#a little guilty pleasure before the next page ;D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminrings · 3 years

Note

OKAY LISTEN idk if someone or you already planned sth like this but how about y/n finally decides to confess/tell jk but someone else claims to be her before she could do it so * cue to the angst bc y/n sees the whole thing/she hears from her friends * and ofc koo eventually finds out bc that b*tch doesn't even have the fucking lunchboxes 😑

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo's the three-peat king for having the best research papers, but he's the worst when it comes to believing the right person

"i think i'm gonna tell him."

you say it to no one in particular, really, but you hear yoongi rISING from his nap on the couch

it wasn't meant to wake him at all

it was just an epiphany of sorts that popped into your head

physically felt as if your head would just bursT if you didn't say it out loud to affirm your own thoughts lmao

"for real???" he's rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, very evident that he wouldn't wake up to finish his thirteen pending assignments but he 10/10 would wake up to hear your epiphany

yoongi is awake for the action!!!! lmao does professor roux from calculus think that he wakes up at the morning and doing shapes (or whatever they teach at calc) is the fIRST thing in his mind????

"interesting," he nods solemnly when you nod your head, reaching out for a fist bump before he plops to your shoulder, "i suggest dressing like a virgin wearing H&M when you confess. it would hit close to home."

yoongi's the touchy affectionate one between the two of you but you'll forgive him bc he's still sleepy

NOOOOOOO

jungkook doesn't look like a virgin wearing H&M :((((

his clothes aren't from there lol

"pass."

"say that you're a top verified contributor both in quora and brainly."

PLEAAAAAASE SJWHSHWHHWV

"nice idea," you snort as yoongs genuinely thinks that it'd get jungkook to propose on the spot, "but no cigar."

"pretend to love big bang theory."

"you're getting onto something here."

"your hobby is fact-checking rick and morty."

"yoongi wow you are on fIRE today-"

"your guilty pleasure is not wearing protective gear during experiments."

"where is this coming from??"

"OH!!!! i'll pretend to mug him or something and you can attack me!!!"

....

??????

yeah yoongi's train of thought just crashed

you were pretty sure he was going on a science theme there wHY DID IT DERAIL

yoongi looks confused because you look confused, as if he didn't just give you the mindblowing idea,, free of charge

lol but no he really didn't

"i'm not doing any of that shit, yoongs."

"oh yeah???" he squints at you and hollows his cheeks, taunting you entertainingly while he worms his way to your lap to nap again

"what are you planning to do?"

holy sHIT this is nerve-wracking

she feels like she's gonna pass out the whole time that she's been rehearsing this in her head

she's been waiting outside the classroom for twenty minutes now and the bell finally rang and she can't believe it!!!! omg is it game-time now

everyone's filing out of the room and she could just feel that jungkook would come out of the room last-

ALRIGHT FUCK THE BELL RANG

you could do this!!!!

everyone's filing out of the room and you know in your heart that jungkook would stay behind, his routine being to politely chat with the professor before he leaves

you're a lil nervous alright

you're scanning the room and there's only a few people left and your eyes instinctively go to the mini desk next to the door and-

FUCK

DID YOU FORGET TO BRING IT HOME YESTERDAY??????

goddamn it

yesterday was when coach jeong was mad because someone from your team just hAD to bring beer!!! and not even have the common sense to put it on a discreet thermos or sth and you know!!!! to not drink it in public or in front of the coach!!!!

doing laps on the oval field will now make you hurl on command just by thinking about it

you physically did not have the cognizance to go and fetch the lunchbox to wash it,,,, or like even move at all

FUCK IT

how are you gonna swipe the lunchbox now? now when the professor's packing up, jungkook's loitering around the classroom, and there's this girl who's-

wait

who's this girl??

who is she and wHY IS SHE EYEING THE LUNCHBOX

fuck it!!! here goes nothing

she's stepping completely into the room and making sure her block heels generate enough clacking,, hands already moving in practiced moments as she attempts in making it seem like she's rushedly putting the lunchbox bag into her tote — as if it's from there, and she's always done this

jungkook hears noises coming from the back of the room, eyes widening before he comes up the stairs in record time

"no. get your own."

he grips the girl's wrist, about to pry off her hands from his lunchbox

he hears her giggle sweetly, the melody being something he's heard before

"i did. after all, i did get you these."

"hyeji?"

hyeji's a pretty girl!!! a nice girl in jungkook's year that wears fit dresses and cartier bangles :D

she stands out really, sometimes literally because she appears in the school's flyers and advertisements

"hyeji," jungkook breathlessly connects the dots including the fact that she looks caught in the act; holding his lunchbox, her tote bag open, and a peek of another completely different lunchbox in her other hand, "i-it's been you this whole time?"

hyeji blushes, sheepishly tucking her perfectly shiny and neat hair behind her ears, "you caught me then."

kook laughs both in nervousness and giddiness, pushing his glasses up and suddenly conscious that he should've worn contacts, "b-but how? we don't share this class."

hyeji bursts into a giggle, blushed cheeks staining further than the five minutes she tried getting the perfect amount

"r-right! kinda amazing what depths you'd go for a person you like, hm?"

jungkook is about to pass out

HE'S PUT IN A SITUATION

a situation that he likes and is too giddy to find a reply for

he apparently doesn't need a reply, because a chair scrapes harshly against the floor and it brings him down to reality immediately

you cannot fucking believe what you just witnessed

you stand abruptly from the seat you've been frozen in with a great deal of urgency because you cAN'T stand to be in this room any longer

they actually forgot that the two of them aren't alone

that you're still here

little miss hyeji's just as shocked

you feel stupid and even more stupid that you're still holding a stupid notebook you even decorated

it has a doodle in the front and all the remaining pages are of the copies you've replicated on jungkook's sticky notes — the same ones you've been trying to make perfect just for him

"y/n!" he sputters when your backpack accidentally leans too much to your side and hits him on the way out

"move."

you’re feeling everything but fine and god you just hated that you always willed yourself to move oN

you’re beyond mad when you put on your jersey!!!

you’re irrevocably dejected when you put on your cleats!!!!

you feel cheated on when you zip up your duffel and walk all the way to the field!!!

it’s a combination of the type of frustration that makes you want to move plus the type that paralyzes you, the whole thing unlike anything you’ve ever felt before

you’re clearly in your head and frankly, you’re just too good

too good that there's no game at all because the only thing happening is you scoring

there's no passing going on or the sort

everyone is just :O looking at their captain to be in the most furiously determined state that they’ve ever seen you in

you don’t even realize that you’re the oNLY one moving in the whole field

“alright, alright — jesus christ! go to the bench and sort your head out, captain,” coach jeong literally has to JOG over to your spot to jolt you

oh there he is again

jaehyun just had to bench you didn’t he

sometimes it’s lost on you that jaehyun, just like seokjin, used to be your senior

he hated juniors with a burning passion and you’re the ONLY one he’s taken a tolerance for

((you lent him your umbrella and it coincidentially had to be a bad day for him tHEN that made him like you))

you’re having none of it though because this time, you’re the one who has the bad day and the captain title does nothing to appease you

“sure, coach.”

you mumble just as lively and walk to completely the fURTHEST side of the bleachers, being so far out that you could barely see your team

what are you supposed to do? simmer in the thoughts you so badly didn’t want to have in silence??????

"y/n?"

the voice you least expected to hear perks up right next to you

what the hell is jungkook doing here now??

he looks lost, two hands clinging onto his backpack straps before tentatively looking at you again

“did i do anything to upset you?”

so he wants to ask that?

you snort automatically, suddenly wishing that you didn’t walk this far because you can’t make an excuse that jaehyun’s calling for you

"because my bag accidentally hit you on the way out? no, jungkook."

jungkook knits his brows in question, seemingly take offense to what you’ve just said to hom

"we're not exactly associated for me to be mad at you, are we?" you emphasize even further, not caring the least bit that your words have an edge to them

he deadpans, pursing his lips before sarcastically smiling at you

".... so you're upset at me?"

://

jungkook takes your silence for him to delve further, not paying attention to how your eye is begging to twitch at him

"i asked if i did anything to upset you, and you said no. but that doesn't necessarily mean you aren't. you could be upset at me even if i didn't do anything to you."

wow

you sound like a real fucking nerd jungkook

"do you have any idea how condescending you sound right now?"

kook barely has a solid inch on you yet the nagging feeling that he’s belittling you makes you grip your fists tight, posture wavering

"so you do admit that you're upset at me?"

he’s not the most patient person either but something about you and the situation right now just makes him tick a little faster

your eyes narrow at what he’s aiming to get at, your hand on your hip feeling heavy at this point

"what does it matter to you if i'm upset or not? we are not-"

"i am associated to you!!! even to a degree!!! you walked me home!"

jungkook is the one who breaks first and he doesn’t look fazed to have opposed you so loudly, still standing by himself

"i would walk anyone home."

"no you wouldn't-"

"i would walk anyone who was as vulnerable and as anxious as you were, jungkook!!"

it is true

you’d walk anyone home within reason regardless if they were jungkook or not!!!

the guy in question only looks at you straightly, brows not stubborn but still just as unrelaxed

:((

"good to know. then you're not upset at me, and i didn't do anything to upset you."

"sure."

you only say just to spite him, about to turn your back and leave him completely to go back to your practice game

jungkook surprises you again and flips a switch just as quick as your mini argument of sorts escalated

"anyways!! i'm sorry for being a little off when i interviewed you that day. i got a 100 on that assignment, by the way :))"

what?

what’s he still doing here?

he’s talking about his grades and whatnot to you as if literally twenty seconds ago did nOT happen!!

"why are you still-"

"and the one who's been giving me my lunchboxes confessed to me today!! for hyeji to be the girl giving me them, it makes perfect sense."

you shrug away the weirdness that jungkook’s moved on from the argument as fast as this, trying a take two for a peaceful conversation

this time, you’re the one who unknowingly flips a switch at her name — something so foreign and sudden yet something you quickly grew to hate

"i wouldn't be so trusting if i were you."

that seems to hit a nerve on him again, making him scoff in reply

"good thing you aren't me then."

what is ON with him????

"watch it. i'm your senior, kid."

you’re more irritated than the first and second time around that you’ve been agitated this day

"why? are you normally this self-absorbed that you wouldn't trust a girl who's confessed??"

self-absorbed?

you aren’t the most selfless person ever but god do you know for a fact that you’re not vain as jungkook’s insisting you to be

you hate him.

you hate this version of him that isn’t the same jungkook you’ve known to like ever since the start of the semester

"same thing as polygraphs not being a hundred percent reliable. anyone could tell the truth as long as you ask the wrong questions," you detail on further because jungkook loves details, right? might as well give him several

"or did you even ask?"

jungkook scowls as if you’ve insulted his mother and his entire lineage, face contorting into everything but warm

"what does it matter to you? didn't you just tell me that we aren't associated? why are you projecting all your moaning on hyeji?"

WHAT

WHAT????

"you know what? maybe i am associated to you. i think i'd also tell this to everyone i'd walk home — maybe you shouldn't be too trusting, huh? maybe you shouldn't just let anyone walk you home."

the tears this time are more insistent to come out this time but you’d rather dIE than for jungkook to stain your pride like this

"no one should walk me home, besides you? is that what you're trying to say?"

no!!

for fuck's sake you aren't even finished with your point!!

before you could continue, jungkook shakes his head at you — the most disappointing shake of his head that it curses you soft

"what am i even doing? you wouldn't understand."

he closes the distance that’s been alarmingly shorter throughout the whole time, jungkook being the one to break it

"because no one gives you lunchboxes. no one exerts effort in making you cheerful — no one wants to go the extra mile for you, and no one wants to walk you home."

he's insulting you right to your face and that’s when your dam breaks, lips quivering impossibly as you stare him down with a genuinely pained gaze you didn’t know you carried

"you wouldn't know what i feel, because no one likes you."

jungkook gets the last word in.

he leaves you in the same field he's first approached you in nervousness.

today, he leaves it differently.

sweat isn't the only thing on your face but instead it’s the frustrating hot tears you haven’t had in awhile

your fists are balled but there's no power to the anger behind it

you’re almost always alone outside the company of the closest friends you’ve ever had — but this is the only time that you truly felt that you are alone.

today's a good day to give up on jungkook.

#WHAT DO WE THINK BESTIES!!!!!! alr this was the confrontation piece with all that build-up :D the pain #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine

527 notes · View notes

svchengss · 3 years

Text

two halves | l.mh

PAIRING. mark lee x reader

GENRE. fluff, heavy angst

WARNINGS. major character death, grief

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

SUMMARY. right after his death, mark watches how you cope with the loss

A/N. i saw this one tiktok and it kinda inspired me to write this

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

white walls, white room.

mark scrunched his face, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open, the dark brown iris adjusting the size of the pupils due to the brightness of the walls reflected upon it. a soft groan vibrating from his throat, he assessed his surroundings where nobody or nothing else is present. he looked down to inspect his clothing, hoping that it would give him any clue of this room or space he’s in - an all white outfit. this scene looks exactly like the one in the movies where the characters realize they are dead. except this time, he really is.

THE REALIZATION.

the muffled sounds of cries and sobs rang through his eardrums, triggering a reflex to wake up from the state that he thought was a slumber. he is lying on the hospital bed with the light blue clothing piece, faint light illuminating the space where people are huddled up around him. he waved his right hand in the air to let them - who he later remembered as his family members and friends, know that his eyes are already open. nobody moved even the slightest, the atmosphere being very much dead, scent of medicine intoxicating his mind.

then he saw someone who he holds very dear to his heart - you, enter the hospital room, dropping onto her knees as soon as she saw his state of condition. in an instant, he shot up from his lying position and ran over towards the crying you, shoulders shaking and all. bringing his hands to hold you in his embrace, not even a glance spared by you brought a hundred and one questions to him. why didn’t anybody acknowledge him when he woke up? why can’t you feel his touch?

