “Says you,” Morgan smirked. He proceeded to pile it on, “But your friend was so excited! Are you really going to dash her hopes like that? She just wants to spend time with you,” Lilith pouted, “I… guess so…” her response was cut off by a deep rumbling from her tummy. Morgan shot her a mischievous grin and took her hand again, continuing their trek.

Seeing as she was too big to fit in the booths, Morgan sat Lilith down at one of the chairs, and went off to order. She could feel all eyes on her as she placed a hand on her tummy to try to calm the movement she felt deep inside. What was in reality only a few minutes felt like hours as she waited for Morgan to return with the food. She was happy when she heard him approach, but was upset at what she saw him carrying. “That’s six burgers!?” she whisper-yelled incredulously. “Yeah, one for each baby!” stated Morgan, matter-of-factly. “I’m not about to pig out in front of all of these people!?”

Morgan’s smile dropped when she said that. “Are you really going to let the stares of a few strangers deny food for your babies? OUR kids?” Lilith sighed. “Well… no, but can we take this home?” her tummy rumbled again in protest. “I don’t think they can wait,” Morgan whispered. “F-fine… but when I’m full I’m stopping,” she sighed. Morgan placed both hands on the firm, warm front of her belly, feeling her popped bellybutton under his right palm. “You’ll stop when THEY’RE full, alright?” Lilith looked down at herself. Her massive, bloated, overly pregnant self, and sighed. “Yes dear,”

She picked up the first juicy, tender steakburger he’d gotten her, and took a huge bite. The food itself actually tasted great, the mustard, tomato, and pickles. She had been craving pickles today, she just didn’t want to admit it. One by one, each burger disappeared into her huge pregnant gut, eliciting happy kicks from its occupants. Morgan smiled as he watched her. These burgers would have given her trouble a month ago, but now? Her stomach was stretched, her babies were hungry, and she had the capacity to be a professional speed-eater, all thanks to him.

Lilith was enamored by the tastiness of the burgers, she was downing one after another, about 40 seconds a piece. She was starting to get embarrassed though. The way Morgan was grinning at her… the way the other mall goers were just… staring. She was a big, fat, pregnant spectacle… and she hated it. She felt a *pop* from the front of her shots and her heavy belly lurched forward slightly, and she knew what had happened. “Uh oh, babe,” Morgan said loudly. “Looks like that rubber band wasn’t strong enough against your belly. I guess you were right,” he shrugged. Lilith’s cheeks burned with bright red embarrassment, but she kept eating, pretending not to hear him.

She jumped slightly as she felt his hand touch her bare tummy, rubbing it gently. “Now isn’t this better? Eating to your stomach’s content?” she swatted at him and pointed to the nearby slushy stand. “Cherry,” she grunted through a mouthful of food. “Whatever you say,” he slipped away. In reality, she just wanted some space from him. Ever since she found out she was pregnant, he’d been so clingy, spending every spare moment with her, making her eat and drink. “For the babies” had become as commonplace as breathing, she felt like, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing this all on purpose.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his quick return. “They were out of cherry, so I got you tiger’s blood,” he said, handing her the 44 oz drink. She swiped it form him with one hand, and polished off the sixth and final burger with the other. She felt heavy. Well… heavier, as the six greasy sandwiches settled in her gut. 7 more weeks… then she’d be due, and this would all be over.

39 weeks

Morgan had made good of his promise. He threw a baby shower, and Lilith was the center of attention, despite her wishes. Gwen, along with four other friends of theirs, had come to the party, and despite the relatively small gathering, Lilith felt absolutely smothered. She sat in her usual spot, in the center of the couch, and she was surrounded by her physically close, if not emotionally close friends. Her tummy had absolutely ballooned, and she was so big she couldn’t reach her popped navel anymore. While she’d stayed relatively free of stretchmarks, red and purple veins made themselves known on her shiny, overstretched skin. Her underbelly hung between her legs, which were forced to spread to make room for her massive mound of a womb.

No matter what she did, how much she complained, or what she threatened, Morgan would not buy her maternity clothes. Her belly hung proudly on display for all to see, weather she liked it or not. This had become so much more apparent during the shower. While Morgan brought food and drinks for all, Lilith sat planted on the couch, cooed at and touched like a walking petting zoo. She felt like she couldn’t go 10 seconds without a hand brushing against her belly, and the visible motion from the sextuplets inside did not help. “You’re positively glowing!” They all said. “You exude motherhood!” “I hope I look as good as you when I’m pregnant!” she hated all of it.

She snapped out of her surly stupor when she heard Gwen address her by name. “Lilith, I haven’t seen you covered up once this whole pregnancy! What made you decide to go belly-out the whole time?” Lilith forced a grin, “Well, Morgan had a LOT to do with it,” she replied, mentally grinding her teeth. “You’re just so brave, like it’s such a powerful look! You’re like ‘look out world, pregnant mama coming through’!” Gwen laughed, resting a hand on the side of Lilith’s gargantuan midriff. Morgan stepped into the room with some sort of plastic box. “You girls ready for another game?” he asked. Lilith turned red, the last game had been all about guessing the measurement of her waistline. All the guests had estimated her bigger than she was, and Morgan made a big show of measuring her, having a hard time getting the tape measure all the way around. 72 inches. She was 72 inches around. She was bigger around than she was tall. She almost cried at the realization.

Morgan opened the box to reveal a rainbow of different body paints and brushes, “You all get to belly paint!” Every girl there except for Lilith beamed with excitement. The various paints and brushes were snatched up lightening fast, and before she realized fully what was happening, Lilith was surrounded by five women all kneeling around her and applying paint to her overstretched, pregnant skin. Lilith couldn’t see what was being painted on her due to her sheer size, but she could only imagine how awful and embarrassing it would all look. Morgan already had his camera out, taking pictures.

Shivers went down her spine as Lilith felt the bristles and thick paint run over her sensitive bellybutton, Gwen giggling as she ran the brush up and down. Lilith felt so embarrassed, so large was her middle that she could be used as five canvases at once! Her face turned redder and she frowned as Morgan snapped shot after shot of her massive, bare tummy.

As time passed Lilith grew increasingly agitated. The sensation of paint brushes on her belly was absolutely grating, and the feeling of dry paint caking on the skin wasn’t helping either. She realized she was getting hungry, which was only souring her mood more. She felt her stomach gurgle and saw Morgan’s eyes light up. He as attuned to the sound of her rumbling tummy like a shark to blood, Lilith could tell he had something planned for this event in particular. Her belly rumbled again, this time louder, and the girls started to notice. “Damn girl, we gotta get you fed!” said Gwen, patting the belly. “You must be dying over there!” Lilith shook her head, “No, no I’m fine, I just need-” “Some cake!” beamed Morgan as he carried in a triple layer devils food cake. Lilith gulped.

“Gosh Morgan you treat her so well!” said one of the girls. “Anything for my girl!” he replied, setting the cake on the shelf of her belly. Lilith’s pleading eyes met Morgan’s powerful gaze, and she knew he was about to make her pig out. Right here. In front of all of her friends. He took a seat next to her on the couch, grabbed a fork, and scraped off a big mouthful. “Say Ahh,” he whispered. The girls went back to talking amongst themselves and painting, and Lilith was feeling pinned down by the weight of her sextuplet belly, and triple layer cake. She winced, and took the bite. “There… for the babies,” Morgan said, getting another forkful.

Bite after bite went down and Lilith could feel the brushes on her tummy slow down until nobody was painting anymore. All eyes were on her. She chewed and swallowed bite after bite of the sickeningly sweet cake, the frosting getting on her face and the top of her belly. She felt a couple of hands start feeling up her belly again as she pushed past the halfway mark of the cake.

It was so heavy and rich, and Lilith could feel every bite of it go right to her midriff. The babies began to stir and kick, which only landed more hands on her tummy. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Bite. Chew. Swallow. It became almost rhythmic as she entered a food induced trance. She could faintly hear the girls saying things like “wow, she can really put it away,” and “Is she going to stop?” and “I think I feel her belly getting tighter!”, but she was lost to the caloric intake and sheer, painful embarrassment.

She only came to when the cake stopped coming. When she had eaten it all. Gwen clapped for her. Morgan gave her a kiss on the cheek to congratulate her. Everyone else kept their hands on her belly. “She gets real strong cravings for chocolate sometimes,” Joked Morgan, the other girls giggling at her expense. Moran got his camera back out. “Smile!” he said, mockingly, as he snapped a photo.

A perfect shot of Lilith, 39 weeks pregnant with six babies, her belly bare, resting between her legs. Her tummy was covered in little paint doodles of flowers, trees, landscapes, and stick figure families, except for the top shelf, which was stained brown from the smeared chocolate. Her mouth was open as she breathed heavily through it, feeling ready to burst. Morgan sat down next to her again, and showed her the picture on the camera’s display screen. “This is you babe!” he laughed. “This is what you really are!”

#writing #not bellies #commissions #anonymous

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years ago

Note

"close your eyes and hold out your hands" with Levi? Please?

LEVIATHAAAAAN!!! Thank you for giving me an excuse to write about him again, Anon. I hope you’ll enjoy this! (ꈍᴗꈍ)

Level 100 Celebration ☆

Azuki-tan [Leviathan/GN!Reader]

Anidaemon had been an adventure, as always. Something about the excited chatter of fellow anime and game enthusiasts, the neon signages and bright lights inside the stores, and the endless rows of merchandise of all shapes and sizes never failed to leave such a lasting impression on your mind. This time had been the same, your excursion almost perfect except for one very significant aspect it lacked: the company of your favorite otaku.

A few weeks ago, you and Leviathan had planned your trip to Anidaemon in order to acquire limited edition Azuki-tan charms in a gacha event that would only be available for a single day. He found out about it in an online advertisement which he immediately took a screenshot of and sent you, inviting you to join him in his quest of adding more items in his The Magical Ruri-hana: Demon Girl shrine. Despite the two of you adjusting your schedules to accommodate your outing, three days prior to the day of the gacha event, Leviathan was unexpectedly invited to do an interview with the RAD Newspaper Club for a feature on the Hell’s Navy.

“I’d rather go to Anidaemon with you,” Leviathan whined after he read the message from the RAD Newspaper Club with a frown, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. He had been looking forward to your trip, and so were you, but things didn’t always go according to plan.

