Deal with the Devil
Sum: It all started out as a one-night stand, but they wanted something more. They're... an interesting couple. Clace. AU. AH. Rated M. OOC. One-shot.
A/N: Fuck, I've been gone for a long time. Probably not that long but it felt like a long time. I'm so fucking sorry. It's just, my school is actual shit. The last semester, all your grades count twice. And we only need 2 grades per semester per subject to round off the school year, so that means one test during normal school, one test in the testweek. BUT NO. All the teachers decide to throw in two extra tests just for the heck of it, all whilst making us drown in homework. And, coincidentally, all the tests in the semester that counts twice are the hardest fucking ever. Like, we had a massive grammatics test for Dutch—lemme tell you Dutch grammatics is a pain in the fucking ass it's so difficult—and this stupid test about quadratic equations for Math, which I suck at. And then the fucking broomstick in the ass projects and essays which, instead of the normal two times, they count four times. AND LET ME TELL YOU ART ESSAYS ARE FUCKING HARD AS FUCK ESPECIALLY IF YOU HAVE THE SHITTIEST TEACHER IN THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD FOR ART. Like, sometimes when I'm at school with the teachers rambling on about absolute bullshit and just assuming everyone understands while no one understands, I really just want to die. I really just don't want to live in that moment. Three people had a fucking burn-out in my class. THREE PEOPLE. And the shittiest fucking thing of all is about to come. In Dutch high/middle schools (high- and middle school is combined here, you go for a total of 4, 5 or 6 years depending on what difficulty you're doing) you have to choose a profile after three years of school, which includes a bunch of standard classes and then you have to choose bonus classes yourself. And literally everything that comes before your profile choice is completely useless. When you go to college, they only look at your grades after your profile choice—if they even look at them in the first place.
So that's why I hate my school, so much. It's basically known for the shit ton of homework we get on a daily basis.
Okki? :)
Let's go!
By the way, about the space cat underwear you're about to read about, I found the cutest pair on Etsy. Like, just go to Etsy and if you love cats and space, just search for space cat and you'll be in absolute heaven.
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She fumbled with her keys while he was kissing up and down her neck, nibbling occasionally.
''C'mon, babe, hurry up.''
She was shaking with arousal and managed to—again—drop the keys.
''I—shit—you're not really h-helping, you know!'' She screeched as he sucked down hard on the spot behind her ear.
It felt like fucking heaven.
After he was done with his fun in her neck, he calmly bent down and grabbed her keys.
''I fucking hate you.''
He just smirked. ''Which one is it?''
''The blue one.''
She was still shaking, trying to catch her breath but not quite managing as she thought about what he was going to do to her next.
Her tight black dress was dangerously close to showing everyone her bright space cat underwear—it wasn't like she was expecting to get laid. Luckily, she wasn't wearing her matching bra, instead she was wearing a lacy black one, which made her boobs look about three times bigger. And they were already quite big, even if she did say so herself.
He pushed open the door, and in a split second, he picked her up and had her legs around his hips.
She normally wasn't the one-night stand kind of girl, hell she wasn't even a relationship kind of girl, but things just... happened. She had a little to-do list, to force her to step out of her comfort zone and do things any normal eighteen-year-old would. So, she went to the club—all alone—and just danced, all night long. What she didn't expect was the hottest guy in the entire club to lock his hands on her hips and start grinding on her. What she wouldn't have dreamt of was that he would then ask her, ''Yours or mine, Spitfire?'', and that she'd actually answer, ''Mine...'' in this really seductive voice, nothing like her usual nervous stuttering.
Did someone drug her? Was she actually out of her mind?!
But still, even though she never expected it, he asked her, ''Which room?'' and she answered, ''The blue door.'', still in this really seductive voice and it was creeping her the fuck out.
And then she actually bit down on his earlobe and started sucking on it. And he actually groaned.
He definitely liked it, because even though he'd never admit it, his hands involuntarily gripped her ass with bruising force. She loved it.
He shouldered the door open and stumbled against a canvas which was leaning against the wall, making it fall over. She could not find it in herself to care, she was too triumphant that she was actually making him stumble with her ministrations in his neck.
He gave her hickeys, now she'd give him some.
''Christ, Spitfire, stop that.'' He half-groaned out, grabbing her chin and crashing his lips against hers for the third time that night.
He laid her down on the bed all the while throwing his jacket off, then his shirt and holy fuck.
''Holy fuck.''