“mark lee. time of death, 10:23 pm,” the tall doctor with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose announced before leaving the room, holding the clipboard close to his chest. mark gauged the monitor screen next to the bed, the line indicating his heartbeat is no longer showing spikes going up and down - instead becoming a flat line, deafening beep present with it. then he sees himself still laying on the white sheets, eyes still closed and no signs of breathing evident. a surge of panic rushed through his veins.

this can’t be real.

mark rushed into the bathroom, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. his body is semi-transparent, the shape of the toilet bowl can be seen through his left shoulder. his body shakes with terror, slapping himself in the cheeks multiple times just to make sure that this whole fiasco is just a nightmare.

oh my god. no, this is real.

mark stood in the back of the crowd, witnessing the funeral of someone and that someone being him. of course, he’s never expected to get the sight of his own service. his mother is standing beside you, her hands rubbing circles onto your back in an attempt to calm your mourning state. you’re still looking ever so pretty, a black chiffon dress on your body with white pearl necklace on your collarbones and your wavy black hair hanging down your shoulders. not that anybody else would notice, it’s someone’s death after all.

“stay strong, y/n. he will always be in our hearts,” the same rhythm of sentence in tones full of pity being directed towards you. mark’s sister enveloped you into a warm hug despite the chilly atmosphere, whispering comforting words into your ears before getting into the family’s car. you’re not going back home, not yet when you still feel reluctant to let him go.

“why did you leave me?” the only coherent words from your hoarse voice can be heard. mark, who is crouching next to you, is holding his tears back. instead, he sends a sorrowful smile - not that you can see him anyway. is there any way to let you know of his presence?

“goodbye, love. i’ll see you tomorrow. i promise,” you dusted the back of your dress from any dirt or debris, leaving a rose on his tombstone. the thing is, he doesn’t want to part from you. and that’s why his figure is seated beside you in the cab. he grazed his thumb on your knuckles, making you feel tingles rushing through. you pushed the slight thought away, you must be tired to be feeling things.

you slowly opened the door to your apartment, you and mark’s to be exact. the whole house is making those memories make their presence in the back of your head again. the kitchen where you two baked cookies for christmas last year. the bedroom where you snuggled upon his chest, not wanting to start your day just yet. the piano where he sang those cheesy songs for you. the living room where you slow danced at 3 in the morning. his favourite mug resting on the countertop, probably will not be used again. this whole situation is too overwhelming for you. you feel weak.

with each day passing by, you didn’t even miss one without a visit to his resting lot. you would tell him stories of how your day went or something that you read which would made him ponder. the words carved on it are already etched onto your brain.

mark lee. a son, a brother and a loving partner.

the clock hanging on the grey wall has it’s arms stretched out to display the time - two in the morning. you can’t sleep just yet, not having any for the past few days even. dark circles are appearing around your eyes, not yet recovered from the puffiness from all the crying. mark’s heart aches everytime he takes upon your state. he feels very guilty, not that death was his choice after all. it’s simply fate, a cycle of life, a destiny that every single creature on this planet will end up with.

you’ve taken the whole month off work, still feeling ever so helpless. in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve stepped out of the apartment, the night before his passing perhaps? you’ve completely shut yourself out from any interactions - deactivating your social media, not accepting any calls. you just need time to heal.

as if you’re being controlled by some type of mastermind, you shoot up on the balls of your feet, pulling away from the couch. those images of you slow dancing with mark, hands in each other’s holds, your chin rested in the crook of his neck and being ever so engrossed in love are coming back more often now. you trudged to the vinyls arranged neatly on the shelf, picking one before placing it on the turntable - frank sinatra, one of his all time favourites.

holding your hands up at about his usual height, you start twirling around. you can almost see the outline of his smile, his features right in front of you. except, he is. he’s been observing your moves the whole night. mirroring your current position, as if you can really see him, it’s a miracle for him. overjoyed actually, he doesn’t realize the salty tears streaming down his cheekbones and so are yours.

“thank you for coming, dear. it’s a pleasure seeing you in what, weeks?” a laugh escaped the woman’s lips. you reciprocated her hug before stepping into the living room. it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, was it in january? mrs. lee had invited you over for a simple dinner, checking up on how you’ve been. you can see that the family is still struggling over his passing, the way his sister’s eyes are not twinkling as usual makes it hard to cover up the lie.

“you see, this was on his high school graduation day. he was very happy that day, doing all sorts of dances and stuff. finally escaping from hell as he said,” she giggled. she’s been displaying all sorts of memoirs to you, photo albums and photographs scattered on the wooden floor. to be honest, you’ve never seen these before. all smiles mark lee, easy to notice among the crowd. not that he’s changed, he’s still that boy now. mark just sat on the couch - his favourite spot, observing the throwback session going on. if he’s still here, his sister for sure is going to tease the hell out of him.

“he told us so much about you, you know? as if everything reminds him of you, that boy is lovestruck. really,” that sudden confession made your tongue dry, unable to find a perfect response. you were really that special to him.

“drive safe honey, you can come over whenever you want. you know you’re always welcome here, right?” mrs. lee handed you the small box filled with some things you’re going to keep. she kissed both of your cheeks, mr. lee standing behind her giving you a small wave. a small smile crept up onto your face before igniting the engine, turning your wheels out of the housing area.

the netflix show is playing on the television, the faint voices of the characters playing in the background. you’re sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo journal you two decorated throughout your one year of relationship. you can see his little scribbles and doodles, often a little dinosaur symbolising your always grumpy personality.

in one photo, a golden birthday hat is nicely placed on your head with him kissing your right cheek. you remember clearly, a surprise party for you last year. in the following ones, they are mostly candid shots - you blowing out the candles while he looks at you full of love, him eating a portion of your dish while you pout your lips. you would say it was the night of your life, spending it with the guy who stole your heart.

the next page of the journal is a shot of mark taking a photo of you in the park. you suppose it was taken by donghyuck? that one picture of you was stuck as his lock screen wallpaper for a while, you remembered getting so embarrassed over it. mark would give you the same excuse every time you questioned him about it, implying that the sight of you would light up his whole day. cheesy really, but that was what remained as memories of the past, tied neatly in your heart.

the rain trickling against your window eventually made you doze off to wonderland, creating the perfect chance for mark to browse through the journal in your hands. carefully lifting it from yours so that you won’t be stirred from your sleep, he settled down in the space beside your sleeping figure. slowly turning the pages, he smiled fondly at each photo holding a thousand moments that can’t be recreated ever again. some of them would make him giggle. he kneeled down slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead, making you squirm a little due to the faint touch.

“give him a chance. i’m not saying that you should forget mark but it’s been months, you should live up a little,” yerim’s voice sounding concerned from the other end of the line. perhaps she’s right but you just need more time. but how much longer? you’re afraid you yourself have no specific answer for that enquiry.

you’ve been feeling better by now, welcoming people back into your life and carrying out the same daily routine of yours. going to work, buying groceries, going to the drive-thru and whatnot. of course, the void is still obvious - coming back home to an empty atmosphere instead of him waiting for you on the couch, sometimes dozing off, no more weekend cafe runs. but at least you’re trying your best. you bid your goodbyes before tapping the red button, ending the call. plopping the device onto the mattress, you stared at the white ceiling, deep in your own thoughts.

you should give him a chance. live up a little.

yes, you should.

getting hold of the phone and immediately opening the messages app, you searched for jungwoo’s number. he’s been trying to take you out for dinner for a while now. you still remember his exact words, whenever you’re ready he’s always there, waiting for you. you’re not really sure about that particular question but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try, right?

typing in the words ‘okay, sure’ is already a pressure for you but you still proceeded to press the send button. glancing at the clock showing the time, the notification ping redirected your focus onto the screen.

jungwoo: cool, is tomorrow night okay with you? i’ll drive, of course :)

tomorrow night. okay, tomorrow night.

an elegant red gown is wrapping your curves perfectly, a thin necklace with the seashell charm around your neck while your lips is decorated with the dark red tone, highlighting your poise appearance. hearing the doorbell ring, you tidied up the dresser as your eyes landed onto the picture frame holding a photo of you and mark. a sad feeling crept into your heart but you pushed it away, opening the door to reveal jungwoo in a black and white tuxedo.

you would say that the dinner went well, none of his questions or chatters crossing any borderline. he’s just so polite, even you are amused. feeling comfortable with his presence, the small gap in between is eventually closing down since you’ve learned so much about each other during the other few dates. one night completely changed it for you, him offering you a dance at some event he’s bringing you with.

you observed that his moves are slightly similar to mark’s - not completely of course, mark’s is very unique and very…mark-ish. for the first time ever in the recent turn of events, you flashed a genuine smile. one that is not just for show, one that only comes out when you’re truly elated, one that you only manage to give to certain. mark just observed the scene from a distance, admiring how you’ve managed to find the spark of happiness you once lost.

alas, mark saw his other half become full again with another, her eyes twinkling with the same joy but this time, it’s not him in the reflection.

156 notes · View notes

someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Text

Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one!

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration)

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

#Levihan #snk #my writing #THIS ONE WAS SO FUN I would like to revisit this one day #I enjoyed their dynamic hehe

103 notes · View notes

blkgirlcafe · 3 years

Text

Professor Nasty

Professor! Florian Munteanu x Black! Reader

Warning: Public sex, unprotected sex, cheating, undefined age gap, dirty talking, slight degrading.

I keep my description of the reader pretty vague, make her how you want, but she black fosho. I am trying to get better at writing from a Y/N perspective, so any constructive criticism is welcomed.

Thank you @dersha98 for the inspiration and the ending. Thank you love!

University of Munich

Y/N tried to keep her eyes on the slides but it was nearly impossible. She never believed the hot professor stereotype until now.

Somehow she had gotten her dates mixed up and ended up registering for classes late. Which means all the good electives were taken. Y/N had gotten stuck with the two worst electives one could think of and she was sure to be in for a boring ass time. Public speaking and Romanian literature.

Public speaking was the worst to Y/N, because well it was public speaking. Every other week she was giving a speech, standing in front of a class of 30. It was nerve racking and she always needed a break after that class.

Romanian literature on the other hand surprised her. The professor was gorgeous, a man if she ever saw one.

Talk and built like a brick wall that she would happily run into. She sat up front, eyes tracing his each movement.

“So reports are due, please pass them up.”

Y/N pulled out the report that she put together less than 4 hours ago after reading the spark notes online. She hadn’t read most of the book, getting bored within the first 4 chapters.

Everyone knew that professors didn’t read these things, just grazed over and did a length check.

She quickly passed it forward and began to pack her stuff, last class of the day. Y/N couldn’t wait to get home and watch Netflix.

1 week later

A big bright red F was stamped on her paper. Not even a C or D. This would tank her grade in the class which would tank her GPA.

Y/N waited until the class was empty before approving Mr. Munteanu

Up close he was even more impressive of a man. He was solid built and smelled like mint and firewood. She liked it.

He didn’t even get her a chance to talk, “Your grade is your grade, stop staring off into space and maybe it could have been better.”

Y/N was shocked not expecting that out of the normally quiet professor.

“I’m sorry Mr. Munteanu, the book was just really hard for me to get into. Can I try another book? Please?”

Y/N tried her puppy eyes on him, hoping it would work like it would on her boyfriend.

“Read the whole book, cover to cover and instead of a 2 page report, I want 4. The highest you can get is a B.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

The way he licked his lips made her look away, something inside her heating up at the thought of his tongue.

“When is it due?” She finally asked.

“I’ll give you a week, and Y/N don’t tell anyone. I don’t normally let students make up work.”

“I won’t, thanks again Mr. Munteanu.”

Y/N declined an invite to drinks, and lowkey ghosted her boyfriend to finish the paper. Once she got past the first 4 chapters the book was actually good. Lots of drama and sex which she wasn’t expecting.

She easily typed out a report after and printed it out. Excited to hand it back to him after class.

Y/N waited silently as Mr. Munteanu read her paper. His tall frame was casually leaned against the desk at the front of the auditorium. She fidgeted in her seat. Having him read it in front of her was nerve racking.

The paper dipped below his lips and Y/N found herself staring at his lips and how pink they were, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked.

“Miss Y/N, Y/N!”

Y/N snapped out her daydream, “Yes Sir.”

“I asked what is your favorite part of the book?”

Y/N chewed her lips, wondering if she should tell the truth. The book had a few steamy sex scenes and they were explained in graphic detail.

Y/N kind of shrugged, not wanting to answer him.

“Use your voice young lady.” His voice was stern, making her clench her thighs.

“The sex scenes Sir, they were just so real.”

One eyebrow shot up on his face.

Y/N felt her heart speed up, this was not a conversation she was prepared to have with him.

“Come here Miss Y/N.”

On shaky legs she made her way to where he was standing, he picked the book up off the desk and handed it to her.

“Show me your favorite part.”

Y/N flipped through the book she was handed. For some reason her hands were shaking, she found the part.

“This is it.” Y/N squeaked out.

“Read it Miss Y/N.”

Y/N gulped, praying her voice did not fail her, “ His soft touch sent flutters through her body, this is what it felt like to be touched by a man. An experienced man…”

Mr. Munteanu wrapped a large hand around her hip, Y/N gasped.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes...please.”