“Yeah, I was really excited about it,” you admitted. “It’s alright, though. Duty calls for the Grand Admiral, right? I’ll definitely be reading that article!”

Flustered, he covered his face with the back of his hand. “D’aaah! Don’t say that… It’s making me more nervous. Who knows? I might say the wrong thing and embarrass myself… and the entire Hell’s Navy!”

“You won’t. Most likely, it’ll be Mephistopheles who’s going to interview you, at least you know him already.” You patted his back with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure everything will turn out okay. You’ve got this!”

He withdrew his hand from his face and looked at you, only to avert his gaze the next second. “Oh… Um, thanks… I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” you said. “By the way, I’m still free during that day, so if you’d like, I can go to Anidaemon and get that limited-edition merchandise for us.”

“Y-You’d do that?” he clarified and met your gaze again, all of his earlier shyness seemingly gone for the moment.

“Of course!”

“Then, yes, please! You’re a lifesaver—no, an angel! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!”

“No problem! It’ll be something for you to look forward to after the interview.”

“I’m already looking forward to it! I’m giving you all my gacha luck and counting on you!”

“Leave it to me!”

Although Leviathan hadn't been by your side when you lined up in the queue, all of his wishes for your good luck had been in your hands as you spun the knob of the gacha machine. With a skip on your steps, you made your way back to the House of Lamentation, a pair of precious charms inside your coat pocket. Surprisingly, you arrived home before Leviathan, so you decided to spend your idle time in your bedroom while you waited for him.

As you scrolled through Devilgram and commented on a few of your friends’ posts, the sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway followed by a knock on your door caught your attention at once. You stood and opened it, pleased by the sight of Leviathan, excitement rolling off him in waves despite his attempt to keep his cool.

“Welcome back! How did the interview go?” you asked.

“Good, I think,” he replied, scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly. “Mephisto asked me about an update on Lotan. LOL!”

You chuckled, remembering his account of the incident involving him and Lotan during the Spirit Week celebration of the previous academic year. “Sounds interesting.”

“So…”

“Hm?”

“How was your trip to Anidaemon? Did you manage to get the goods?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you teased. “It was great, and the line was longer than how we expected it’d be, but… I did! I got them!”

“OMG! Which ones were you able to get?! Any chance for the cute winky face SSR ones? Actually, SR ones are okay, too. Hell, I’ll even take an N one. Anything from that collection is fine!”

“I can give it to you now,” you began, placing your hand in your coat pocket to get the item, “but you have to close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“Okay, okay! Ah, I’m so excited! The suspense is killing meeeee!!!”

Giddily, Leviathan shut his eyes and reached out to you with his palms open, waiting. You pulled one of the charms from your pocket and placed it over his hands. The way his fingers quivered once the item touched his skin was so Leviathan, and this—his presence, quirks and all—was one of the things you missed during your earlier trip to Anidaemon.

“Can I see it now?”

“Alright, open your eyes,” you replied, hoping he’d like it.

His eyes fluttered open and widened once he saw which Azuki-tan variation he was holding. “U-U-Ultra Rare! It’s the UR Azuki-tan charm!”

“Indeed, it is.” You smiled slyly, twiddling with the other charm hidden inside your coat pocket. “But wait, there’s more!”

“Huh? More?!”

“Well, I wasn’t able to pull the Taichi-senpai charm, but I did get something interesting.”

“What is it?”

You revealed your other hand and showed him the extra item you were able to snag from the gacha miraculously. “Ta-da! Isn’t it cool?”

“Is that…?”

“Yep.” You took his hand in yours to demonstrate how the two charms work together. “Look, when you put them together like this…”

As you shifted the bases together, the markings on the back of the two imagawayaki charms connected.

“No way... It’s Azuki-tan’s other half!” Leviathan cried out, sounding emotional. “Wait… Both of these are UR, though? HOW?!”

“I’m not sure how I did it as well,” you admitted, “but surprise! Great job on the interview!”

Leviathan’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth to give you a reply, but his gaze zeroed in on your hands. You and he were still holding the charms together, your fingertips touching. “W-What are you—I mean—what are we doing? Are you… This is nice, but—UGH!”

“Levi—”

Before you could ask him what was the matter, he had pulled you in his embrace and buried his head on your shoulder. “T-Thank you for doing this! I just… I’m so happy!”

“Anything for you.” You laughed. “Do you want to keep both of them for your Ruri-chan shrine? I don’t mind.”

“No, I… I want you to keep the other half.”

“Oh… Okay, thank you, Levi.” You nodded against his chest, smiling as you wrapped your arms around him in return. “I missed you while I was there. Anidaemon wasn’t the same without you, you know?”

He sighed contentedly and held you tighter. “Let’s go there again next time.”

“Together.”

“Yeah.”

Even though it remained unspoken, the two of you mused over the same thing: like Azuki-tan, both of you had found your other half, and to be in each other’s arms was just what you needed after a long, long day apart.

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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adelheidvonschicksal · 5 years ago

Text

Cuddles and Confessions | Todoroki x Busty!Reader

Request: The reader has a nature quirk and was training with Recovery Girl. Shoto fell in love with the reader when she was helping him with his injuries, he doesn't know that reader also likes him too. The girls in 1-A caught how the two would always share a loving gaze at each other and decided to make both of them confess.That's all I could describe and you can add anything you like, also you can add a smut in the story if you can.

The reader is quite shy about her chest area because it's too big( like Momo's), but Shoto loves to rest his head on it like a pillow.

Warnings: Smut and fluff, Mineta being Mineta

Part 2

Todoroki scowls behind the hand he holds to his face. The half hot and cold user doesn’t understand why Aizawa would send him to the nurse over a simple nosebleed rather than let him continue training. Less he understands why Mineta, a boy he’s almost positive doesn’t like him besides as competition, would trip over himself to unnecessarily escort him to said office.

All becomes clear when the shorter boy impatiently swings open the door and sings out for the young girl pouring over books at Recovery Girl’s desk. “(Name)-chan!”

You along with Recovery Girl lift your heads at the greeting. Though, the one Mineta calls (Name) gasps out at the rush of blood that finally overtook the tissue he had gotten. You stand up, ignoring and for lack of better words running over Mineta as you hurry to see the injury.

Now, Todoroki completely gets it.

Reasonably pretty with dramatic curves highlighting your bust puts you right up that shameless pervert’s alley.

“What happened to you!” you speak out, and Todoroki steps back to get away from your sudden intrusion on his personal space while you finally notice the other human you knocked over after his weak complaint of how cruel it is for you to ignore him. “Oh, hello, Mineta, what are you doing here,” you say bluntly before drawing your eyes back to the boy with an actual wound.

“I’m hurt! You should give me a kiss!” Mineta begs, pointing to his now bruised head where you knocked him over, and you cringe slightly before your sensei pulls him up into her own arms.

“I’ll take care of this one,” she instructs and grabs onto the little pervert for you, “you can handle the Todoroki boy.”

You nod as Mineta squirms in a too tight hold before pulling Todoroki by the non-bloodied hand towards the bed. You let him settle down on it while you pull on a glove. “Can you put your hand down for me?” you request. When he does, the blood floods freely down his face. “Wow, whoever hit you really knocked ya good, like bam!” you tease, pumping your fist towards him, and he frowns slightly.

“I didn’t get hit. It’s just dry.”

“Sure, I believe you!” you answer to spare his ego while he squints slightly since you obviously did not believe him.

”I don’t need to be here. It’s just a nosebleed, it’ll stop on its own in a few minutes,” he says, getting up and preparing to leave right there before you interrupt.

He’s obviously one of those tough guys. If you had a dime for every one of them you met at this school, you’d be a rich bitch. “There’s no reason to walk around with a bloody face when I can just fix you up right here. More importantly, I’m not going to let you. So please sit!” you say, hold onto his shoulders, and push him back down onto the mattress. He supposed he can’t get out of this one and to just get it over with.

”Now, can you tilt your head?” you question, pausing him when he tries to tilt his head back. “Not back, it just makes the blood go down your throat when you do that.”

He nods and holds his head down for you as you lean over to get a better look. He gets a clear shot to look down your shirt from this position, the top button undone and offering a view full breasts bound by a bright colored bra. Lingering there, he has the passing thought about just how round and fluffy they look. He holds away his blush easily enough and shifts his gaze up to your face without a word.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” you finally conclude after a few careful pokes and prods.

“Because it’s not an impact injury,” he reminds you. You finally accept his story and give a slim smile.

“Sorry, but I kind of have to kiss you now okay?” You say, and this time he can’t stop the slight red that does come to his cheeks.

“Excuse me?” Todoroki interrupts slightly miffed at and doubtful of the suggestion.

Sensing the agitated aura, you clear your throat and explain, “It’s uhm...it’s just part of the job,” you say, not really being fond of this yourself in some cases like the purple boy. You quickly cup his cheeks to force him to look at you, only to hesitate when he stares at you.

His eyes are so pretty.

You smile and press your lips to his forehead.

Cue inner panic as he tries to process how close you are and the calming sensation of your quirk that plays opposite the frantic beating in his chest. He clenches at the sheets under him, palms sweating as you pull away and wipe away the remaining blood with a firm but careful touch.

"Done," you say. "How does it feel?"

“It healed,” he remarks, amazed that your kiss actually did as you said.

“See that wasn’t so bad! Definitely better than waiting it out,” you reply and jokingly add, ”mainly because I like to think I'm a half decent kisser."

He flushes. You weren't entirely wrong. Your lips were so soft and smooth, no roughness to them at all. Not that he'd say it. Before he can respond to your joke, Recovery Girl cuts you off. Thank All Might for that. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Uh...oh! Right, right!” you frantically say as you look around the random drawers and desks. You finally pick out what you were searching for, a bright colored lollipop. “Would you like some can—where the heck did he go?” you question to the surprisingly empty space on the bed.

“You took too long as always, if you have time to flirt—”

“I wasn’t!”

“—you have time to remember where things are,” Recovery girl sighs and releases her patient as well before glancing over to you with a scowl, “For the love of—fix your clothes girl before you have an accident.”

