#time machine… heart eyes emoji

[deadwardianpoltergeist]

“martha’s the most underrated doctor who character” wrong. TARDIS.

[muffinpink02]

Coffee Shop

Summary - You get a job with Mapi, she's a big flirt, your current partner is a dick, does Mapi sway your mind? Some appearances from the Barca girls. Got a lot done but a lot more to go. This will hava a part 2 at some point.

Warning Smut 18 & rough, consensual sex/shitty partner

“That’s it, just like that. Good” She husked

“Like that?” You whispered, listening intently to the girl's instructions.

“Sí, go a bit higher.” You could see from the corner of your eye she was biting her lip. 

The Spaniard placed her tattooed hands around yours, directing your movements, you felt your breath catch slightly in your throat from her touch. 

“Just like that. You’re doing good, hold it there.” She was so close, you could smell her woody perfume. She let go of your hands, giving you range to move. 

“I can see someone’s getting more comfortable.” Mapi hummed. 

You chuckled softly, her breath tickled your neck. “I have a good teacher.”

The brunette lightly chuckled. “Okay. Now hit it hard so the air bubbles go.”

You pulled the jug of milk from the machine and did as the brunette said.

“Perfecto. Now this part is more tricky, but try and do the heart, like I showed you.”

You tilted the mug with the shot of coffee and poured the frothy milk inside. Trying your best attempt at making the artwork from the steamy milk. You both watched as the hot milk mixed with the coffee. It had started out well but began to look similar to a poo emoji. 

“Ergh. I can’t do it, Mapi.” You looked at the coffee mug, a frown now on your face. 

The Spaniard put her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s not easy, princesa. I didn’t get it straight away. You’re getting there.” She smiled warmly at you.

“Yeah, I just want to get it right.” You looked down at the coffee mug, letting out a loud sigh. 

——————-

It had been a month since you started working at the coffee shop. On your first day you arrived ten minutes early, you entered the small cosy cafe that you had always passed on your walks, but for some reason had never entered. 

The bell rang above your head, catching your new colleagues' attention. You were greeted by the tattooed Spaniard, the very confident, very beautiful, very cocky Spaniard.

“Hola, you must be the new starter. I’m Mapi.”

Mapi was hot, with a capital H. You drank in her olive skin and tattooed covered arms as she walked toward you. You tried your best to not stare for too long. Though the Spaniard didn't try very hard, her brown eyes scanned your body as soon as you walked through the door. A cheeky smile plastered her face as she stuck her lean arm out for you to hold.

She showed you around, demonstrating the basics of the machines, where the storage cupboard was and where you could find most of the supplies you would need during your shift. She got you to clean for the day, not wanting to overwhelm you on your first day, allowing you to get used to your surroundings. 

You cleaned like she had asked, even cleaning bits that looked like they hadn’t been touched in a while. You weren't able to talk much longer as the shop got busy in its morning rush.

But now and again you got distracted, you had found yourself staring at Mapi throughout the day. Your eyes drifted to her decorated arms as you cleared tables. You watched the way her muscles flexed when making the drink orders for the customers. Or how she stuck her tongue out in concentration as she counted the customers' change. 

The Spaniard had caught you staring plenty of times, but never said anything. She would smirk at you as if she had an idea of what you were looking at, and she would take the opportunity to ask if you were doing okay, or ask if you needed help, smirking to herself as you flustered. 

Of course you tried to make it look like you weren't staring, trying your best to look away before she caught you.  But your eyes would still end up wandering back to her not long after. 

In the quieter hours of the day you found out you had a lot of things in common. Mapi played for a local football team, she played in defence. You explained how you had played before but not since you injured your knee, but you told her you’d love to try again in the future. 

“You are more than welcome to come and try out. Or even come and watch us play.” The Spaniard smiled at you, pure joy on her face. 

“Yeah, definitely. I’d love that.” You smiled at the brunette.

By the end of the shift music started to play through the shop's speakers, Mapi asked what you wanted to listen to. Finding out you had very similar music tastes. 

She closed the shop door behind her, locking it with the keys. She turned to you. 

“Hey, you did well today. I’ll show you more of the coffee making tomorrow, in the quiet times.”

“Thank you. Yeah, that sounds good, I don’t want you to think I’m useless.” You laughed.

“I don’t think you are anything of the kind.” She looked at you with a straight face.

You felt your cheeks warm up, you chuckled gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” She smiled at you.

————

It was now a month in, and you were a lot more comfortable, thanks to a certain Spaniard. It was closing time, and as usual Mapi had her music blaring over the speakers. You swept the floors while she emptied the dishwasher.

“Hey, what are you doing tonight? Me and my friends are going to Club 10 if you want to join?” 

The thought of going out clubbing with Mapi was exciting, and you were a little sad that you couldn’t join, only as you had plans.

“I can’t. My girlfriend’s coming to mine for dinner. But thank you for asking. Next time though.” You smiled apologetically at her. 

“Ahh no worries, I’ll ask again.” She winked at you as she started to stack the mugs. 

Since you started working at the coffee shop, Mapi shamelessly flirted with you. She flirted with such ease it never felt serious. She would laugh after a one liner that made your cheeks go bright red, then get on with whatever task she was in the middle of doing. She never made you feel uncomfortable, it never felt gross or too much, she just liked teasing you. 

You knew the Spanish were flirty, touchy people, you had even seen her do it with customers now and again. She was clearly just a naturally flirty person.

However, it didn’t stop your heart from racing every so often, especially if she was giving you a certain look when she did decide to flirt. Or a certain cheeky smile when she was being extra touchy, you would have to take yourself to the bathroom to have a quick breather. You weren't blind, Mapi was beyond sexy, but not only was she your type on paper, she was kind, funny and genuinely seemed to care about what was going on with you. 

But, you never took your feelings further than that, you had a girlfriend, a girlfriend of nine months. Things were going good, you really liked Frankie, she was smart, successful, funny and great in bed. You had even recently said those big three words just over a month ago, she hadn’t said it back but you weren't going to push her. She would say that in her own time. 

————

You plaited up the food you had spent ages cooking, pleasantly surprised at how it came out. 

“Smells good babe, you didn’t put any spicy stuff in it did you?” Frankie asked while scrolling on her phone. 

“No, nothing too spicy. I added some seasoning, but only for flavour.”

You placed Frankie’s food in front of her. 

“Okay, cos I really can’t do spice.”

You sat down across from her and smiled. 

“I know. No spice. I promise.”

Thankfully Frankie deemed it edible enough to eat. Well, it was more the vegetables that she ate. She attempted the chicken that you had added a small amount of flavour to, she had to stop a few times for extra water.

“So when do you think you’ll get a proper job?” Frankie asked as she pushed around the food on her plate. 

You stopped your own fork before it got to your lips. 

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“Well a waitress isn’t a real job. When do you think you’ll be going back to an office job?”

“Well, I’m not a waitress, it’s a barista role and I’ve only started there and I actually really enjoy it. You know I wasn’t happy at my last job. I needed a break from all that corporate shit.” 

She gave you that look that you hated, it was a look that made you feel stupid, like you had just said the dumbest thing she had ever heard. 

“Well, you can’t do that forever. You’ll have to get back to it at some point.” She drank her water. 

You suddenly lost your appetite, you placed your fork on your plate. You felt that anxious feeling creeping on your skin. 

You had left your project manager role just over six weeks ago, you hated your last job, it had gotten way too stressful. Your manager would make you feel bad for not putting in extra work, and extra work was putting it lightly. He wanted you to do two people’s jobs, and then some. They hadn’t hired enough staff due to people leaving monthly. You wouldn’t have minded too much but they didn’t even pay you for the extra hours you did do.

The job had even started to creep into your personal life. You were too tired to meet your friends as you were working over time and too stressed to not take your mind off work during the weekends as you would get constant emails and calls from clients. 

Your manager had even called you while you were on a pre booked holiday asking you to end it early. And you did leave the holiday early, as you were half threatened that you would lose your job if you didn’t. When you needed a half day for a funeral you were denied straight away, that’s when you knew you were done with the company. 

You gave in your notice the next day and decided to have a small break, you had saved up a bit of money over the years, so financially you were fine. You just wanted to have a two or three month break, to maybe go away or just figure out a new role. Nothing like what you were doing before. 

You had only taken the coffee shop job because Frankie wouldn’t stop talking about you not having a job. It made you feel lazy and insecure, you felt like you kind of had to. So your break was cut short to two weeks. 

“Well, I’m happy there. I don’t think I’ll be looking for anything else any time soon.”

Frankie rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her water.

“Whatever, it’s your life, waste it on what you want.” 

Before you could respond Frankie’s phone began to ring. “I got to take this, you can throw the rest away. It’s too spicy.”

Frankie left the room, her phone pressed to her ear. 

You cleared the table, a lump bubbled in your throat, you felt like shit. You knew Frankie meant well, but she was from a different background. She was from money. Her dad got her role in PR because he knew the owner of the company. She hadn’t worked for the role in any way. And if that didn’t work out he would more than likely get her a role in another firm, like he always did.

————

It was half three, and dead in the coffee shop. You and Mapi were having a debate on what women’s team were likely to win the euros in 2025. 

“Come on, Spain will win, we won the worlds! Why would we not win euros?” 

You loved winding her up about football, she was the only other person that loved it as much as you. 

“Hmm I don’t know. You guys got lucky in my opinion.” 

“Pshhh. You are just hurt because we are the better team.”

“It was luck, just one goal. Nothing to shout about.” You smirked.

Mapi was done with your teasing, she grabbed the jug of milk off the side and flicked the froth right at your face. By the look on her own face she had done more than she meant to, she looked slightly worried until she saw you smile.

You dramatically gasped, wiping some of the mess from your cheeks. You broke out into a playful smile and began to laugh. She smiled instantly at your reaction, laughing at her mistake.

You looked around the counter, trying to find your own weapon, you grabbed the hot chocolate ganache pot, laughing internally as Mapi’s face dropped.

“No, come on. I was kidding. I’m sorry. Please, chica.” Mapi put her arms up in defence. You stepped closer to her, clearly not caring about her protest. She then took a different approach.

“Come on, princesa.” She pleaded.

You couldn't help but feel butterflies at her nickname for you.

“You can’t waste it, you can’t put good chocolate to waste. If you do it, you’ll have to eat it off me” She stepped closer to you, a devilish smirk on her face. The smirk that made your knees buckle, and you had a feeling she knew that. 

You were never one to flirt back, you would normally roll your eyes or batter off whatever hot and heavy sentence the Spaniard would lay on you, but you decided to play her at her own game. The words came out before you could really register what you were saying. 

“Hmm. but I don’t think you could handle my tongue.” 

Mapis' face was a perfect picture of shock. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for being able to make the girl falter like you did. Before the brunette had a chance to reply the bell on the door chimed, you turned around to greet the customer 

“Frankie? Wha- what are you doing here?” 

Frankie walked towards the counter, a big smile on her face. Until she eyed up Mapi, who was probably standing too close for Frankie’s liking. 

“Well, don’t look too happy to see your girlfriend.” She emphasised the last word. 

“No I am. I just. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Frankie loved when she made you a bit helpless, you could see it on her face, you must have looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Well I was passing by, I wanted to see why you loved it here so much.” She then eyed up Mapi once more. 

“Frankie, this is Mapi. She’s trained me on everything I need to know about coffee and how to make the perfect hot chocolate.” You smiled at Mapi. “Mapi, this is Frankie, my girlfriend.”

Mapi reached her hand out for Frankie. 

“Hola, it’s nice to meet you.” The Spaniard smiled at Frankie. 

Frankie looked Mapi up and down like she didn’t want to touch her hand, but she did, and she did it quickly. You didn’t miss it, and neither did Mapi. 

Frankie laughed. “Is there really much to know? It’s coffee, not rocket science. It’s not that hard.” 

You felt your skin prickle. You hated when Frankie was like this.  

“Actually there is a bit to know about coffee and how it’s made. It can almost be a science lesson.” Mapi laughed at her own joke. 

“Mapis right. There’s a lot to it.” You looked at Frankie, almost pleading with your eyes to stop her rudeness. 

“Hmm, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. Are you allowed to have that many tattoos showing while you’re working? Does it not put the customers off?”

You heard Mapi laugh under her breath. 

“I actually get a lot of compliments, especially from the ladies.” Mapi winked at Frankie, she wasn’t going to bite back. 

“Each to their own. I just wouldn’t be allowed to have any tattoos showing like that at my work.” 

You then chimed in. “You don’t even have tattoos and I don’t actually think they would care much at your work, Frankie. It’s not like you're a rocket scientist.” You joked but could tell that pissed Frankie off. 

Mapi laughed, she put her hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m going to count the items in the storage cupboard chica. Was nice to meet you Frankie.” Mapi walked away, leaving you and Frankie alone. 

“That was rude. Why are you being like that?” 

“I was just joking. Listen, I came here to apologise. I was a dick the other night, I don’t want to argue.” Frankie took your hand in hers, giving you the puppy dog eyes that she always used when you argued. 

You smiled, you weren't one to stay mad. You squeezed her hand back, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. 

“Do you want to go for dinner next week? We can go to that place that you like?” Frankie asked. 

“Yes! The Spanish restaurant?” You chimed.

“Yeah, that one.” 

“I’d love that.” You clapped. 

Frankie smiled, you could tell she had more to say. 

“I also have to travel for work tomorrow. We’ve got a new client that the company wants to impress. So I’ll be gone for three nights. I won’t be able to talk to you much.” 

You felt your shoulders drop. “Really? Okay well. I guess you can’t say no. We can FaceTime at night.” You tried to be positive.

“Well, maybe, you would have to text me first. Don’t just spring a FaceTime on me, I might be out with the new clients.” She laughed. 

“Yeah that makes sense.”

“I’ll be back Thursday evening, we can go for dinner on Friday evening.” 

“Okay, I can’t wait.” You said. 

“Anyways I got to go, I’ll see you later tonight?” Frankie smiled.

“Yeah. See you tonight.” 

You leaned back in to give Frankie a quick kiss, but you suddenly felt her grab you by the T shirt, pulling you hard. You yelped as she pushed her tongue deep into your mouth. You pulled back, looking at Frankie in confusion, she never kissed you like that in public, she was always one to hate PDA. You caught her eyes, she was looking at Mapi, who wasn’t paying any attention to the pair of you. 

“What are you doing?” You wiped your mouth, slightly annoyed.

“Nothing. Just wanted to kiss you. I’ll see you later.” Frankie walked out the coffee shop, smirking to herself. 

Mapi came back up to restock the fridge. “Your girlfriend is nice.” She said it with enough sarcasm. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why she acted like that.”

“It's obvious, no?” She smirked as she stalked up to you. “You have to work with a very sexy.” She stepped closer. “Very charming.” Her arms trapped your body against the coffee bar. “Very tattooed, Spanish girl, all day.” 

The brunette had your body caged between hers and the bar. Her face was so close to yours, you could feel her breath on your lips. You couldn't stop your eyes from roaming over her delicate pink lips. Your mind wondered what it would be like to have those same lips on yours, or other places. You felt your pussy spasm at the dirty thoughts flooding your brain.

She whispered.“See bonita, you can’t keep your eyes off of me.” 

Her smirk was devilish. It was like she could read your mind. You felt your cheeks blush from her comment. Her dark eyes roamed your face, it looked like she wanted to kiss you. Suddenly her body was gone. Her laugh brought you back from the daze that was Mapi. She started stocking the fridge, chuckling to herself as if she hadn't just had you hanging on to every word of hers. 

“You are like a baby rabbit, no. Squirrel? Some kind of fuzzy creature.” 

You blew out a chuckle, trying to compose yourself. But you could feel the heat between your legs. You looked over at the clock. How many hours did you have left?

—--------------

“Fuck, just like that.” You were between Frankies legs, eating her out while she pulled hard on your hair. It was the third time in a row that you had gotten her off, not that you minded but you had been horny since work. 

Not for any particular reason. 

But you had been desperate to have some release and the minute you stepped through the door you could tell Frankie needed it to. She had just about said hello when she pulled you into the bedroom, kissing you hard. Her teeth sunk in your bottom lip making you whimper against her mouth. But she only swallowed your cries. She pushed your back against the wall, you winced as you hit the foundation. 

“I need your tongue.” Was all she said before you were being pushed to your knees. She unbuckled her jeans and grabbed your head, forcing your face between her legs. She let out a gasp, her head tilted back as your tongue made connection with her clit. You didn’t mind this kind of sex, you were the more submissive one between the pair of you, and it could get rough and desperate and you knew Frankie liked being in charge. 

She grabbed the back of your head as she fucked your face against the wall. Her hips rolled into your mouth, taking complete charge of your movements. 

“Stick your tongue out.” She demanded. 

You stuck your tongue out for her. She grinded her pussy along your tongue, it was like you was her fuck toy. 

She came quickly, pushing your head against the wall as she used you to get off. After she came, she moved you onto the bed. You thought she wanted to do the same to you, but she made herself comfy on the pillows. You watched as she laid back, opening her legs and pointed between them. 

So you did as she asked, you didn't mind going again, you were a giver, you loved pleasing your partners but the wetness between your legs was ever growing. It took her a lot longer to come this time, as she had literally just came a minute before she had you on your knees again. But eventually after some time she came in your mouth, her hand holding your head down roughly. 

Once she released your hair you sat up. You were desperate for her now. It had been a while since you had sex with Frankie. You knew she was stressed from work, having new important clients on. So sex was off the cards. Well, she would be too tired to do bits to you. So you ended up like this a lot of the time, your face or hands between her legs. You moved up to kiss her, she sucked your tongue into her mouth.

“Again.” She husked out. 

“Again?” You chuckled breathlessly.

“Yeah, I need you babe. You make me feel so good.” She stroked your face lovingly.

“Okay. Are you not too sensitive?”

“No.” She kissed you again and started to push your head down.

“Okay.” You gave her a final kiss before you moved down her body, kissing her stomach on the way down. You licked slowly.

“Fuck.” She pushed your head further in between her legs, rocking herself on your tongue. Once again it took her a while to come, clearly too sensitive. You could feel your cunt throbbing, needing to be touched. 

Your jaw began to ache from how long you had been eating her out. She pulled your hair hard, your eyes closed from the pain, she sometimes didn't realise how rough she was being. You wondered if Mapi was ever this rough. You could feel your underwear becoming uncomfortably wet. Finally, you could tell she was close, she started to grip your head tight, it was painful, but before you could stop her, her hips bucked into your face. You groaned as she pushed you further into her core. It was almost hard to breathe.