Y/N cursed herself, already begging. Mr. Munteanu stood and Y/N felt surrounded by him, he towered over her, his scent engulfed her. Y/N tilted her face up, to look at him.

“Tell me you want this.” he barely whispered.

“I want this sir.”

Mr. Munteanu crashed his lips on hers, kissing her aggressively. Y/N kissed him back, biting back a moan as he grabbed her ass. She needed more, wanted more.

“Please Sir…” she broke the kiss.

“Please what sweetheart.”

Y/N wasnt sure what to ask, fuck my brains out sir, use me like a toy sir, do anything you want. The pad of this thumb traveled from her hip to her neck where he gently squeezed getting a moan out of Y/N.

“Don't make me ask twice.”

“Please fuck me Sir.”

Mr. Munteanu growled as his other hand yanked at her jeans, not even bothering to unbutton them, pulling them down.

Cold air hit Y/N wet pussy lips she was absolutely drenched from the little he had done. What happened next happened so quickly, Y/N head was still swirling. She was face down on the hard wooden desk, Mr. Munteanu running a thick digit up and down her slit. The clink of a belt was all that could be heard over both of their hard breathing.

“Fuck I wish I had more time.” his thick accent broke her out her spell.

“Please...I need you.” Once again begging like a whore to be fucked by an older man.

“Don't worry sweetheart, I am going to fuck you like a man should.”

His wet tip came in contact with her thigh as he guided the thick cock head towards her entrance. His pre cum mixed with her wetness as he pushed inside her, testing the limits of her walls.

A gasp left Y/N as his thickness filled her up, a painful stretch that quickly turned into pleasure. Mr. Munteanu pushed until their bodies were connected, Y/N walls fluttered around him, reacting to having such girth in them.

“Good girl, taking all of me.” he grunted.

Y/N moaned as he begin to fuck her, slow deep strokes that left her breathless. Y/N let out a loud fuck as he hit a particular spot.

“Have to be quiet for me baby, can't let them know what I am doing to you.”

“I cant...It feels so good...please more.” Y/N tried to bite her lip, to keep from getting too loud.

“You want them to know that you like older men, that you let me fuck and so quick.”

“Fuck Yes, please dont stop!”

“I'm not stopping until I flood that cunt.”

Mr. Munteanu lifted one of her legs, setting it on the desk, hitting even deeper on each stroke, a tingling that started in her core finally let go, Y/N toes curled as she had her first orgasm, breath hitched in her throat.

“Look at you, already cumming all over my dick. Imagine if I had you in a bed, the things I could do to you babygirl.”

Y/N head swam with the thoughts, the way he could use her body, she wanted that more than she wanted anything else right now.

“Does your boyfriend make you feel like this?”

He knows I have a boyfriend, Y/N though. Mr. Munteanu picked up the pace, slamming his hips into her.

“Tell me Y/N.” he said through clenched teeth.

“No Sir, you feel better.” Y/N cried out.

Y/N was being fucked so hard she swore the desk was moving, not that she cared, her second orgasm was sneaking up on her.

Moans, skin slapping and the occasional grunt filled the empty auditorium. Mr. Munteanu pulled out, flipping her over before laying her back on the desk. All Y/N could see was him and his extremely chiseled chest. Her ass was pulled to the edge of the desk, her ankles by his ears, thick dick at her wet entrance. Y/N fist clenched around nothing, riding out her second orgasm.

“Fuck, I am about to…” Mr. Munteanu never finished.

He flooded her unprotected pussy, something she didn't even let her boyfriend do. He kissed her legs and thighs as he pulled her legs down.

“I need more.” was the last thing he said as she rushed to put her pants back on and scurry out the door.

Y/N rushed across campus, she felt like everyone knew what just had happened, she felt like everyone knew that her professor cum was staining her panties. She made it to her boyfriend's apartment, praying he was not there, still at the gym, or at the pub with friends.

The whole way up all she could think was, I just had sex with Mr. Munteanu! In the same class that he taught me in. Y/N was going to have to stare at that desk for the rest of the semester. She got to his apartment and mentally cursed herself, she could hear him on the game already.

“Babe! Where have you been?” He asked her.

“I had to turn in that paper and he had me stay while he read it.” Y/N tried to quickly get down the hallway but Fynn wouldn't stop talking. Any other time he would be so engrossed in the game she could walk around stark naked and he wouldn't notice.

“I waited on you for dinner though, I am hungry babe.” he whined.

“Let me take a quick shower and I'll order your favorite.”

She should feel guilty that her boyfriend was waiting for her to return while she was having the best sexual experience of her life on a desk, with her professor, who was also her boyfriend professor. But all she could think about was two orgasms in less than ten minutes.

“Why are you walking funny baby?”

Y/N froze in her place, she just got fucked with the biggest dick she ever saw.

“Sprained my ankle earlier in heels, I need to put it up.”

Y/N quickly faked limped to the bathroom, turning the water up super high. She set her phone on the counter noticing a text from an unknown number.

Be free Friday evening -Flo

#florian munteanu #Florian Munteanu x reader #Florian Munteanu x black! reader #Florian Munteanu smut #black reader #smuttywriter #Creed #Black writers

311 notes · View notes

mymedicine · 4 years

Text

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #my writing #alo

507 notes · View notes

i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

Text

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ori the dwarf #Ori #OC #Fluff #Diary #1st person

21 notes · View notes

jamaiskookie · 4 years

Note

can i request a soft fluffy little drabble of fanboy yoongi and idol reader?

soundcloud rapper meets professional idol- myg

it’s #starrieselcaday !! where everyone posts their selfie in the hopes of their bias replying to them! alternatively, yoongi is a shy fanboy and you’re an idol with an undercover account where you stalk your fans.

masterlist

listen

min yoongi is not a liar

HOWEVER, if you happen to ask him what kind of music he likes to listen to..... that’s a rare exception.

he’ll probably reply by rattling off some of his favourite hip-hop rappers etc etc (emInEM!!! KANYE!! THE CLASSICS!!!!! beyonce)

which,, is not entirely a lie, okay?? he DOES listen to those artists! but his greatest guilty pleasure is this ... idolgirlgroup UGH he feels lame just thinking about it.

not that it’s a pathetic thing, ya know? it’s just that he’s ~min yoongi~ jin literally told him once that he would be re-born as a rock and he AGREES WITH THAT.

it’s not like he’s ashamed of saying he’s a fan of your group, it’s just that it’s not expected of the stone-cold soundcloud-rapper yoongi.

but secretly, he winds down by watching your fancams, mass streaming your albums, screaming about your debut anniversary, the list goes on... the day in a stans life never ENDS GOD.

he literally screamed at his laptop and bursted into tears for a good 4 hours your last comeback.

he even got jimin and namjoon to end up liking his ult group!!!

seokjin refuses to ‘lower himself’ to their standards but everyone knows he secretly has all of your albums downloaded

the group (lomls) called dreamcloud consists of five members- yoona, jisoo, lia, chae, and y/n. the fandom name is called starrie, even though nobody knows how that came about??

(his favourite single is their newest song called cloud 9)

three guesses to who’s his bias gO!!

if you guessed y/n congrats you’re CORRECT. other stans say that the bias they started with is NEVER the bias they have no but you’ve been yoongle’s ult bias since debut and it’ll forever be that way!!!

he’s been bias wrecked approx. 30 times but we don’t talk about that.

like lia is THIS close to stealing the bias spot but you’ll always have such a special place in his heart :,-)

which is why when he sees the hashtag #starrieselcaday which was trended by you when you tweeted out a selca he POUNCES ON THE CHANCE TO POST A SELCA

on his secret fan account of course.

oh boy he really hopes nobody from uni is going to see this..,,, he’ll deal with it if the time comes.

he definitely spends 30 minutes with jimin trying to figure out where the best lighting in the dorm is and then an additional 30 minutes just taking the damn picture.

he ends up taking the photo in his black bucket hat (the e-boy one) with this slightly awkward half smile plastered on his face.

he kinda hates it but it was also the best shot out of the 2000 he just took so that one it is!! (he’s also pretty tired of jimin telling him to ‘pOSE’)

he just posts it on his twitter with nothing but the #starrieselcaday hashtag. it’s the first time he’s participated in these so he’s kinda ~nervous~ but whaddya know!!

other starries are already hyping him up in his mentions!! [proud tears] gosh he loves this fandom so freaking much. he links jimin’s selca below his, telling his followers to go hype jimin’s picture too.

it’s slightly concerning how big of a following yoongi has on his stan account.

#STARRIESELCADAY! ✨@/liabby

replying to @/ynssuga

you look so cute suga!!!! ur bucket hat omg where did you get it send LINKS!!!

dreamcloud D-14!!! 🍬@/starriejoonn

replying to @/ynssuga

so THIS is what you spent an hour doing with jimin. owo looking good my friend! 😎

jade 💜ot5 @/vitaminchae

replying to @/ynssuga

omg you did #starrieselcaday !!! congrats on 50k by the way!! we’re all anticipating your album review (keysmashes) <3

awhhhh

how cute!

see? best fandom.

honestly he wasn’t even aware that he hit 50 thousand on his stan account what the FRICK that’s insane!!

the only thing he does on this stupid account is give album reviews (which are quite useless at this point it’s always a 10/10) and scream about the comeback stages.

occasionally he’ll go on to remind his fellow starries to drink water and take breaks from streaming- because contrary to popular belief he can be soft.

☁️STREAM #CLOUD9 ☁️@/yoonsoohearteu

replying to @/ynssuga

hOOOOOOOTTTT!! woohoo!! why didn’t you tell us you were attractive irl?? 👀 ru single bby? 👉👈

yoongi snorts reading that comment, replying to tell @/yoonsoohearteu that he’s far from attractive and is unfortunately, single. it’s all y/n’s fault, he jokes in his reply. dreamcloud has raised his standards too much.

y/n ✅@/dreamcloudy/n_official

replying to @/ynssuga

💞💞💞

[blink]

[bliiiink]

[?????????]

wut.

are his eyes deceiving him? WHAT?

yoongi checks again, and sure enough, the little checkmark verifying your OFFICIAL twitter account lays next to your handle,.,, WHICH IS BELOW HIS POST.

he takes a deep breath, trying to recall whatever breathing exercise his therapist taught him just last week.

it doesn’t work.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- “

💤☁️.

“y/n!“ yoona calls from the kitchen. in your large XL hoodie, you step in, humming a ‘hmm?’ to your leader. all the other girls are camped out in their rooms, preparing for the comeback coming soon.

yoona’s scrolling on her phone with a confused look on her face.

“why is hashtag starrie-selca-day trending? did you tweet something or was it chae?“ she asks, and you hide a slight smile.

“oh yeah,“ you reply. “i tweeted my selca this morning. you guys can tweet out yours too.“

yoona raises her eyebrow. “okay,” she asks. “just be careful.” you blink.

“be careful... of?“

“make sure the agency doesn’t find out about your secret account you use to stalk the starries.“ you sputter, spitting out a random excuse.

“you’re too obvious these days, y/n,“ yoona says, not unkindly. “i figured that your comment wasn’t intentional... was it on that guy suga’s page? anyways, your official account didn’t reply to any other fan’s selcas, so maybe you should comment on some other fans twitter accounts too.“

huh?

what on earth is she talking about- OH NO.

you scramble to take your phone out, immediately clicking into your twitter notifications.

you groan when you see ‘y/nsuga’ is already trending. you should’ve double checked which account you were on before commenting, for god’s sakes!

this is amateur stuff, you scold yourself. how could you forget?

like yoona said, you begin commenting on other selcas, so it doesn’t look like you’re singling just one fan out.

(except you kind of already did that.)

yoona stifles a laugh. “so,” she says. “we’re not going to talk about how you commented three heart emojis on this guy’s selca on your secret account... right?”

your cheeks heat up. “please don’t tell the other girls.” you plead. jisoo unnie would never let you live this down.

it’s not your fault some of your fans are. like, really cute, okay?

this guy- ‘suga’. well, that’s the name you’ve been calling him in your head- since it’s the alias he goes by on twitter.

he was one of the first fan accounts opened on twitter- just when you debuted! he posts these detailed and insightful reviews every time you have new music, and he’s always been such a loyal fan!

(plus, it’s super fun seeing him shut down your haters!! he always comes up with the most awesome comebacks)

((your personal favourite is ‘y/n could single handedly step on you with the heel of her five inch stilettos while she continues to do the choreography perfectly. shut your bitchass mouth up’))

so is it a crime to check up on a devoted fan’s twitter page every once in a while... on your secret twitter account??

he still hasn’t replied to your comment, which you’re slightly down about. he’s just busy, you reason with yourself. it’s not like you can expect his world to revolve around you, you scold.

yoona nonchalantly waves her hand. “i already screenshotted the evidence though, so that’s going in my y/n blackmail folder.”

you let out a multitude of complaints, noises that mostly consist of various versions of ‘fuck you uwu’

at least it was yoona who found out first. she’s the most gentle in the group... even though she has blackmail folders for each of the members.

you reassure yourself by telling yourself that she’d never actually use the folders for real blackmail purposes.... probably.

looking down at your phone, you frown.

cute boy suga still hasn’t replied.

you don’t know it, but the only reason why is because he’s still screaming.

“AHHHHLHFH*HDFGLHHHHH?&$5FLIQJARSODFILJQWOI?!!!?!?!!”

#bts fanfiction #bts suga #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts scenario #bts au #idol! reader #idol! au #bts imagine #bts fic recs #bts edits #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi crack #yoongi fanfiction #btsgif #yoongi fic

225 notes · View notes

grabthemhorns-old · 4 years

Text

Satan’s NSFW Alphabet - Obey Me!