“Ah! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!” you whine and adjust your buttons. You lament why she felt the need to torture you in front of the cute ones while Todoroki was dealing with his own problems back in class.

He couldn’t stop his heart from racing, cursing inside his own head for the new distraction to his training. Lust isn’t usually a problem for him since it's rarely on his radar to think about the fairer or less fairer sex for that matter, but he can’t stop re-imagining your chest in his mind, the kiss against his skin, and how’d both would feel together against him.

“Todoroki-san, are you alright? Your nose is bleeding again,” a classmate randomly points out to him, one that he can’t quite remember their name, but he nods all the same while quickly wiping away the new stain.

“I’m fine.”

“This is going to be annoying,” he thinks as he looks at the new smear of red on his hands. It’s then that he decides to do his best to avoid ever going to first aid again.

Life had other plans.

The last match of the sports festival is like a blur. The only thing he remembers is a hard impact before it all got hazy. The next is your vaguely familiar voice, calling to him; this incredible comfort from you cradling him, carefully running your hands on the back of his head; and Bakugo lying flat on the ground under Midnight before the world went black again.

When he opens his eyes, it’s to blaring lights that only dull in comparison to you leaning over him.

“He’s awake! Hey, Granny, he woke up!” You sound so incredibly happy about that and your eyes are a little red like you’ve been crying. The idea was a bit ridiculous since you didn’t really know each other.

“I told you he’d be fine, didn’t I?” your teacher responds, and you pout.

“But his head looked so bad! I couldn’t help it!” you complain, eyes watering a bit more.

“Stop blubbering. First Midoriya, Uraraka, and now this. People count on you to keep your calm as a healer. If you’re panicking, they’ll panic.”

Y-Yes, ma’am,” you sigh then furrow your brows as you drop your head. Todoroki stares, finding the drop from your happy expression oddly disheartening considering what he's been through.

Sighing, she smiles sweetly at you. "I'm sorry, dear. It's not your fault, I honestly didn't expect this when I put you in charge of the first years. Usually they're pretty tame, but this class is a lot stronger than usual. You've been doing a good job to keep up at this level. I know I can be a little mean, but it's because I just want you to improve so pick your chin up."

You smile softly. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you," you say before you notice her holding onto some restraining cloth. “Don’t tell me you’re going with that where I think you’re going? That’s just mean...”

Recovery girl nods in agreement before smiling bitterly. “It can’t be helped.”

You shake your head as she leaves the room. “(Name)," you perk your head up, "mind telling me what happened—I can’t really remember all too well. I know both Bakugo and I were out of bounds.”

You frown slightly. “Well, Bakugo’s attack knocked you out or well your ice did too when you tried to stop the blow back, I guess...and he didn't really want to accept that so Midnight had to knock him out.”

“So, I lost.”

“Afraid so, but you got second!” you say a little cheerfully, and he sighs as he tries to force down the remaining thoughts about his family for now before moving to leave. “Wait, you shouldn’t move now!”

“Isn’t there a reward ceremony I should go to?” he asks even if it’s one of the last things he wants to do right now.

“Well, yes, but—“

“GET THAT DAMN MUZZLE AWAY FROM ME! I'M NOT A FUCKING DOG!"

Todoroki scowls. "Is that-"

“Yeah...they thought it would be best to separate the two of you,” you laugh and nervously rub the back of your head, “Anyway, I’m sure you’re tired since you had to fight so much so take some time to rest. If anyone asks, I’ll just lie and tell them that you’re still a little woozy," you say, holding your index finger to your lips in a "hush, hush" manner.

Todoroki nods, allowing himself to accept the kindness you freely offer. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” you chirp.

Todoroki curls back onto the bed as you go to check on a second-year also sent into first-aid for a minor injury. He sets his head back against the pillow, trying to collect his thoughts that last match. In all the jumbled mess, there’s still a slim memory breaking through of you when you held him, and he remembers how safe it had felt in the moment, like the fighting was finally over when you held him. Finally, he could recall what you were saying to him in that moment: it was going to be okay. He sighs and spares another glance your way, and when you catch it, you smile.

That look, sunny and encouraging and brimming with this expression of dismissed concern and absolute relief over him, is one of the very few good things about today. He thinks that maybe he wouldn't mind seeing it again sometimes, if that was an okay excuse to visit outside of injuries.

Todoroki frowns, clutching his hand over his chest as he hurriedly looks back up at the ceiling.

For some reason, his heart is racing again.

Just great.

---

“I can’t stand forest lodges,” Kaminari yawns and stretches his arms behind his head as the class waits to board the bus. “Goodbye, school; goodbye, wifi; goodbye, society.”

“I don’t see why you’re complaining, Kaminari,” Sero interrupts with a pat to his shoulder and points his attention towards Todoroki. “We all know Todoroki is going to miss school more than anybody.”

The topic of conversation looks up, escaping his thoughts and blinking in confusion at the two boys talking about him.

“He’s just so accident prone, I don’t see how he’ll survive in the woods.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Kaminari says loudly, glancing at Todoroki to make sure he’s a part of the conversation now. "I remember a time when Midoriya used to go to first-aid all the time, and now it's Todoroki. I guess it must be contagious."

“Can you blame him when every sneeze is an excuse for him to see his girlfriend,” Sero snickers.

“It isn’t like that...she’s a friend,” he corrects.

Sero winces. “Ouch, I hope you let her know that ‘cause I don’t think she’s on the same page as you, buddy.”

Playfully, Kaminari shakes his head. “Don’t worry, man, I’m sure she’ll find some other guy to keep her company now that Todoroki isn’t there to scare them off.”

Todoroki grimaces, his mouth suddenly filling with a bad taste. He’s sure you wouldn’t but—

“Enough already, stop teasing him and get on the bus,” Momo scolds as she boards the bus by a quickly following Ochaco.

Purposely bumping into his arm, Ochaco agrees with the boys. “It’s okay to admit that you’re in love with her!”

“I’m not in love with (Name),” he states bluntly.

“Is that so?” she asks skeptically, and Todoroki pauses as her eyes twinkle. He knows that look--she's thinking something to get him, he just knows it. “Fine, then, describe her to me.”

Todoroki furrows his brow. “What do you mean? You know her well enough.”

“But, how would you describe her if you were talking to a stranger, someone who didn’t know her?”

He rolls his eyes. “What’s the point of this?”

“Just do it!"

Sighing, he thinks about the words that first come to mind when he sees you. “She’s loud…talkative,” he begins, stating the obvious. “Very kind and helpful,” he says before moving on to your physical aspects. Several words come to mind, pretty being one along with your shape, your height and hair color being the others, but he settles on the fact that you’re always joking around, and his eyes soften as he smiles faintly at the thought, “and she has a really big smile.”

“Yep, you’re in love,” Ochaco states with a giggle, and Todoroki scowls. The freaking she-devil. “She likes you, too.”

“What gives you that idea?” Todoroki monotonously questions, walking onto the bus and taking a seat across the aisle from her.

“Well, besides that little smile you had there. You’re always extra sweet to her, and you talk way more with her, not to mention you always get that puppy-eyed look when she’s around. It’s pretty cute actually!”

“Not about me, Uraraka,” he interrupts, about to completely ignore her if she continued with his more obvious hints.

“I was getting to that,” she chides, “(Name)-chan is always fussing over you or trying to sit next to you at lunch! She even made you a bento for heaven’s sake!”

“Isn’t that what friends do?”

“I mean, well, yes, but girls just have a sense for these kinds of things!” Ochaco dismisses.

“And you’re sure?” Todoroki questions, neither denying or accepting Ochaco’s correct insinuation that he liked you.

“Double sure!”

“I think you should, I just got this feeling she’d accept, you know!” Kirishima suddenly adds in, leaning over Todoroki’s seat from behind.

Todoroki sighs. He supposes everyone is in on his love life now. If he had one, of course. He does.

“Speak of the Devil! Guess it’s Todoroki’s lucky day after all,” Kirishima remarks, taking a glimpse out the window to see you waving and speedily jogging up to the bus.

“HEY, AIZAWA-SENSEI, SEKIJIRO-SENSEI, THE OLD LADY AND I ARE HERE! SORRY, WE’RE LATE!”

“Who are you calling old!?” Todoroki glances out the window just in time to see Shuzenji popping you on the knee with her cane, and you stumble to grab your wounded bone.

“Ow...why!?” you gasp as Recovery Girl boards with class 1-B, and you ungracefully hop to Class 1-A’s bus.

“Holy…” Mineta mumbles, his own personal bouncing and swishing sound effects going off in his head. He wipes up his drool before pushing Kaminari towards the aisle. “Get up!”

“He-Hey! What are you doing!?”

“Just move it, I’m not missing this opportunity!” The purple boy states as you shuffle further down the bus lane. He already got rejected by one pretty black haired girl, now he wasn't going to lose his second chance for a two-piece, aka breasts and thighs. He finally pushes the blond out the seat from him, and Kaminari grumbles and sits next to Kirishima. “Hey, (Name), why don’t you sit over here, it’s warm for you,” Mineta sleazily offers, patting on the seat next to him, and he thinks he’s home free as you look over to his side of a bus and a smile spreads on your face. “Score! Come to me (Name)!”

You don’t pay any mind to the grape, rushing two more rows down from him. “Shouto!”

“Good morning, (Name)," Todoroki replies calmly.

You fidgeted your fingers a little, nodding to the empty aisle seat. ”Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Go ahead, it’s free.”

“Of course girls like Momo and (Name) would like pretty boys like Todoroki. Life is so unfair…” Mineta weeps in a new depression, his world crumbling.

“Can we sit next to you, too, Shouto~?” Kaminari whispers behind him, and Shouto huffs while you’re too busy setting down your things to notice the teasing.

“Thanks, I'm so glad I got to come with you guys, this trip is going to be so much fun!” you smile, and he forces his gaze ahead as to not blush.

“I think so, too, (Name)! Right, Todoroki?” Kirishima tries to help, but it only serves to make everyone else knowingly laugh a little.

Todoroki decides it would be best for his soul to leave his body or he’ll never make it through this trip alive.

A couple minutes go by on the bus trip, with Aizawa promising a stop each hour, not that anyone cared since everyone is too busy goofing off. It’s amazing that anyone could manage to fall asleep, yet Todoroki always manages to surprise you as he closes his eyes and leans his head back to sleep.