“Fuck, suck it. Suck it. Yes, just like that. Such a slut” She gripped at your head, not letting you move an inch as you sucked on her clit. 

Her legs started to shake. You felt her wetness start to enter your mouth. Her thighs clamped your head. She kept you how she wanted you, her hips grinding into your face. You swallowed her juices. As she let out a groan. You tried to move your head away to breathe but she pulled you back.

“I didn't say stop, keep going” 

Your lips wrapped back around her clit. 

“Do it gently. Swallow.” She gripped your neck.

You stayed there like she demanded. Finally she let go.

“So good.” She husked out. 

You lied next to her, catching your breath. “Yeah?” 

She sat up, groaning from the pleasure. “Yeah. I needed that. I'm going to get in the shower.”

“Oh?”

“What?” 

“Nothing, I just.. I thought we could carry on? I wa- I really want you Frankie.” You smiled, hoping she would get the hint.

“I’m tired.”

“Okay. It’s just that, it's been a while since you kind of touched me like that. I just miss you.”

She rolled her eyes already annoyed. “I’m tired.”

“No, I get that. I just wanted t-,” 

“God, can’t you just give me a break. I don’t want to. Don’t try to make me feel bad because I’m tired.” 

This was the third time you had mentioned it. Frankie hadn’t touched you in 6 weeks. You tried to ask her what was wrong. If there was a reason she didn't want to touch you, if it was something she needed to talk about, but everytime she just brushed it off and blamed work. 

You already couldn't be asked to argue. You would just take care of yourself. Again.

“Okay.” You looked away, not able to look at your girlfriend, worried she would see your pain.

“Ergh. I’m going to mine. Thanks for ruining a good moment.” 

“No, Frankie don’t.” You begged. 

“No. You’ve pissed me off.” She quickly put her clothes on and left. Slamming the door behind her.

You flinched from the slam. You felt the tears prick at your eyes. Then the hot tears ran down your cheeks. You felt numb. Frankie had been arguing with you more and more lately. Snapping at you for small things, arguing over nothing. And now she wasn't touching you. You felt ugly, unwanted. 

You definitely didn’t feel horny anymore. You took yourself to the bathroom and had a long hot shower, you had your dinner and scrolled through Netflix to watch a movie. It had become a routine at this point, doing this alone after an argument with Frankie. Half way through you got a text, you ignored the giddy feeling you felt when you saw it was from her. You looked at your phone to see Mapi’s name on your screen, you couldn't stop the stupid smile that appeared on your face. 

It was a picture of her cat dressed up in a cowboy hat. She told you about the purchase she had got for her pet. You didn't believe her, but here it was picture proof. You replied.

Mapi - Picture sent

You - she doesn't look too impressed. 

Mapi - ignore her, she always looks that way. She loves it 

You laughed, shaking your head at the Spaniards' antics. Another text came through.

Mapi - I'm going to the ‘Blue Cherry' tomorrow, wanna come?

You bit your lip in thought. You had no plans tomorrow. Frankie was away, and if it was anything like her trip before you didnt get to speak to her once. So, yeah why not. It had been ages since you had a night out.

You - Yes! I’ll be there 🎉

That stupid goofy smile grew on your face once more. Mapi always had a way of making you smile, or feel special, even something as simple as wanting you to go out with her and her friends. You found yourself looking over her instagram page, again. You smiled as you looked over the now familiar pictures. You scrolled down to the very familiar picture of Mapi sitting on a rock in her bikini. The girl's body was unreal. You felt a little bad that you lingard on the photo, learing at your friend. But you had been so worked up from earlier, your body was basically on the edge of exploding.

Your mind drifted to your memories of today. You could still feel the weight of Mapi’s body pressing against your own. You could see the curve of her pink lips smirking at you, the way she always did when she was messing with you. Her lips had become a common thought in your mind, you had wondered how her lips would feel on your own, or how her tongue would feel if it were to trace down your stomach. Followed by gentle kisses.

And suddenly that hornyness returned. 

Your hand slowly descended down your stomach, your fingertips traced small lines on your exposed skin, just teasing yourself with the thought. Recently you had been doing this more and more.

You slipped your hand down your pj shorts. You weren't shocked at just how wet you already were. You tried to put it down to you pleasuring Frankie, but you knew deep down it wasn't because of that, not right now.

You dipped your finger past your lips and just below your clit, finding your essence already dripping. You gathered the juices on your finger tips and brought it straight to your clit. You let out a small hiss. You were past sensitive. It almost hurt to touch yourself, you weren't sure if it was mental strain or physical. 

You bit your lip at feeling the pleasure of finally having some friction on your bundle of nerves, circling your clit just the way you liked. You couldn't stop the images of today flashing through your mind, you could see Mapi in front of you, you could feel the shape of her body pressing against yours, your fingers picked up the pace. 

You could see her brown eyes looking at you, her lips smirking at you. Your imagination got the better of you when you pictured Mapis' hand in place of your own, touching you, pressing your clit lightly. Her smirk became wider as she felt you becoming wetter. 

“You want me, don’t you?” You imagined her voice.

You nodded. Even an imaginary Mapi knew you wanted her. Your hips started to grind into your own hand. You imagined her fingers touching you, her eyes watching you. You then imagined the girl in front of you, in your home, pulling your pjs shorts down, her brown eyes staring between your legs, licking her lips.

You started to get rougher with your touches, needing Mapi more and more. You imagined her tattooed hand reaching between your thighs, stroking your skin, teasing you as she got closer to your core. You imagined her gentle touch as she finally got to your clit, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“You like it, princesa?” Her imaginary voice asked.

You nodded. You could feel your orgasm rising. Mapi invaded your mind, her freckles, her smile, her laugh, the way she smelt, the way she talked, the way her eyes watched you when she thought you weren't looking. She filled your mind with everything that was her, your legs began to shake as her imaginary fingers brought you closer to your orgasm. 

You imagined her lips tracing your neck, sucking gently on your skin. You gasped as you felt your climax start to take over. Your legs began to shake, your back arched off the sofa as you imagined Mapi kissing you while you came. Your hips bucked into your hand at the aftershocks of your orgasm, your breathing slowly returning to a normal pace. 

You laid there, staring at the ceiling, guilt took over for Frankie and Mapi. But before you could think anymore about it a text came through, you looked at your phone to see Mapi replying to your text.

Mapi - Finally!

You let out a loud sigh as your head dropped back on the sofa.

[ickadori]

OMG I love you mean reader au, I have a question!!

¿Does the reader ever makes Yuuji jealous on purpose? Maybe with someone they don't see as often because everyone close knows Yuujis girl backs and also bites , so I can see her doing it with maybe someone from Kyoto.

I feel Yuuji is the kind to let it pass or act oblivious cuz he knows I would piss her off but when they are on private he let's her know that playing stupid games lead you to win stupid prices.

Anyways as you can see I'm super super invested in you au, you are an amazing writer❤️

[cws] fem reader. i named the kyoto student ryo. sukuna takes over at the end. anal at the end. overstimulation. half a sprinkle of impact play -> like 2 spanks.

You’re always so dismissive to everyone, especially to those who aren’t in your inner circle. If you don’t interact with them on a daily basis, you couldn’t care less to hear what they have to say, and it’s not an unusual sight to see you rudely walk away mid conversation.

The same could be said for the Kyoto students.

You weren’t friendly with any of them, and had even ended up on bad terms with a few due to your nature. Yuji had been sure he was going to have to intervene in at least five times with the same person in order to keep the peace during their impromptu visit, but to his surprise, to everyone’s surprise, you had been on your best behavior.

You had greeted everyone, albeit with an annoyed ‘hey’ followed by a roll of your eyes, but that was leagues better than what you had done last year! When Todo had intruded on you and Yuji’s conversation, you hadn’t tried to smash Maki’s cursed tool against his head like you usually do, but had rather pursed your lips and excused yourself from the conversation, leaving him to listen to tales about Takada and other nonsensical things.

All in all, the day was going alright. You hadn’t gotten into a heated argument with anyone, nor had he sensed any spikes in cursed energy for the last hour or so that you had been out of his sight. Deciding that he’d just about enough of Todo droning on and on about the feeling of Takada’s hand in his own, Yuji begins to plot his escape.”

“It was a riveting—”

“You heard that?” Yuji cuts Todo off, eyebrows furrowed as he cups his hand to his ear. “I think that’s my girlfriend screaming in agonizing pain—gotta go.” He jogs away, ignoring the call of his name, and snickers to himself as he rounds the corner, one hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

Just where are you, he thinks to himself as he scrolls to your contact, a smile breaking out onto his face at the sight of your contact picture. It showcased you giving him an annoyed look, face scrunched up cutely as you had your hand raised, a failed attempt to block your face from the camera. He shoots you a quick text asking where you are, followed by a barrage of heart emojis and kiss emojis, and he stops in front of the vending machine as he waits for your reply, deciding to buy himself and you a drink.

He’s halfway through his soda when you suddenly come rounding the corner, and he smiles as he pockets his phone, only for his smile to falter a bit when he notices that you’re smiling too, at someone that isn’t him—which isn’t a problem in and of itself! Yuji isn’t some crazy jealous guy, but it’s weird to see you look so… jolly. Who are you talking to?

A second person comes around the corner, and his face sours as he recognizes it as Kyoto’s newest 3rd year, Ryo. Yuji tries to be friendly with everyone, but he written the man off from the moment he saw him, not liking the way his eyes had raked you up and down while you had standing right beside Yuji—what was he, blind? It had been so obvious the two of you were together, what with the way Yuji had been trying to fuse your mouths together.

“Yuji,” you call, eyes crinkling as you grab ahold of Ryo’s wrist and pulls him over. Yuji takes another sip of his soda, cursing to himself when he feels Sukuna start to stir inside him. “You remember Ryo, right?”

It’s a tease—he knows it is. He had spent the better half of an hour that day complaining to you about him, while Sukuna had laughed and suggested he ‘pluck his fucking eyes out next time, brat, problem solved’, which he would never do, obviously, but the idea was a bit enticing…especially now, as Yuji is forced to watch the way Ryo takes in your ass when you stretch up to place a kiss on his cheek while you take your drink from his hand.

“He says he’s been thinking about transferring here, right?” You direct your attention to Ryo as you spin around, his eyes darting up to your face, and Yuji can’t keep his clear annoyance off his face.

“Right. I’m really liking the vibe here for some reason.” He grins, and Yuji nearly drags you away in response.

“Hm. Wonder why that is?” You giggle, fucking giggle, and an anger that’s part his own and part his curse’s begins to fester in his gut. Yuji sees the two of you stiffen, no doubt due to Sukuna’s sudden spike in energy, and he gathers the back of your shirt in his hand, the veins along the back of his hand protruding as he tugs you back into him. “Y… Yuji?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His chin hovers over your shoulder as he stares Ryo down, and something must show in his eyes then, because Ryo is flinching back and stuttering over his words as he takes slow steps back. “Did you want Sukuna?”

“No.” You hastily reply, and the bottle in your hand crinkles as your grip on it tightens.

“‘S that because you think I’m gonna go easy on you?”

“…”

“Because I’m not.”

~

The unmistakable ‘plap plap’ of Yuji’s hips snapping into your own is loud in the confined space, and you lift a shaky hand, intending on using it to push at his stomach. It’s snatched and pushed down against your chest before you can even fully raise it, and your mouth opens on a silent cry when he slams his cock into you.

“Yu—!”

He grunts, the hand that had been holding him above you moving to cover your mouth, leaving him no choice but to crush you with his weight. “Don’t -shit- call my name.” He rasps, beads of sweat rolling down the slope of his nose just as he rolls his hips into your, pelvis grinding down against your clit with every movement.

You’re sensitive, sore, and every touch, every stroke, sends a pleasurable pain zapping through your body. You don’t know how many times you’ve come, or how long it’s been since Yuji practically dragged you into a supply closet and got you down on your back, with Sukuna goading him on the entire time.

‘You gonna finally put her in her place, brat?’

‘Y’know she’s gonna do it again unless you punish her.’

‘Look how she was smiling. She did it on purpose. You’re too soft on her - let me deal with it.’

‘What’re you doing, idiot? Get your mouth off her cunt. Is this a fucking reward or a punishment?’

‘Slap her around—shut up, girl. Do it. She likes it, see? Look at the mess she’s making on our cock.’

A particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling and your toes curling in your loafers, and your mouth falls open when he brushes against that spot, eyebrows pulling together as a fresh bout of tears spring to your eyes.

“You crying now?” Sukuna snarks, and Yuji falters, his eyes popping open from where they had been squeezed shut to look at your face. “Don’t fucking stop, she’s fine, she’s—”

“Yuji.”

“Sweet girl,” he answers, hands moving to cup the sides of your face. “Don’t cry - are you sensitive?” You weakly nod, cunt fluttering as he runs his nose along your cheek. “Do you want me to be softer? Just tell…” Yuji goes slack against you, and your eyes widen, hands moving to push at his shoulders, only for them to tense under your grip as a low laugh leaves him.

“Sukuna,” it comes out in a pitiful whine, and you wince at the slow drag of his cock along your walls as he pulls out, thick shaft sliding up between your folds as he bumps the head against your clit.

“It’s been a while,” his head pulls back, allowing you to see the grin stretched across his face, and you drop your gaze as you keep your mouth, earning another laugh. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared.” His touch is rough as he grips at your sides, nails biting into your skin, and you gasp when he’s suddenly flipping you over, one hand leaving your waist to smack at your ass. “Do it how I like it.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you shuffle so you’re up on your knees, butt lifted into the air while your chest is flush to the floor. Sukuna smacks you again, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you can’t help the moan that slips out when he spreads you open, his hips jutting forward so he can rut his cock against your cunt, a jolt racing up your spine when he goes over your clit.

“Ah, poor pussy is sensitive, yeah?” His tone is mocking, but you nod nonetheless. “Hm.” He pops the tip into your hole, fucking it in just a bit before pulling it back out to continue what he was doing. “Guess we’ve gotta pick another hole then, don’t we?”

“Suku—ah!” His hand reaches underneath you to deliver a swift slap to your cunt, fingers catching your clit, and you let out a pitiful little whimper.

“Quiet.” He spreads you open further, and a shaky breath leaves you when a glob of split lands on your puckered hole, his thumb spreading the wetness around before slowly pushing it in. “Only the good little girls get to speak.”

His cockhead replaces his thumb, and your breath comes out in pants as he eases himself in, stretching you impossibly wide as he forces himself to fit.

“I hope you’re watching, brat — no worries if you aren’t, I don’t mind repeating the lesson later.”

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 8

Miguel usually starts his day off by preparing a dark cup of coffee immediately after finally peeling himself out the bed. With droopy eyes and a five o’clock shadow, his husky figure stumbles into the kitchen, thirsty for caffeine. As he waits for the machine to do its magic, he’ll maybe run his hand through his dark, peppered, slept-on hair or take a moment to clean his glasses with the fibers of his sweats. Once the cup is prepared, the fresh scent of grinded coffee beans in the air, he’ll lean against his kitchen counter, sipping happily from his world’s best brain mug. He’ll relax for a moment, thinking about the material he’s planned for the day. Once he’s done, he’ll wash his cup, and start getting ready.

He left the suit about three years ago, taking up the job as professor of genetics and biochemistry at around the same time.

He’s been happy with his life here. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s simple. Everything he wanted. All the domesticity that was missing in his life had been rediscovered once he hung the mask. It’s been the best decision he’s ever made.

He didn’t think things could get better until you came along. This gorgeous, smart, funny, sweet person that had him wrapped around their finger. And given his stature and age, he never would have thought you’d fallen, too.

So this morning looks a little different, and every morning since he’s met you, for that matter.

Miguel gets up from bed faster now, with you on his mind. Once he makes his way into the kitchen for his fix of coffee, he’s reminded of the dream, possibly a pornographic one, he had about you. He’s like a horny teenager all over again, with an ache between his legs that, now, only you can inflict on him, and it’s there every morning.

Miguel now uses the time that it takes for the coffee to drip to shoot you a good morning text, accompanied by multiple heart emojis. And of course, he takes a little longer to get ready in the mornings just because he wants to make sure he looks his absolute best for you.

Today, while sipping on his café, he remembers the conversation you two had. It was when you two had gone to his office after the library. And then he remembered the things he shared with you about his past life; how amazingly you took the dump of lore. Only a higher power would know what anyone else would’ve done or said after hearing things like that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about your one and only question/response to it all:

“Are you happy?”

The response itself was all that he needed to see if his feelings for you were valid, and these feelings have become the strongest thus far. Miguel doesn’t want to jinx it, but he thinks what he’s feeling is something a tad bit more serious than a simple crush, and that both excites and terrifies him.

While he gets ready for the day, he then thinks about the conversation prior to that. He meant everything he said last night about not having sex, but at the same time, he would want nothing more than to show you how much of a good man he can be to you, both in daily life and in bed. Even though he’s hard at the very thought of you, he also wants you to feel safe more than anything. Being with you is far more important than the needs of his dick.

The fact that you’re his student also sort of weighs in as well. Getting caught in a professor/student scandal on the last week of classes before you receive your masters would be disastrous. Thankfully (and surprisingly), no one has been suspicious of y’all this semester.

Honestly, Miguel is just looking forward to Summer, because for him, that means he gets to take you out and enjoy you every chance he gets.

<3

For the last few days of classes, you tend to your exams and Miguel busies himself with his own work. You guys haven’t really been with each other, with the exception of passing each other in the halls. It hasn’t been easy on you at all, and even more so on Miguel. Let’s just say his office door has been spending more time locked than unlocked, and not to score papers. Thankfully, the walls are thick.

The day you take Miguel’s exam is the very last day of classes, and at this point, both of you are antsy to not only see but just feel each other. The tension in the air is thick, the text messages have become spicier, and on multiple occasions have the phone calls been so close to just becoming pure phone sex, but you and Miguel had to keep your distance. Just for this week, and afterward, y’all can do anything you desired. For now, you have to settle for the small touches and occasional eye contact during the exam.

That night when he dropped you off at your place, you half joked about him giving you a perfect score purely out of bias.

“I would never. I take my exams very seriously, for your information.” He responded smugly, his hairy forearm on the door of his car where the window would be. “Besides, you’re far too smart for that.“ His voice softens toward the end of his sentence, that lovesick smile he always gawks at you with on his face.

“I’m serious, Mig. I want an accurate grade.” You match his volume, leaning down onto the car window, face to face with him.