I’ve had a few requests for Satan here and twitter, so here we are :3 Hope you enjoy! I always love to know what you think.

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

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- Satan is often one of two - the quiet observer, and affectionate need. He loves the intricacies of how pleasure and sex affect everyone’s bodies, minds, emotions, differently, and no matter how you react to the come down after, he’s there for you, observing how your body winds down from the release and reacting how you need him. A touch where it hurts to soothe, wiping away the streaks of blood; the curl of his tail around your back, pulling him against you softly as his hands wipe away your tears; he throws you your clothes if you’re up, about, laughing at the experimentation of your last position, drinking in your every word as you act so comfortably around him, despite what he is; he’ll make the tea afterwards, draw the bath - observing what you need, and giving.

-The time his affection craves, he often just, curls into you, quietly, horns and tail away, making himself as small as possible. He still can’t quite believe that you - you - want him, flaws and all. And there are many flaws. Sometimes he’s really vulnerable during these times. Talking quietly about things he never usually would, exposing words to the pillow, to you, that he’s desperate for you to know. Intimacy has broken the barrier, away, down.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- Satan likes his hands, and what he can do with them. He keeps them well cared for, nails and claws pristine and painted and moisturised. He loves to see them pressed against your body, spread over your legs, wet and sticky from between your legs, wrapped firm around your cock - he’s imprinting on you. Touch, to touch. And each time he feels closer, like he knows you a little bit more. He loves to play with your hair, and feel it slip through his fingers. Bite his fingers, suck them, smother them with a moan.

-His favourite part of you is your back, spine and neck. I HC that the back and spine are highly desired in Devildom due to an ancient fable, and that it’s become fashion to emphasise the back with clothing and jewels - like the neck/chest for us. I wrote a bit about it in THIS drabble about Satan’s pact seal which I also mention here. He will lavish it in kisses, in touches - and he especially loves giving back rubs to you, watching the spread of his hands across your back, how your muscles move beneath his touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- Satan loves to cover his hands in cum - and yours. He loves seeing his hands sticky with yours, and to lick his fingers clean, hungrily. But he much prefers to watch you lick it off his hands, slowly, feeling your hot, wet tongue roll over each finger, in-between, and oh so careful against the slide of his sharp claws where it drips.

-Edge him. Edge him until he’s tearing down the walls of Hell with his gagged screams, until he’s begging you, desperate, tears in his eyes. He absolutely loves it. It ties in with his self control over his anger. And letting you have control over him in such a way, helps.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- He likes to touch himself in the library sometimes. During his young formative demon years, when he visited the human realms, he particularly sought out libraries and book stores to fuck his chosen humans in. And devour.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- Satan is one of the more experienced of the brothers. Maybe he doesn’t have the age span of the rest, having never being an angel, but he’s made up for it being a demon. Satan uses casual sex a lot as release - as a way to cope with the rage, the anger that broils beneath, desperate to get out in a plethora of ways. It’s a way to help keep it in check. He absolutely knows what he’s doing, and is not afraid to communicate with his partner about what they want and what he wants to from sex.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- Any position that he can lavish attention on your back, especially since that’s where he branded you with his pact seal. He can see the script colour change and react to your bond and joined emotions - it really does it for him. But he also loves to be able to finger/stimulate you at the same time as fucking you. -Holding you against a wall, your face pressed so hard at an angle it hurts so he can bite your neck, your hair caught in your lips, and you struggle to breathe. But you don’t care. You don’t care. It’s his favourite quickie position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- There’s a dark, dangerous humour lingering beneath Satan that comes out a lot during your sex. Especially when he’s being rough and playful - he feels safe with you to really let himself be and let loose. The times he is serious, there’s an intensity to him that makes you feel like you’re not the only one in Devildom, but the only, one. It’s like the world just, falls away, crumbling around you, and if you blow, it’ll scatter to dust, and all that’s left is Satan, and you. He takes away your breath, and you sometimes wonder if he’ll take away your heart too and wrap it in his claws. And you think in that moment, you’d be happy if he did.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- He’s groomed well down there, with smooth blonde hair shaved to a small patch which surrounds a black birth mark, extended around from his back. There’s little room for negotiation if you like it otherwise, though.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- He will whisper your name against your skin, he will tell you he loves you, each word pressed closer along your neck until the last is etched against your ear with his lips. But it’s not in your language, it’s in demonic. The more intimate, more sensual your sex is, the more he slips into his own tongue, writing it all over your body. Satan is a very expressive person, although you’d never initially have known it. It’s only when he’s with you alone do you see it. His body talks for him, his tail acts as an extra limb, stroking your hair as he holds you impossibly close. It holds you steady as he fucks you hard, so hard, your knees are bleeding. The intimacy is intense, and often you can feel his underlying sin simmering beneath. But you’re not afraid.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- Satan enjoys masturbating. He does it regularly - and it increased when you arrived, before he made his move. He uses it a lot to release his frustration and anger - sex and orgasms being such a good release for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- Bondage with chains - on him especially. Satan is definitely a switch, and in scenarios like this, he enjoys being the sub, wrapped in heavy, enchanted chains to dampen his demonic powers - or hurt him - when he tries to use them. He likes to feel the weight of them over ropes or ribbons - truly something he cannot escape. His rage and body contained and in your hands. He especially loves doing this for a long session, and not necessarily with lots of sexual stuff. But things like: -Pain. Use your heels. Use candles. Use blunt objects against his skin, marking him. He especially enjoys this as a distraction when his anger gets so much he doesn’t know what else to do. Bind him and gently hurt him. Then fuck him. -Edging. Edge the fuck out of this boy. Do it. Do it now.

Roleplay! This is one Satan likes to keep very quiet, but he loves to roleplay his favourite book/tv characters and scenarios with you. It’s really quite cute because he really enjoys keeping to the exact scripts and dialogue sometimes, and dressing up like the characters. Sometimes he’ll make up his own scenarios with fun tropes for you both to act out. It’s one of his absolute guilty pleasures. Please indulge the boy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- The library is a natural favourite of course. The smell of books, old and new, is a favourite for him. Lucifer’s study :3 He’s slowly ticking off all the surfaces in there. Both of you find it hard to keep down your laughter during those ventures. His bedroom, over yours. He’s always felt your room is too impersonal - it hasn’t spent long enough as yours. It’s just going to be the next exchange student’s isn’t it? Satan is all about sentimentality.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- Particular smells are a turn on for Satan; the smell of books, the tea you drink; the moisturiser you use on your hands; the smell of the first meal you shared together; the flowers you keep in your room. It’s specific, and sometimes obscure, but you begin to understand what pushes his buttons, and you gently rub that moisturiser on your hands - slowly - some mornings at breakfast before class, catching his eye; you bring a pot of your favourite tea to the lounge while he’s reading, watching as he turns the pages slower. Satan won’t easily admit it, but he’s hugely turned on by short shorts and short skirts. He loves things being teased, while also just being covered. Entice him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- Don’t call him daddy when he’s the dom. It does not do it for him. Something something Lucifer issues. -Like many demons, there’s not much he won’t do if you are okay with it. They are demons after all :3

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- Satan loves to receive. He can run his hands through your hair, he can watch you take as much of him in as you can, and if you really want to treat him, put on some kitty ears and a tail butt plug, so he’s looking down at you on your knees dressed as such, and it’s a delight. He’ll never shy away from giving, and sixty-nine is really fun for him since it feels more involved.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- Satan has no shame in admitting his preference is fast and rough. It’s one of the best releases for his anger, and after admitting this to you, he tells you that sex has so often just been that - a release. Something to keep something else in check. But with you - he wants it to be different. He knows the need will always be there for that release of his wrath, but with you, he’s felt growth, and he doesn’t want to go back. Sometimes it’s so fast and rough you ache for days after. But he always, always tends to you after. And he won’t touch you again until you are absolutely ready. You both understand how rough it can get, and he needs to make sure you know that. There’s a safe word there, and an action, when your mouth is otherwise occupied. In honesty, it’s the best sex you’ve ever had.

-When he’s slow and sensual though, he makes it count. It’s loving, it’s intensely intimate, and you feel like you’re being utterly adored, from head to toe.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- Quickies are one of Satan’s favourite things. Sometimes if he’s taken over by a bout of anger, or he’s just fucking horny, he’ll grab you for a quickie at RAD, or in the nearest room in Lamentation. He doesn’t mind who ends up taking charge. The riskier, the better.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- Satan enjoys the risk of being caught. So doing it in risky places or scenarios he enjoys a lot. Although being someone who has experimented a lot sexually and has a lot to bring to the table, you are initially the one to suggest a lot of things first because he holds so much of himself back with you. But when he starts to open up, and relax and trust, that changes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Demons of course have a lot of stamina, and Satan is no different. As long as you need to go, he can go. Sometimes though, when Satan is driven by his wrath, it feels as though he can go even longer than normal, and you gently remind him that you are still human. He can cum a good few times in a long session. He prefers the build up and to make himself last.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- Satan has a gorgeous and impressive collection of cock rings. From normal human ones, to magical infused Devildom ones especially for his demon shaped cock. He enjoys them for their aesthetic as much as their effect. -Because he loves using his hands, Satan has a lot of unusual things that can be put on the fingers and inserted to increase stimulation. Or just things that he can use with his hands on you. And not always downstairs either. Stimulation for the nipples - and if you’re okay with it - temporary magical clamps and piercings for the back and spine for some foreplay. -Toys are quite a fun and integral part of your sexual relationship. Especially during foreplay. Satan enjoys the build up - more so on himself. He likes to see you succumb to as many orgasms as his hands can serve until you cannot move. And the toys extend out to bondage play gear - with softer things for your human body like rope and ribbons, rather than magic infused demon chains......unless you want to use them, of course. He has a set of custom chains that fit his horns, hands and tail all together in a beautiful arc. -He also has a delightful collection of gags to quieten his - and your - moans. But he especially enjoys them being used on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- There is an urgency to Satan that sometimes eclipses his desire to tease. He wants, he wants and he just has to have. However, in his more calm moments, he likes to be teased. When you figure out his turn-ons, he enjoys the show you put on with them to entice him and draw him in, seeing how long he will last until you’re dragged off to the nearest room, or simply right where you are. -However, sometimes during sex, he enjoys being teased, especially if you’re in the position of the dom, and vice versa. One of his favourite things is seeing how long it takes for you to tease out his demon form when he’s purposely holding it back.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- Satan tries to make himself quiet - he wants to be - but he’s loud. You usually have to stuff his mouth with something - your hand, some clothing, sometimes he uses his tail. He makes quick, low, guttural noises, raw and menacing that match the demonic he often speaks during sex. Sometimes you let the gag slip, desperate to hear more of his feral, demonic sounds. They sound so unlike anything you know or have heard before, and they drive you wild.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- Satan likes to fuck you with his tail while he reads a book, making himself simply listen to you, and feel you through the touch of his tail while his eyes, his mind, are otherwise occupied. It somehow feels....dirty to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-It’s coloured and textured the same as his tail. It takes a bit of getting used to, especially since it’s really thick. On the underside, there’s a large indent, about the depth to sit your finger, and you just love running your tongue along it. And you soon find out it’s very, very sensitive. There’s no defining shaped tip like a human cock.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- His drive is pretty high. He doesn’t mind one bit if you can’t - or don’t want to - keep up with it. You feel sometimes that his horny is in tandem with his rage, and that he tries to keep it pushed down or locked away until it just explodes. But it’s always, always there, simmering away, needing to be tended.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- Satan doesn’t really fall asleep quickly after. He’s so used to casual sex and leaving after, that falling asleep next to someone takes some getting used to. He also struggles a lot with insomnia, so he worries about that, and worries about you sleeping next to someone like him. It’s sometimes why he likes to be the little spoon with you, to nestle in and at least pretend he’s asleep in your arms - sometimes he hopes he can fool you, until he actually starts to fall asleep there, and it’s the best sleep of his thousands of years.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me masters #obey me satan #satan/mc #obey me smut #desdi writes #my writing

799 notes · View notes

thomotomo · 3 years

Text

Fuck me step daddy

TWs: Underage Peter, NSFW, Creampie, Read at you own risks, MINORS DNI, Starker

Words: 2.3k

Also posted it on AO3 if you want

Tony watched as the kid walked for the nth time today in front of him with shockingly small shorts, barely hiding his ass.

Tony tried not to appear attracted to the younger male, he was supposed to be in love with the mother of said kid, not her underaged son. It almost seemed like the kid purposefully swinged his hips more than necessary just to entice him.

Tony tried to ignore the need of bending Peter over the counter as the boy stretched his body to catch a mug that was on one of the highest shelves when there was one that could easily be cleaned in the sink.

Tony could see the boy’s flesh s his t shirt rose, the older male took a sharp breath and tried to ignore as the kid turned and looked at him with a gentle predatory smile, before filling his mug with coffee and left the room.

Tony couldn’t help but sigh in relief, now he could work properly, well until the boy would come back to tease him. Tony tried to do a maximum of work during that period of relief, but he couldn’t help that his brain constantly sent him pictures of the young boy, looking at him with bedroom eyes, pouting at him, his pink lips begging to be kissed.

Fuck he shouldn’t get lost in his fantasies like that when he had been waiting for a peaceful moment to work.

He decided to put on his headphones and listen to music, which worked for a while, he had been able to write at least three pages for his new theory, he was on his way to leave to go to his lab to try and test it when the kid walked in again, coming straight at him with an innocent face.