You spare a glance at him every now and then between talking to Ochaco beside you and Mina and Toru in front of you. Then, a bump in the road stops your discussion as Todoroki grumbles in his sleep. He slouches deeper into his seat and comfortably leans his head against your arm and the side of your breast.

Flabbergasted, you clam up and fight down the hotness that tries to flood your cheeks.

Why would he even—

“Aw, isn’t that just precious?” Ochaco giggles and the two girls in front of you giggle.

“You’re such a dirty girl, (Name), making your move while he’s asleep,” Mina teases. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Wait! It isn’t what it looks like! He did it on his own,” you whisper and try to carefully shrink away from him, but he only slides down further to completely rest against your chest. “Eep!”

“But you like it! You’re glowing!” Toru says, and an invisible finger pokes at your cheek.

“Will you all be quiet!? He could wake up any second,” you lowly hiss.

“Good, then you can tell him you like him when he does,” Jiro adds on from behind Ochaco as she and Momo glance over to you.

“Does everyone know?” you gasp, and Momo nods.

“Basically, well, except for Todoroki-kun, apparently.”

You groan and use your free hand to face plant into. “Ugh…He probably just ignores it.”

“No…he’s honestly that dense, (Name)…” Kaminari comments. “It’s actually pretty impressive.”

You sigh. “What if you’re wrong, and I embarrass myself?”

“You won’t! Just find a romantic spot once we get to the lodge and confess!” Ochaco encourages.

“Mrm…maybe." You groan. Glancing back at the boy leaning into you, you nervously hum. "Let's just see when we get there, first," you think.

---

“I’m so tired!” you groan and fall on your butt in the dirt. You didn’t realize camp meant training camp with cat people.

“Healer’s are rare, even rarer ones who can fight. So, I want you to train closely so you can become a battle medic.”

You sigh. Honestly, sometimes Shuzenji is so sweet and other times you’re sure she wants you dead. Worse yet, you still haven’t confessed to Todoroki. You had plenty of chances to do so but it always failed for one reason or another, usually by the fault of one of your oblivious classmates.

“You’ve gotten a lot stronger since you last trained with us.”

Surprised, you blink up at Todoroki standing over you. “You think so?” you ask hopefully, and he nods.

Trying to remain humble and avoid looking like a dork, you hold in the need to smile. “Thanks! You looked pretty good over there too!” Definitely, he did. Both with his quirk and sweating through a tank top, with strong biceps on display and stocky build hugged by his shirt. Pushing those thoughts away, you glance back over to his training zone where the pot is stone cold. “Although, it looks like they’re trying to cook you rather than train you.”

“It helps regulation,” he says, noticing your own equal amount of sweating. Then, he finally pays attention to the light jacket you’re wearing. “Aren’t you hot in that?”

“A little, but I’m fine, really,” you answer, but in truth, you don’t really like the attention summer clothes bring to, well, places.

“Here,” he says, offering his right hand to you. You grab it, letting him pull you up to your feet as cold chills over you at the same time to cool you down.

You smile softly. “Thanks…”

You let the silence take place as he still holds onto your hand, wrapping your entire hand up soothingly. Hand crusher, you thought not. It’s a perfect opportunity to tell him you liked him. You almost do before he quickly drops your hand and turns away. “Come on, we should get cleaned and start lighting the fires for dinner,” he says monotonously and leads the way towards the lodge.

You frown. He’s completely unfazed or so you thought.

“(Name),” he says, stopping. You almost ran into him because of how sudden it was. He looked at you, face barely having a noticeable change in shade as he averts his gaze from you and anxiously strokes his thumb along his pants pocket.

“What’s up?” you ask, swallowing thickly as he switches to look at you with this deep gaze that has you near about the burst.

Too bad he loses his nerve to say what he wanted to and settles calmly on, “What are you in the mood to eat?”

“Oh...” you frown, dropping your head a little as you kick the dirt at your feet. “Noodles maybe? I’m not picky though,” you reply.

Ochaco places her fists on her hips while Mina pouts at the scene that just played out. “They need help,” she whispers to Mina.

“Right…this is just getting painful,” she agrees before perking up. “I got an idea,” she announces and quickly whispers into Ochaco’s ear who nods along with her explanation.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

Mina laughs. “Well, no, but I’m sure Todoroki will forgive us at the end of the day!” she says hopefully and pushes Ochaco to help her go talk to class B.

Just after your bath, you go up to your room at the request of your teacher for some last-minute training for whatever reason. When you got to the room, you somehow got roped into a conversation about yourself and your “sort of” boyfriend. Sometimes she really acts like your own grandma, especially when two girls come to her to expose your crush and talk her in on their little plan while you were still bathing.

“When I was your age, it took me less time to go through three boys in the time it’s taken you to get one,” she replies with a short laugh, as you bury your head into your pillow to try to block her out.

“It’s not my fault! I just can’t figure out how to get him to notice me in that way,” you explain once again while a knock suddenly comes from the door. Shuzenji shakes her head, patting the back of your leg before walking to the door.

“You always make everything difficult. I know his family, and I know the way he acts, but he’s still a teenaged boy, if you really want him to notice so badly just use what your parents gave you.”

“W-What!?”

“You just have to pretty yourself up a little more like me,” she suggests. “Everyone wants to walk me home,” she says, and you have no idea if she’s serious or not.

“Seriously?”

“Of course, you think I carry this cane around for my health?” she chuckles and finally opens the door.

You gape. “Granny don’t answer the door when you’re saying things like that!”

“Hello, (Name), Shuzenji-san!” Mina greets. Your eyes widen as you see both her and Ochaco supporting a limp Todoroki between the two of them. “Are you two busy?”

“Todoroki-san, what happened to him?” Recovery Girl “questions” concerned.

“He just spent too long in the hot springs so he’s a little dizzy,” Ochaco hastily explains. The truth is they just sucker shot him with someone’s quirk on his way out the Hot springs, but you didn’t need to know that. “Do you think he can rest it off here? It should only be for a few minutes.”

“Of course, (Name)-chan, why don’t you sit him on the bed?”

“Oh, okay!” you agree as the two girls drag him in and basically drop him into your arms. You grunt as you adjust to holding him. Heavy bastard.

“Thanks, you’re the best!” The girls cheer while you fall back onto the bed, sitting on the edge with him groaning in your arms. “Well, we got to go fix dinner and all!”

“Hold on girls, I’ll come with you,” Shuzenji says and turns to you, still trying to lift him up. “I’m going to go help monitor the other students, so I’m leaving him in your capable hands until he’s feeling better.”

“But what about my training?” you ask, squirming to get from under Todoroki weighing you down towards the bed.

“What better training than hands-on?” she responds, and you almost wouldn’t have suspected anything if not for the slight inflection to her suggestion.

”I-I can’t do that!” People get licenses revoked and jail time for what she’s insinuating. “W-Wait! You can’t leave me with him like this, Shuzenji-san!”

“He’s your patient, make sure you take good care of him,” she says and closes you in.

You finally fall back to the bed in a huff, crushed under your crush. He doubles down and wraps his arms around you.

You stay like that for several minutes, awkwardly letting him lay on top of you as you wait for him to come back down to earth. The effects seem to be wearing off because he keeps mumbling every now and again rather than the soft breathing and groggy groans from earlier.

“(Name), you smell nice,” Todoroki mumbles under his breath.

You flush and try to coax him off you now that he seems to be getting a clearer head. Well, enough for you to try to run before he completely realizes the position you’re in. “Shouto, I have to get up."

Sighing, Todoroki refuses to move, cuddles tighter to you, and lightly rubs at your sides. “Don’t,” he requests and nuzzles against your chest. You just feel too good to let go right now.

“You have to let me go.”

“Why?” he demanded, slightly irritated at your moving.

“Someone might walk in and get the wrong idea!” You hope he can’t hear your heart going crazy as you become his personal pillow, but he can. Clearly and loudly enough to give him some courage.

“Would that be so bad?” he asks, anticipation pulling at his heart and mind.

“Yes!” you say, and he sighs into your skin, regret sinking into him. “If one of the teachers come looking for us, we'll get railroaded then everyone already thinks that we like each other, and—”

“They aren’t wrong, not completely,” he interrupts softly, weakly sliding to get off you. He holds a hand to his aching head, not completely sure why it was hurting except for a vague memory of too much pink. “I’m sorry, I just need a second, and I’ll leave you alone.”

You frown, guilt swelling inside you because you hadn’t meant it like that at all but also happiness that he felt the same way as you did. He clumsily stands to his feet, but you stop him.

“Wait,” you say and pull on his arm. “I didn’t mean that I didn’t want that. I like you, too. I just didn’t know if you liked me back, and I didn’t want to do anything that could run you off,” you confess, waiting patiently for a response from the quiet boy. When he doesn’t, you nervously place a small kiss on the corner of his lips.

Shouto blinks a few times, and you wonder for a second if he even knows where he is. He does, and you suck in air as he leans in to kiss you again, soft lips pressing against your slightly parted mouth. You close yours and press them against him innocently. Getting the feel for it, you gently open your mouth to suck his bottom lip. His breath tickles slightly each time he pulls away before meeting you for another passionate kiss.

In seconds, you’re pushing him down.

His arms go around your waist, his tongue along your own, and he moans at the way your chest hugs and molds against his chest. You share a few more kisses, slow and gentle, savoring the taste of each other as he runs his hands over the small of your back just at the hem of your shirt.

He loves the feel of your skin warm against his fingertips, unable to wait any longer to touch you now that you’re his. All his.

Large hands cup your cheeks, settling your forehead against his own. You inhale deeply, taking in the sweet scent from the hot springs. He pulls his hands away, lowering them to your shoulder. He slides his thumbs over your skin in tender strokes. “(Name), can I touch you?” he asks, squeezing your arms before pecking you again.

“I—that’s okay,” you answer and kiss him again, the passion from before returning.

Calloused fingers pinch at your sides, gliding down the outline of your body. His touch is warm and comforting. It has you growing hotter, and a familiar knot begins to grow inside you. The same can be said for Todoroki as the bulge against your leg swells.