“Mama, I promise. I’m sure you’ll get a perfect score anyways, but on the off chance that you don’t,” he leans closer to, his breath on yours, “Maybe I’ll just have to give you more private sessions during the Summer.” You chuckle against his lips once they meet yours.

“You’re such a horndog.” The words are muffled by his lips and tongue. “Only for you.” He mumbles, unable to keep his mouth off of yours. Miguel really was hot n bothered by you all the time, but honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s your little loser after all.

The glances and “accidental” brushing of hands had definitely occurred before and during the exam. Emotionally, it kind of took y’all back to the beginning of the semester, when the feelings were first bubbling. Alas, you had to stay focused. Compared to your peers, you practically flying through it. Even though you spent half the time mingling during them (and making out), the tutoring actually helped in the end.

When it was time to submit your exam, you gave him a knowing look. All Miguel does is give you a smile, but one that was genuine and sweet. One that reassured you in the sentiment that he was going to score you accurately.

At the end of the day, you didn’t even care about what score you got, as long as Miguel nor you get in trouble. That’s all that mattered to you.

<3

It’s later in the day, and you’re in your dorm. Tomorrow is your big day. The day you walk along the stage and take your master’s in your hand; physical proof of your knowledge and hardwork. You were also thinking about Miguel and what he’s up to, but what’s new.

You were thinking about how after your graduation, Miguel will no longer be your professor and you his student. You would just be two people who were absolutely crazy about each other, and you were looking forward to that.

You get a text from Miguel.

Missing my baby. Just thinking of you.

Aw, I miss my big teddy bear, too. What you up to?

Finished about 30% of these papers. Need to take a break, though. What if I came and picked you up?

And go where?

Home

I’m already at home, ya goof

I mean my home, but you absolutely don’t have to. We could go to the library or whatever you want.

No! I’d love to come over.

You sure?

Of course, I wanna see what other books I can steal from you

Only in this for the books, I see. Ouch.

Don’t be dramatic, you know that’s not true

Do I?

You gonna pick me up or not?

Putting my shoes on.

He had you kicking your feet. You were unsure if it was a good idea, but that didn’t stop it from being an extremely enticing one. You were just worried about someone seeing you enter his home, but otherwise, you would love to see where he lives, despite making the deal about not seeing each other until after graduation. This whole time, you’ve only gotten familiar with his office, and that’s only one small part of him. You just couldn’t wait any longer to be near him, and besides, classes are technically over.

<3

“So you’re half spider?” You and Miguel relax in his living room. You scour his book shelves while he makes you a drink. His place is exactly how you imagined it. It’s a balance of sharp and cozy, like him.

“I know, not the most exciting of confessions.” Miguel’s sarcasm seeps through his speech and it makes you huff. Such a sass master.

“I’m being for real. I think that’s amazing and all, but I’m glad you chose to leave that life.” Your eyes are still on the spines of his books when you start to hear heavy footsteps coming your way. He’s just as excited to be near you as you are, if not, more.

“Me, too,” Miguel wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss on your head, “or else I would’ve never met you.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” You playfully comment, getting on your tip toes to kiss him, his pouch rumbling against your torso from his chuckling. “Definitely. Without you, I was starting to lead on a pretty lame life.” Miguel humored at himself. He knew that although going to teach classes, returning back home, and repeat was a pretty peaceful routine, he also knew it could be a boring one at times.

You lean your head back in exaggerated astonishment, “Why would you say that? You’re the coolest person I know, and not because you were spider-man,” you run your hands up and down his chest as you list off his cool factors, “You’re a genius, you’re a family man, you’re funny, you’re also an Austen man, what more could I ask for?”

Miguel looks down at you, his muse, his angel, his everything. “Thanks, mamita. I’m proud to be your choice. Making me feel like the luckiest man in the universe.” You’re enjoying this little romantic banter between you two, and Miguel loves it.

“However, that last one is a secret between us. Can’t have people knowing that their exSpider-Man enjoys classic literature.”

“Speaking of which, have you gotten to the end of pride and prejudice?” You take his hand and lead him to the couch where you both plop down and find a good cuddle position. Miguel is the perfect amount of warmth even though he wore nothing but sweats, meaning his dad build was out in all of its glory. It took everything in you not to pounce on him. Miguel wasn’t much help either. When he’s sitting down and you’re sitting in between his legs and he brings you in close to him to hug you. He’s all kissing your neck and playing with the waistband of your pants with his hand because truly he wants to eat you out so so so bad and is extremely so hard by the intimacy, but he knows tonight is not the night, and so did you.

“I’m not finished yet, but I’m close.” He mumbles against your skin. Miguel was always a master of flipping your switch, this time using the smacking of his plump lips against your supple skin, claiming your neck, shoulders, and jaw as his.

“Mm… y’know what would be a great idea?” you manage to get out.

Miguel stops what he’s doing and braces himself. “Oh God. What?”

“If you read whatever you have left of the book to me.”

“You want me to read it? Out loud?” Miguel finds this cute. You nod your head eagerly, and Miguel was absolutely cooed by the request. “Like I’ve said millions of times before, I love the sound of your voice.”

“Para ti? Claro Que si, mi vida.” And so he went and grabbed the book and his glasses, settling back into his position under you, and began reading in his soft, silky voice. You listened intently, the words falling right out of his mouth, making music to your ears. For Miguel, this was an honor. He’ll take glances down at you and see that you’re in total awe of him, latching onto every word he recites. He hadn’t done something like this since, well, Gabriella.

This is the life he wanted. The life he had been living the past three years had served him well, but Miguel felt it. He felt it was time for another chapter. He was so certain. He’s decided he wants this every night.

Miguel reads on, simultaneously rehearsing what he’ll say in his head. The themes of newfound love and romance of the book was inspiring him. It made the scene all too perfect for the both of you. He then takes a long pause on a page. You can feel his belly hitch. “Everything alright?” You ask softly. “I’m okay. More than okay.” He sounds as though he might get emotional.

Miguel looks away from the book and into your eyes, putting the novel down. You two are in his home, on his couch, cuddling with a book, and the school year has come to an end. Miguel needs to say something and feels it’s time to share it. It’s now or never.

“You,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes shining, breath steadying,

“I love you.”

The words send your heart rate to oblivion.

“W-what?”

“I love you.” Miguel says this so matter of factly, like he’s never been so sure of something in his life.

You had to make sure what you heard matched what he said and it did. You’ve wondered when he would say it. You would’ve been fine had he done so on the first date! You only have one response to this, and tears well up in your eyes before you can say it, “I love you, too.” You attack Miguel with kisses, and both of you relish in this monumental moment in your blossoming relationship. You’ve finally found the prince to your fairytale.

“I adore you”, “I worship you”, “I’m so proud of you,” and more “I love you”s fall from Miguel’s lips, making the tears well up in your eyes again and your heart swell even more.

Miguel continues to read for you, savoring the special memory you both will now share for a very long time. Sometimes, he’ll just stop mid paragraph just to say it to you again, that he loves you, and you say it back. Both of you are giddy little kids, telling each other how much you love the other, trying to one up each other like it’s a contest. At some point, you can feel yourself start to fall, and Miguel sees it, but he proceeds with the story. The mixture of his lulling voice and the soothing sensation of his rising and falling tummy was the perfect combo for sleep. Once you’re completely out, Miguel turns off the lights by voice command, and lays a blanket over you. He holds you tight against him, as if you could disappear at any moment, and plants a kiss lovingly on your forehead. He whispers ‘te amo, mi vida’ before slumber takes him over as well.

<3

You can feel a light gently shed on your eyelids. You’re not fully conscious yet, drifting between the states of awake and asleep.

Your fingers flicker with life, and you think you feel something rough. Your eyes crack and you’re met with a blurred figure. Your vision focuses and you make out a face, your fingers lingering on the jaw. Your lips curl at this face. The closest thing in view is a pair of dark lips, parted and inspiring deep, low snores. Taking account of their breath, you feel the inhaling and exhaling of his stomach against your front side. You lift your head slightly to get a better view of the person you currently lay on top of. Tousled black hair, dark eye lashes that ornament sleeping eyes, thick brows lacking the tension creases that would otherwise be there, and some missing glasses, which now sit on a side table. The sight was sweet enough to make the coldest heart melt. You take a moment to just observe his breathing, his relaxed state, and start leaving small, ghostly caresses on his face, absorbing each line and shape of his rugged complexion. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. You wanna stay in it forever. The outside world finally makes its presence known with a few chirps of birds, and your attention goes to a window and that’s when it hits you: you’re still in Miguel’s place, and you both had fallen asleep on his couch. At last, you gain enough consciousness to realize that, for the entirety of the night, you had been held the same way a child holds their most beloved teddy bear by your exprofessor, now lover.

No, you two didn’t have sex, just like how it had been discussed a few days ago. You were both still clothed, yet, somehow, this feels even more intimate than when y’all eat each other’s faces.

Your attention is stolen back by the snores of the man below you, which makes you stifle laughter. You could honestly lay there watching him for hours. Your eyes glazed over every inch to ingrain the perfect mental image of this soft moment.

A few more seconds pass by before his snoring pattern comes to an abrupt halt and his eyes flutter open, landing on you. His watch goes off in a small, irritable beep. His tired eyes lift as he smiles at the view, despite the noise. This was something that he’s dreamt of waking up to every day.

“G’morning, sleeping beauty,” you softly speak, leaning down for a kiss on his forehead, “You sleep good?” Your voice is sweet, the moment seconds before leaving it honey-like.

“Morning,” his hands that wrapped around your waist unravel and rub your back, “Mhm. like a baby. Don’t think I’ve slept like that in… well, ever.” An early raspiness spills from his lips and its deep enough to make your insides flutter. “Me too.” You reply, gazing into each other’s eyes before sharing one or two good morning kisses on the lips.

“Can you confirm something for me?” You continue, and Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Was I dreaming or did you say the L-word to me last night?” A giggle leaves Miguel’s mouth. “Yeah, I did, and I’ll say it again.” He says in his low voice. You grin ear to ear, bodies glued together as if they were merging into one. His hands come up to your face tenderly, and with pride, he confesses again,

“I love you.”

A/n: I’m back girlies, did u miss me?

<3Taggies<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

[miryum]

"Clark's Phone Number"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

Cass and Steph’s phones pinged at the same time. Steph scanned the message then called over to Damian, “shouldn’t we be using the other group chat for this?”

Damian glared and typed something on his phone. The message was: I doubt we need Richard or Timothy for this revelation. Are they truly as invested in this cause as we are?

Dick created the group chat in the first place, Steph reminded her friends.

“We’re sitting a couple feet away from each other,” Cass deadpanned. “Why are we even using the group chat?”

Because it’s more entertaining, Damian wrote while maintaining eye contact with Cass.  

Anyone else notice that Todd and L/n aren’t here? Dick stopped their bickering by typing away in the larger, all-encompassing, precinct group chat that was titled Operation Lovebird. The group chat with everyone, including Y/n and Jason was graciously named Practically Hell, courtesy of Y/n, due to the six-six being “only one six away from Hell.”

Al Ghul was just mentioning it in The Best Ones, Cass replied. 

Why do you guys even *have* another group chat? Tim asked.

Because we’re ‘The Best Ones.’ Obviously. Steph added the eye-roll emoji.

Just tell us what’s happening with Operation Lovebird!!! Dick demanded. 

All we know is that they’re both gone, Steph said. 

If you were better detectives, you would’ve noticed the culprits entering the copy room together. Captain Wayne’s contact suddenly popped up on everyone’s screen.

A plethora of messages popped up after his comment, including:

Dick: Culprits???!!!!! Brucie, why???

Tim: Why is Captain in this chat again? No offence, sir.

Wayne: None taken.

Steph: omg are they…

Steph: … you know?

Cass: Fucking?

Steph: NO!!!

Steph: Smooching, obvi.

Damian: Brown, please. Stop maiming my eyes with your typed words. 

Tim: Though, seriously, what are they doing?

Wayne: Pull the security tapes and meet me in my office.

There was a scrambling around the precinct as the detectives (and Damian) ran to Wayne’s office. “Does anyone have the surveillance tapes?” the captain asked. The detectives glanced around and slowly shook their heads. Wayne groaned and commanded, “Cain, grab the tapes.”

Once Cass did as she was directed, Tim used Wayne’s computer and pulled the tapes onto the screen.  

On the tape, Jason stood in the copy room, glancing around anxiously as he fiddled senselessly with the machine. Y/n’s figure appeared on screen and she shuffled into the room, calling out to anyone who would listen, “yeah, I'm just gonna make some copies in here. In the copy room. Heh. Perfect cover. Nailed it.”

“Hey…” Jason waved awkwardly to his coworker. “Hi… Y/n…”

“Jason,” Y/n stepped towards him, smiling devilishly. “Why’d you wanna meet me here?” Her grin showed that she knew exactly why Jason wanted to talk to her. “To boink? At work?!” She gasped dramatically. “Todd, I expected better of you!”

Jason’s cheeks flamed up and Y/n congratulated herself on making the buff, six foot tall detective stutter. “No…” He said, “I wanted to talk about uh, Brian and Lacy.”

“Ah… yeah. Brian and Lacy,” Y/n nodded her head, demeanour shifting. “What about them? I thought they were a pretty cute couple.” 

“So did I,” Jason admitted softly. He took a step forward until Y/n could simply reach out and touch him. He had a faint bruise on the underside of his jaw from an incident with a criminal half a week ago. He stared down at his colleague, his gaze filled with agonised hope. “Brian wanted to ask Lacy on an official date.”

Y/n’s heart was being cleaved in half and sewn back up again by Jason’s own hands. “What about Brian’s old girlfriend, Daisy? Lacy was pretty sure that Brian was making googly-eyes at Daisy during their last meeting.”

“Just to be clear, Daisy being Rose?” 

“Yeah.”

“Brian went on a couple dates with Daisy,” Jason continued, “but soon realised that Daisy couldn’t hold a small, dying match to Y/n’s burning, beautiful fire.”

“I thought her name was Lacy,” Y/n whispered. Jason’s chest rose and fell and he moved even closer to her. Jason reached up towards her face and swiped the pad of his thumb along her cheek. He angled Y/n’s face up so he could finally look into her eyes with the redamancy and forelsket that had been stored away for so many years. 

“Yeah, well,” a corner of his lips curved into a knowing smirk. “I just made Lacy blush, which is usually an impossible feat.”

“You flatter me, Brian,” Y/n said. “It’s clear that you take your words straight from a romance novel. You spend too much time reading.” She reached up and brushed a tuft of hair away from Jason’s face. Her words were teasing, but her actions were careful.

“My words aren’t from a romance novel,” Jason reassured her. “They’re from the heart- yeah, no, I hear it now. A little too cheesy, huh?”

Y/n shrugged and said, “I rather enjoyed it.” She relished the feeling of Jason’s touch on her skin. She hoped to feel it more often. “Your kissing could improve, though,” she referenced their impromptu kiss at the restaurant. 

Jason chuckled lightly. “I doubt that. You seemed to like it a lot.” He spoke lightly while memorising her face. “So, what do you say to a date, darling?”

“Darling?” Y/n asked. “I thought I was the one with the nicknames.” 

Jason shook his head. “I think I’ve found your ten.”

“And now you’ve stolen my quips. Love, you’ve already stolen my heart. Soon I’m gonna see you in the interrogation room.”

“I bet you’d love to see me in handcuffs.” 

Y/n’s mouth fell open and she let out a shocked laugh. “Mr. Todd! That’s no way to speak to a lady!” 

Jason’s hand was still cupping Y/n’s cheek and his other hand drew up to trace meaningless patterns on her forearm. “Does this mean you say ‘yes’ to the date?”

“What if it makes working together awkward?” Y/n’s hand clutched onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Then we’ll be awkward together,” he answered easily. “I want this too much for a little awkwardness to get in the way. I want you too much, Y/n.”

“I wanna try this,” she decided after a moment. “I want you too. Tonight? At eight?”

Jason nodded quickly, afraid she would take it back. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

Y/n stared at him and she couldn’t seem to place the expression on his face. It had a softness that looked suspiciously like love. His cheeks held a pink tint and his eyes gazed down at her and Jason knew he would spend the rest of his life holding her if he could. After a moment, Y/n realised, heart jumping, that Jason looked like he was in love. “We should probably get back to work before they realise we’re missing,” Y/n said slowly.

Jason nodded and moved towards the door, not before taking Y/n in his arms and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Should we tell the rest of the team? he asked quietly. 

“Probably not,” Y/n said. “They would get way too involved.”

“Should we tell them we’re spying on them?” Tim asked from inside Wayne’s office where the rest of the six-six was still crowded around the computer which displayed Y/n and Jason.

A chorus of ‘no’s and shushing erupted from everyone else and Steph squealed, “oh! They’re finally together! I’m over the moon! They’re adorable!”

“Brown, will your fangirling get in the way of your work?” Wayne asked, smiling slightly.

“Yes, definitely!” 

Wayne sighed. “Understandable.”

“Well, what are you looking for?” Jason asked. “Symbolism and overall themes or simply personal enjoyment?”

“Both,” Y/n took a lick of her ice cream, legs swinging happily under the park bench.

“The Great Gatsby for symbolism and overall themes,” he answered after a minute of thinking. “And then my favourite book is Pride and Prejudice.” 

“Yeah, I definitely knew that one,” Y/n nodded. “You’ve read it a thousand times in the precinct.” She shook her head, “I’ve tried to get through that book, man, but I don’t get the hype over it. Granted, I’ve never been able to get through the first five chapters.”

Jason began ranting about Pride and Prejudice before shaking his head in defeat and asking, “what’s your favourite book? Please don’t let it be Goddess Girls or Geronimo Stilton or some other children's series.”

“No, although those were great series.” She pointed her spoon at Jason accusingly. “As I’ve grown up and matured, it’s either The Fault in Our Stars, Memoirs of a Geisha, All Quiet on the Western Front, or Ella Minnow Pea.”

Jason stared at her and finally said, “those are all very different books. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve even read four books.”

Y/n punched him in the arm. “How dare you! I’m very well-read! You should see the length of my Ao3 history!” 

Jason laughed loudly and cradled his ‘hurt’ arm. “I’m sorry I underestimated you, Y/n.”

“You better be!” Y/n crossed her arms before finishing off her ice cream. “Now I’m not gonna have sex with you until our fifth date.”

Jason let out a dramatic groan. “I don’t know if I can wait that long, sweetheart.” 

“Keep calling me ‘sweetheart’ and you may not have to.”