“Tony could you help me with my homework? I kinda need help with Chemistry.”

Holy fuck. Tony could literally see the burning desire inside Peter’s eyes, he decided to throw all caution through the window, enough was enough and he was going to give the boy what he wanted, without any mercy.

“Sure I’m coming.”

Tony put his computer down and followed Peter back to his room, he knew the kid wasn’t struggling even a little in Chemistry, he was even on the top of his class and he could probably pull a scholarship to some prestigious college with his grades.

Tony walked inside the younger male’s bedroom and sat on a chair next to Peter’s one, though a bit closer than what was necessary, barely holding back a smirk as he felt Peter tensing up a bit then relax.

Peter felt his face flush, he had been hoping for Tony to do him and it seemed he was on the right track.

“I’m struggling with tis part you see?”, Peter brought his notebook between the two of them and went even closer from Tony, he could now feel his breath on his ear, which made him shiver slightly.

Tony leaned over Peter’s shoulder and made sure to put his torso against the younger male’s back and he put his arm around the boy, pointing at a few problems, “explaining” to him how to solve it, even though he was more concentrated on trying to rile up Peter by breathing more strongly than necessary on his neck and subtly caressing his hands and wrist. He noticed a few times Peter readjusting himself awkwardly.

Tony wondered how long the kid was going to resists, he decided he will make a further move by gently kissing the boy right behind his ear, Peter took a sharp intake of breath before turning around and installing himself on Tony’s lap, immediately putting his hands around the older male’s neck.

Peter awkwardly went to kiss Tony who took the lead straight away, pouring passion in the kiss, nearly overwhelming the younger male who closed his eyes and moaned, allowing Tony’s tongue to go past his lips.

Even though the older male couldn’t help but feel guilty to be attracted to his stepson like this and cheat on his wife with the young boy, his guilt was quickly put in the back of his mind as the kid sighed in pleasure, to hell with morality.

Peter couldn’t help but move his hips, trying to find some kind of relief as his pants were getting tighter each second passing. Tony put his hands on the boy’s hips, growling as a bit of warning. The older male broke the kiss, allowing himself to take a look at the boy’s now bright red lips.

“Don’t do that unless you want to go further.”

Peter sent him a cheeky smile and kept moving his hips, making sure to roll them over Tony’s now noticeable hard-on. The inventor’s pupils dilated and he went back to kissing the boy, he started to move his hips too, making the smaller boy whimper.

Tony decided it was now time to move to other things, he broke the kiss and laid the boy on his bed, putting himself above him and went back to kissing him. One of his hands slid under his shirt, caressing the smooth stomach.

Peter’s legs parted open, letting Tony come between them and stick his hard on against him. Peter tugged Tony’s shirt up, he had seen the older man without a shirt a few times but now being able to touch him and mark him as his instead of seeing the mark his mother had left was making him absolutely wild.

Tony took off his shirt and discarded it quickly before going back to kiss the boy, moving to his neck, licking and gently biting it, making the boy mewl in pleasure. Peter sighed every time he felt Tony’s tongue licking him, the feeling sending him absolutely overboard.

Peter opened his eyes and looked at the older man’s chest, he could see a few scars and his hands went to caress his torso, feeling the rough skin under and biting his lips as he did so.

Tony smiled and bit Peter’s neck, leaving a hickey there and making Peter moan loudly, which immediately made his dick twitch. Tony helped Peter to take off his shirt, also throwing it somewhere in the room. He felt his breath hitch as he looked at the boy’s milky and flawless skin. He could see a few moles here and there and the two pink nipples he saw were making his mouth water.

Tony opened his mouth and immediately took one of the buds in his mouth, licking and gently biting it, making the boy moan in pleasure, he used his free hand to play with the other nipple and after a few minutes switched nipples.

Peter’s hand went into Tony’s hair, gripping it and tugging at them every time the older man’s teeth touched his nipple. He was trying to move his hips but one of Tony’s hands were keeping them pinned against the mattress.

Tony sucked each nipple one last time, leaving a mark around them. He slowly made his way down the boy’s body by kissing him, leaving him breathless. Once he reached the young male’s shorts he tugged at it with a smirk.

“You little tease huh, you love it when you go around in those mini shorts like a little slut huh? You love it when your step dad touch you like that?”

“Y-Yes! Pl… Please touch me more!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it~ But you’ve been such a tease lately…”

“I-I’m sorry! I wanted you to… To notice me and to touch me!”

“Oh yeah? Did you have any specific fantasies in mind?”

“Y-yees! Ah… I w-wanted you t-to take me on the kitchen’s counter! I-I want you to take me in mo-mom’s bed so you can always think about me e-e-even when I’m not here!”

“Ooh you dirty boy~ Don’t worry I’ll give you what you want kiddo.”

Tony took off Peter’s pants and threw it away, he licked his lips as he took in the boy's dick that was red, with some precum sliding from the tip. He went down and licked the dick from bottom to top, making the boy cry in pleasure. Tony made kitten licks on Peter’s dick, making it twitch, Peter eyes were filled with tears of pleasure.

Tony suddenly stopped his ministrations and went to leave hickies on the inside of his thighs, grinning afterwards, he had marked his territory, plus now and until they disappeared he wouldn’t be able to go around the house in short shorts, though Tony clearly didn’t doubted the kid wouldn’t be able to find a way to tease him, nonetheless.

Tony presented his fingers in front of the boy’s mouth, smirking at him.

“Suck.”

Peter took the fingers in his mouth with no complains and started to suck them straight away, his eyes were clouded by desire and they were half opened now. Peter’s tongue was licking every place on the fingers salivating abundantly and coating them more than necessary. When Tony deemed that he did a good job he took them off Peter’s mouth and observed the spit on his fingers.

“You did great kiddo, now relax and enjoy.”

Peter nodded, unable to say anything. Tony went back between his legs and prodded at the tight rim, gently caressing it to help Peter relax and open up at least a little. He slowly slid a finger inside the boy, making him whimper, whether it was pleasure or not Tony didn’t knew but just in case he stilled and caressed the boy’s hips with his free hand to help him relax.

After a few moments Tony moved his fingers inside the boy, helping him open. He looked at the younger male and once he nodded he slid a second finger inside and stilled once again before starting to scissor him open. Peter was moaning loudly, pleading to get more than just the adult’s fingers and pleading for some kind of release.

Once the inventor deemed Peter relaxed and open enough he took his fingers off the teen’s ass and took off his pants finally getting naked.

Peter saw the older male’s dick and felt himself salivate, maybe next time he’d be able to take it in his mouth, he really wanted to suck him off. He wondered how heavy the male would feel in his mouth and if he would gag if he took it all the way in his mouth.

Tony took his dick in his hand and aligned it with Peter’s opening.

“You ready kid?”

“Y-yes d-daddy!”

Tony felt something primal rise up in his chest when Peter called him this name. He slowly slid his hard penis inside the boy’s hot channel, stilling once it was fully inside.

He felt Peter’s ass twitch around him, making him moan, Tony bended over the younger male, his mouth now near the kid’s ear. He licked his lips and finally started slow movements with his hips which immediately brought a reaction from Peter who flushed and moaned loudly straight into Tony’s ear, which made him speed up, the moan where like music in his ears.

He thrusted deeply and it reached the boy’s prostate, making him cry in pleasure. Tony decided to give it all and pound inside Peter, he could feel the teen’s nails on his back, gripping him and surely leaving marks.

Tony was grunting and panting, sometimes biting Peter’s lobe or neck. He tried to contain himself and not leave any marks on his neck to avoid making his wife suspicious. He kept thrusting and decided to be merciful on the kid and took his dick in his hands, using his thumb to spread the precum that came from the tip all over the top. He used his hand to give a lazy hand job to the teen.

He could see tears of pleasure slide on his young lover’s face and he felt pride swell in him, the kid was a complete mess thanks to him. He kept hitting the special spot inside Peter’s ass and made sure to speed up a little bit the movements of his hand.

Tony felt the dick in his palm twitch as Peter was trying to talk.

“I-I’m… Ah daddy I’m cumming!”

“You’re doing well kiddo. You’d like me to be your daddy huh?”

“Y-yes! Be… Be my daddy!!”

Peter came all over his hand and a little bit landed on both of their torso. Tony felt the ass suddenly tighten around his dick, nearly in a painful way, which threw him over the edge. The inventor came inside Peter’s ass, painting it in white. It made Peter moan again and the younger male looked for Tony’s mouth and kissed it less awkwardly than earlier, taking his tongue out to touch the other male’s tongue. They were making out like horny teenagers (which at least one of them was).

Peter broke the kiss and looked at the adult with half-lidded eyes and panting but with a breaming smile on his lips. Tony was also panting and he grinned as he made a movement with his hips, making the boy gasp and glare at him.

Tony smiled at him cheekily and kissed the boy’s cheek.

“You happy kiddo,”

“Ah… Yes it was so… good. Please don’t move I like being full of you.”

“Sure thing Peter, we’ll have to get cleaned before you mother comes back…”

“Wouldn’t you like her to find us like that?”, Peter looked at him with pouting lips and absolutely cute eyes.

“I don’t think she’d like that and besides, it would be harder for us to do this again if we can’t see each other as often as now. But we could fuck in some risky places if you’d like.”

Peter beamed at him and yawned. Tony went to lie on his side bringing Peter on him, allowing him to slowly fall asleep on his torso.

______________

Don't hesitate to give me your thoughts about it! It's my 1st time entering a Bingo event so hope you'll enjoy it!

#starker #peter parker #peter x tony #tony stark x peter parker #starkerfestivalsevents #peter parker x tony stark

46 notes · View notes

kaalamarii · 4 years

Text

I’m The Powder, You’re The Fuse (Beelxgn!MC)

18+ only; nsfw!

Warnings: Beel being sexy and irresistible, non graphic mentions of masturbation, a lot of weird finger licking???, oral sex, 69, straight up smut.

Masterlist

Beelzebub went into the bedroom that he and his twin shared, surprised to see MC on his bed, a text book and several pages of notes sprawled out around them. They chewed on the end of their pen as they read, focused, before writing down an answer. On the other bed, Belphie was napping per usual, his text book next to him and some papers on the ground.

“MC?” Beel said, making the human jump.

MC looked up at him, eyes widening at what they saw.

Beel stood before them, nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair wet and falling into his eyes. He smiled sweetly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I-it’s okay. Sorry, uh, I was helping Belphie with homework and he fell asleep, so I kinda just stayed here. I’ll get going.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want some privacy so you can get dressed?”

Beel shrugged. “I don’t care.”

He didn’t notice MC’s embarrassed expression as they bit their lip, eyeing the naked demon.

“I’ll throw on some shorts and we can go get a late night snack together,” Beel said with a grin.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, okay.”

MC gasped quietly as the red haired demon dropped the towel. They quickly covered their eyes with their hand. As he went to his dresser to find a pair of shorts, MC gave themself permission to peek a little, though quickly feeling guilty at the sight of his muscular back.

“Alright, ready to go to the kitchen? I’m starving.” Beel held out his hand, helping the human up off his bed.

As they walked down the hallway, MC tried their best to look anywhere but at Beel. When they got into the kitchen, MC leaned against the counter as Beel opened the fridge, rummaging through it.MC’s eyes trailed down Beel’s muscled shoulders, arms, and back, pausing at his ass before flitting back up to his handsome profile. He grabbed a few things from the fridge and looked over at MC with a smile. The human quickly looked away.

“So, how have you been, MC?” Beel asked.

“I’m o-okay,” they answered, gaze hovering over the still damp and glistening chest and abs of the demon. “Were you at practice?”

“Yeah,” Beel replied as he opened a small jar of custard.

MC crossed the kitchen, taking their turn with the fridge, staring inside at all its contents. They didn’t even know what they were searching for, besides a way to get themself to stop looking at Beelzebub.

They froze as they felt the demon come up close behind them, leaning into them to look over their shoulder at the fridge. “What are you looking for?”

“Um, not sure yet,” MC said, trying their best to ignore the fact that a shirtless freshly showered Beel was so close. Though they weren’t looking at him, they could smell the scent of his soap. He smelled so good, and the feel of him against them was a tad overwhelming.

Beel placed his hand on MC’s hip, gently scooting them out of the way. He grabbed some sort of Devildom fruit that the human had never seen and held it out to them. “Try this,” he said. “I bet you’ll like it.”

MC smiled shyly, grabbing the fruit from Beelzebub’s large hand. “Thanks.”

Beel nodded as he leaned against the wall, dipping two fingers into the jar of custard. He brought it to his mouth, moaning happily as he closed his lips around the two fingers and slowly pulled them out. MC let out a barely audible gasp, one that they were happy Beel didn’t seem to notice.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” MC muttered, a throbbing starting between their legs. They were desperate to get away from the demon before he noticed their arousal.

Beel frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. Just really tired.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, goodnight, MC.”

MC said good night to him quickly before heading back to their room in a hurry.

As MC got ready for bed, images of the half naked demon licking custard off of his fingers refused to leave MC’s head, and their own arousal was getting impossible to ignore. All they could think about was wanting to jump the gluttonous demon, run their hands among his abs and strong arms. They got into bed and slid their hand under their underwear, sighing as they started to touch themself. It was both a relief to have some sort of pressure against their sex, and frustrating, as they’d rather have Beelzebub gluttonous between their thighs. They continued, speeding up on themself as they shut their eyes, imagining it was Beel instead.

They were about to cum when there was a soft knock at their door. They jumped, hurriedly pulling their hand out of their underwear and getting out of bed. They opened the door, Beel standing there holding their books and papers.