His hands rake over your ass and trace up your spine. Carefully, he massages your back under your shirt before moving to the front of you. He softly squeezes the side of your breasts before gripping and following the strap to where it hooked in the center. He already has the first hook undone. You gasp in his mouth as the cups loosen, and he moves one hand to pull up your shirt.

“Shouto-kun! A-Ah~” but the next hook already unpairs “S-Stop! Don’t touch me there!”

Flustered, you thrust off him and hold your hand to your chest to stop your bra from sliding further.

Eyes stretched wide with worry at your sudden jerk, he stammered, “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“It’s not your fault, you just surprised me a little is all.”

“I’m sorry, is this better?” he whispers, kissing your neck. This time he holds his hands to your stomach and more slowly works his way towards your chest, but you pull away again.

“N-No, I mean…I don’t want you to see,” you reiterate, and he tilts his head at your bashful expression. “I don’t really like them.”

“I don’t understand why you would be embarrassed,” he softly says. Pursing his lips in thought, his gaze slowly drifts down you from head to toe. He can feel himself get harder as he studied your cutely flustered face and the way your arm squished into the soft flesh of your chest. You were so beautiful through and through. It hurt that you felt that way about it since he really liked your figure.

“They just kind of get in the way, and they aren’t super perky like smaller or fake ones,” you explain with a scowl.

“That doesn’t matter to me, I want to see them because they’re yours,” he promises, and you flush lightly and play with the edge of your shirt. He smiles faintly and lovingly kisses your lips. “You don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that.”

Mustering up some courage, you nervously pull your shirt up. You don’t have the fortitude to toss both your shirt and bra off together all sexy like, so you let your shirt fall to the bed before removing the next article. You chew your bottom lip, crossing one arm under your chest to rub at the other.

“S-So,” you question, not daring to look him in the eye as butterflies fill your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters, making your heart soar. You whimper when his lips meet the crook of your neck again.

Todoroki gently bites, and you tense as he cups your breasts. You shiver as his tongue glances across your pulse, and he squeezes into the firm yet soft globes before gently caressing to let them overfill his hands.

“They feel good,” he thinks out loud before glancing back up into your eyes. “Are they sensitive, too?” he whispers against your lips, and he brushes his fingers across your nipples.

You release a soft mewl. He kisses the top of your breasts, ghosting loving nips and bites along your skin before closing his mouth around one of your sensitive nipples.

You hug him to your chest, moaning. Impatiently, you rock against his lap, stroking his clothed erection. He groans and sucks harder, pulling the taut nub between his teeth before moving to the other side. Todoroki tweaks the other bud, warming his hand against your skin.

Weak and needy is all you feel when he releases with a wet pop and licks your saliva covered skin before smothering his head into your chest and biting into the supple mounds. You flush at the attention given to them as he pushes you down onto your back and settles between your legs.

“Shouto,” you moan, and he blushes slightly from the sweet way in which you say his name.

“(Name)…” he whispers before kissing you again. Slowly, he began to grind against you. He jerks and lightly bucks against you, his hard cock rubbing you outside your clothes. He keeps his lips on yours and his hands cupping and caressing your breasts.

Your eyes flutter, your tongue swirl with his, and you needful-ly suck on his pink muscle. Aroused, you lift and grind your womanhood back against him, finding the good mixture of pressure and friction that has you almost there.

Todoroki gasps, biting back a moan. “(Name), I’m close,” he chokes out, tightly squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to hold back.

You lick his lips, tangling your hands into his hair and mussing the colors together. “I know, me too,” you whine, wrapping your legs around him. “Please, make me cum, Shouto,” you mewl, and he buries his head against your shoulder as he slows his pace but drags himself more heavily against you, and each rub has you throbbing until the dam finally breaks.

“Shouto! Sho~” you cry and hold onto him tight, and he picks up his pace to see you through and meet you there. He’s almost there, your moans driving him crazy faster.

So close.

“Knock! Knock! Dinner is ready!” Mina announces and swings open the door on your mini-love fest. Ochaco tags along, obviously coming to see the results of their little experiment but she goes wide-eyed and red face before turning away with a squeal as she catches the last of off-guard grinding and Todoroki’s hold on you as you submissively cry out.

“T-Todoroki! We told you to confess to her, not whatever this is!” Ochaco squeaks, pointing blindly in your direction.

"You mean sex?" he answers for her irritably, like she legitimately didn't know what it was. "Because I'd like to finish doing that if you don't mind."

"J-Just don't say it so casually like that!" you groan as Ochaco stammers something along the same lines.

At that moment, you pitifully whine and curl up against Todoroki in a vain attempt to cover yourself, and he finally gets the idea to lay down on top of you to help you cover up. At least it’s them and not one the boys, but that helps little to soothe you in this situation.

“You know what, we’ll just go…you two take your time,” Mina says, awkwardly, and carefully pulls the door back closed.

Sighing, you look back up at Todoroki, unsure what to say. “Should we keep going, then?” he genuinely questions.

You clear your throat. “I think it’s better if we don’t keep them waiting,” you answer, not much liking the idea of them knowing you were off having sex somewhere.

Though, Todoroki’s annoyed pout was a cute result as he lifted off from you and helped you find your clothes.

You came downstairs for dinner, and there’s an obvious tension to the air that has you gulping as you sit down for an awkward dinner. You suppose the looks of embarrassment, sweat, and shame goes a long way in communication.

Shortly and with minor teasing, dinner goes along normally with you lightly picking at your food while Todoroki seems less than concerned about the atmosphere as he slurps down on soba especially now that he cooled it down with his quirk.

You almost relax until the person in front of you speaks.

“Why does Todoroki get to hug (Name)-chan’s boobies? I wanted a feel, too,” you barely hear across the table from the most obvious person in the room... "at least there's still Yaoyorozu," he thinks wistfully.

Your face goes hot as you choke on your dinner. You open your mouth to protest, but that’s before you hear the clicking of chopsticks next to you. Todoroki casts a sharp glare, that even has you a little worried, especially when a chill begins to flow through the air.

“Mineta...I can’t guarantee your safety on this trip if you keep talking about my girlfriend in that manner, so I suggest you shut up and keep your thoughts and your hands to yourself,” he threatens, ice creeping up the legs of the table and over Mineta’s seat.

“Y-Yeah, I got it, I won’t do it again,” he vows between chattering teeth. Well, at least not when Todoroki is within hearing range.

“Calm down, Todoroki, you’re going to freeze the food,” Kirishima warns him.

“It doesn’t matter, mine is already cold,” he explains indifferently, finally letting go his glare as the conversation moved on. “I can also just heat it in my mouth if need be.”

“But you’re not the only one who needs to eat!” Kaminari barks out.

Todoroki nods in understanding and glances at you. “(Name), does your food need to be reheated?”

“No, I’m good!” you answer, more concerned with the drumming in your chest. He called you his girlfriend.

"If it gets too cool before you finish, tell me."

"I will."

“Sure, sure, that's good for her! But what about the rest of us!?” Kaminari repeats.

Todoroki blinks. “What about you?” he sasses and returns to his soba with a loud slurp.

You hold back a laugh as the rest of the table complains at an indifferent IcyHot boy.

Afterward, you decide to settle down in the main room together in a far-off corner where no one could bother you as you sit between his legs with his arms drawn around your waist and his thumbs discreetly massaging the underside of your chest.

You would have to wait until everyone went to sleep to have some alone time to continue where you left off.

#todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todomochi #Adelssmut #notsfw

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mksc77 · 4 years ago

Text

A little World Series celebration/Halloween fic :) Hope y’all like it! 💜

"Hi, you guys," Sharon greeted as Provenza and Patrice followed Andy onto the back porch. She nodded at the bottle of wine in Patrice's hands. "Ahh, this is why we're friends. You bring gifts."

"I got red so Louie wouldn't drink half of it," Patrice murmured as she gave her the bottle. "I've gained a few pounds with all of this isolation and have been drinking more than normal, so I'm trying to cut back."

"So have I," Sharon agreed, "but tonight will have to be an exception. My nerves are already shot, and the game hasn't even started." October had been a crazy month for sports. Sharon nor Andy were basketball fans, but with a local team playing in the NBA finals, they'd watched most of the games and had been excited for a Lakers championship. And admittedly had the best sex they'd ever had afterward. The World Series had started just a few days later, and it seemed like they'd spent most of the month glued to the TV. With neither couple having ventured out in the last week or so, they'd decided that a socially-distanced, outdoor viewing of the game together would be reasonably safe.

Andy was watching the pregame coverage on TV. "Damn, I miss Vin Scully. Baseball still hasn't been the same without him."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Oh, god, here we go. There better not have to be a seventh game, because I don't think I can handle another night of Scully mourning."

"The man was a legend!" Andy protested.

"Honey, it's been a couple of years since he retired. I think it's about time to get over it."

"Blasphemy," Andy muttered.

By the Fifth Inning, the game was looking grim. "I feel like I'm watching a little girl's t-ball game," Provenza complained.

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "You clearly never saw any of Emily's games. She was probably the only five-year-old in history to turn t-ball into a contact sport. I was actually relieved when she was a little older and decided to give up other activities to put more time into ballet."

Andy shook his head. "Shocking."

"Wait a minute, what's happening?" Provenza asked when the Rays coach trotted out to the pitcher's mound. "Surely, he's not taking out Snell? He's only allowed two hits all night!"

Andy shrugged. "I wouldn't complain. He's made our guys look like they've never held a bat before."

Provenza sipped his wine. "I'm not complaining, either, but this would have to be the dumbest call—yep, there he goes. This is about to be a gamechanger…He's putting Anderson in? He's been pathetic all month!"

"Did Cash bet against his own team or something?" Andy asked. "It's like he's trying to lose this game."

True to their prediction, Betts almost immediately hit a double down the left field line. After a wild pitch and another hit, the score had turned from a 1-0 deficit to a 2-1 lead in just a few plays.

"There are the boys I know and love," Sharon commented, finishing off her glass of wine and pouring another.

By the last inning, with the Dodgers up by two and one out away from winning the game, Provenza massaged two fingers against his chest. "I don't know if it's the wine or this game that's giving me heartburn. Do you know where my little purple pills are?" He asked Patrice.