“How was the daaaaaate?” Steph used her wheely chair to roll up to Y/n’s desk, grinning cheekily. She waved a finger in Jason and Y/n’s direction. “What is this, huh? Casual? Serious? I need to know how to make fun of you. Also, please get married in a barn ‘cause I have a lot of jokes that are centred around that.” 

“How’d you know about the date?” Jason asked.

“You guys are officially dating?” Dick was walking by when he paused and placed a firm hand on Jason’s chair.

Y/n looked at Jason helplessly. “...yes?” she said quietly. “Maybe?”

Dick and Steph exchanged a look. “This isn’t good,” Dick said.

“We said we weren't gonna tell anyone,” Y/n explained. “It's very new, and we're still figuring it out, you know?”

“Enough.” Dick stated. “Look, I love love, but I also love maintaining a professional work environment. As your commanding officer, I’m kinda disappointed in both of you.” He bent down and added in a stage-whisper, “but as you loving friend who sees himself as a father-or-brother figure to both of you, I adore you two dating and hope that it works out. Kori and I have a big binder left over from our wedding full of ideas and samples we’d be happy to lend you. Please lemme give a toast at the wedding.”

”I already have mine written,” Steph admitted excitedly.

Y/n’s head fell into her hands and Jason cursed Dick under his breath. Dick had to admit, Jason’s curses were getting more creative.

Bonus Scene: 

“You guys have a group chat dedicated to us?!” Y/n cried out. 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Dick chuckled. “It’s where we share blackmail, cute updates, and random stuff related to you guys.”

Y/n snatched Damian’s phone away, the closest person to her and much to his protest. “I can’t believe-” She scrolled through the messages before realising, “wait, I’m sorry, what are our contact names, Dami?”

“It’s simple.” Damian explained, “Richard is Moby Dick. Todd is Bamboozled from when he was drunk and said it out of context.  Drake is obviously CCA which stands for Computer/Coffee Addict. Y/n is Da Best Homie because she set up her own contact and I haven’t gotten around to changing it. Stephanie is Titus because she reminds me of my valiant and excitable dog. Cain is Cassandra Cain and Wayne is Captain Bruce Wayne. I also have Clark’s number and he’s listed as Mr. Clark Kent.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or unsurprised,” Dick mumbled.

“At least you’re a classic novel,” Steph crossed her arms. “I’m named after a dog.”

“Steph, you’re literally the epitome of a joyful dog.” 

“Aw, thanks!”

“You have Clark’s number?” Y/n murmured to Damian, “can I have it?” 

“No.”

Not my fav way to do it and I would probably rewrite it, but it's already on ao3 so... *shrug*

[mikedfaist]

Hello, honey! Hope you're doing well! I wanted to let you know that I love all of your writings!

As cute as the famous!reader x Mike stories are, I always enjoy thinking of a non-famous!reader waiting at home that helps ground him when things get super crazy and overwhelming. Like I imagine that he calls while away for work and wants to hear about whether his partner's work project went well or how the new plants in the garden are blooming. If his partner asks about his day, he will offer vague answers and generalities because he doesn't want to talk about all of the things. He just wants to know how his love is doing at home.

Anyways, thank you for your efforts and can't wait to see what you write next! Sending love and best wishes!

Just imagine the FaceTime calls late at night when his jetlag is bad, and he just lays there and listens to you ramble on about your day, like the dog you saw on your walk that was wearing a yellow raincoat, and the nice older lady who complimented your tote bag in the produce aisle at the grocery store. You talk about the book you’re reading, and his heart soars when he sees your eyes light up and your hands flail at the dramatics.

You make a special playlist for him when he’s away and add a little to it every day. (It’s his favorite thing to listen to on his walks, or during his down time on set). When the two of you miss each other, you’ll send each other a single red emoji heart.

He wants to hear about the ins and outs of your day, because it makes him feel less guilty for not being there. He loves hearing your stories from work, what you had for lunch, how you ended up hating your lunch and eating out of the vending machine – which he scolds you for. He loves when you answer your calls and you’re wearing his hoodie, or one of his old t-shirts that he’s been missing for several months, and you claimed to be unaware of its disappearance.

Sometimes his days are your nights, and as his sun is rising, yours is setting, and he watches your bedtime routine which he has memorized, and how it takes you longer than normal to find a show to watch that will subsequently put you to sleep because you keep getting distracted by him laying shirtless in bed, his hair amuck from sleep.

He screenshots every time you fall asleep while you’re still on the line, because he truly doesn’t believe there is anything more beautiful. (There’s 32 screenshots, by the way).

These calls can last two hours; your record is four hours and 23 minutes. He feels a deeply rooted ache when he has to click ‘end’, but you always send that red heart emoji immediately after, and he follows it with, “Forever”.

[ltash]

Pretty Little Teacher

Simon Ghost Riley x female reader

Warning: 18 plus, dubcon and noncon theme, dark themed, dark ghost, s*x and erotica, forced sex.

He loves me like a monster, all teeth and talk and hiding in the dark. That's my speciality, Men with strong bodies and fragile hearts, and if you hold them too tightly they will crumble beneath you like an avalanche that is waiting."

●●○~ Lindsey Hobart ~○●●

Ghost sat in his dimly lit room, the blue glow from the laptop screen casting sharp shadows across his masked features. Laswell's voice echoed in his ears, calm yet commanding.

"You have to go undercover to gather some intel," she instructed, her face a picture of seriousness on the screen. Ghost's fists clenched, his eyes narrowing as deep creases appeared at the corners. He remained silent, absorbing the gravity of the assignment.

"You'll be posing as a high school student. We have made all the arrangements. The principal and teachers are informed. We need important intel about a person working there. I'm sending you a report. Read it," Laswell said, her tone leaving no room for discussion. She hung up the video call before Ghost could utter a word.

"Fuck!" Ghost cursed, his frustration evident. "Now I have to become a fucking high schooler," he spat, the absurdity of the situation gnawing at him.

As a highly trained SAS soldier and an elite killing machine, Ghost was used to the most dangerous and covert missions. But this? This was entirely different. How the hell was he supposed to blend in as a high schooler with his massive height and muscular build? He would look like a fish out of water, a grown man playing dress-up.

He opened the report Laswell had sent, scanning through the details of his new identity and the target he needed to surveil. The mission was critical, he reminded himself. He had faced worse odds and more dangerous situations. But even as he reassured himself, the thought of navigating the social labyrinth of a high school filled him with a unique dread.

"Guess it's time to go back to school," he muttered under his breath, already strategizing how he would tackle this bizarre new mission.

Ghost scanned the report, eyes moving quickly over the lines of text. Someone from the office staff was involved in terrorist activity, and the school's security was compromised. The specifics were still murky, but the mission was clear: infiltrate, gather intel, and neutralize the threat.

As he read, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. It was Soap.

"Hey, high schooler! Need help picking out your backpack?" Soap's message read, followed by a string of laughing emojis.

Ghost growled in irritation. Soap had been making fun of him since he got the assignment. In truth, Ghost thought Soap was the one who was fit for this job. With his leaner build and younger appearance, Soap would blend in effortlessly. But orders were orders.

"You're just jealous you can't relive your glory days," Ghost shot back, though he knew Soap would get a kick out of his reply.

He closed the report and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. This mission was unlike any he had faced before. It required a different kind of camouflage, a different kind of patience. He was about to step into a world of teenage drama, cliques, and homework. But he would adapt, as he always did. He had no choice.

Monday morning arrived too quickly. Ghost stood in his small apartment, the usual grey hoodie and sweatpants hanging off his frame. Soap had helped him gather the essential school supplies: notebooks, pens, and a new backpack that didn't look out of place for a high schooler. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and slipped on his skull-printed balaclava. His identity had to be hidden at all costs.

He climbed into his Range Rover and drove to the school, parking a distance away to avoid drawing attention. With a deep sigh, he exited the vehicle and made his way to the school entrance.

The moment he stepped into the corridor, the contrast of his presence was stark. Teenagers milled about, chatting and laughing, but Ghost felt like a fish out of water. His height and build made him stand out like a sore thumb, despite the hoodie and balaclava doing their best to conceal his identity.

He pushed forward, reminding himself of the mission's importance. He needed to find his way to the office, get his bearings, and begin gathering intel. The corridor seemed endless, each step echoing with the sounds of lockers slamming and indistinct chatter.

"Fucking Hell," he muttered under his breath, trying to blend in as much as a heavily-built, masked adult could in a sea of high schoolers.

Ghost made his way to the last classroom on the K-12 hallway, assigned as a senior posing as an 18-year-old. Despite being 29 with a muscular build, he hoped to blend in with the 12th graders.

He opened the door and walked in, immediately feeling the curious eyes of his new classmates on him. Ignoring the stares, he scanned the room for any signs of the person he was here to investigate. The teacher, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, looked up from her desk.

"You must be the new student," she said, motioning him to an empty seat near the back. "Welcome."

Ghost nodded and made his way to the seat, keeping his head down. He dropped his backpack on the floor and settled in, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. The other students eventually lost interest, returning to their conversations and distractions.

As the teacher began the lesson, Ghost's mind raced. He knew he had to keep a low profile while also staying alert for any signs of suspicious activity. His eyes roved over the room, memorizing faces and noting behaviors. The target could be anyone-an unsuspecting office staff member, a seemingly innocent teacher, or even a fellow student.

The day had been a tedious blur for Ghost, each monotonous class blending into the next. Used to the adrenaline of combat and the precision of sniper shots, he found the slow pace of high school unbearable. But all that changed when you entered the room.

Your presence was electrifying, a stark contrast to the dull atmosphere. The click of your red Louboutin pumps echoed in the silent classroom as you made your way to the front. Your black dress pants, stylishly slit, and button-up shirt under a sleek black blazer highlighted your figure. Long, blonde hair cascaded down your back, framing your big blue eyes and perfectly pink lips.

Ghost felt a surge of desire course through him, his mind racing with thoughts he knew he shouldn't entertain. He imagined gripping your tiny waist, pulling you close, feeling your petite frame against his as he lost himself in you. The urge to take you, to dominate you, was almost overwhelming.

"Hey! Newbie, are you listening?" Your voice cut through his fantasies, pulling him back to reality.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his husky British accent barely masking his distraction.

"Your name?" you asked, standing near his desk, your eyes meeting his.

"Simon," he answered, using his real name to avoid any potential mistakes.

"Well, Simon, try to pay attention," you said with a faint smile before returning to the front of the class.

As you began the lesson, Ghost forced himself to focus, but it was a losing battle. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, and the way your presence stirred something primal within him. He needed to remember his mission, but in that moment, all he could think about was how desperately he wanted you.

The period ended, and Ghost watched you leave the classroom, struggling to control his thoughts. You stood out among the middle-aged teachers, looking so young, no older than 25. How could someone like you be teaching 12th graders? The question burned in his mind, but it was more than just curiosity; he was captivated by you.

He barely remembered the rest of the day, his mind fixated on you. As soon as he could, he retreated to his apartment. The urge to release the tension was overwhelming. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his muscular frame. His cock was already hard, fueled by the image of your lips wrapped around him.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand wrapping around his shaft. He imagined you on your knees, your pink, plump lips taking the full length of his cock in, your big blue eyes looking up at him with a mix of innocence and desire. His strokes quickened, his other hand gripping the air as he fantasized about it tangled in your long, blonde hair.

His body tensed, muscles straining as he neared the edge. The thought of you sucking him off, your pretty little mouth taking him deeper, his cum all over your face pushed him over. He climaxed hard, a guttural groan escaping him as he came, the pearly liquid mixing with the warm water and flowing down his thick thighs.

Leaning against the shower wall, he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. The intensity of his release did little to quell the longing he felt. As the water washed away the evidence of his fantasy, he knew he was in trouble. This mission was supposed to be about gathering intel, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He needed to stay focused, but the image of your gorgeous face and enticing body lingered in his mind, a distraction he couldn't afford yet couldn't resist.

The next day, Ghost found himself eagerly anticipating school, though for entirely different reasons than his usual missions. From the moment he had first seen you, you became his muse, eclipsing the seriousness of his undercover assignment. Dressed in blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and a sleek black leather jacket that concealed his tattoo sleeve, he waited through all six periods just for a glimpse of you.

When you finally entered the classroom, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Students greeted you warmly, but Ghost's attention was solely on you. You wore high heels that accentuated your figure, a casual T-shirt, and form-fitting pencil jeans that emphasized your curves. It was undeniable-you were the most stunning woman he had ever encountered.

As you distributed MCQ papers among the students, you approached Ghost's desk. Your curiosity got the better of you as you inquired about his mask. "Why are you wearing a mask?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"I get sunburn," he replied smoothly, trying to maintain his cover.

You chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill down Ghost's spine. "Weirdo," you whispered teasingly, but your words were loud enough for him to hear. The image of dominating you right there, bending you over the desk, fucking you from behind and hearing you begging to stop, flashed vividly in his mind, your body arched in his hands, pussy clenched around his length as he rails his full length till the hilt into you, ruin your pretty little cunt for everyone while you screaming out his name.

"Concentrate on your paper, weirdo," you mocked again as you moved away.

His jaw clenched with frustration, anger simmering beneath the surface. Despite the rush of desire coursing through him, he remained stoic and silent, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He knew indulging in these fantasies could compromise his mission, yet resisting the pull of attraction toward you seemed almost impossible. Ghost was torn between duty and desire, unsure how much longer he could keep his composure around you.

He had finished his paper along with the other students as the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. One by one, they handed their work to you, you seated at your desk. Ghost lingered, the last student to leave, quietly closing the door behind him. Remaining seated, he watched you intently.

Stealth was his forte, and he approached you silently. You were small compared to him, your back elegantly arched as you organized the papers into a neat pile. Standing right behind you, he suppressed the urge to touch you. Suddenly, you moved back, inadvertently brushing against the bulge in his pants. A squeak escaped your lips as you jumped, startled like a bunny, and turned around.

Leaning heavily against the table, you panted, eyeing the behemoth of a man standing before you at his full height for the first time. A shiver ran down your spine from the sensation of his arousal against you. He stood there with a menacing look in his eyes, extending his paper to you. With shaky hands, you took it, feeling a jolt as his gloved hand brushed against you.

Without a word, he turned and left the classroom.

Throughout the drive to his apartment, he couldn't shake the image of you, how your inadvertent touch had stirred a primal urge within him. How you bumped into his erect cock ready to sprung out. The urgency of his mission weighed heavily on his mind, but thoughts of you kept intruding.

Later that day, consumed by desire, he found himself jerking off imagining you once more. He couldn't help but picture your round ass, the sensation of you against him, his cock stretching your gummy walls as he fucks you doggy style, the fantasies growing more vivid with each passing moment. It was a distraction he couldn't afford, yet couldn't ignore.

The next day, he arrived at the school as usual, anticipation swirling within him. Your period had become his favorite, and he waited patiently until you appeared, as usual, with an air of cautious awareness. As the lesson progressed, you couldn't help but notice his chocolate brown eyes fixed on you through his balaclava.

He was no ordinary teenager - tall, dark, and undeniably handsome even with a balaclava on his face, with a presence that set him apart. You felt the weight of his gaze, the tilt of his head to the side like a predator sizing up its prey. Despite the distraction, you continued with your class routine, distributing checked papers to the students, your focus unwavering on your mission.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, as if he had something more than mere curiosity driving his attention. You knew you couldn't afford to be distracted, not with what was at stake.

As you hurriedly left the classroom, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, you reached for your cellphone and stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom. With a hushed voice, you spoke into the receiver, "Yes! Tomorrow is the day. We will hunt another doe tomorrow."

Across the line, a voice crackled with excitement, "Perfect. After school, then?"

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding to yourself. "After school." With that, you hung up, slipping the phone back into your pocket.

Unbeknownst to you, Ghost known as Simon, the new student who had been quietly observing the dynamics of his new environment, had overheard your conversation.

From the first day of his undercover assignment, Ghost had sensed something amiss. How could a 25-year-old teacher be instructing seniors when others with more experience were available? It gnawed at him, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into place. As he stood in the hallway, a vicious smirk spread across his face.

"So you are the one," he whispered to himself, the realization sinking in. "And now, there's nobody that can save you from me. Not even yourself." His mission had taken a dark turn. You are the one involved in human trafficking.

Tomorrow was the day Ghost knew he had to act swiftly. He slipped on his skull mask, adjusted his gear-blue jeans, black hoodie, and vest. His Beretta rested against his chest while his sniper rifle was ready on the passenger seat of his car.

He parked in the nearly deserted school lot, waiting patiently. It was nearly two hours past school hours when he spotted you approaching from the back of the building. You met with another person near a car.

"The girl is in the bathroom, I've hidden her there. Wait here, let me take her out," you said.

Without hesitation, Ghost aimed his sniper rifle at the man's head and took the shot. Skull fragments and brain matter scattered as the bullet found its mark. A scream tore from your lips as chaos erupted.

Ghost calmly placed the sniper rifle on the seat and stepped out of his car. You saw him approaching and instinctively ran. Darkness was descending, the winter chill settling in.

You ran for your life, heart pounding with fear, but Ghost closed the distance quickly. Desperation set in as you realized you had no weapon. You took out a pocket knife and attempted to attack, but Ghost deftly seized your wrist, disarming you.

You screamed and struggled, but he immobilized you, securing your wrists with a zip tie. With a forceful push, he slammed your back against a car, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

Fear and confusion engulfed you as Ghost stood before you, his identity finally revealed, and his intentions chillingly clear.

"Let me go," you tried to scream as he pinned you against the car, looming over you. His 6'4" frame towered over you, casting a dark shadow. The edge of his knife pressed against your throat qnd his hand on your chest kept you pinned against the car.

"Just got you. Now I can't let you go, won't let you go," he whispered in your ear with his husky voice. "How can I waste this pretty little cunt of yours, princess?"

You whimpered and squirmed, fear coursing through your veins. His hand traveled to your neck, his grip so firm that you could barely breathe. You struggled to breath. Your vision blurred as darkness enveloped you, and you melted into his arms like putty.

You went limp in his arms like a rag doll, a pretty little thing for him to play with. He strapped you into the passenger in his car seat and drove off, his mind racing with twisted excitement.

He stroked your hairs with his fingers while he drove. He just had got his little plaything.

Upon reaching his apartment, he carried you inside, laying you gently on the soft sheets of his bed. Even in your unconscious state, you looked so beautiful and irresistible. His excitement grew, his cock twitched from the anticipation building as he stood over you, lost in the dark allure of the moment.