“Oh, hi, Beel,” MC said, breathing shakily.

“Hey, you forgot these in my room. I didn’t want you to forget them tomorrow...are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!”

Beel looked the human up and down, at first checking if they were hurt. He noticed the shorts they were wearing were messed up at the top a bit. The thought of them pleasuring themself crossed his mind, but Beel quickly threw the thought away. As hot as he would find that, he figured he was overthinking it. Of course messed up clothing didn’t mean anything.

But then he smelled it, the arousal emitting from the human. Between the messed up clothing, the fidgety and nervous reactions of the human, and that beautiful, sweet scent, his suspicions were confirmed.

Beel smirked. “You know, MC, if you need anything, you can always ask me.”

MC eyed him, confused. “Yeah…?”

“Anything,” he reiterated, stepping closer to them.

“Thanks, Beel,” MC said nervously, gently grabbing the books from his hands and setting them on their table. They gasped when they felt the large demon behind them. They turned, looking up at him. “Beel?”

He looked down at the human, his eyes heavy. “I’m hungry, MC.”

His voice was low, husky, dangerous.

MC backed up nervously, though there wasn’t really anywhere to go between the demon and the table behind them. As much as they wanted him to stay, they also wanted him to leave so they could finally get rid of the throbbing between their legs that was now even stronger. “Oh, um, well, want me to go to the kitchen with you?”

Beel shook his head. “There’s nothing in there that will satisfy me.”

“There’s not?” He was being weird. Really weird.

“No,” Beel said, taking MC’s hands in his. “I know what you were doing, MC. Before I brought you your things.”

“You d-do?”

Beel nodded, bringing the hand that had just been in their shorts to his mouth and kissing it. “I wanna taste you.”

There was a crazy look in his eyes, similar to the one he gets when he was at his most gluttonous. A look he had gotten only when denied food. A look that one of the brothers had described as feral.

“Can I?” he asked.

MC stuttered a bunch of nonsense, unable to make actual words. Mesmerized and surprised by the way Beel was acting, all they could do was nod.

Beel kissed their hand again before sliding a finger of theirs into his mouth, not unlike he did with his own and the custard. The taste of their skin only made Beel more hungry for them. In one sudden movement, Beel scooped the human up, bringing them to his face. They were quickly joined at the lips, sloppily kissing, licking, nipping at each other. Beel held MC up with one hand under their ass, the other ripping off their shirt as he brought them to the bed. He tossed their t-shirt to the side as he threw them onto the bed, perhaps a bit too roughly.

Beelzebub hovered over the human, a hand on each side of their head as he continued kissing them. He pressed his hips against theirs, teasing them with his large cock that was growing more and more stiff as he pressed against them.

“Beel,” MC groaned as his hands roamed their body.

He kissed down their body, taking each of their nipples into this mouth, softly nibbling and leaving licks down their chest and stomach. He stopped at the top of their shorts, gripping it with his teeth and pulling them down to their thighs.

MC hissed at the feeling of Beel’s mouth enveloping their most sensitive area, his tongue working his way around them. It was no shock to MC that the demon was a pro, tongue swirling around and hitting all the right spots. He licked and sucked like he couldn’t get enough. MC moaned louder and louder as they got closer. They ran their fingers through his hair, lightly pulling as he pleasured them with his mouth.

The demon groaned, tearing their shorts off all the way and placing his hands on their thighs, pushing them farther apart to give himself even better access to them. Beel looked down at the human, his eyes dark as he inserted his fingers into their mouth, mirroring their fingers in his just moments before. The human eagerly took them, sucking on them until Beel pulled them out and brought them down to MC’s entrance. He looked up at them once more, asking permission to continue.

“Please, Beel, yes.”

Beel grinned, his mouth returning to their genitals as he slowly pushed his moistened fingers into their hole. The human inhaled sharply as the feeling of his large fingers in them, but then sighed as he pumped them in and out, pleasure taking over. With his other hand he pulled his cock out, jerking himself off.

“Wait, Beel,” MC said through moans. Beel paused, looking up at the human.

“I want you in my mouth too.”

Beelzebub smirked, pulling away to get onto the bed with MC. He laid down, pulling the human on top of him, facing away from him. He quickly went back to fingering and going down on MC.

It was a bit difficult for MC to reach his cock because of the height difference, but it didn’t stop them. They wrapped their hand around his girth, pulling him to them. It was huge, and for a moment they wondered how it was going to fit in not only their mouth, but inside them as well. Still, they couldn’t help but feel excited by the thought of being stretched by Beel and his large cock.

They pumped him a few times before wrapping their lips around the tip and slowly taking him in their mouth. A hum from the demon’s lips vibrated against them and they shivered. They bobbed their head up and down his large member, though it was hard to concentrate on both the feeling of what Beel was doing and trying their best to pleasure him.

Beel threw his head back with a loud groan as the human took him into their mouth, swallowing as much of him as they could. He continued fingering them until their legs started to shake and they climaxed, moans muffled by his dick in their mouth.

With a grin he picked them up, spinning them around so they were face to face. Slowly and carefully, he lowered them onto him. MC’s walls tensed around him immediately, both in orgasm aftershock and the pleasurable pain of taking him in.

“Oh fuck!” MC cried out.

“You okay?” Beel asked, pausing.

“Yes, you feel amazing.”

Beel smirked. “You do too, MC.”

He held MC just to steady them as they sunk down on him at their own pace, taking their time in getting used to him. It wasn’t long before he was in as much as MC could possibly take him.

MC picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his cock. They felt so full, stuffed to the brim with the beautiful demon.

Beel looked up at the human riding him. There was something about them being so small compared to him, so fragile and sweet, that turned him on. Being inside them felt amazing and brought out the demon in him. Horns grew from his head, wings sprouting from his back and fluttering at the pleasurable feelings in his body.

He sat up, holding MC close as he kissed them, the feeling of them all over him sending him into orgasm. He gripped their shoulders, holding them still as his hips jerked up into them, shooting cum into their body. He growled as he came, and the human cried out in satisfaction.

Both of them collapsed, out of breath. Beel looked over at MC, pulling the human to him to rest on his chest. They lied there together in bliss for a few moments before Beel looked down at the human, kissing them on the forehead.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m a little sore,” MC confessed, “but in the best way.”

Beelzebub chuckled.

“Did that satisfy your hunger?” the human teased.

Beel smirked. “I’m the Avatar of Gluttony, MC. I’m always hungry.”

#just add some friction #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #beel x mc #beel smut #pwp #we all know beel is hung #gender neutral mc #beel x gnmc

415 notes · View notes

unsteadyimagines · 4 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Cat (Spencer Reid x Reader)

SUMMARY: After a very intense and stressful case, Y/N and Spencer are to share a hotel room for the night. Y/N decides to unwind and make herself at home with a hot bath – accompanied by a special helping hand. Much to Spencer’s surprise, he finds himself in a sticky situation as to whether or not act on his desires. Because after all, curiosity killed the cat.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Smut (masturbation)

NOTE:

***Feedback is always welcome for future improvement!

----------

Entering through the automatic hotel reception doors, Y/N can feel her feet ache from her heels with every step she takes, which she hopes will no longer be many. Standing in the elevator with Spencer, all that can be heard is the music playing before they reach the seventh floor.

“Oh my god, I don’t think my feet have ever ached so badly from heels before,” Y/N laughs, stumbling aimlessly down the hall clutching onto Spencer’s arm for support. Not that he was much help, he was stumbling just as much as Y/N. They first pass David’s room, then Tara’s, then Luke and Matt’s, and finally, Emily and JJ’s room, which happened to be right next to Y/N and Spencer’s.

“Could you two keep it down! It’s already 2am and we’ve had a long day.” Luke and Matt lean against their hotel room door, lightly yelling across the hall, laughing at the state Spencer and Y/N were in. It’s not that they were drunk, they were just tipsy but the lack of sleep they’ve had in the last 48 hours was definitely a strong contribution to their intoxicated state.

This was probably one of the hardest cases Y/N and the rest of the team had experienced, it was so physically exhausting there was not one part of their body that didn’t ache. When Y/N and Spencer made it to their room, Y/N struggles to successfully swipe the key card through the slot, taking a few attempts before the door was able to open. As soon as Y/N stepped onto the carpet, she rid herself of her heels, feeling the soft carpet under her aching feet while Spencer takes off his jacket, chucking it onto his bed. Both of them sobering up slightly, they start getting ready for some much needed sleep.

“Do you want to use the bathroom first? I was going to run myself a bath.” Y/N asks, opening her suitcase and grabbing out her pyjamas, underwear, toiletries and a small satin pouch.

“No that’s okay, you can go first. I’m going to stay up for a while and read anyway,” Spencer smiles, grabbing his book and making his way to the couch.

Y/N walks into the luxuriously big bathroom, locking the door and turning the faucet on, the sound of the running water echoing in the air. Massaging her own shoulders while waiting for the bath to fill, she knew that her strained muscles would soon be relieved by the hot water. Meanwhile, Spencer was making himself comfortable on the couch, already many pages into his book, deeply engrossed.

As the bath starts filling halfway, Y/N decides to hop in, sighing in content at the water temperature that was helping sooth her entire body, closing her eyes and finally letting herself relax after what could definitely be described as a physically draining and lengthy day. Humming to herself, she lays there completely still, growing tired the more she’s relaxed.

Running her hands through her hair and massaging her scalp, Y/N suddenly begins to miss the touch of another person. She misses how men would would stroke her head and knead her skin, but this only made her frustrated because she was laying in the water alone. This had her yearning…

Being deprived of her own touch or anyone else’s, she slowly slides her hands up over her stomach, lightly brushing her fingertips over her nipples, which are already growing sensitive to her touch. Tugging at each nipple with a gentle force, she squeezes her thighs together, trying to release some of the pressure that’s already forming. Trailing her hands down her stomach, she lays her hand flat against her pussy to the slickness that is already there, curling her toes slightly at the touch.

She then remembers the small satin pouch she brought into the bathroom with her. Her mind wanders, slowly bringing the pouch closer towards her. Debating in her head whether it was a good idea or not, she fears there’s a chance that the bathroom along with the running water won’t be loud enough to muffle the sounds that would soon be coming from inside. Maybe Spencer might be so immersed in his book that the sounds around him will drown out.

“Hey, Spence!” Y/N softly shouts, waiting to see if he will respond. She waits a few seconds and hears nothing, confirming to her that Spencer can’t hear her, or at least hopes he can’t. Making herself comfortable, she leans further back into the bathtub, resting her head and taking a deep breath. Opening the satin pouch, she pulls out the vibrating device she didn’t expect to need while away on the job. In saying that, she couldn’t be more grateful to herself for packing it anyway.

Settling in, she excitedly turns the power of the vibrating wand on, a soft buzz filling the air, the vibrations she feels in her hand get her all the more excited to really relax after a long day. Slowly running the head of the wand down her neck, to her chest, she circles her left nipple and then her right, her breathing getting slightly heavier. The sounds she’s making as well as the wand turning her on even more now. Letting out a deep sigh, she then slowly starts to run it down her stomach, circling her navel before trailing further down to her core – the area she needed it most.

“Mmm yes,” she whispers to herself, the pleasure already making her eager for more. Running the toy up and down her pussy, she can’t keep still, her hips bucking up into the vibrating head, whining in satisfaction. Once she got used to the feeling, she presses a button to increase the speed, the vibrations filling the room even louder this time. She could feel herself getting more wet, moving the toy even harder against her pussy.

“Fuck,” she moans louder, gripping the ledge of the tub tightly with her other hand. Her head falls back in pure bliss, drowning out the outside noise.

Meanwhile, Spencer – who is still oblivious to what was going on in the bathroom, was flipping page after page, finding the quiet and dimly lit room so peaceful among the constant chaos that was his job. He thought he could hear people outside of their hotel room door, but didn’t think too much of it, and instead turned another page, changing his position on the couch.

Y/N, on the other hand, was squirming, trying to muffle her moans at the risk of getting caught. She decided to change her position, standing up and sitting on the ledge of the tub, spreading her legs on either side. Placing the wand against her pussy again, her legs struggle to stay wide open, wanting to relieve some of the aching pressure.

Once again gripping the ledge of the tub making her fingers turn white, her breathing shortens into small pants, her release getting closer. Her pussy throbs, dripping into the water below her, while she struggles to maintain her composure.

“Oh my god, fuck yes,” she gasps softly, her head rolling back.

“Right there,” she moves the toy faster and faster, her pussy pulsating, the pleasure almost becoming too much. At this point, she doesn’t even care about the possibility of Spencer being able to hear her, too wrapped up in the pleasure she’s giving herself.

Bending the head of the toy slightly to add more pressure, she whimpers, her eyes flutter shut, and her mouth opens, but she can’t utter a word - only soft pants being able to escape. The vibrations against her clit have never felt so good, so she uses her other hand to pinch her left nipple, wishing it was someone else’s hand; a hand much thicker, bigger, rougher.

Inhaling sharply, she can’t keep quiet anymore, “Fuck yes, right there, oh my god fuck.” Moaning loudly, this time it captures Spencer’s attention. He thought he heard something as he looked up from his book, placing his bookmark in the page he was currently reading. He waited to see if he could hear it again, and he did. Completely unaware to what it was, he gets up from the couch and walks slowly and quietly towards the bathroom door, wanting to make sure Y/N hadn’t had an accident. It was a farfetched worry, but he remembered they both had been drinking despite the intoxication mostly having worn off by now.

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?” Spencer asks, knocking on the door, hoping to get a response.