"Yeah, in the cabinet right beside your little blue ones," Patrice answered, without hesitation.

"A simple yes would've sufficed," Provenza grumbled.

Andy laughed, and Sharon just focused on her wine glass, trying not to laugh, herself. "I hope there's some Xanax in there somewhere, too," Sharon whispered to Patrice.

"No, that's in my purse." Patrice rolled her eyes. "I'm not above crushing some into his wine glass when he leaves it unattended."

Rusty looked confused. "What's the big deal about blue pills—oh, gross," he whined, connecting the dots.

"Okay, come on, one more strike," Sharon murmured, looking back at the TV. "All right!" Everyone except Rusty jumped up and cheered, yelling and high-fiving. Rusty didn't get the baseball obsession and just watched.

"As much as I'd love to stay and celebrate, it's time to shift the focus to a different variety of balls," Provenza said, indicating for Patrice to get up. "If we don't get home soon, I really might need one of those blue pills, but we're celebrating, one way or the other."

"Do we have to hear this?" Rusty complained.

"It can't be unheard," Andy lamented. "There goes any desire I had to celebrate." Patrice's Viagra jab had been funny, but the following dialogue had been a boner-killer if he'd ever heard one.

"Ewwww, not you, too!" Rusty fled into the house before his gag reflex could be tested any further.

Sharon, a little affected by the night's wine consumption, just laughed helplessly at Provenza's eagerness to get home and Andy's and Rusty's disgust. When the Provenzas were gone, she ran a bath and got one more glass of wine. She'd expected Andy to join her in the bath, as she hadn't thought he'd been serious about his own desire to "celebrate" being gone, but when she got out and found him reading in bed, she was a little disappointed. Still wrapped in her robe, she nibbled at his ear and moved to his neck, thinking she just needed to get things started herself, but Andy shook his head. "Not tonight. I won't be able to do anything without Provenza being in my head, and that's just weird."

"Oh, come on, Andy, the Dodgers just won the World Series for the first time in decades, and in the same month as an NBA championship! When will we have this chance again?"

"I don't know, but not tonight," Andy answered dramatically.

"You can call all the shots," Sharon pleaded. "Whatever you want."

Andy shook his head, unmoved.

Sharon shrugged. "All right, fine." The question wasn't whether or not they were having sex tonight, she would see to it that they did, the question was just how to get there. Her first impulse was to reach for the navy chemise that he could never resist, but something about the situation wanted her to make it a little more challenging than that. Instead, she pulled one of Andy's Dodger's t-shirts over her head and slipped on a pair of panties she knew he loved. "I'm cleaning out my closet tomorrow, so I'm going to go ahead and rearrange some things if we're not doing anything else."

Seeing that Sharon was just in one of his old t-shirts, Andy was relieved that she wasn't going to try to seduce him, so he let his guard down. He went back to his book, but couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of his eye. Damn, those legs. They fucked him over every damn time. He admittedly quivered a bit when she stood on her tiptoes and reached for something at the top of her closet and he could see the lacy, rose-colored panties he loved for her to wear peeking out from under the hem of his t-shirt. Closing his book, his attention was now on her entirely, as he still felt safe from her trying to get him in the mood. He could just enjoy the view and leave it at that. Or not. He was done for when she bent over to put something on a bottom shelf. "All right, fine, you win. Let's do it."

Sharon turned to look at him, wide-eyed and the picture of innocence. "What? I think if I've put on an old t-shirt and am cleaning out my closet, you can assume that the moment has passed."

"Please," it was Andy's turn to beg, "whatever you want. And I'll make sure you finish, one way or the other."

Sharon pretended to think it over. "I mean, if you really want to…"

"Yes. Please. And I'll do the dishes and laundry for a week. And I'll wear that godawful chimney sweep costume for Halloween."

"Deal." Sharon bit back a smile as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. Did she know this man, or what? He was so damn easy.

The next morning, Sharon woke up in Andy's arms, which didn't happen all that often. She wasn't a cuddly sleeper, much to Andy's dismay, but she hadn't had the energy to push him off of her during the night.

"Hey," Andy mumbled, feeling her start to stir against him. Eyes still closed, he tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer to him.

"Hey." Sharon yawned and nuzzled into his shoulder. "I'm still a little weak in the knees after last night, I've gotta say."

Andy kissed the top of her head. "That makes two of us. Damn. We even scared Poppy out of the room."

MCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMC

On Halloween morning, Sharon was reading in the swing on the porch while Rusty studied at the table nearby. Andy walked up the back steps after working in the yard. "What do you want to do for lunch?"

Sharon looked at her watch. "It's 10:00, honey, I haven't gotten that far yet."

"It's only 10:00?" Andy wasn't adjusting to retirement very well. Being confined to the house did not suit him at all. Sharon wasn't a sedentary person, by any means, but she was better at finding things to do and setting personal goals for herself to keep her occupied than he was. She'd been exercising and meditating more than she'd ever had time for before, and while Andy worked out, he still had trouble filling his days.

"Afraid so." Sharon eyed the pumpkins lining the porch steps. "Why don't we carve the pumpkins? That'll be fun, and it'll take some time."

"Anything to distract me from Trademark Law," Rusty agreed. "I'm about to lose my damn mind."

Andy shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Nothing gross, Andy," Rusty warned.

Andy tilted his head. "So breasts are out of the question?"

"Mo-om!" Rusty complained.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Both of you, stop torturing each other!" They had been driving her insane for the last few months.

A little while later, Andy was the last to finish his pumpkin. Sharon and Rusty had taken traditional approaches, but Andy had taken a different direction. "This is my general attitude toward this whole year," he grinned, turning his pumpkin around.

"Wha—Andy!" Sharon shrieked with laughter when she saw "fuck off" carved into his pumpkin. "But you're not wrong about that."

Late that afternoon, Sharon was putting the finishing touches on her Mary Poppins costume. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss last year's costume arrangement," Andy lamented, referencing a bet he'd lost with his commanding officer which resulted in a terrible costume for him, but a low-cut, form-fitting dress of a costume for Sharon, which he was always on board for. There was no party this year, but they were planning to sit at the end of their driveway with their neighbors and cocktails for those who imbibed, which was about as close to a costume party as they could get. "Was there not at least a sexy Mary Poppins option?" he whined, indicating her high-necked white blouse and knee-length black skirt. "Halloween is a good excuse to get away with being revealing, but I'm getting nothing from this."

"Oh, really? I guess that makes my night a little less taxing, then." Sharon leaned closer to the bathroom mirror to apply her lipstick. Shocking no one, Andy had honed in on her ass and otherwise barely seemed to notice she was in the room. He was so full of shit. Men. She gave him a knowing look. "But you know you can always sweep my chimney any time."

#Major Crimes #Major Crimes fanfiction #Major Crimes fanfic #Shandy #mikuscfanfic

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pips-fics · 4 years ago

Text

ask: hi! I just found your page and was wondering if you could do another wonsang fic? Completely up to you and I have no preference about it really- just love your work!!

tw: vomiting, brief blood mention in a metaphor (skip the paragraph that starts with “sangyeop hummed. he knew that fear” and to avoid the blood ment. - you won’t miss out on anything important!), panic attack mention (skip the “i can’t–– i’m already behind!” paragraph - again, you won’t miss anything important!)

——

it wasn’t unusual for the members of lucy to find wonsang in their bed in the middle of the night. it wasn’t something that happened all the time, but sometimes when wonsang was exhausted to the bone, he would cave to his desire for cuddles and accept their open offer of comfort.

for the past three weeks or so, sangyeop knew that wonsang had been sleeping less than normal. he’d had some difficulty fine-tuning the drum part of one of their songs a while back, and that frustration eventually led to him spiraling into a full-on creative block, which occupied his thoughts 24/7 - even when he was trying to sleep. the lack of sleep then made it harder for him to produce as well as he would like, and he sunk even deeper into that endless pit of frustration.

so sangyeop wasn’t surprised when wonsang crawled into bed with him late one night. sangyeop hadn’t fallen asleep yet, anyway, and was thumbing through news on his phone, so he simply lifted an arm for the younger boy to slip under. wonsang fell asleep moments later, his breathing evening out into soft puffs of air, and sangyeop was soon to follow.

——

when wonsang woke up later, so did sangyeop, emerging slowly from a warm haze. he could vaguely recall a dream of summer nights and empty fields of grass and dirt and fireflies. a sense of comfort and safety clung to him, like everything was as it should be. it was hard to shake off, cuddled up in blankets and darkness, even when he felt wonsang sit up, even when he realized it was probably the other man’s restlessness that had woken him in the first place.

it all fell away when sangyeop felt a shudder run through wonsang’s whole body. suddenly he was forcing his eyes to focus in the moonlight, and on the way wonsang was swaying as if struggling to stay upright. his shirt was damp as sangyeop placed a steadying hand on his back.

“hey,” sangyeop’s voice came out grated. “you okay?”

wonsang released a shaky breath and out a whine. after that, it wasn’t a huge jump for sangyeop to guess what was wrong.

“wonsangie, are you sick?”

“hyung,” wonsang whined, drawing the word out, sounding very close to tears. sangyeop’s heart ached.

“it’s okay,” he said quietly. wonsang shook his head so violently that sangyeop felt it.

“i can’t–– i’m already behind!” the gasping noises he was making sounded a lot like the start of a panic attack. sangyeop decided that a distraction is in order.

“let’s get you some water, come on.”

sangyeop forced both of them out of bed and held wonsang close to his side as they made their way to the kitchen. by the time they got there, wonsang had calmed somewhat, but sangyeop could see the discomfort on his face more clearly, lit by the outside lights. he looked pale and pasty, sweat shining on his exposed forehead. sangyeop sat him in a chair and brought him a glass of water. uncharacteristically, wonsang didn’t drink much of it, taking just a sip before setting it onto the table with some urgency.

he was considering how to ask about it when wonsang stood up suddenly and vomited into the kitchen sink. sangyeop winced at the sound of a tinny splatter, and a rancid odor filled the air. he hurried to rub wonsang’s back as the younger man heaved again, muscles clenching.

when nothing came up, sangyeop hoped that would be the end of it. the silence that followed, though only momentary, felt drawn out and weighted by wonsang’s labored breathing. everything was still; and then wonsang’s shoulders hunched, and vomit cascaded out of his mouth, splashing up on the sides of the sink more and more with each relentless wave.

when finally pulled away from the sink, wonsang was weak and shaky. he leaned against sangyeop, hiccuping with high-pitched sobs.