You whimpered as you slowly opened your eyes. Ghost was perched on a couch in front of you. Sitting up slowly, you noticed your hands were still tied in your lap. Your tiny body shivered at the sight of him as he rose to his full height. The room seemed small, his eyes behind the skull mask full of menace, looking straight through you. Your lips quivered with fear as he approached.

"Wakey, wakey, Princess," he taunted, stepping out of the shadows. His blue jeans were tight around his thick thighs, and his black hoodie strained to contain his muscular physique. The skull mask shone dimly in the light. The tattoo peeked through the space between his sleeve and his gloved hand.

You gulped, "Who are you?" you asked in a small voice.

"Ghost. Heard the name before?" He tilted his head to the side, and realization hit you hard-it was Simon.

"What do you want?" you barely whispered.

"You," was his only reply as he stepped closer.

A whimper escaped your lips as you pulled yourself to the other side of the bed and stood up.

"Don't make this hard for yourself, Princess."

Panting, you frantically ran towards the door, but his hands were around your waist in no time. He slammed you against the wall, the impact sending pain throbbing through your back.

His hand smacked the wall beside your head. The barrel of his gun made contact with your chin.

"Look at me!" he shouted, his voice an order. You squeaked in response, your eyes meeting his.

"Good girl," he praised, his hot breath fanning against your face. "I'm a lieutenant, not your average student, and you have to comply-or else." The barrel of his Beretta poked under your ribs. "Choices have consequences," he said softly this time.

"I've been thinking about your body since the day I saw you." He stroked the soft skin of your chest with his gun, trailing it down the valley between your breasts. Your skin quivered under the touch of the cold metal.

"So irresistible, Princess." His husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

You gasped as he snapped your ziptie with a strength so brute it took only a second to come off. Your buttoned blouse came next as he snapped it apart. All the buttons came crashing down on thefloor. Your pearly necklace was snatched from your neck. The pearls came rolling down on the floor.

You gasped as he snapped your bra from the front. Your perky breasts liberated from the confines of the lacy material.

He pulled his mask upto his nose and his lips grazed your neck as his thumb met your nipples squeezing your breasts so hard it was almost painful. A painful moan mixed with pleasure escaped through your lips.

He held you close by your waist and he chuckled as your small waist fitted so easily in both his hands all while kissing your neck while his hands played with the soft skin of your back.

"So soft like plush in my hands." He said as he rubbed your nipples with his rough thumb. A sexy hiss escaped your lips as you threw your head back biting your lips.

"You gave in so easily princess." He whispered. His sexy voice made you moan.

He tossed you over the bed, with a squeak you fell, soft sheets cushioning your back as you landed with a gasp.

His eyes, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own, locked onto yours. "Been waiting to bend you over that goddamn desk in that class and fuck your needy little cunt, princess," he confessed, his voice low and husky with desire.

As he removed his hoodie, revealing a canvas of scars that gleamed against his muscular frame, you couldn't help but gasp. Each scar told a story of battles fought and survived, adding to the allure of his rugged demeanor. His predatory approach, intensified by the skull mask he wore, sent a thrill through your veins. He moved closer with a confident stride, his presence filling the room with a primal intensity that both thrilled and unnerved you.

You gasped as he closed the distance. His hands reached for the strap of your jeans, deftly unbuttoning them with a deliberate touch. With a smooth motion, he slid the denim down your legs, revealing your bare skin in the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. You laid exposed before him, feeling both vulnerable and empowered by his gaze.

You knew you were powerless infront of him and he will have his way with you one way or another. Wetness had already pooled between your legs and you were trying hard to hide it by closing them.

He traced the barrel of his gun along the soft skin of your inner thighs. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt the cold metal against your sensitive skin.

"Open your legs Princess." He ordered slowly parting your thighs.

"So sensitive, aye?" he said with a mocking tone.

You hissed at the sensation. He slowly pressed the barrel against your clothed folds, eliciting a moan from your lips.

"Please! I beg you, don't do this," you pleaded, my voice trembling.

"Look at you! A wet, hot mess for me," he sneered.

He knelt before you, his hands reaching for your panties. With one tug, he tore the strap, leaving you completely exposed.

"You should thank me, princess, that I'm gentle with you. I'm not very gentle with women. They run from me after what I do to them," he laughed.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Oh my god," you moaned.

He opened your legs slowly, his fingers parting your folds as he gently touched your swollen clit. Your body quivered with the sensation.

"So soft, so sensitive," he said, as he slid his rough fingers inside you.

A slow scream escaped your lips as your pussy clenched around his fingers. Your back arched, moans spilling from your mouth. He watched your face contort with pleasure as he leaned down, his tongue making circles around the buds of your nipples.

You clutched the sheets, your eyes shut tight as his fingers curled up, hitting just the right spot.

"You sound so pretty, love," he teased, his tongue continuing to play with your nipple. The sensation was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

He adjusted himself between your thighs, kissing your entire body as he moved down toward your stomach and then your most sensitive part.

He gently kissed the inside of your thighs before his tongue met your folds. Screams of pleasure spilled from your pretty mouth as he nipped and sucked at your already swollen bud.

"Oh, fuck!" you moaned.

He kept teasing your folds with his tongue, sucking your wetness as he held your hips tightly in place.

He kept torturing you with his tongue until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I-I can't take it anymore," you begged.

"Ssh!" he whispered, placing a finger on your lips. "You're going to take it, just a little longer."

Your body trembled as he continued his relentless assault with his tongue, the pleasure overwhelming. He moved his finger from your lips to your clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles while his tongue continued its work.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice cracking with desperation.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beg me," he commanded softly.

"Please, please, I need more," you cried out, your body aching for release.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips. "Good girl," he said, his voice low and husky. He increased the pressure of his tongue and finger, driving you closer to the edge. "Now, let go for me."

With his words, you felt the dam break, and waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Your back arched, and a guttural moan escaped your lips as you finally reached your climax. He continued his movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body.

As you lay there, breathless and spent, he gently kissed your inner thighs before moving up to your face.

You were still high when he unzipped his pants.

"Been waiting for this ever since I laid my eyes on you," he said, taking his cock and positioning himself on top of you.

You looked at him with dazed eyes.

"Like what you see, princess?" he asked with a smirk.

"I-I can't do this," you pleaded.

"You can do this, and you will," he replied firmly.

He pressed his cock against your entrance, bending you down. Without warning, he pushed his entire length inside, pinning your wrists against the bed. You screamed as your walls wrapped around him, your body struggling to adjust to his size while he fucked you deeply, not giving you any time to acclimate.

You were completely at his mercy, a plaything for his desires.

"Fuck! Princess, you feel so tight around me," he growled, thrusting in deeply.

You were breathless, disoriented by the intensity of it all. He drove into you with unrelenting force, hitting inside you to the extreme. Your back arched under him as waves of pain and pleasure coursed through you. His cock was so big it made an impression inside your belly where it hit.

"How does it feel, me ruining your pretty pussy, love?" he growled, sitting back on his knees and gripping your waist tightly.

Your eyes rolled back as he railed into you with brute force, the sensations overwhelming and consuming.

Whimpers escaped your lips as his hips thrusted against your pelvis. Skin to skin, the intense connection between you sparked a fire that threatened to consume you both. You hid your face in the soft pillow, the tears mingling with your whimpers, your cries echoing in the room like a haunting melody.

He chuckled at the sight before him, the raw vulnerability and passion in your every movement only adding to the intoxicating air surrounding them. "Look at you, eh," he murmured, his voice a low growl filled with satisfaction. "Taking me so well."

With a sudden move, he lifted you up by your waist, your heart racing a mile a minute, your vision blurred with the overwhelming sensation of being completely lost in him. "Oh my god, I am gonna die," you whined, the words a mix of fear and ecstasy that only served to fuel the flames of desire burning between you both.

But he just chuckled, his hold on you firm and reassuring. "Not on my watch, luv," he whispered, his voice a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of emotions and pleasure that threatened to consume you.

He pulled out abruptly, spinning you around and delivering a stinging slap to your ass.

You clutched the sheets as he seized your hips, pulling you towards him and plunging deep inside once more. A primal groan escaped his lips as he grabbed your hair, tilting your head back and driving himself deeper with each thrust.

Your impassioned cries only fueled his intensity. With a firm grip on your waist, he pounded into you relentlessly, embodying the raw, primal desire of a man possessed. Your body arched and trembled on the bed as he pinned you down by your head, pressing your face into the bed.

"I can't do this anymore," you begged him.

He pulled you up onto your knees, his free hand gently gripping your neck while his other arm rested between the valley of your breasts. His hold on your neck was firm but not painful, asserting his control. With a strong grip on your waist, he thrust deep into you.

You leaned against his chest, your face turning towards him as you neared your release. He captured your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans.

His cock twitched and pulsed as he reached his climax. His movements grew erratic as he poured himself into you, filling you with his essence.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto the bed, eyes shutting tight as the waves of ecstasy washed over you.

He settled beside you, carefully tucking you under the sheets while you lay on your stomach, peacefully asleep.

"Sleep well, princess," he murmured, his fingers gently caressing your hair.

The next morning, you woke to find him already seated on the couch, wearing the same skull-printed balaclava, his eyes still filled with menace. Your whole body ached and marked with hickeys. Last nights encounter spiralled in your mind.

"Good morning, princess. I hope you're feeling well," he greeted you, tossing an oversized t-shirt in your direction.

Confusion and fear gripped you. "Who are you? Why did you do this to me? What were you even doing in my class?"

"I'm Lieutenant Simon Riley, also known as Ghost," he replied coolly. "I was in your class because we've been keeping an eye on you. Now, get dressed. You have visitors."

You rose silently and headed to the bathroom to change. As you finished, there came a knock at the door.

He opened it, and police officers entered the room.

"She's all yours," he stated with a smirk beneath his balaclava.

"You'll regret this! I'll make you pay for this!" you screamed as they cuffed you and led you away.

"Fuck you!" You screamed.

He chuckled darkly, watching as you were taken into custody.

"I just did." He winked as you were taken away.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbor Pt. 16

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat knew from the moment the coffee machine broke that morning that something was off about today. Tony had bots clanging in the kitchen all day and every member of the tower was on the verge of strangling him. She didn’t feel up to going out though so she was forced to stay in her room all day. However, she didn’t expect her evening to go from 10 to 100 in a matter of minutes. And it all started with a text from you at 11 pm.

Not unusual for you but the message lacked your usual humor

Y/n🍦:

Nat.

No attempt at guessing her name, no witty quip to go along with it, no extra letters or emojis. 

Something was going on and she didn’t like the pit forming in her stomach. This was a situation she’d never found herself in. Did she act calm? Did she… call you?

She shook her head, she could be freaking out over nothing, maybe you just had a long day and you were tired. The voice in the back of her head scoffed, Nat knew she was only trying to convince herself that these next few moments weren’t about to happen.

Nat🔪:

Y/n.

What’s going on?

Y/n🍦:

Help i-

I think I’m being followed.

Nat🔪:

Think or your sure

Y/n🍦:

You’re*

Nat rolled her eyes. Of course, you were trying to be funny right now, humor was your biggest coping mechanism. She knew your humor was a defense against coming across as weak and vulnerable- it was an attempt to make the other person less aware of just how scared you were, but she knew. She knew you were probably shaking as you texted her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Y/n🍦:

Fuck.

I’m sure.

Nat’s heart sank. 

She could get your location from your phone but could she arrive in time? You lived in Brooklyn and she was in Manhattan- 12 miles away, at her fastest, she could probably get there in 30 minutes. Not enough time. Stalkers will only follow for so long before attacking. You didn’t know this man's intentions.

For you, this could be a life-or-death situation.

Still- she called Peter, he was on patrol tonight, hopefully, he was in your area. He picked up immediately, his boyish voice ringing awkwardly through her silent room. She didn’t give him the time to speak more.

“Peter there’s a girl in Brooklyn being followed” Her tone was solid, she couldn’t let the vulnerability she felt slip through either. It’s been many years since she’s felt this helpless about someone she cared about. And that was not a wound she was ready to reopen. God you were bringing out every part of her. 

Peter didn’t ask a single question, all Nat could hear was the thwip of his webs and the rush of wind against his phone. 

“I sent you the address, how close are you?” She heard the faint sound of him mumbling before Karen’s robotic voice repeated your phone’s location

“I’m 20 minutes away” It wasn’t fast enough but it was as good as she was going to get.

Nat🔪:

It’s okay Y/n

Have you called the cops?

Y/n🍦:

No, I tried calling Leon

He lives nearby i thought maybe-

fuck I’m so stupid

Nat🔪:

No, y/n, you’re not stupid

You’re scared.

You’re not going to be perfect at handling 

This kind of situation. No one is

Nat🔪:

Do you have any weapons in your bag?

Y/n🍦:

Nat listen-

If I don’t…

Nat🔪:

Don’t.

Y/n🍦:

Please.

Nat🔪:

No, i’m not listening to any requests you have

You’re going to be okay

Is he still there?

Y/n🍦: 

Yeah

I’ve walked around the block a few times

I don’t know where to go

Nat’s fingers itched over the call button, she would be a lot better at reassuring you over the phone. But her voice was raspy and recognizable, would you realize it was her as soon as she said hello? Would that be a bad thing? Could she risk telling you her identity? Could she trust you? After so many years and so many people were you finally going to be the one to break down her carefully constructed walls? She sighed frustratingly, now was not the time. You needed her. 

Y/n🍦:

Fuck 

I think he’s getting closer

Nat🔪:

Y/n go to a house with the light on

And knock on their door.

Or look for a large group of people.

Find a public space.

She was growing more desperate by the minute. God if she ever got her hands on the bastard that’s making you this petrified she was going to do more than just kill him.

“Peter, how far away are you?” 

“Five minutes Miss Romanoff” She could hear his breathlessness, she didn’t imagine it was easy to swing across buildings at that speed.

Nat🔪:

Y/n, keep talking to me okay?

Y/n🍦:

I don’t know why I decided to go out.

I just wanted some ice cream

I’m so stupid

Nat🔪:

No.

You are not stupid

This bastard is. Trust me.

Do you have high heels on?

Or your keys?

Y/n🍦:

No-

I walked to the store

Nat🔪:

Look for anything on the ground

A glass bottle or rocks

Y/n🍦:

Nat

I’m scared

Natasha waited for you to keep texting. Waited desperately for something witty to come across the screen, anything to let her know you were still safe. Peter was close now, close enough to hopefully make it before any irreparable damage is done but- if this guy has a weapon. She sucked in a sharp breath.

Nat🔪:

Y/n?

Y/n answer me.

y/n c’mon

Y/n. please. 

The dam broke. She hit the call button. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t care about you even a little bit. It rang and rang, stone cold silence filled her room between each shrill toll of her phone. Don’t panic. 

She stood and began pacing back and forth, running a shaky hand through her hair.

Each ring was torture- and she knew torture. Come on Y/n. Another blare of useless noise before the line connected. All she heard was a brief 'umph' before the line went dead.

Fuck.

Pt.17

A/n: giving Y/n more trauma 'for the plot' ;P ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723

[headphonegrl]

There’s a folder in Jude’s phone dedicated to you. It's a day shy of your first anniversary when you find out about it, stumbling upon it when he asks you to look for a screenshot of the recipe he’s using to bake biscuits. The exact one your grandma sent him, one of your favorite foods of all time since you were learning to walk and speaking gibberish in the hopes of forming a sentence.

Its title is a plain red heart, sitting above the number three hundred and forty-eight. You stare at it for a moment to make sure it’s right, you swipe out of the app and click back onto it as if to make sure it won’t disappear suddenly. Though it’s still there, the number and symbol staring back at you. There’s a funny lurch in your stomach when you tap the screen with the pad of your thumb, clicking on a random photo when they all show up in neat little rows of three.

There’s one of an arcade machine. The big display screen a cartoony shade of blue with cheesy racing cars and checkered flag graphics, with two grainy photos in the middle. One of Jude sticking his tongue out, his eyes squeezed completely shut. The other of you smiling cutely with all your teeth showing, Jude’s hand appearing from off-screen to give you bunny ears with his fingers. It was your fourth official date and you both spent it collecting as many arcade tickets as possible, only to just end up with glittery bouncy balls and pencils when you traded them all in.

Another one is of you standing by the sink in his bathroom, your hair clipped away from your face. There’s foamy face wash all over your cheeks and on the tops of your fingers, you hold your hands out to display them to the camera. You had promised to spend the night at his place for the very first time, and getting ready for bed had already taken nearly an hour due to all the talking. Jude sat on the edge of the bath wearing one of your fuffy toweling headbands, watching you endearingly as he fiddled with the lid of your moisturizer

One sticks out like a sore thumb, a screenshot from your childhood Instagram account that makes your toes curl with cringe. A heavily filtered selfie of you pouting with a caption that’s a variation of unrelated emojis. After a night out drinking overpriced cocktails, you both ended up sitting in bed scrolling through embarrassing photos. Looking back it might have been the extra tequila shot, but Jude found it so funny he struggled to gasp for air. He set it as his home screen as a joke and forgot to change it back for almost a month.

Further down there’s one from when you both went on holiday. A photo of you sitting on a wooden dining chair, your elbow leaning against the table with your cheek squished against the palm of your hand. You’re wearing the strappy sundress you bought earlier that week in a little boutique owned by an enthusiastic Italian lady. At dinner the strap keeps falling off your shoulder, and when no one is looking Jude plants a kiss exactly where it should sit. 

“Darl, have you found it?” Jude speaks up from the kitchen. Shortening the pet name ‘darling’ into just one syllable, as if the other one will ruin the flow of his sentence. Looking up you’re greeted by him standing next to the mixer, the flour down his front making the text on his shirt unintelligible.

“Yeah.” You click the arrow on the top left to take you back. Scrolling past some selfies and a bunch of pictures of the same sunset, until you find the recipe sitting next to a funny photo of his brother. When you get up to rest it against the shiny countertop so he can read it, your heart feels a little fuller. “Here you go.”

[leggerefiore]

The Sun

an ending to this

cw: Volo being himself a bit, hurt/comfort

pairing: Cyrus/Reader

The more you thought about the situation, the more you felt confused. Everyone treated him all the same. It made little difference that he was from another world. He was still the same Galactic Boss in the end, who held the same standings and relationships. If those commanders of his could still find themselves at his beck and call, why did you find yourself so uncertain of him? His expression had actually shifted when you told him of your intentions to stay away for a while. You swore that a feeling of hurt flashed in his eyes but had chosen to ignore it. This was your decision, after all.