“I-I’m fine Spencer, t-thanks” Y/N replies, her voice trembling.

“I thought I heard noises, so I just wanted to check if you were alright. You know, make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep or drowned,” he explains, looking up at the ceiling.

“O-Okay S-Spence… I’ll be d-done soon… oohh,” Y/N replies, which Spencer found a little odd, but decided not to question it. Just as he took one step away from the door, he heard another noise, except this time he obviously assumed it came from Y/N, gasping loudly and the sound of water splashing around. Pressing his ear to the door as subtly as he could, his heart instantly started beating heavier once he realised what she was most likely doing in there.

“Mmm shit, oh- oh fuck yes,” her moans start getting louder, which gives Spencer confirmation of her actions. He gulps, wondering if he should give her privacy, fearing that he’s already crossed a boundary despite Y/N still not aware of Spencer’s ear against the door. But when he hears the toy’s vibration echo in the air, it only turns him on even more, his jeans suddenly getting that little bit tighter.

He feels incredibly guilty and creepy listening to his co-worker partake in such an intimate act, but he can’t help himself, listening further. The thought of Y/N naked and wet, pleasuring herself is what encouraged him to quietly unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants and push his hand down until he was gripping himself teasingly, biting his lip to stay quiet.

He could hear the water splashing quicker and Y/N’s breath become more ragged, which only made him move his hand up and down his hardening cock faster, quickening his pace, resulting in his breathing becoming shallower.

“Fuck,” he groans in a whisper. Biting his lip isn’t keeping him quiet enough, so instead he bites into his fisted hand, while touching himself with the other. Rubbing his thumb over his tip that’s now leaking pre-cum, he shudders at his own touch, sinister thoughts running through his mind.

While Spencer continuously palms himself, running his hands up and down his shaft, Y/N is so close to her climax, her soaking wet clit throbbing against the silicone head of the toy and her legs trying to shake themselves shut. “Oh g-god, f-fuck, fuck y-yes mmm.”

She’s so close she can feel her need for release building; she doesn’t have long till she comes completely undone. Y/N increases the speed of the vibrator one more time, a jolted spark running through her entire body and a deep heat forming in the pit of her stomach signalling to her that she’s about to orgasm. Tugging at her nipple with her other hand, bucking her hips up into the air with ragged moans, she finally releases all her stress and anxiety from the past week.

“Ooohhh shit, fuck, holy – fuck,” She exclaims loudly, squeezing both her eyes and legs shut, shivering from her orgasm – waves of pleasure cursing through the entirety of her body. Absolutely exhausted, she regains some strength, sitting herself back in the tub, soaking in what was left of the lukewarm water, and trying to even out her breaths.

While Y/N recovers post-orgasm, Spencer is just reaching his. Rubbing his cock harder and faster than before, his breath comes out deep and in pants, trying to be as quiet as he can - yet failing. His toes curl in his shoes, his hands longing to grip Y/N’s hair but settles for his own.

“Oh my god, ah – holy fuck,” he grunts, coaxing himself through his own orgasm, his head leaning against the bathroom door as he brings himself back to reality. When he comes out of his own little world, he realises he can no longer hear Y/N. Not wanting to risk being caught, he hurriedly cleans himself up before making his way back to the couch, picking up his book as if he had never left his spot.

10 minutes later, he hears the lock of the bathroom door, and out walks Y/N with wet hair and a flushed face, in sweats looking refreshed and muchmore relaxed. She stands leaning against the door, smirking at Spencer. Spencer’s eyes glance over to Y/N’s, confusion and nervousness written all over his face. The fear of Y/N potentially hearing what he was doing because of her makes his throat tighten and a knot form painfully in his stomach.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” Y/N asks, anxious to hear his answer. It’s not like she purposefully wanted him to hear, if he had, but the pleasure was all too much for her that she simply just could not keep quiet. Waiting for Spencer’s response, he lets go of his book and fiddles with his hands.

“Oh- uh, heard what?” Spencer acts cluelessly, not wanting to give himself away. He would be devastated if she found out and became repulsed by his behaviour. No longer being able to make eye contact with Y/N, he becomes interested in the front cover of his book, wishing the tension in the room could disappear. He doesn’t know whether it’s sexual tension or an awkward one, but either way he wanted it gone.

She slowly prowls her way over to Spencer who’s analysing her every move. Once she reaches the couch and she’s looking down at him with that same smirk as before, he gulps, confused as to what to do. He’s never been in a situation like this before. Y/N places her hands on both sides of his shoulders and straddles his lap, her eyes now level with his. Spencer’s hands stay by his side, not knowing what to do until he knows Y/N’s intentions. He lets out a low gasp as Y/N begins to leave light, feathery kisses all over his neck, gently rocking her hips into his. Making her way back up his neck, she grabs both sides of his face and roughly slams her lips against his.

Spencer’s too aroused to reject her touch. Instead, he grips Y/N’s hips, helping her to move their hips in sync, earnings small whimpers from the both of them, only increasing their need for each other – a need for each other they didn’t even realise they had. Disconnecting their lips, Y/N whispers in Spencer’s ear, making him shiver in pleasure. “I know you heard me… in the bathroom. I could hear you too, Spence,” running her hands through his hair, she tugs resulting him in letting out a loud grunt, gritting his teeth in both pain and pleasure. She smiles, surprised she has this effect on him already - and they’ve barely even started.

“Y-you sounded… sounded so fucking h-hot, I-I couldn’t help myself – fuck!” he hisses, grinding his hips with Y/N’s even harder, her back arching in ecstasy.

“F-fuck Spencer, please please just fuck me,” Y/N whines, attaching her lips onto the nape of Spencer’s neck again, feeling his cock grow harder and harder under her dripping wet pussy – which was still covered by her pyjamas.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Spencer chuckles, lifting Y/N off the couch with her legs wrapped around his waist. He spins around, throwing Y/N back onto the couch, making her squeal loudly and spread her legs for Spencer to nestle in between, attaching her lips back onto his, kissing every area of skin she possibly could to leave marks.

Little did they know they both wouldn’t be getting any sleep, fucking till 3…4am, before having to leave to get on a flight in the next few hours, not caring in the slightest whether the rest of the team could possibly hear everything in the rooms next to theirs.

Tags: @emmalvei-blog

764 notes · View notes

carelessannie · 3 years

Text

maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 4)

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory

Starker focus (Tony x Peter), Stuckony (Steve x Bucky x Tony), (Clint x Peter x OFC), also a bit of WinterHawk and SpiderHawk

Starker first date goes about as well as expected with Bucky and Clint as their chaperones...

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Panic Attacks, Clint Barton is a mess

—

Maybe it goes like this:

“Alright Petey, you wanna quiz me?”

Peter rolls his eyes, and gives Clint a little push, “Are you sure it’s me going on this date, and not you? You’re literally incorrigible.”

“And you love me.”

“And I love you, you whore.”

Clint cackles, “I’ll take it.”

They decided to walk from their apartment to the coffee shop, Peter insisting that the chilly walk in the early November air would bring a natural blush to their complexion and wind-swept quality to their hair. Clint can’t complain— he loves Washington Square and walking around with a pretty Omega on his arm. Sue him.

“— packmates?”

And no one ever gave him an award for a stellar attention span.

“Sorry Pete, what was that?”

“I asked, what are the names of Tony’s packmates?”

Clint pretends to think as Peter gives him a searching look, “Steve and James. But James likes to go by Bucky.”

Peter does a small skip-hop in joy, “Yes! Perfect!” and reaches up on his tiptoes to dot a kiss on Clint’s cheek. Making Peter happy and receiving little kisses has been the biggest incentive to learn trivia about the Omega’s new boyfriend.

“Okay, okay, next one: how old is Tony?”

“Thirty,”

“Yes! And as a bonus, how old are his packmates?” Peter gives him a smug grin, playfully challenging Clint to answer right.

“Steve is twenty-five and Bucky is twenty-four.”

Peter claps his tiny hands together, with a little squeal of joy, and stops Clint in his tracks, pulling him down for a peck right on his lips.

He ducks his head, sheepish from the affection of his gorgeous packmate, and a blush blooms red across his cheeks. Peter doesn’t give him a moment to recover, quickly tugging him along as they finish their trek across the Park.

“Alright, last one, C.” Peter presses the crosswalk button, even though the way is clear, but before he can ask the question Clint squeezes his hand and pulls him across the street. Peter lets out a small protest of no, Clint, we can’t as they run, but the crosswalk is short and the street isn’t busy, so they are almost immediately on the other side.

“Clint—” Peter goes to lecture him, probably about road safety and traffic laws, so Clint interrupts him,

“Last question? Look, we’re almost there,” and they are, so it’s a good distraction for his pouty packmate.

“Oh goodness, you’re right. Okay. Last one then: how long have they been together?”

Knowing that Peter has talked about this a few times, and might expect a few different answers, Clint gives him the long one, “Well. You said they’ve been a pack for two years,”

“Right,”

“That Tony met Steve four years ago, and Bucky the year after, but Steve and Bucky were already together,”

“Right again,”

“And Steve and Bucky have known each other since they were kids, but didn’t get together until college.”

“Right, right, right! Gosh, I’m so proud of you, C.” The younger boy looks so happy, and Clint can’t help pulling Peter’s hand up to place a light kiss across his knuckles, waiting for the last crosswalk light to turn.

“I’m proud of you, Pete, and you’re gonna have a great time with him today. You just pretend like we’re invisible, and I’ll just casually pry for personal information and signal to you if we need to run, okay?”

Peter giggles and his smile brightens as he pulls Clint across the street to the coffee shop, “Somehow I feel like we’re gonna be fine.”

---

It was sheer stupidity to worry about Clint getting along with Bucky.

The moment they enter the coffee shop, Clint can hear a loud voice calling, “Peter,” and looks to his side to gauge Peter’s reaction, realizing the tiny Omega is already halfway across the cafe.

Clint trails along slowly, amused by the handsome, older man cooing over his small, beautiful date. Peter is dwarfed in the larger man’s arms, and Clint has never seen him look this content. And it’s been like twenty seconds.

“Tony! This is my packmate, Clint,” he reaches forward to shake Tony’s hand, exchanging good to meet you’s, as the older man grips tighter and quirks his lips up in a secret smile. The expression elevates his charm even further, and Clint lets his hand be dropped in awe.

“Oh, and this is Bucky,” Tony steps a little to the right to reveal another dark, stunning man, who flashes him a heartbreaking smile. Damn, where does Peter find these guys?

He doesn’t even hesitate, grabbing Bucky’s hand and pulling him a little closer, as Bucky’s smile turns from amused to knowing. Bucky leans closer, and whispers so only he can hear,

“I have a thing for blondes.”

Fuck.

Clint turns to Peter, “Let’s marry them. Please.”

Peter just giggles, turning killer doe-eyes on Tony, and it looks like Tony wants to mate the Omega right then and there. Clint is a horrible chaperone, but glad they all seem to be on the same page.

Bucky claps his hands, pulling all three of them out of their mild trance, and suggests grabbing tables and ordering coffee. He gives a pointed stare to Tony, and then turns it on Clint.

Oh. That’s a hint to get lost.

Tony pats Clint on the shoulder, nodding his head towards the counter as they leave the other two men to acquire tables.

“So Tony,”

“So, Clint. What— uh. What does Pete usually drink?”

They get in line, and Clint gives the menu a critical eye.

“Doesn’t he drink coffee in the lab?”

Tony looks a little uncomfortable, but answers easily, “Sure, but he usually drinks the drip coffee black. I want to get him something special, so I figured you would know what he treats himself to.”

“Alright, make a guess.”

“Huh?” Clint smiles a bit at Tony’s confusion,

“I know what he likes, but I want to see what you would get him, what you think he likes.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to eye the menu, humming in thought—

“Something sweet, but with a little twist. Maybe salted caramel? Uh. I’m gonna go with salted caramel latte, with extra whipped cream.”

It’s a good guess, and honestly Peter probably would like it, but Clint wants to watch this man be proved wrong.

“Maybe,” immediately Tony’s smile deflates a bit, “but a few months ago he discovered the London Fog, and it’s his guilty pleasure drink. You were right he likes a twist, and the earl grey adds like... a spice, or something, to the sweet vanilla latte— but he actually doesn’t like coffee all that much. He actually prefers tea, but coffee has more caffeine.”

Tony nods, seeming intrigued and distracted, before focusing back on Clint,

“But you like it black, don’t you?” tilting his head, it feels like Tony is answering a question he studied hard for.

And he’s not wrong, “Yeah, I prefer it black, Tony.”

“Okay, good.” and that’s the end of the conversation. Tony steps up to order as Clint waits behind him— just a little irritated when Tony orders for all of them.

In addition to the London Fog and large black coffee, Tony places an order for a small cappuccino and a large dark chocolate iced coffee with extra whipped cream and a doppio shot of espresso. As they carry the orders back to the table, along with a half dozen pastries, Clint is torn between his excitement to see Peter’s reaction and his anticipation to see which drink Tony ended up with— and which one is hot-Bucky’s.

“Here, honey,” Tony hands over the London Fog to a grabby Peter, who inhales deeply and lights up in surprise.

“H— how did you know, Tony? Oh my god, this is my favorite, thank you—”

Clint and Bucky exchange an eye roll at the sappy couple, and Tony swoons, “Honestly, Clint tipped me off. I had no idea that you prefer tea, baby.”

They take this as their cue, and Clint grabs his mug, waiting to see which drink Bucky will take before making their way over to a nearby table.