“hey, buddy, are you done?”

wonsang shook his head miserably. “i don’t have time for this,” he lamented, gasps becoming more and more frantic. sangyeop ran a hand through wonsang’s hair, hoping to somehow soothe his thoughts. “hyung, i have deadlines!”

sangyeop shrugged. “they can be adjusted.” this was, apparently, unhelpful, as wonsang become more distraught. sangyeop tried again. “don’t you have like three weeks until the next one? you have just a couple songs left to polish up?”

at that, wonsang looked almost offended. “just one!”

“even better! you can finish that in three weeks no problem!”

wonsang sniffled, turned quiet, the way he did when he was thinking about his own thoughts, and whether he wanted to share them, and if he could, and how. sangyeop waited. he waited until wonsang spoke on his own, and when he spoke in aa whispers, sangyeop listened closely.

“hyung, i’m so scared– sometimes it’s so easy, doing music, and sometimes it’s the hardest thing in the world. sometimes it seems impossible. what if–“ wonsang swallowed thickly. “what if i am just stuck here, on this song, forever?”

sangyeop hummed. he knew that fear. it was the kind that sunk its claws deeper into your skin the more you struggled, and it felt like bleeding out slowly if you stayed still. sangyeop wasn’t sure, but he thought the best tactic was to introduce it to someone else’s monster - even if that monster was an illusion.

“i’ve been stuck on a song, too, recently,” he said. it wasn’t entirely a lie. “i might scrap it if i can’t find a good direction soon.”

“no!” wonsang’s back straightened so quickly, sangyeop worried it might crack. “no, don’t scrap it, let me–”

whatever wonsang was going to ask for was cut off by a belch that had his hands latching tight over his mouth. sangyeop helped him back over the sink and then steadied him as he coughed up mouthfuls of bitter bile.

“ugh, hyung, it hurts,” wonsang moaned.

“i know, buddy, i’m sorry,” sangyeop said, “it’ll be over soon. you’ll feel better.”

wonsang whined, desperate. he gripped sangyeop’s hand tightly as a heave doubled him over the sink and brought with it a rush of vomit. when it was done, wonsang swayed dramatically before dropping limply into sangyeop’s arms. the older man thought he’d passed out for a second, but a moment later, wonsang let out a sigh.

“i’m so tired, hyung. can we go back to bed?”

——

after cleaning the sink, sangyeop climbed into bed. he was only a little surprised and very dismayed to find wonsang still awake. sangyeop was pondering the pros and cons of getting up to find his lavender oil when wonsang spoke.

“hyung, will you play it for me?”

sangyeop blinked, still thinking of lavender. “huh?”

“your song!”

“you definitely need to rest first - no, don’t give me that look!” sangyeop chuckled. “come on, don’t you think your body deserves a rest?”

wonsang pouted, but relented upon realizing sangyeop wouldn’t back down. “fine. what’s it about?”

sangyeop thought for a moment. he hadn’t written lyrics yet, but suddenly, a handful of phrases came to mind. “home,” he said, “and summer nights, and grass as far as the eye can see. and fireflies.”

“hm,” wonsang said, voice like a smile, “sounds nice.” and then he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

——

feel free to send asks! | rules

——

if you enjoyed this fic, i’d love for you to fill out my anonymous reader survey!

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musette22 · 5 years ago

Note

So frat boy Chris, having sex with a Romanian prince on his Steve Rogers’ Camaro

Okay so nonnie, you’re kind of a mind reader. When you sent this in yesterday I was literally in the middle of writing this. I got a prompt just like this from another lovely anon a while ago and only just got around to writing it, so yeah, your timing is impeccable! I hope you enjoy this little car sex fic 😘

Baby, you can drive my car

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Word count: 3k

Rating: Explicit, so 18+ only please!

Read on AO3

Gif credit to @stevenrogered

***

“Chris?”

Sebastian’s voice emerges, a little muffled, from where his face is smushed in between Chris’s pectorals.

Chris hums in reply, not taking his eyes off the book he’s reading. “What’s up, baby?”

“I’m bored.”

Huffing out a laugh, Chris tears his gaze away from the page to peer down at Sebastian. “You could grab a book too, you know. What happened to that weird Gothic novel you were reading earlier? The Finnish one?”

Sebastian lifts his head to pout at him, pink bottom lip pushed out enticingly. “We’ve been reading all morning. I wanna go do something.”

“Like what?” Chris leans in to kiss the top of Sebastian’s head.

“Like…” Sebastian’s scrunches up his nose in thought. “Oh, let’s go for a drive?”

“Where to?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sebastian shrugs, leaning his chin on Chris’s sternum. “Just don’t want to sit inside on a day like this.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees, stroking Sebastian’s hair back off his forehead. “We could take the Lexus and drive up to the mountains?”

“Yeah. Or, hey, can we take the Camaro?”

Chris blinks. “Really?”

“You’ve barely taken her out since you got her.” Sebastian playfully narrows his eyes. “Wouldn’t want your sugar daddy to think you didn’t appreciate his present, right?”

Chris rolls his eyes at Sebastian’s gentle ribbing. “Okay, yeah. You’re right, it’s time I took her for a spin.”

He sits up, pushing Sebastian off of him in the process, who just rolls onto his side on the couch. He holds out a hand for Sebastian to grab onto, groaning as he pulls him up to his feet.

“Go put on some pants, I’ll go check the oil. Rendezvous in the garage in ten.”

Sebastian was right – it’s a lovely day. The sun is out and it’s unseasonably warm, so Chris shrugs off his cardigan twenty minutes in, leaving him in a short-sleeved, white t-shirt. He has his sunglasses on and his ball cap backwards on his head, the window rolled down, and his baby next to him in the passenger seat. So yeah, he has nothing to complain about.

Sebastian, wearing baggy basketball shorts, a black t-shirt and some Ray Bans, is loudly singing along to Journey. It’s a little off-key, but Chris thinks it’s all the more endearing for it. They drive up into the mountains for a little over an hour – not counting one stop at a gas station – before Sebastian tells him to pull over.

“We just had a pee break,” Chris protests mildly, “literally like fifteen minutes ago. Took ages, too.”

Instead of explaining, Sebastian laughs. “Just pull over, dork.”

Chris sighs, already doing as he’s told. He came to terms with the fact that he’s whipped a long time ago. “What is it?” he asks once he’s shut off the engine, turning towards Sebastian.

Sebastian just looks at him silently for a moment, then says, “Get out of the car.”

“What? Why?”

“I need you to switch places with me.”

“Why?” Chris repeats, puzzled. “If you wanna drive for a bit, you can just ask me that, you know.”

Sebastian just flashes him a grin and opens the passenger door, climbing out of the car. Chris shrugs, following suit and walking over to the other side.

“Get in,” Sebastian orders, though he’s making no move to take place behind the wheel.

Still confused, Chris eases himself into the passenger seat and looks up at Sebastian expectantly. “Now what?”

“Now,” Sebastian says, stepping closer, “I do this.”

Next thing Chris knows, he has a lap full of Sebastian. “What are you- oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Sebastian mimics, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them carelessly onto the unoccupied driver’s seat. His grey-blue eyes sparkle mischievously and Chris’s heartbeat speeds up; a Pavlovian response.

“Here?” he asks incredulously.

“Uh huh.” Sebastian removes Chris’s sunglasses too and leans in, lips only half an inch from his own when he asks, “That okay with you?”

“What if someone sees?”

“Chris. This is literally the most remote road I could find on the map and we’re half hidden by those trees anyway. We’re fine.”

“Oh, I see,” Chris drawls, pressing his lips to Sebastian’s briefly because they’re right there. “So you planned this, huh, you little minx.”

“Maybe,” Sebastian says, tilting his head coquettishly. He reaches back behind him to open the glove compartment, rummaging around for a moment before producing a bottle of lube that he must’ve put there while Chris was busy checking the tire pressure. “And I may or may not be going commando under these shorts.”

Chris groans, closing his eyes as he lets his head thunk back against the headrest. “Sebastian, baby… One of these days you’re gonna kill me, I swear to god.”

Sebastian takes off Chris’s cap and affectionately ruffles his hair. “Only if you haven’t killed me first. Y’know, with your dick.” Sebastian grins goofily at his own, horrendously bad joke and Chris’s heart flip flops in his chest with all kinds of emotions that are far too sappy for the situation they’re in.

“Please do us both a favor and shut up, sweetheart,” Chris says, knowing that Sebastian will be able to see right through the snark, to the love underneath.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, licking his lips. “Make me.”

“Hmmm, love a challenge.”

Winding one arm around Sebastian’s waist and grabbing his neck with the other, Chris pulls Sebastian in for a hard, filthy kiss. He doesn’t waste any time slipping him some tongue, tracing the tip of it along Sebastian’s perfectly straight, Hollywood teeth, which Chris loved even back when they were still endearingly crooked.

Sebastian moans, catching Chris’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucking on it, the way he knows makes Chris’s knees weak. Chris retaliates by kneading Sebastian’s pert little ass, pulling him closer, pleased to find that Sebastian is already half hard. That makes two of them, then.

“Wait,” Sebastian says after a minute or two of making out like a couple of horny teenagers. “Tilt back your seat.”

“Ooh, smart. Knew you were more than just a pretty face.” Chris slides back the seat as far as it’ll go, but even then there’s not a lot of space for them to move. “You’re gonna have to ride me, though. I can’t move much in this position.”

Sebastian smiles wolfishly. “Not a problem. Have you seen these thighs?” He squeezes Chris’s waist with said thighs to emphasize his point, and Chris let out a deep groan, hips already jerking upwards.

“Uh huh,” he says, through gritted teeth. “I’ve seen ‘em alright. They’re good thighs. Real nice.”

Despite being all bold and flirty up until this point, the simple compliment is enough to make Sebastian blush, his cheeks tinged with pink.