Though you had blocked Cyrus's number for this period, you failed to block a few others. Mars, in particular, was expressing her distaste in your decision quite blatantly. You did not think one message could contain so many emojis, but she certainly proved you wrong. Her feelings were quite clear. Jupiter had even sent you a few messages about how your actions were quite strange. Saturn had sent one asking why. Nothing too depth. Just a single “why.” You had found yourself thinking on that one the most. Truly, why? Why had you?

Volo's word had made sense to you during your intense turmoil, but now you had time to calm down and think. It felt strange that you had actually taken his words to heart without talking about your feelings to Cyrus. Even if he was not truly the one you had known, he almost was the same exact person. He would surely understand your worries. Even if his dislike of emotions was apparent, he always seemed to care about your own despite that. The Galactic Boss was a hypocrite utterly, but in this case, you felt grateful.

The more you thought about it, even vaguely, you had been aware of Cyrus not being the same one you had known, yet you had not allowed it to bother you so much until recently. Even Cyrus himself was aware, yet he told you plainly that he still loved you. Seeing the messages from Mars about how you had “broken Master Cyrus,” you felt bad. He still had a right to discuss things with you. It was not just you involved in this relationship.

Unblocking Cyrus's number, his messages reflected a degrading mental state. Even in his overly formal flourish, it was plain to see his replies going from purely confused to entirely desperate. Your heart hurt. How could you have done this to him?

~

Entering the hideout was not physically hard as much as it was mentally taxing. The grunts locked their eyes onto you. They all seemed more than aware as to what you had done than you would have liked. You supposed nearly everyone here was infatuated with Cyrus in some way, however, so it only made sense that they would gather some kind of knowledge about what happened. Mars shot a glare at you, but otherwise, it was quiet. No one was going to protest your coming, but it was obvious that you were not in good standing with anyone here.

You simply chose to ignore it as you made your way back to Cyrus's office. Everyone you passed either froze or quieted down from whatever conversations they were having. Saturn even barely gave you a look before opening the lock to the room for you. Was it that bad? You could not imagine that Cyrus would be so openly emotional in front of anyone but yourself. It likely was the commanders' feelings trickling down into their underlings. You entered the room without a word being spoken.

Cyrus stood facing a wall, silent, with his arms linked behind his back. You felt insecurity rush into your heart. What could you say? When trying to think of anything to say, your brain blanked. Nothing sounded like it would be a good place to start. Eventually, however, a sigh came from him. The silence of the room, previously only accompanied by the humming machines, was broken by that breath.

“… You have come back,” his voice was gravely and rough, “Why… Why did you leave?” Finally, he turned around to face you. An untrained person might have still seen the feigned stoicism on his face, but you knew better. His lips fell down while his eyes were glassy. Had he been crying? You felt worse. He cleared his throat. Your feet took a step closer to him. The door was shut. It really was just the two of you.

“I…” you swallowed, “I don't want to lose you again, Cy.” You rushed towards him with little care. The feeling of his body against yours was calming all on its own. Everything about his had been missed so dearly by you. Days without him felt almost maddening, but you truly had needed it to clear your head and realise what needed to be done. A discussion. You both needed to communicate instead of assuming the other already knew.

He may not have been the Cyrus you had known, but there were truly barely any differences. Seeing him on Pasio had truly been something comforting. You had cried then and ran into his arms, as you had now. He caught you with little thought.

“Again?” he asked, “What do you mean again?” You blinked. That was right… He… He did not know. This Cyrus was taken before Giratina had taken him into the Distortion World. Before he had left you forever. You felt so dumb suddenly. He did not know at all. The period in which you had been left alone was not something he was even aware of. Your body shook.

“… The version of you in this world left me,” you tried not to let your feelings bleed into your words, “You… You tried to make your new world by capturing the legendaries in the Red Chain, but Giratina interrupted and took you into its dimension… You never came back…” Your eyes could not meet his. They instead gazed at the Galactic emblem. That “G” had haunted you for a horrible amount of time. It was strange to see it and not feel extremely upset. You had blamed the group for taking him, but it had truly been his decisions in the end.

Cyrus's hand came to hold your chin. Your attention was brought onto him. His face seemed overly serious, like he was about to give another speech or something of the like. His eyes were stern, yet something burned within them. “… A foolish decision,” he said simply, “Not once have my plans involved leaving you.” His forehead rested against yours. “Is that what you fear most?” he asked. You nodded. “Beloved, I will not ever leave you,” the words were filled with a tender affection that you had not heard in such a long time. Your heart fluttered within its sheath of bone and flesh.

“But… but, what if Hoopa is forced to return you,” you asked him, grasping the hand that had held your chin, “I… I can't handle that pain again, Cy...” His eyes narrowed. The hand held your own tightly. His other arm came around your waist to hold you in an embrace. Being so close made it difficult to think straight.

“I quite literally have the Spatial pokemon under my control,” he told you with a cocked brow, “I highly doubt that pokemon or that prince has any intention of doing that soon. It would be easy to convince him against it, anyway.” You felt like laughing. How did… How did you forget that? Palkia was quite literally at his side. You brought his hand to your face to nuzzle into it. There was no reason to doubt him. Cyrus would see no reason to lie to you about such things. You caught a small smile breaking his lips for a moment.

“I love you,” you felt confident in saying, “… I… I felt truly happy when I saw you were again. You… You accepted me with little care, despite being aware of this not being your original world…”

“… Does it truly matter?” The question felt odd coming from him, “It may not be, but I am here despite that. You are still the same person I am in a relationship with either way. My feelings towards you remain unchanged.”

That was a very Cyrus-esque response, you supposed. He was here, and you were still someone he loved. It was a good enough answer as any.

~

You smiled at him as let him have a drink of your order at the café. Cyrus seemed in deep contemplation of it before ultimately nodding. The sun shined bright above you both as the heat of summer seemed to begin to swell across Pasio. Your reconciliation had ended up with you returning to live at the hideout once more. Whatever tension had been in the air appeared to fade with the status quo being returned. The commanders at least stopped giving you glares for daring to exist in their presence. It all led to you both agreeing to just do a normal date instead of stewing on everything further.

Within the crowd of people passing by the veranda, you swore that Volo seemed to be among the people. A second glance dismissed that thought. His sudden appearances had stopped abruptly. You wondered why but also supposed that he was not exactly consistent as it was. His advice had ended up working in the end, at least.

Your decision had been made, and you were more than happy with it. Cyrus drank his tea while checking his phone. It was challenging to fight back the urge to scold him for working, but actually stopping him was simply impossible.

“Hey, Cy,” you called out to him, “So, you planned to have me in your perfect world?” The trick of teasing him lightly caught his attention, at least.

~

Cyrus found himself standing on that beach again. The waves softly lapped at the sands as he stared at the moon above. A beautiful sight was truly worth whatever unfortunate feelings the ocean always appeared to bring. Or… whoever it unfortunately seemed to bring out. His gaze shifted to see the blond merchant standing behind him. The smile on his lips felt anything but friendly.

“… Just what do you want?” Cyrus asked.

“What you want, apparently,” Volo replied and stepped closer to him, “To remake this word into a better one… And a certain someone.” His fist clenched. He had hoped that this oddity would have given up. A grunt had informed him that your decision to step away from him was influenced by him.

“You will have the pleasure of neither,” the Galactic Boss threatened, “You will not torment them any longer. I will not allow you to.” Cyrus sent out Darkrai. Volo just smirked. His hand went to a strange pokeball.

Both refused to allow the other what they wanted. Had Cyrus's emotions not been heightened, he would have noted the odd parallels. His mind was solely focused on protecting you, however. He would not allow you to suffer any more.

[eimogji]

OH AND ALSO, How could i forget! If you still have time, can you make some clown/carnival/80s dividers??

Mhm! I really enjoyed the 80s ones, since the tech one reminded me of thrift store shelves, and I decided to make some sort of weather/shape inspired dividers, since they remind me of patterns used with 80s environmentalism (Bill Nye, etc)

I also put the clown ones under the cut, just since the requests covered a couple different topics and I want them to be opt in just in case :)

[ID: a repeating pattern of pretzels, an ice cream cone with multicolored exclamation point sprinkles, a heart shaped neon lollipop, a red and white box of popcorn, a hotdog with onions and jalapeños, and cotton candy. /End ID]

[ID: a mirrored pattern. Starting in the middle there’s a circus tent, then roller coasters in the clouds, a Ferris wheel, and fireworks with a rocket in the middle. It mirrors back on itself then, back to the Ferris wheel, roller coaster, and circus tent. /End IF]

[ID: carousel horses alternating up and down, in a repeating order of purple, pink unicorn, red with star eyes, and flames. /End ID]

[ID: a repeating pattern of scooters, skateboards, and roller skates fitted neatly together. /End ID]

[ID: a mirrored pattern of various 80s technology. Starting in the middle it follows as! A computer with a color test pattern and an exclamation mark, a fax machine printing a picture of the globe, a yellow radio, a floppy disk, a red alarm clock, and a VHS tape. /End ID]

[ID: a repeating pattern of a water drop, a half rainbow, a lightning bolt, a blue spiral, a flame, and many stars. /End ID]

[ID: a repeating pattern made from taken apart and combined google emojis of the rainbow and stars. Each rainbow forms a full arc, and every other one is upside down and fits next to the last one. Each has a star under the arc, and smaller stars fill in the other gaps. /End ID]

[ID: Various clown emojis bordered by shrugging clowns, with rainbow and two plain balloons between every other one. The first clown is smiling, the other is dizzy and has stars around their head, the third is covering their face, and the fourth has a party hat and is blowing a party blower. /End ID]

[ID: A mirrored pattern of clowns in rainbow order (starting from the middle, pink, red, orange, green, light blue, blue, purple). Every other one is slightly smaller than the others. /End ID]

[ID: A repeating pattern of clowns in primary colors (blue, red, and yellow:. Every other one is upside down. /End ID]

[ID: A repeating pattern of clowns in secondary colors (purple, orange, and green). Every other one is upside down. /End ID]

[ID: A repeating pattern of cool toned clowns (pink, purple, blue, green). Every other one is upside down. /End ID]

[ID: A repeating pattern of warm toned clowns (brown, red, orange, and yellow). Every other one is upside down. /End ID]

[soaps-mohawk]

i'm back again to pour my brain out!!!! i apologise for always sending a billion asks, my brainrot is CRAZY for crcb

what are some silly things you think the boys cry at? like... simon bawling his eyes out watching bambi (yknow, the bit where the mum dies). i just think disney films get simon BAD. or.. just silly stuff in general that gets the boys all emotional. johnny seems like the type to tear up about someone making his mum's signature meal or something, one he ate in scotland as a child all the time - like the scene in ratatouille!!! my most self-indulgent idea is that john cries when doc dies in mean machine (the 2001 version, my all time favourite film). kyle i think you'd have to put on forrest gump or something to make him cry, yknow the scene with bubba??

anyways, hope you're all good pook!! hopefully you can catch up on all your sleep and everything <3 (my fav heart emoji won't work!!!!)

-🪐

Noo that's okay!! I'm just super slow at actually answering things 😭

Johnny definitely cries watching commercials. Like those ASPCA-type commercials or the like super sappy, happy, sweet ones (that definitely don't make me cry or anything) he's bawling like a baby. Disney movies as well. Any movie with some sappy ending he's crying.

I think Simon cries at happy endings. Super horrible things happened and then they get to live happily ever after, gets him. I think bittersweet endings get him too (Return of the King every time 😭). Definitely tries to pretend he's not crying but they all know.

Kyle I think would get teary-eyed over food. Make something from his childhood and he'd tear up. I also think Dinsey movies would get him too, but more of a sniffle than full-blown crying. There might be certain movies though that could get him going.

I think John is the same where it's very specific things that get him going. (I've never seen Mean Machine so I'll take your word for it) again no one is going to say anything, though, because they'll be forced to do extra pushups or extra laps during their next training if they say anything lol.

I'm alright. Still super stressed out and not really sleeping well which is cool. Love that for me. Hope you're doing well (a day late).

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

WIP Weekend

Weekly WIP update

Chapter 4 of The King's Gift is done and just needs final edits. Aiming to get those finished before my vacation.

Chapter 4 of Updraft is coming along nicely and should be finished by the end of the month, so I'm well on track. ✨️

22 out of 29 celebration requests filled, with more Mafia AU coming on the weekend. 😎

Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project.

🏰 The King’s Gift

⚙️ Updraft

🥳 1k follower ficlets

Snippet from ⚙️

It is the weirdest sensation, hearing the engine coming as they fire the aircraft up, feeling the heat roll off her as her tanks begin to boil, feeling her vibrate under them as her pistons and gears start to move and steam and smoke hiss from her valves and chimneys. Eddie’s spine crawls. His scars tingle and his missing leg is alight with electricity and pain. His inner voice is shrieking in time with the steadily rising rhythm of the machine, telling him to stay out of this, to get off, to get down before it’s too late, before they- 

“Whoa, listen to her go!” 

Steve’s smile is so wide it looks ready to stretch off his face, voice high and giddy, every limb practically trembling with excitement. And maybe it’s because old love never really dies, no matter how deep it is buried under soot and debris and pain. Maybe it’s because that smile is so bright, so brilliant, so contagious that some of it just spills over and seeps into him, against his conscious will. But a different kind of feeling stirs, somewhere in the cavity that is Eddie’s chest, somewhere in a place he thought was long carved hollow and barren. Steve looks over at him and their eyes lock and Eddie’s mouth tugs into a grin. 

“Go,” he whispers, and then, louder, because his voice is lost in the smoke and the steam and the rapid staccato of his own heart in his ears, “Let’s fucking go!” 

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He releases the brakes, pulls a lever, and the wheels rumble into motion on the cobblestones. Eddie’s knuckles turn white where his hands are gripping the ledge of the ship’s hull. The frantic, panicked voice screams at him to jump, to save himself before it is too late. The ants are trying to eat him alive, but the sky is vast and inviting and golden like the highlights in Steve’s hair and the end of the road is jumping towards them as they pick up speed. Steve pulls another lever and their scarred wings unfurl with a snap. 

The ground drops away. And it's too late for second thoughts. 

[little-annie]

Another WIP Weekend is ahead of us!

Have I worked on different WIPs every weekend 😝 yes, yes I have. Am I going to start working on the same ones from now on? TBD

🏔 Eddie Bang- I can't reveal anything about this WIP until art claims have been completed, but still, I need to desperately work on it. MAKE ME WORK ON IT.

💼 Businessman Steve- This guy has been sitting in my drafts for too long. It's a 5 & 1 of times concierge Eddie has encountered Steve Harrington, the son of business mogul Richard Harrington. At first Eddie isn't sure of the young businessman who seems to have a sex and drug problem, but as he gets to know Steve through these few encounters, Eddie comes to find Steve is living a life he truly despises. Through these few encounters they become friends and eventually by the end fall in love.

🤘🏻 Role Reversal Steddie AU- @tinytalkingtina and I have been expanding our world of Trackstar!Eddie and Metalhead!Steve and can't wait to share with you all that we've created.

⛺️ Steddie Set Up- Steve and Eddie meet on a camping trip organised by the kids. Clueless to the fact that they've been set up they become fast friends and soon a couple.

You know the drill. In an ask send me the emojis of the fic(s) you'd like me to work on and post updates.

What exists of 💼 as of now, below the cut.

There's a commotion at the double doors of the hotel lobby, multiple men spilling in all at once. Tailored suits, expensive watches, and the numbers of their mistresses hardly hidden in their phones.

Every one of them looks like an asshole.

From where Eddie sits behind the reception desk doodling in his notebook, he inwardly sighs before standing and tugging at his stiff uniform to at least appear professional. Black slacks and a white button down that he's had to treat for Ketchup stains more times then he cares to count. It's the least personalised thing he owns and with the added fact of not being allowed to wear jewellery or have his hair down, he just feels like another cog in the machine.

God he hates his job.

"Good morning, Sir," Eddie says with feigned composure as one of the suit and tied assholes of this month's conference approaches the front desk. The guys sporting a full head of salt and peppered hair, thick and perfectly coiffed on the top of his head. Eyes haunting, smile sinister in a way that's much too menacing for Eddie's taste. Shark like in the way it makes Eddie feel pinned down like a hopeless piece of prey.

"Harrington, Richard Harrington," the man says with a thundering voice instead of a greeting, slapping his credit card and ID onto the marble countertop between them and turning his back to say something snappy to the man at his rear.

Harrington, Eddie thinks with distaste, remembering the name from his first day on shift. Richard, the pompous prick, was yelling at the poor woman training Eddie because she forgot to make sure his room came stocked with higher end liquor than their Luxury Suites usually did. Really, it was something so small it could have been handled with just a phone call down to the front desk. It's a rather vivid memory and Eddie's sure that at the time if that would have been suggested the man would've dropped dead of a heart attack.

Though really, would that have been so awful?

He's seen the man far too many times since. Monthly business conferences and meetings at the hotel keep the entirety of Harrington and Associates forever coming through the lobby doors.

Much to Eddie's dismay.

He sighs at the thought of the many more encounters to come, watching as the vein bulges from the side of Richard's head and he turns a rather grotesque shade of red. Eddie feels bad for the man Richard's snapping at. It's obvious not much has changed other than the jerk sporting a few more wrinkles and grey hairs.

With a hardly contained eye roll, Eddie types 'Harrington' into the system, the keyboard clicking under his fingertips before two separate bookings pop up on the screen. One for Richard and another for a Stephen.

Eddie hums in thought, as familiar as this gaggle of assholes are, he doesn't remember a Stephen from the past bookings.

Must be new. And related. Poor bastard, Eddie thinks absent-mindedly. He can't imagine working for this guy, let alone being his son, though, maybe this Stephen's no different.

He grimaces at the thought and hopes he doesn't have to meet the man if he is.

Quietly, as not to disrupt the hissing match happening in front of him, Eddie finishes checking Mr. Dick Harrington into the hotel. Sliding the room key, credit card and ID in the man's direction, Eddie watches as Richard does nothing but continue to berate the man before him. Something about scheduling or mergers or what the fuck ever that Eddie really doesn't have the time or energy to give even a single shit about.

From the edge of the crowd of assholes a young man steps in to grab the cards and quite frankly Eddie couldn't give two shits if this guy's helping or stealing from the rich bastard. Though by the near matching formal attire and the way no one bats an eye, he supposes he at least works for the guy.

Or…

“Steve Harrington,” the young, startlingly beautiful man says as he picks up his apparent father's ID and replaces it with his own on the marble countertop.