His chest was literal perfection, his arms were god-like. His biceps were so muscled and yummy, she just wanted to lick and bite them, she saw the muscles move and tense as he unzipped her dress down the front. She didn't even care that he chuckled at her underwear, because holy fuck.
His pecs were perfect, his sixpack was perfect, the trail of light golden hair going from his belly button, disappearing down his pants was perfect.
She couldn't help but sit up and move to bite down on his pronounced collar bone. Her tongue trailed down to his abs, licking them and placing kisses where she wanted it. He was groaning gently at her movements, admiring that she didn't even notice what she was doing.
Her kisses, her lips, her tongue, it all felt like pure euphoria, he never wanted her to stop yet he wanted so much more.
She lightly scratched her nails over his abs, before giving his hips a squeeze.
''Shit!'' He hissed. God, if she was going to keep doing that he wouldn't last very long.
Her fingers moved down the trail of hair until she reached his belt.
Soon enough, his pants were off and she was yet again staring, completely mesmerized. Only, this time, at a different part of him completely.
''Holy fucking fuck.''
He couldn't keep the cocky grin off his face. ''You okay?''
''H-h-how am I going to fit that inside of me?!'' She sputtered, before quickly turning bright red at her words.
Her legs turned to fucking jelly when he released a laugh, a shiver of pleasure going through her, straight to her core, making her panties even more soaked.
The things his deep voice did to her were already beyond anything she'd ever felt, but his laugh was something else.
''Don't worry, it'll fit.'' His grin was now a suggestive smirk as he crawled over her and moved her to the middle of the bed.
He was apparently too impatient to unclasp her bra like a normal person would, instead he ripped it through the middle, throwing it over his shoulder.
Instead of the garment landing with a soft whisper, it landed with tiny ticks of the metal clasps hitting the floor, paired with an audible thump.
She frowned.
''What?'' He asked, quickly catching on.
''That was my favorite bra...''
He grinned. ''Do you really care?'' It was like he knew her through and through.
She looked away, crossing her arms over her bare chest. ''No.''
He chuckled, and holy shit she was pretty sure she was soaking through her panties.
Soon enough, he was pounding into her like no tomorrow, making sure she couldn't walk for a week straight. How did he make sure? By fucking her as hard as he could, as fast as he could. Four times consecutively.
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When she woke up he was gone.
She'd expected it really, but she didn't want him to be.
Which was why she had to remind herself about a dozen times: it meant nothing to him, just a one-night stand, you're just like all the other girls.
But just as she was starting on the fourteenth repeat, a pleasant waft of pancake-scent hit her, and she was pretty darned certain she didn't make pancakes in her sleep.
Soon enough, the scent was accompanied by a clear whistled tune.
And sure enough, as she looked around, all his clothes were still on the floor except his boxers.
Which meant there was a shirtless, pantless man making pancakes and whistling in her kitchen in her apartment. A really hot man, at that. Who she had sex with.
Without really thinking about what it might do to him, she pulled on his shirt, which was way too large on her, and walked into the kitchen. More like limped, actually. Her legs were incredibly sore, the spot between her legs burning.
And she froze.
Because without the alcohol and arousal clouding her mind, she could see all of him, very clearly. Well, except the part that was covered by his boxers, which she both dreaded and was relieved about. She was really confusing herself.
His eyes instantly found hers, as if he could sense her presence, and then trailed down her body.
''Fuck,'' he groaned, forcing himself to turn away, ''could't you have worn anything else?''
She was a little taken aback, as well as a little insulted. Didn't he like it?
''Why?'' Her voice was tiny again, nervous and stutter-y like usual. Her hands were fidgetting again, scratching at the skin around her nails and bending her fingers at the knuckle.
''Because,'' he was frowning, trying to keep his eyes on the pancake in the pan, ''you, wearing that shirt, makes me want to forget all about these pancakes and take you right back to the bedroom.''
His voice was low and husky and—holy poop, he was British.
''Flippy doodle.''
His movements stilled, his left eyebrow raised and he slowly turned to her.
''What was that?''
How did she not notice that before? How, how, how, how, how?! The delicious accent made her legs shake which made her hiss in pain.
It was so weird how he could read her like an open book as he immediately grabbed a chair from the kitchen island and lifted her onto it. His hands were incredibly gentle, unlike the rough, bruising hands he'd used last night. She couldn't decide which she loved more.
''I—I don't like swearing.''
He threw his head back and laughed, making her legs feel like putty. It didn't really help that his hands were still on her waist.
''Can you stop making those darn attractive noises!''