Jesus, he’s sweet. Chris has no choice but to kiss him again. While he’s at it, he slides his right hand into the back of Sebastian’s shorts, squeezing the firm flesh and dipping his fingers between his cheeks. When he rubs a fingertip over Sebastian’s entrance, he looks up in surprise.

“Did you –”

“In the bathroom,” Sebastian smirks.

“That’s why it took so long.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna complain about that some more or are you gonna fuck me?”

The words send a jolt of lust through Chris, his mind going blank as his cock eagerly fills up that final bit inside his jeans. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” he rumbles, tightening his grip on Sebastian’s ass.

Sebastian nods, heavy-lidded eyes trained on Chris’s. “Yeah, I want you to fuck me. Been wanting to feel you inside me all day, but you were too busy reading.”

Chris snorts. “I guess I’d better make up for it now, then.”

“Guess you’d better,” Sebastian nods, leaning down to kiss him again while starting to open Chris’s fly.

Chris lifts up his hips to help Sebastian shimmy down his jeans and boxers just far enough to take out his cock. The way Sebastian licks his lips at the sight tells him that he’s dying to suck him off – that pretty mouth is always ready – but that will have to wait until some other time.

“Wish I could get on my knees for you, but there’s no room in this fucking car,” Sebastian laments, echoing Chris’s thoughts.

“It was your idea to take the Camaro.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Less talking, more fucking, thanks.” He wraps his hand around Chris’s length, tightening his grip and stroking him slowly, making Chris’s breath stutter in his throat.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” he breathes. “God, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” Sebastian tips Chris head back with his free hand and places small, biting kisses to his throat, just below the line of his beard. “That’s all I want, Chris, to make you feel good.”

For that alone, Chris has to kiss him again. He tugs Sebastian’s head up by his hair.

“Unghh,” Sebastian says, delightfully responsive as always when Chris pulls on his hair a bit. Chris dives in and swallows his moans, jerking his hips into the tight circle of Sebastian’s fist.

“Chris, get in me,” Sebastian mutters impatiently.

“Yeah, okay,” Chris pants. “You need some fingers first?”

“No.” Sebastian’s pupils are blown, his mouth slick and red. “Yeah. I don’t know.”

“That’s a yes, then.” Chris replies, unwilling to take any risks with something like this. Sebastian whines in response, but Chris ignores him and grabs the lube, quickly coating his fingers in the stuff before shoving his hand down the back of Sebastian’s shorts again. Carefully, he pushes his forefinger inside, sliding in a second one as soon as he’s satisfied that Sebastian can take it.

“More,” Sebastian whispers already, pressing his forehead to Chris’s. Chris obliges, adding a third finger slowly before spreading them a little, opening Sebastian up bit by bit. He can’t really thrust much in this position, can’t really hit the spot, but he’ll make sure to make up for that later.

“You wanna take these off?” Chris asks when he thinks Sebastian is prepped enough, pulling the waistband of the basketball shorts.

Sebastian shakes his head quickly, all worked up and flushed now. “Nuh uh, just – pull ‘em aside.” He lifts his hips a little, scrunching up the fabric and pulling it aside, creating a wide gap.

“Huh,” Chris says, impressed, “you really did think about this.”

“Yup.” Sebastian peckshim on the lips quickly and adds, “Now shut up and put your dick in me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian pushes himself up on his knees, hovering over Chris, while Chris holds his dick steady with his right hand and guides it to Sebastian’s opening. Both of them hold their breath as Chris presses against the slight resistance, pushing past Sebastian’s rim until he can slowly, steadily slide inside. It’s so warm in here, so tight and hot and perfect, and Chris has been with many people in his life, but none of them ever felt as good as his baby does.

“Oh, god,” Sebastian moans, “oh fuck, that feels – you feel so…”

“Feels good?” Chris manages to ask, making a concerted effort to drag his foggy mind back into consciousness so he can check if Sebastian’s doing okay.

“So good. So big, holy shit.” Sebastian shudders as he sinks down the final bit, settling in Chris’s lap with Chris now fully seated inside of him. “Why do I never get used to how you feel?” he marvels, burying his face in Chris’s neck. Chris runs his hands up and down Sebastian’s back, soothing him while he gets used to the feeling.

“Too much?”

“Fuck, no. Never toomuch of you, baby.”

For a moment, Chris has to close his eyes to stem the swell of emotions rising up inside his chest. He tightens his arms around Sebastian and squeezes, wishing not for the first time that they could just meld into one.

“Love you so much, baby,” he murmurs into Sebastian’s hair, pressing a kiss there for good measure.

“Love you, too,” Sebastian says quietly, before drawing in a deep breath. He lifts his head and locks his gaze with Chris’s, and for a long moment Chris gets lost in the depths of those steel-blue eyes.

Then, without warning, Sebastian suddenly lifts himself up a couple of inches before pushing back down, causing Chris’s eyes to roll back inside his skull at the sudden stab of sensation.

“Ooohh my fucking god,” Chris groans, hands sliding down Sebastian’s back, grabbing his ass. “Do that again.”

“Do this again?” Sebastian asks, lifting off and sinking down on Chris’s cock again, taking him all the way to the root. Chris growls out something obscene into Sebastian’s collarbone when Sebastian stays seated for a moment and rolls his hip, grinding himself down on Chris’s dick.

“Jesus, you’re so deep.” Sebastian’s eyes are wide, his voice high and breathy, almost like a whine.

“Think I could get deeper?” Chris asks, when Sebastian comes up for air.

Sebastian shrugs, but the way he’s trembling belies the casual gesture. “Worth a try, huh?”

Sebastian starts to ride him then, rising up and sinking down again, taking him to the hilt over and over. They don’t talk for a little while, at least not beyond some bitten off curses and moans, too focused on the way they’re making each other feel to speak. Sebastian’s breaths are coming shorter now, his t-shirt already sticking to his back from the effort it takes working himself on Chris’s cock in the unexpected heat of the day.

“You’re doing so well,” Chris whispers in Sebastian’s ear, knowing how the praise will affect him. “You look so damn good bouncing on my dick like this, sweetheart.”

Sebastian whimpers, trying his best to speed up even further while he tightens involuntarily around Chris’s length. It’s not easy, though, in this position, so Chris helps him out a little by letting his hips snap up, fucking up into him as hard as he’s able.

“Aahh,” Sebastian moans, jerking upright. “Right there, I’m – oh.”

Chris does it again, pushing in deep while Sebastian grinds down, mindlessly chasing his pleasure.

He’s beautiful like this. He’s beautiful always, but especially like this. Lost in pleasure, eyes dark and heavy-lidded and a flush on his cheeks, his red mouth open, looking almost surprised at how good he’s feeling. And that’s all Chris ever wants, too, to make Sebastian feel good. To make him feel better than anyone has made him feel before; to make him feel whole, and owned, and adored. All those things Sebastian craves but isn’t always able to ask for. So Chris doesn’t wait until he asks, he makes it his mission to give it to him whenever he can, anything he needs, whenever he needs it.

Because that’s the wayhe loves Sebastian: always, anything, completely.

A sharp sting brings him back to the present – Sebastian sinking his teeth into the meat of his shoulder. He gets bitey sometimes, when he’s close; a way to give expression to the building tension inside of him. Chris slides a hand up Sebastian’s back, tightly gripping the back of his neck. The hair at his nape is damp with sweat. Chris threads his fingers through it, tightening into a fist while he keeps pumping his hips, burying himself inside of Sebastian over and over.

“You getting close, sweetheart?”

It’s a sound Sebastian makes in reply, not a word, but Chris has learned to interpret all of Sebastian’s sounds by now, and he knows what this one means.

“Chris,” Sebastian breathes, voice barely audible, “Chris, Chris, ahh.”

“I’ve got you, Sebastian. I’ve got you.” He pulls Sebastian’s head back again, firmly but not roughly, and fits their mouths together. Sebastian kisses him deeply, desperately, hands coming up to grab his face as he squirms in his lap. His breath is coming fast, panting into Chris’s mouth, and when Chris reaches down into the front of Sebastian’s shorts and curls his fingers around his length, pulling him out, Sebastian makes a high, keening sound, his ass gripping impossibly tight around Chris’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Chris pants, “oh baby, you feel so good, so perfect – Jesus, you’re tight, sweetheart.”

“Come in me,”Sebastian says suddenly, giving Chris a wild, pleading look. “Come in me – please, Chris.”

Chris growls. “Youwant me to fill you up? That what you want? Fill you up with my come?”

“Yes, oh my god, p-please,” Sebastian stutters, “c’mon, do it. Now.”

Not used to being the one to receive orders when they’re like this, the words hit Chris hard, filling him with renewed urgency. He gabs hold of Sebastian’s waist, holding him in place as he jackhammers into him, knowing he’s nailing his prostate with every stroke from the way Sebastian jolts in his arms. Sebastian’s fingers dig into Chris’s biceps as he holds on and takes it, takes it so good – until Chris can’t take anymore and tips over the edge.

His rhythm inevitably falters as he comes, spilling inside the intoxicating heat of Sebastian’s body, giving him everything he’s got. Even as his climax rages through him, somehow Chris remembers to wrap a hand around Sebastian’s cock, jerking him fast and sloppily until Sebastian keens, the breath being punched out of him by his orgasm. Chris feels him spill, warm and sticky, over his hand, staining his abdomen and shorts.

Finally, they’re both spent, Sebastian slumping against Chris’s chest. He breathing hard, still, but it’s slowing now, and Chris tries to match his own breaths to Sebastian’s.

“Hmmm,” Sebastian hums finally, turning his head to press a wet, sloppy kiss to Chris’s throat. “Chris?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Love you.”

Sebastian’s always so pliant and sweet after sex, warm and cuddly and affectionate, and Chris cherishes those moments, soaking it all up to keep for later, when they’re apart.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he whispers, runninga hand up and down Sebastian’s sweaty back in long, soothing strokes. “Youhappy now?”

“Very,” Sebastian says contentedly, and Chris can feel him smile against his neck.

“Good.” He presses a lingering kiss to the side of Sebastian’s face. “Thanks for helping me christen the Camaro.”

Sebastian snorts. “Anytime. And I mean that.”

#evanstan #rpf #real person fiction #chris evans x sebastian stan #my writing #my fic #chris evans #sebastian stan #smut #ao3

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