There's a cute twist to his lip when he talks and Eddie already hates himself for staring, but how can he not?

This is Richard's son?

No

No

Mr. Tall Tan and Beautiful cannot have come from that.

But the matching square of their jaws, tilt to their cheeks and hazel of their eyes begs to differ.

Fucking hell.

He's probably just as much of a prick.

The pretty ones always are.

The straight ones too.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, willing his apparent blush to go down Eddie nods once and selects the only obvious choice of name in the booking system.

Stephen Harrington.

He can feel the man's eyes boring into him as he's typing, searing almost in their stare, so much so Eddie wonders if he has something on his face or if the guy just has zero social skills.

Chancing a glance up his suspicions are proven right and Steve doesn't so much as move, his eyes not meeting Eddie's but staring a little lower.

Eddie swallows, the judgement feeling heavy as he pulls the collar of his shirt higher, making sure there's no evidence of ink or any other bad decisions peeking out from the white buttoned around his neck.

It wouldn't be the first time some business asshole had something to say about his tattoos or the occasional hickey concealer failed to hide.

“605,” Eddie says almost mechanically after placing Steve's room key between them, his voice finally drawing the man's eye away from his throat.

Steve coughs into his fist, nods and grabs his and his fathers remaining cards and room keys but he doesn't leave. Navy blue suit and eyes Eddie thinks will take him weeks to forget, Steve remains standing before him, chewing on his bottom lip until he… he does a quick once over of Eddie. Top to bottom. Head to tail. Hazel eyes scanning, judging, making Eddie's skin feel like it's on fire for completely other reasons.

Then without a second's notice he looks from side to side rather hastily and leans into Eddie's space across the marble countertop, the sound of his elbow meeting the surface between them, a dull thud.

He smells like the pine of a forest floor and the musk of a man who's been nothing but busy and exhausted for weeks.

But God it's doing something to Eddie and he hates it.

Steve works his jaw in an odd way, rubbing at the muscle before he asks in a hushed tone, “There uh, there any clubs around here, for the, you know,” he lifts his hand to drop his wrist limply, fluttering his lashes as he continues, “variety?”

He's asking Eddie if there's any gay clubs around.

He's asking Eddie if there's any gay clubs around?

What the fuck?

Eddie bristles, already feeling his brows pull into a glare. He's making fun of him. These businessmen always do.

It's not like he's wearing a pride flag anywhere or skipping through the fucking halls, but somehow these pricks always seem to pick up on his preferences.

It's been years and only once has anyone been genuine in their inquiry.

So genuine in fact that Eddie found himself with his dick in the guy's mouth not more than thirty minutes later when he went out for his smoke break.

But a Harrington? Richard's son?

He thinks Hell will sooner freeze over.

Really if anything Eddie wants to tell the guy to fuck off, but he can't because professionalism.

So he does the next best thing.

If the guy's gonna be a judgy dick, well…

In a matter of seconds Eddie prints off a map of the city that has each and every gay bar starred and hands it to Steve with a very fake and falsely enthusiastic, “Enjoy you stay in the city Mr. Harrington, I hope you find what you're looking for.”

And then before he even has a chance to catch the guy's reaction, he's waving towards the crowd, calling out “next please” and moving to the other computer to check in the next asshole.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Thank you all so, so, soooo much for the love on this story & all my other works! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

********

ELEVEN.

You’ve never been so happy to hear the lunch bell ring. That allowed you to finally get this perverted, little grape out of your office and chow down on your ramen. 

You plaster a kind smile on your face as you stare Minoru Mineta and his lecherous eyes from across your desk. The kid is so tiny that he has to sit on two of your textbooks–one is on how to deal with children with behavioral problems and the other on the history of UA High. 

“Looks like we’re out of time, Minoru,” you announce sweetly. “I hope our talk helped you in some way. Just remember what I said.” You sit back in your chair, patiently waiting for him to regurgitate your advice. 

“Even though turning me into a human football isn’t permitted at school if I look at a girl’s breasts, it’s her right to defend herself for my inappropriate acts,” he recites to you. “Oh! And no more trying to crash girls’ study nights pretending to be a new girl on campus.”

He sighs, looking saddened at the loss. “That wig cost me $20,” he mutters. 

You smile, happy with this progress. “That’s right. Thank you, Minoru!” You wait until he jumps out of the chair and bounces out the door to your office to finally let your smile drop.

“Jesus,” you sigh, yawning and stretching your arms high over your cat ears.

It’s been a long day and it’s only mid-afternoon. You know your day is not over yet, and it won’t be for a while, so you decide to head to lunch early without Nemuri. 

As you gather your lunch from your mini fridge behind your along with your bottle of Kombucha, you shoot a quick text to Nemuri saying you’ll be waiting in the break room for her and Mic to arrive. Several minutes you get a text back: 

Muri: Hey hon! Gonna show up to lunch a little late today. Mic ran into some trouble training some of the kids & now I’m pretty sure half of them are deaf 

*Read at 1:05 PM* 

You giggle despite the seriousness of the situation, knowing it was only a matter of time until Mic caused the destruction of dozens of students’ ears. 

You: No worries! I’ll save y’all a seat in the break room 

*Read at 1:07 PM* 

After Nemuri shoots a heart emoji back to you, you lock up your office and venture down the hallway to the break room which is empty when you arrive.

You decide to sit on the cozy-looking yellow couch in the back by the window that overlooks the UA campus and the blooming cherry blossom trees that line the windows and walkways outside. You can’t believe that April is already here! You swear that March was just a week ago. 

Once you’re finished setting up your lunch, you get up to eat your plastic bowl of ramen in the microwave near the coffee machine. As you do, you hear the sound of boots thudding across the floor and into the breakroom.

You turn to greet whoever it is being the nice person you are, but your words lodge in your throat when you find Aizawa standing there. When his eyes lock with yours, everything in the room seems to disappear and all logic flies out the window.

No matter how many times you see him, you can’t help the way your heart pounds and your pussy throbs at the sight of his muscular body under his tracksuit and those alluring, tired eyes. 

It’s stupid, really, especially now since the two of you are on better terms now since you ran into each other at the gym. You can’t believe that was a month ago.

You still can’t even believe he asked for your number. You were all smiles and your tail stood straight up the whole day. Since then, the most he’s texted you are reminders about staff meetings and telling you to make it back to your dorm safely after every day you clock out. 

Though you yearn for more, especially after learning he has a thing for you too, you don’t push it since you know Aizawa isn’t exactly the “people” type. Socializing just isn’t his thing. And you certainly don’t block the blessing you have with texting him, to begin with. You know that all of this could be taken from you in an instant if he were to ever find out your secrets. 

You have hope that you’re good with your vigilante secret. You haven’t seen much of Aizawa in the late night hours when you take the streets as Night Claw. Though it disappoints you, you also know that he’s a busy guy and he doesn’t owe you the time that he should be giving to his job and his daughter. That isn’t even what you’re most worried about. 

Over the past month since March, you’ve been visiting Aizawa and Eri at their dorm every night in your cat form and sneaking out before morning. You make sure to leave before Aizawa heads home after work so you’re waiting for him at his door, meowing and purring for him. You have come to love his touches and Eri’s joyful laughter as she plays with you.

Though you know it’s all because they think you’re a normal, four-legged animal, you still allow yourself to feel that little piece of joy every time you sit in Aziawa’s lap while Eri is curled into his side, a movie playing on the TV on a regular night before bedtime. 

You’ve made this your routine and new job, so you’ve taken extra precautions to make sure no one finds out about your nightly visits, especially Nemuri and Mic. You send both of them texts every night now that you’re going out, ensuring that they only know about Night Claw and nothing about you pretending to be Aizawa’s adopted pet. 

Though it is taking its toll on you physically to the point where your sleep schedule is fucked up and you’ve had to sleep as soon as you get back to your dorm before your shifts (that’s why you love the weekends; you can sleep for days), you take all of it gladly, just wanting to see Aizawa and Eri smile.

You feel like it’s your duty to make them happy, especially Aizawa. You’ve grown accustomed to his smile, hooked on the comfort he feels around you. You want it every day, all the time.

And you don’t plan on stopping this anytime soon…until someone finds out. But no one will. You’re sure of that. 

Realizing you’ve been staring at the man for too long, you flush and plaster on a smile. “Hey, Aiz– uh, Shouta,” you greet him.

You’re still getting used to calling him by his first name now that you’re…friends? Acquaintances? Friendly coworkers? You’re not quite sure, but you refuse to put a label on it. You’re just glad you’re closer than you were a month ago. 

Aizawa gives you a nod as he walks into the room. He stands next to you at the coffee machine and begins to move in silence as he prepares his coffee. He’s so close that you can smell his cologne, and it’s doing things to you.

You can feel heat radiating off of him in waves along with his dizzying scent of eucalyptus and mint. Your pussy throbs in need and you have to clench your thighs together as you stiffly stand there, waiting for your ramen to finish heating up. 

The air in the room shifts with him near, turning into something that is tense with heat. Could it be desire? You wouldn’t put it past you. Aizawa is the damn definition of desire with his rugged, handsome face and capable hands that haunt your dreams.

“How’d the talk go with Mineta?” he suddenly asks, his gruff and deep voice filling your ears. 

You glance at him questionably, wondering how he knew this. He smirks down at you as he pops a dark roast coffee pod into the top of the coffee machine and presses a button. “He came from my class for starin’ at Yaoyorozu’s chest and got the boot from Ashidou. I sent him down to you.” 

You nod understandably. You knew someone had to have sent Mineta to your office today since he never would’ve come willingly. “It, uh…went,” you carefully answer.

Aizawa raises a brow. “He’s never been in my office before, but I’ve heard the kid has a thing for the girls and their body parts. Guess you see that a lot in boys these days.” 

You sigh tiredly as the microwave finally beeps and you take your piping hot ramen out. Aizawa’s coffee finishes too, filling the air with the scent of roasted coffee beans. “He looks like he was a handful. I can practically see the exhaustion in you.”

His dark eyes roam down your form. Despite the modest white blouse and pencil skirt you’re wearing, you still can’t help but feel naked under his intense stare. 

You flush, biting back a goofy smile with a smirk. “You look like you could use a nap yourself,” you giggle. “Classes beatin’ you up?” 

Anyone who is anyone will be able to see the dark shadows under Aizawa’s eyes which are more intense than usual. He sighs into his mug, leaning against the counter as you proceed to take a seat on the couch. You’d ask for him to join, but you’re unsure if that is too much. 

“It’s Eri,” he admits tiredly. “I tried to get her to go to sleep last night and that didn’t happen until 1 AM. She kept wantin’ to play with her new cat even though she’d be right back with us tomorrow.” 

Your ears twitch excitedly at the sound of Eri and the mention of her cat. You quickly hide your immense excitement with a questionable stare. “Back with you tomorrow?” you question curiously. “What do you mean? Where the hell does she go if she’s a housecat?” 

Aizawa chuckles to himself, still leaning against the counter. He looks so relaxed despite still being in a school setting. It’s a nice change. “She’s more of an indoor/outdoor cat, I’ve realized. I found that out when she jumped from my dorm window the morning after I brought her home.”

Your eyes widen in shock, playing the part, and he snorts. “No lie; she bolted across campus and almost gave me a heart attack. Eri cried like I’d never seen her cry, but the cat ended up coming back. I think she just likes the outdoors.” 

Hearing him sound so baffled by your behavior in your cat form makes you want to scream with laughter, but you hold back. “Totally understandable,” you reply as you twin a heaping amount of ramen around your plastic spoon. You can’t keep an independent, single city girl like her cooped up in a room.” You finally slurp up the noodles and broth. 

But as soon as the ramen is in your mouth, you immediately spit it into a napkin, alarming Aizawa. “Ugh!” you shout in utter disgust, pushing the bowl away. “That’s disgusting!” 

“What is?” he curiously asks, a cute little scowl on his face. You motion towards the ramen you bought a day ago from the vegan supermarket Nemuri told you about. “This trash they have the nerve to call ‘ramen’. I should’ve never let Nemuri talk me into trying the substitute noodles. Supposedly, they’re better than egg noodles because they’re made with tofu.” 

Aizawa snorts at your angered rant. “Rule number one: never let Nemuri talk you into trying anything she likes. Her tastes are…”

He trails off, searching for a word. “Deplorable?”

you scoff. He cracks a smile. “Eccentric,” he decides before sipping his coffee. 

You exhale exhaustively as you stare down at your shit ramen. You weren’t planning on spending money today that you need for grocery shopping and paying utilities next week, but you suppose you could spare something for a good lunch from the sandwich shop across the way.

You pick up the ramen bowl and dump it before packing up the rest of your lunch. “Guess I’m headin’ out for takeout again,” you sigh. 

Aizawa silently watches you, his expression unreadable. You feel slightly scrutinized under his gaze, but maybe that’s because of how awkward you feel right now under the intensity of his eyes. Does he do it on purpose? Does he like seeing you squirm? 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you weigh the outcomes of your next question before finally blurting, “Do you…wanna come with? If you’re hungry, that is. I’m just goin’ to that sandwich shop across the way.”

You can already taste the mayo and sweet yellow onion on your favorite sandwich, making your stomach rumble. The thought of walking with Aizawa and sitting down with him for lunch, alone without Eri being a filler, also makes your tummy flip. 

Aizawa doesn’t look like he was expecting this question. “Uh…” The word drifts from his lips as he stares at you, making you feel even more awkward. He scratches at his chin, looking sheepishly suddenly. “I’d definitely like to, but I’ve got some tests to grade.” 

Disappointment makes your tail droop, but you ignore it. You have no right to feel this way. You two aren’t even dating! You’re not even sure you’re friends yet. You plaster on an understanding smile. “That’s okay; I get it. Those kids need your expertise.”

Aizawa nods, still giving you that unreadable stare. “Yeah.” 

“I’ll see you later?” you ask as you hook your lunch bag over your arm. Once again, Aizawa nods. “Yeah.” 

The air suddenly becomes awkward and tense again, all of the easiness before gone. When one of the janitors comes in to whip himself up some iced tea, Aizawa leaves and you finally feel like you can breathe. When you head out to pick up your lunch, you let the warm sun and spring air wash over you, caressing your hurt feelings. 

You feel greedy and desperate, trying to push Aizawa into something he may not be ready for. You haven’t exactly hinted that you want something more with him either or that you even feel the same way.

But how can you? He’s not only a pro hero and a professor, but he’s also a father. How can you be so sure this would work or that you wouldn’t be just a booty call for him? 

‘You’re lying if you say you wouldn’t like that,’ a sly voice in your head hisses.

You groan inwardly, staring up at the clear, blue sky for answers to your dilemma. Because the truth is that you’d come running to Aizawa if he ever wanted a piece of your pussy.

Since the night you caught him masturbating in the privacy of his bedroom, your dreams have been haunted by his dick and the way he said your name. You want him in your bed or to be in his, trapped under his body, his lips on yours and his cock filling you to the brim. 

But with your secret habits looming over you, you know this could never be. Even if you were to date Aizwawa, you know that eventually, you’d have to tell him the truth about everything. You just can’t face that. Call yourself selfish, but you just can’t let this go. You can’t let him or Eri go. 

You shut your intrusive thoughts off for the remainder of your break when you finally pick up your sandwich and head back to the school in time before your shift starts again. When you walk into the breakroom, you’re shocked to see Aizawa there again, standing by the sink.

“Oh, back again?” you ask, attempting to sound like you’re not hurting on the inside. “Did you forget something?”

You look for his mug that perhaps he’s cleaning out, but you see nothing. What else could he be in here for? You notice how tense he looks and your ears perk up in alarm, reacting to the tension radiating off of him. “No,” he huffs. “I-I mean, yes. Shit.” He sighs and looks down at the floor, shoving a hand in his pocket. 

You blink at him, wondering what’s gotten into him. You’ve never seen him like this: so insecure and nervous. It is quite the contrast to his usual confident and intimidating aura. “Listen, what are you doing later?” he asks softly. “After work, I mean.” 

You blink dumbly at him again, your heart picking up speed. Is he…? He couldn’t possibly be… “U-um, just goin’ home to do laundry for this week. Why?” Stupid hope blooms in your chest, making your tail swish excitedly behind you. Aizawa doesn’t notice, his eyes still on the ground. 

“I mean…if you’re still up for some good ramen instead of that crap you had earlier, I know this really good ramen shop downtown that’s owned by a friend of mine. If you want, we could go together…” His suggestion turns into a mumble at the end as redness grows in his cheeks, causing him to hide behind his scarves in embarrassment. 

You’ve never wanted to suck his dick more. “F-For dinner?” you softly stutter. “Like…as a date?”

Aizawa ticks his eyes up to you then and the entire room falls away, leaving you only with him. “If you want it to be,” he softly answers. 

You know that if he asked you to take a trip to space, you’d say yes. You’d say yes to anything he wanted. A smile stretches across your lips, happiness exploding within you. The realization that this could be real is almost overwhelming; your secrets be damned. You want him. You want all of him.

“Sure, I’d really like that,” you giggle. “I can meet you there. Is seven an okay time?” 

Aizawa’s shoulders droop as he sighs in relief. Did he think you’d say no? “It’s perfect,” he replies, his own smile stretching across his handsome face. “I’ll, uh…I’ll see you later then?” That shyness returns, making him look almost like a little schoolboy. 

You nod excitedly and move out of the way for him to leave the breakroom. When you sit back down on the couch, you’re smiling from ear to ear and feeling like the world is one big, shiny place where nothing bad exists. 

“Oh, hello, Shouta!” Nemuri’s sweet voice fills the air as her heels click toward the door. She sways her hips into the breakroom, smiling at you.

“Hey, you!” she greets you as she plops down next to you on the couch, opening her bent box. “Sorry I’m late. Luckily, the kids weren’t deaf. I had to use my quirk on a few that were afraid to get checked out by Power Girl, but…” 

She suddenly stops and takes one look at you before her red lips curl into a knowing smile. “Ooooh…what’s with that face, hon?” 

You turn to her, fearful of her reaction. “What?” you ask. She giggles, poking at you. “You look like you just got stuck in your cute little tail by Cupid’s arrow. Did Aizawa talk to you?” 

You can’t help the dreamy, dopey grin that curls onto your face again. “He did more than that: I think he just asked me out on a date.” Nemuri’s eyes widen as big as saucers and she practically jumps from her seat.