He had a goofy smile on his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
''It's just, you definitely didn't have that attitude last night.''
Her cheeks flushed bright red. ''I'm a pottymouth in bed...'' She admitted in a small voice.
He leaned down, running his nose along her neck. She could feel his warm breath on her skin.
''And it's fucking hot...''
Darn, his voice was doing things to her, really delicious things.
When they finally regained their composure, they ate the pancakes in silence.
A question was burning Jace's tongue, so he decided to just go for it.
''You wanna go out with me, some time?''
She choked on her piece of pancake.
He came over to her side and gave her firm pats on her back until she spit it out.
''You good?''
''Y-yeah.''
He smiled at her, a genuine smile. ''I'll ask again: do you want to go out with me?''
''I—um... are you sure you want to go out with me?'' Her voice was even smaller, if possible.
Sure, she felt incredibly comfortable when it came to him, but she still felt insecure. He was probably in the top five hottest guys on earth, and there she was; a tiny little girl with no social skills, no romantic skills, no sex skills and no confidence.
He just stared at her for a minute, frowning in thought. ''Before I ask you out again and you say yes, how old are you? Because I don't want to do anything illegal.''
''Eighteen...''
He released a breath of relief, looking at her with admiration in his eyes. ''I'm 23.''
''Okay.'' She wasn't really sure what to say. Yet again, her lack of social skills made itsself known with an awkward silence filler.
He grinned. ''So, you want to go out with me?''
''I—I think I do.''
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They soon found out the dates didn't really work.
No worries, they were still together, but they liked different things.
So, they made a little deal.
They would take turns taking the other out on an activity the other didn't like and make it as enjoyable as possible.
For example, Clary hated going to restaurants—especially walking buffets and stuff—and she hated going shopping or going to the movies—especially at busy hours.
So, Jace would take her to the restaurant and order everything for her. When they went to a walking buffet, Jace would be by her side the entire time. When they went to the movies, they went to the 1 AM and the 10 AM movies, where they were nearly the only ones in the room.
When they went shopping, Jace, again, didn't leave her side, would go everywhere with her and hold her hand through the entire thing. It made her feel a tiny bit like a little kid, but it was nice.
Clary soon found out Jace was pretty wealthy, having taken over the all too famous Herondale business, so he hated doing cheap things. He wanted to spend money, lots of it. He hated staying in and watching movies, cooking food himself, or playing regular board games, or playing videogames without buying all the extras.
So, to compromise, they rented a hotel room and watched movies all day long, ordering room service and just enjoying each others company, all alone. And fucking occasionally.
It was a good relationship, taking the other further and further out of their comfort zone, but never doing anything they didn't like.
And they went on like that for a very long time.
A/N: Holy shit I just accidentally selected and deleted everything. Thank you, Lord, for the ctrl+Z option. Did y'all like it :D
I kinda did. Sorry if it's not that good, I just really need to get back into writing. All my motivation is gone and I really just can't think of one-shots anymore.
So, please, please, please, please send me any idea you have for a one-shot so I can feed you hungry readers with word-vomit.
Recommendation of the day (finally): if you ever go to the Netherlands, try to find some chinois. It's a really delicious cake with delicious frosting and pudding or someting, I don't know, it's delicious. You can usually find it around Easter. And, naturally, a book: Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton. I haven't finished it yet, so I can't really say that much about it, but I'm reading it for my bookclub this month and it's brilliant so far, it really grabs your attention and keeps you reading. And now a TV-series: Homeland. I'm watching it with my mom—we're on season 2—and it's so good. It's exciting as fuck, and keeps you watching episode after episode after episode, the story is really good and unexpected, it has some serious plot-twists. And now, an anime: Blame! It's on Netflix, it's pretty good, but the ending was sort of suck-y. It was a very sudden ending and you're just like: ''The fuck? That was it? What the hell?'' So I'm really hoping for a second part. Also, I re-watched Tokyo Ghoul, and fuck even though everyone hates it it's still my favorite anime. It's so over-dramatic and fuck, I live for it. And last but definitely not least, the documentary Tales by Light. It's fucking gorgeous, the pictures, the filming, ughhhhhhhhh. I want my ashes to be held in a dvd-case of Tales by Light. It's too good.
That was it, my little Waffle Cones!
Also, I changed my name to BennieWaffles. Because my friends call me Bennie and I want you guys to be able to call me that as well :)
Review :D
Favorite xoxoxoxo
Waffles out.
Sorry for any double spaces or typos!