“Seriously?!” she shouts, earning a harsh shush from you. “What did he say? When are you going?” Her questions are like rapid fire, excited by this new information. You have no doubt she’ll be telling Mic too. 

"Tonight at 7,” you proudly say. “We’re gonna meet up for dinner.” Already you can feel those nervous butterflies swarming your tummy. What will you wear? What will you talk about? 

“Then before your date, you’re coming right over to my dorm so I can help you pick out an outfit,” Nemuri says with conviction. You go to protest, but she presses a finger to your lips. “No buts! We need this man so uncomfortable with how hot you look that he has no choice but to take you back here and love you down.” She winks at you suggestively. 

Your mind drifts back to Aizawa’s hand wrapped around his wet cock, the moonlight hitting his face screwed in ecstasy. “You’re ridiculous,” you mutter to your friend, turning away to allow yourself to calm your horny ass down.  

“And a seasoned hot girl,” Nemuri giggles. “Now onto more important things!” She nudges her hip with yours, looking at you in all seriousness. “You’ve got condoms?”

********* 

Half an hour before your date with Aizawa, you sit in your bedroom with your stomach feeling like it’s about to push up your lunch right out of your mouth. 

You’ve spent the afternoon since you got home primping for tonight after Nemuri did your makeup. She went for a soft glam look that makes your lips look plumper in the peachy Fenty Beauty gloss she applied to them and your face looks like a glazed donut.

That was the most you allowed her to do, refusing to step into one of her sexy little numbers for your first date with Aizawa. 

Instead, you settled for a simple bodysuit that slims out your body and accentuates your curves, hip-hugging jeans, and flats to make catching the bus easier. You aren’t due to catch it for another twelve minutes, but your feet are itching to get moving as if you’re keeping Aizawa waiting.

But you can’t even bring your body to stand up and check your hair or spritz more perfume on your collarbone. 

You’re so utterly nervous. You thought taking a shot of Moscato and a sniff of your stash of catnip would’ve to help curb the nervous butterflies in your stomach, but nothing has helped. If anything, you feel even more paranoid.

You’ve had to keep your phone charging in your bathroom just to keep it out of sight so you’re not constantly waiting for Aizawa to call. He said he’d be there, so why are you so apprehensive? 

Maybe it’s because you still can’t believe he asked you out. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve been on an actual date and you’re afraid you’ll fuck it up. Or maybe because of the possibility it could end in a one-night stand. You don’t want anything to do with that, no matter how hot Aizawa makes you. 

“Ugh!” you groan, dragging your painted nails through your hair. This couldn’t have been the worst time to start having a breakdown. “Get it together,” you hiss to yourself before standing, planning to walk to the end of the block to catch your bus a little early. 

But as you do, your ringtone begins to blast from your bathroom. With your heart lurching into your throat, you hurry to the bathroom to grab it.

Disappointment floods you when you realize it isn’t Aizawa. However, that disappointment is soon replaced with concern. On your screen, the news app is open and an alert is flashing of a hostile situation taking place downtown. 

WARNING: There has been a report of a robbery where several suspects wielding firearms are currently holding the overnight bank staff hostage. The police are currently working to defuse the situation and to find a way inside of the bank which the suspects have forcibly locked. All citizens living near the Bank of Musutafu are highly advised to stay clear of the bank’s premises and the surrounding area. Please stay in your homes if possible or leave the area IMMEDIATELY. 

You gently place your phone down and look in the mirror. Above you is your clock which clearly shows that your bus will be here in ten minutes. How long were you sitting on your bed?

You have no time to ponder that as you look from the news alert to your reflection. The girl with the cat ears, glossed lips, and lashes thick with mascara to frame her brown eyes stares back at you, silently asking you what will you do. 

What will you do? To miss your first date with Aizawa, the very man you’ve been crushing on since you started working at UA, just to play hero would haunt your nights.

But the thought of at least not trying to help those poor bank workers and the police when you have the ability to do so makes you sick. How selfish would you be to not be Night Claw tonight just because of a date with Aizawa? How is tonight any different? Crime doesn’t stop just because you’re desperate for dick. 

Adrenaline begins to pump through your body, making your heart pound and your tail swish rapidly behind you. You can feel yourself being pulled in two different directions, each half of your subconscious screaming at you: 

‘Just leave it alone!’ one side hisses. “Those people don’t need you! You’re not even a real hero. Imagine if this chance with Shouta never comes around again!’ 

‘No,’ another side firmly says. ‘You have a duty to the public. This is your city; your home. You need to protect it.’ 

‘What you need to do is finish getting ready for your date! Shouta will hate you if you show him up. He’ll never talk to you again.’ 

But the other part of you, the one that has values and morals, stands firm in her opinion, hitting you with encouragement and motivation to do what is right.

‘If Shouta admires you and your passion as a counselor, he’ll admire your passion as a vigilante. You have lives you need to save! Otherwise, why’d you never start this night job in the first place?’ 

You grip the sink counter. Tears begin to prick your eyes, threatening to ruin the mascara and light eyeshadow that Nemuri did a fantastic job on.

‘You haven’t even told him the truth yet. How can you date him and you’re still lying to him?’ 

Your eyes flick up to the clock. One minute left. The bus probably has left by now knowing how this shitty public transportation system works. “Shit,” you mutter.

Then, again, louder, “Shit!” as you slam your hands down onto the counter. Your claws suddenly protrude from your fingers, wanting desperately to claw at something to release your frustrations. Especially when you know what you must do. 

With a lamented sigh, you take your phone off of the charger and click on Aizawa’s name from your contacts. When you put your ear to the phone, one lone, stubborn tear drips down your face. You quickly wipe it away, willing yourself to cut the bullshit and be a grown woman. This is the right thing to do. 

“Please leave a message after the beep,” the automated voice says before a beep rings out in your ear, signaling the beginning of your sorry-ass voicemail.  

“Hey, Shouta,” you sigh defeatedly. “It’s me. I’m so sorry! I lost track of the time!” You walk out of your bathroom and into the bedroom, kicking off your shoes as you do. “Listen…we might have to take a rain check on tonight.” 

You stare at the open window where your curtains billow in the spring breeze teeming with nightlife and adventure. “Something came up."

[finnpeach]

Take Care, Part 1

Thank you to everyone who voted on my poll for who my subject for my next fic should be : ) Please enjoy this 3 part, modern AU of Patroclus and Achilles. I really hope you enjoy (and if you voted Patroclus, don’t worry, I have a fic idea for him next round). Comments or tags are always loved and appreciated hehe

Light NSFW warning (just wait for part 3 tho lol)

Greek translations are provided after they’re said. I don’t speak Greek and therefore these have all come from translation machines, but if you have any corrections please let me know! I also suggest everyone copy and paste these translations into a translation machine with pronunciations if you can (DeepL translate is great). Greek is such a beautiful language and I think it adds to the story to hear it.

Please enjoy Part 1! Part 2 Part 3

Patroclus is one of the first few students to enter Professor Chiron’s Classical Studies course. Surprisingly, he doesn’t see Achilles’ curly golden head anywhere. As Chiron’s teaching assistant, Achilles was usually one of the first students in, and always had a seat saved for Patroclus in the back.

He had only taken this class at Achilles’ behest.

Please, Patroclus, you’ll love it. And you have to fulfil your history gen ed anyway, just take it with Chiron and me and we can spend more time together. He had begged when Patroclus was about to select his classes for his final semester. They’d grown further apart as they finished up their final semesters at college, Patroclus having to devote all of his time to his intensive pre-med classes and Achilles hardly able to find time between finishing his thesis on Ancient Greek wars and track practice. Achilles must’ve seen the consideration in his eyes, because by the time Patroclus had opened his mouth to speak, he’d already taken Patroclus’ laptop from him and enrolled him in the course.

He chooses an empty seat near the back and starts unpacking his bag when his phone dings.

Achilles ☀️:

On my way, b there in 1

Patroclus smiles a little as that familiar sun emoji comes up on his screen. Achilles had put it there nearly four years ago, the day they met, and it had never changed. They were freshman year roommates and had immediately become the best of friends. Achilles had just arrived from Greece after moving all the way to America for university. It had been an amazing coincidence as Patroclus was born in Greece, but moved to America as an eight year old child when his mother required specialist treatment for her disease.

Achilles and Patroclus were practically joined at the hip from then on. Whispering inside jokes to each other in Greek when they were in public, meeting up after classes, sharing everything, hardly ever a moment apart.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t moved beyond being the best of friends, as much as Patroclus ached to make Achilles his.

He places his phone in his pocket and opens up his laptop as a muffled, wet sneeze sounds behind him, by the doors.

“Huh’GDTSHhh!” Huh. That sounds a little familiar? Whoever it is should not be out in public. It’s the middle of February, and nearly everyone at their university is sick. Maybe that’s why the class is so empty today. “Hh’GNTSH’uh!”

Someone on the opposite side of the room mumbles a bless you. He turns his attention back towards his laptop when a welcome presence drops down into the seat next to him.

Achilles.

“Hey, what took you so lo—“ Patroclus is cut off by the sight of Achilles before him.

He’s wearing a mask, his shoulder-length, curly blond hair tied back in a bun. Loose strands frame his face, his emerald green eyes oddly cloudy. Patroclus suddenly realizes where the sneezes came from.

“Είσαι καλά?” Are you okay? Patroclus feels worry grip his heart. He looks awful.

Achilles gives a small nod and sniffs. “I’mb okay. αλλεργίες.” Allergies. His voice is thick with congestion, his accent much stronger than usual.

Patroclus has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “είσαι αλλεργικός μόνο στις γάτες.” You’re only allergic to cats.

He presses his palm to Achilles’ forehead, then the back of his hand, unsurprised to feel a burning warmth. Achilles closes his eyes and leans into the cool pressure of his hand.

“You have a cold,” he says, pulling his hand away.

The part of Achilles’ face that can be seen above the mask burns red, caught. Eager to deflect, his eyes crinkle into a smile. “No. There was a cat in the hallwaayhh.. hh—“

It all seems to happen in slow motion. Patroclus watches, transfixed, as Achilles’ eyebrows pinch together, his gorgeous eyes slipping shut, the mask shifting slightly down his nose as his mouth drops open. He pitches forward, and Patroclus begins to understand how those loose strands of hair managed to escape his bun.

“H’ESSHhhuh—! Heh..! Huh’EhTSCHhh’ue!” Achilles sneezes, harsh and wet, hands steepled over his masked nose.

Patroclus tries not to stare. His breath hitches again—

“Hh’EHTZShhh’ue! Ghh.. sndf!” When Achilles pulls his hands away, the mask is absolutely drenched.

“Bless you.” He tries his best to ignore the heat pooling in his groin. He knows he’s as red as a tomato. “I-I don’t have any tissues, uh…”

“Mmn..” Achilles rubs his eyes, wincing against the harsh light of the auditorium. He paws at his nose and it makes a wet squelching sound. The poor boy looks absolutely miserable.

As much as Patroclus wants to stare, his caretaking instincts kick in, and he can’t stand to see Achilles like this anymore. He rises, tossing his laptop into his backpack with little care, throwing it around his shoulders and taking Achilles’ backpack around his arm.

Achilles stares in confusion as Patroclus offers him his hand, nose scrunching beneath his mask.

“σε παω σπιτι.” I’m taking you home. Patroclus speaks softly, but with a gentle finality that makes Achilles give in, take Patroclus’ hand, and follow him out of the auditorium. He must be feeling terrible to have bent to Patroclus’ will that easily.

Patroclus wants to fuss, wants to ask him what he was thinking to be so foolish as to come to class, but he already knows the answer. He came to see Patroclus. They get so little time together now, that Achilles came to see him without a second thought.

Still, he wishes Achilles hadn’t come today. He wishes he had stayed in bed and just texted Patroclus to come over and take care of him. Achilles doesn’t get sick often, but when he does, it’s often much worse than any average cold. The last time he was sick, his cold had turned into pneumonia and Patroclus had to take him to the hospital. He’s not taking any chances now.

Achilles coughs behind him, holding Patroclus’ hand as though it’s his anchor. It’s unsettling seeing Achilles so weak, so reliant on Patroclus for once.

He hooks his finger around Achilles’ mask and tugs it off his face as soon as they’re outside. His nose is bright red, rubbed raw from tissues, and he takes a grateful breath of fresh air as soon as the wet mask is removed from his face.

It’s then that Patroclus notices that Achilles isn’t even wearing a proper coat, just a light sweater. Achilles has always run warm, but the way his shoulders hunch in as the wind hits them tells Patroclus enough.

“Achilles,” Patroclus sighs. What is he going to do with him? He takes off the backpacks and shrugs off his thick jacket, then his hoodie, helping Achilles into both. Even though Patroclus is a few inches taller, Achilles is more muscled than he, so he fits into his clothes quite well. He’s left in only a long sleeve shirt, but the look of warmth and satisfaction on Achilles’ face is enough to make it worth it ten times over. He quite literally looks like the cat who got the cream.

“I don’t want you to get sick either. Δεν θα κρυώσεις?” Won’t you catch a cold? He asks, but he’s already snuggling into the folds of Patroclus’ clothes.

Patroclus smiles and shakes his head. I don’t want you to get sick either. Achilles is so cute. He can’t even keep up a lie that he feels unwell.

Patroclus picks up the backpacks and takes his hand again, leading him through the campus and towards the nearest parking lot. “C’mon, my car is back here.”

They walk for a few minutes, Achilles snuffling as they go. He should not have left bed today, he knows how sick he gets. Patroclus has to practically hold him upright when he stops to sneeze. 

“H’ETSSshh’ue! Hih… H’uhSshhh’ue! Sndff! Ugh, ο λαιμός μου πονάει από το πολύ φτέρνισμα.” My throat hurts from sneezing too much.

Patroclus feels each sneeze spray his arm through the fabric, desperately ignoring the shiver that runs down his spine with each wet sniffle. His gray sleeve has become spotted with droplets of mess.

“This way.” Patroclus’ tongue feels thick, useless in his mouth. He leads Achilles through the parking garage, holding him upright as they wait in the elevator, before they reach his old truck.

It’s a shitty car, that much is obvious. It’s got more rust than paint, several dents on the bumper, and it only runs when it wants to. His father refused to help Patroclus pay for anything, and he could only afford $500 for this hunk of metal.

Achilles always offers to buy him a new car. His family is loaded, practically royalty in Greece, but Patroclus always refuses. It is the principle of the matter. And he doesn’t need a new car yet anyway, not until this one dies.

He opens the passenger door for Achilles and places the backpacks at his feet before getting in on the driver’s side. The truck is so old that there’s no console separating the seats, so there’s technically three seats up front.

He buckles in and switches the ignition on, has a slight moment of panic when the engine rolls over before bursting to life. Then they’re off, one hand on the stick shift and one on the wheel.

“I always forget that this is a manual. You should let me buy you a new one,” Achilles murmurs, rubbing at his nose again.  “Can I lay down?”

“Uh, yeah? But I don’t know how you’d—“

Suddenly there’s a heavy weight on his lap. Oh no.

“Achilles, I don’t know if this is very safe—“

“Είναι μια χαρά.” It’s fine. His voice is groggy, accent thick and somehow even more sexy. He scrunches up his nose again, itching it against Patroclus’ thigh.

Patroclus wants to scream. They’re still a good fifteen minutes away from Achilles’ apartment. He doesn’t think he’ll survive that long.

He takes a deep breath, imagining anything but Achilles’ beautiful, feverish face in his lap right now. Car crashes. Houses burning down. Deforestation. Getting audited by the IRS—

He looks down at just the wrong time, sees Achilles’ golden eyelashes flutter shut, his pink peony lips drawing back to reveal sharp white canines, breath hitching, hitching, hitching—

“Hh’EYSSHHhh’ue! Haah… h’ETSsChhh!!… h’uh—! H’EIYSSHhh’ue!!” Achilles turns his face inwards and sneezes wetly against Patroclus’ cock, his body jerking against him, freckled nose streaming. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he bites the tip of his tongue so hard he tastes blood. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know how they don’t crash in that instant.

Achilles isn’t done. He makes a small whine, desperate for relief. God, his nose must be so itchy, poor baby. Patroclus can feel his cock throbbing through his jeans.

Achilles itches his perfect nose against his jeans again, caught in a sneezy limbo. His breath hitches. Patroclus can barely keep his eyes on the road.

He wraps his muscled arm around Patroclus’ lower back, nearly falling off the seat, his nose running. The next four come breathlessly, catching in Achilles’ chest, spraying across Patroclus’ lap.

“Hih’YSSHhh’ue! Hih’ih— Eh-ZSHh’TSZhh! Hh.. Eh’ISHhhhhh’ue!”

Fuck, they’re so desperate and wet. His pants are drenched from the warm spray, his cock pulsing. Achilles doesn’t seem to notice anything is amiss. He sniffles sweetly afterwards and rubs his nose on his hoodie sleeve — Patroclus’ sleeve — as if he didn’t just do the hottest thing he could’ve ever done.

Patroclus knows he’s harder than he’s ever been in his entire life, harder than the time that he’d accidentally walked in on Achilles showering and saw full frontal. There is no way Achilles doesn’t notice. How does he not notice? He definitely notices. What if he notices and doesn’t want to be friends anymore? What if—

Achilles cocks an eyebrow at him curiously, then raises a hand to tap Patroclus on the temple.

“Patroclus. I can hear you thinking.”

The touch brings him back to reality. He looks down at Achilles, who smiles softly up at him. His face has a feverish blush that creates a pink hue across his cheeks and nose, his fiery golden hair nearly completely free of the bun and falling across Patroclus’ lap. His heartbeat slows down. How does he look so beautiful even when he’s sick? He looks like an angel.

“Sorry. Bless you,” he manages to strangle out, finally, wishing he’d either die or wake up from this embarrassing, sexy nightmare.

“ευχαριστώ, Patroclus.” Thank you, Patroclus. And god, now Achilles is saying his name, in that perfect Greek lilt that few other than Achilles have been able to pronounce properly. Pa-tro-clus.

He wants to touch him, run his fingers through his hair, kiss his entire body until he knows every inch of it. He wants Achilles to take him in his mouth and sneeze against his crotch without the protection of his jeans. He wants to fuck him, make his breath hitch again but in a different way, take care of him…

Patroclus nearly cries out with joy when they finally reach Achilles’ apartment. He helps Achilles sit up and gets out, slamming his car door a little too hard. Fuck. Fuck fucking fuck.

He grabs their backpacks on the opposite side, using one to cover his front and the obvious hard-on he has, and makes sure to stay behind Achilles as he follows him up the stairs.