Naturally, Bucky grabs the iced coffee, smiling softly, and places his hand on Tony’s shoulder, giving him a short kiss on the lips. Both Peter and Clint stare in shock as Tony deepens the kiss, pulling Bucky closer and… yep, that’s his tongue. They pull away, both looking smug, and Tony turns back to Peter as if the world didn’t just stop spinning.

Bucky leads the way back to their table, and Clint has to adjust himself in his pants, thankful for the comfy seat and a table in between them as they sit down.

“Okay, first of all, that was hot.”

He gets a wink in response as Bucky sucks his straw into his mouth, slurping obscenely instead of responding, and Clint quickly takes a swig of his coffee as a distraction, sputtering as it burns his tongue.

“Aw, coffee, no.” and Bucky is laughing now, reaching over to grab his arm as his posture relaxes.

And there’s something else— underneath the coffee shop smell, the scent of Oranges and Milk Chocolate and HappyContentRelaxedOmega.

Oh. Alright then.

Clint’s experience with Omegas is limited to his two packmates, so he lets himself enjoy the calming scent coming from the beautiful man across from him until—

“Hey man, you good?” concerned steel-blue eyes gaze across the table at him, and he feels completely out of his depth.

“Yeah, just burned my tongue,” he takes another sip, mindlessly, and immediately regrets it, “Ow— shit.”

The mug is pulled out of his hands, “Wow, you’re a human wreck, aren’t you?” but Bucky’s expression is indulgent and teasing instead of cruel, so Clint smiles along, grateful.

“All day, every day, gorgeous.”

And after that, conversation flows naturally, both men laid back and enjoying a day to people-watch and drink expensive coffee. Occasionally they turn their attention back to Tony and Peter, the couple sitting close together and feeding each other small bites of pastry.

Bucky and Clint both shudder simultaneously. Gross.

So they mostly ignore their packmates, instead bonding about sports. Like idiots. Clint learns about Bucky’s past in baseball and football, and he shares about his time in the Olympics, to which Bucky—

“You’re shitting me, right? You’re the amazing Hawkeye? I literally followed your career when you were in Rio, and oh my god, you were in Rio,” Bucky looks around frantically, as if he’s trying to find a witness to this story, and Clint just grins.

“Clint fucking Barton—”

“— and that is officially my middle name—”

“— shut up, and you medaled, right?”

Aw, such a cute Omega. “Gold and Silver, hot stuff.”

It’s not often that Clint can make an Omega swoon, and technically there has only been one official occurrence of said event, but he basks in the praise that Bucky gives him for this, thanking the all-powerful archery gods for his performance two years ago.

“Clint, that’s literally so cool. I mean— Tony does cool stuff all day long in the lab, and— and I can flex about my degree and high school sports stats, or my Alpha’s career in the Army, but—”

“Wait,” Clint interrupts, suddenly going still at Bucky’s words, “you had an Alpha?”

Bucky looks confused, “No, I have an Alpha. Tony and I do— didn’t Peter mention Steve?”

He feels the walls closing in around him. Of course he’s heard about Steve, but had no idea—

Drawing his imaginary bow, he catches Peter’s eyes and releases the arrow. Peter signs back a discreet I love you in ASL.

Clint heads for their table, knowing Peter has received his distress signal.

---

Bucky’s not quite sure what just happened.

He sits at the table, watching silently as Clint walks over to Peter, pulls him to the side, and the two packmates have brief, intense conversation.

Tony looks his way, curiously, and all he can do is shrug his shoulders.

He retraces their conversation quickly— was it the Olympics? No, Clint was perfectly happy to preen about that. Was it about his time in the military? Some people are hesitant to ask about that, but Clint had seemed fine. That is until he mentioned—

“We’re leaving, I’m so sorry, Tony,”

Peter is now tucked protectively underneath Clint’s arm, the Beta avoiding all eye contact, as his packmate apologizes for the inconvenience.

“— we have personal stuff that just came up, pack stuff, and need to cut this short.”

Tony gently strokes the Omega’s concerned face, smoothing out the lines of worry.

“Honey, do whatever you need to, okay? And please call me if you need anything. I swear, Pete.”

Peter nods seriously, “Of course, Tony. And we’ll have our second date soon, right?” a hopeful expression coming over his pretty features as Clint noticeably pulls him closer.

“... of course, Peter. I would love nothing more.”

With a quick kiss to the back of Peter’s hand, Tony lets him go— Clint sweeping the smaller boy out of the coffee shop and back down the street.

Bucky still hasn’t moved, and Tony is frozen with his hand still raised, watching the two men hurry away.

“... What did you say.”

Tony turns slowly, face carefully blank, as he takes a step in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky shakes his head, “I— I don’t know—”

“Don’t lie to me, James. What did you say to Clint?”

His vision is starting to get fuzzy, and all Bucky wants to do is sit, but he’s trapped under the weight of his Beta’s gaze and Dominant voice.

“J— jus’ said. St— Stevie,” he chokes on his next breath, “Stevie’s our… A—alpha.”

He still senses anger from his Beta, and instinctively hunches in his shoulders, making himself smaller, as exposes his neck in submission.

“Shit,” Tony curses, and Bucky whimpers, unsure why his Beta is so displeased with him.

“Someone bring us coffee, please? My mate is dropping—“

Oh, coffee. Coffee is good.

He sips on the warm drink that’s placed in his hands moments later, but then remembers Clint’s FearProtectEscape scent, and the mug almost shakes out of his hands, hitting the table in front of him.

Tony takes it gently, pulling his seat closer, and Bucky is so scared at how easily he’s swung submissive. It’s been years since the last time he made a scene in public, and he can’t get a grip on himself. But it doesn’t matter as everything slips away.

There are suddenly fingers on his chin, lifting his gaze back to Tony, and his Beta stares into his eyes for a moment before cursing again and pulling out his phone, letting Bucky’s head drop.

Down.

At the low urgency of his Beta’s voice, he sinks down, down, down, further into his head.

He sinks down, knees hitting the hardwood flooring and face planting firmly into Tony’s thigh. He breathes in deep, and is pleased to feel calloused fingers petting his hair. The rhythm pulls him down, and all he can think about is the steady thrum of his Beta’s pulse and the solid grounding of the wood under his knees. He mouths absently at the fabric in front of him.

And then he’s flying. Up.

But wait. He can’t fly.

Oh— a summer thunderstorm. Maybe he is flying, then. Up, up, up, he’s lifted by strong arms, and a familiar low voice. His vision swims in front of him, brief images flashing and drifting past his subconscious, and he’s content to be wrapped tight in the scent of home.

“A— alpha, please,” he whispers, and feels a low rumble start on his right side, warm and content.

He floats.

Time passes.

But then he’s cold again.

Confused, he feels around for the comforting warmth from before, but can’t find it. He opens his eyes and it’s dark. He tries to move, to climb out of this dark place, but his arms are trapped, pinned by his sides.

His breathing picks up.

“No, no no nooo—” he’s so alone. He tries to think back to what happened, to what he did to be punished this way, and remembers his Beta’s displeasure, the disappointment. He can’t remember, doesn’t understand—

“Bucky?”

“No, please, ‘m sorry sir, please, no—”

“Dammit Tony, I knew we shouldn’t have left him—”

He cries harder as he’s shifted around, hoping his punishment will be quick.

Instead, his arms are freed, and a merciful, bright light, brings him up, closer to the surface. Warm again, Bucky sobs in the safety of strong arms, whispering sorries into his Alpha’s neck as he’s cradled close.

At some point he must pass out, because he wakes up slowly to the familiar scent of their den at home. He hears low murmurs of his packmates talking nearby, and tries to blink open his eyes. He takes in the feeling of being held, wrapped with both sets of arms around his waist, and hums in appreciation. The voices go silent as one arm lifts to brush his hair off his face,

“Buck, are you coming back up?”

He takes inventory before responding, checking his senses and pushing through the cloudiness in his head to give his Alpha a nod yes.

“Good boy, so proud of you,” the sweet voice croons back to him, and he feels himself smile at the praise. “Tony, grab the tray we set out, two water bottles and the juice.”

He’s moved, sitting now, and blinks open his eyes to watch his Beta place the tray in front of them on the bed and hand a bottle of water their Alpha. The pieces of food on the tray are his favorites, he knows, but doesn’t waste energy figuring it out. His Alpha and Beta will take care of that for him.

“Tony, do you want to hold him or feed him?”

There’s a small pause, and a sigh, before his Alpha is speaking again, “Fine, you’ll hold him.”

He’s picked up, his Alpha scenting him briefly, before setting Bucky in between firm legs, propping him up against a rigid chest.

Bucky tries to curl up again, already feeling the hesitation and rejection coming from his Beta, but a low growl from their Alpha has both packmates stilling, before relaxing together.

“I swear to god Tony, do not put your insecurities on him. Comfort our Omega, or I swear to god I will lock you out of our den for a week, understood?”

Bucky doesn’t have to turn to look to know Tony’s face is scrunching up, even as he answers, “Yes, Alpha,” and Bucky can’t help but laugh a bit, closing his eyes and wiggling back into Tony’s arms as they close around him.

He peeks to look at Steve, and sees the tail end of a fond smile aimed towards both his packmates.

The water bottle is opened with an audible snap and gently pressed up against his lips as Steve murmurs drink, baby and he obeys, the cool liquid bringing him up even further and satisfying his thirst.

After a few moments, the bottle is empty and Steve is praising him again as he replaces the water with a few pieces of cheese and sweet chocolate. Bucky watches as Steve gathers each piece intentionally, before feeding them to Bucky— each time praising him for the simple task of chewing and swallowing.

With the fourth bite, Bucky sucks one of Steve’s fingers into his mouth, giving it a light nip before Steve pulls it free, be good falling from his lips, even as his eyes darken and stay glued to Bucky’s mouth.

“Feeling better, love?” Tony whispers into his shoulder, dropping a small kiss onto the skin right above his Alpha’s sweatshirt— the one they like to wrap him in when he floats after a scene. Bucky tries to twist and see Tony’s face, but the Beta keeps him facing forward as he confesses, “I feel horrible that I dropped you in public like that. You were there, helping me out, and I really hurt you. I’m so sorry, baby—”

Now Bucky really breaks the hold, turning in his Beta’s lap to see his face— pulling Tony’s hands out of the way,

“Tony, it's okay now. I’m safe, and you did the best that you could. ’m not mad at you.”

If anything, Tony’s face looks even more upset and devastated, “But I didn’t, though. I yelled and left you alone in the car and was way too focused on the Omega that I’m trying to court, and completely forgot that it’s you I’m committed to, and you I’m responsible for—”

“— okay, first of all, you are not responsible for me,” Bucky cuts in, “Yeah, we’re mates and look after each other, but even Stevie here isn’t responsible for me. I’m in charge of that, got it? We scene together and look after each other, but just because you’re my Dom doesn’t give you control of my life,” Steve rubs his back in encouragement, and this gives him the strength to finish, “Second, sweetheart, I had the best time meeting Peter and Clint. It’s my fault Clint freaked out, and I don’t know… something about that caused me to swing really fast.”

Steve speaks before Tony can, “Wait, what happened with Clint?”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t mention,” Tony answers, pulling Bucky to his side and throwing an arm over his shoulder, “something freaked Clint out and he left early with Peter.”

“But what—”

“Steve,” Bucky grabs his mate’s hand, “I think it had something to do with you being pack Alpha.”

Even Tony tenses up at Bucky’s words, and before Steve can say anything else, he tries to explain, “I don’t know what happened. One minute we were talking about the Olympics— which, Stevie, he’s like a crazy talented archer, you wouldn’t even believe it— but I mention our pack Alpha and he flips. He makes some sort of signal to Peter, and the two of them practically ran outta there.”

“Oh man,” Steve says as Tony curses under his breath, “what do you think— Tony, did you know about this at all?”

“I swear, I had no idea. Pete said his whole Ado-pack was excited to meet you guys, so I assumed…”

The Alpha shakes his head, “No, I get it. He must have some sort of trauma— maybe a previous pack with an abusive pack Alpha.”

Bucky reaches forward, pulling their Alpha’s hand in a silent invitation. They readjust, letting Steve lay in the middle, and curl up on either side of him. He traces a finger around Steve’s abs, teasing a little lower until he hears a throat clear, and Tony laces their fingers together instead. Bucky shakes with laughter, and kisses Steve’s side, “Baby, there’s nothing you can do. It wasn’t you.”

“Love you, Steve,” Tony adds, "I’ll talk to Petey, see what the damage is. You guys come first— Peter knows that.” he sounds resigned, so Bucky squeezes his hand, sending over an empathetic smile.

Steve strokes both of their heads, protective and affectionate, “I love you guys,” leaning down, Steve brushes a kiss over Tony’s forehead, “Don’t worry, my Beta, I have a feeling you won’t have to choose.”

Tony’s mouth ticks upward in a grin as he lets his eyes close, “I hope so, Alpha.”

---

A few hours earlier

Clint measures his steps, walking fast without drawing unnecessary attention, as he approaches Peter and Tony’s table. He grabs Peter’s arm, and the younger man is already standing, looking up at him with concern and fear in his eyes.

“We need to leave, now.”

“What happened? Did Bucky—”

“No, Bucky’s fine, it’s me. I have to get out of here.”

“Do I need to call Annie? Are you gonna drop?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” it’s now taking physical effort to breathe normally, “please, Pete.”

Peter nods once, studying Clint’s face for a moment before tucking himself under Clint’s arm, and he focuses on the glass window, pretending he’s outside and far away from this place. He hears Peter’s voice, and Tony’s voice, but all of it muddles together as he concentrates on keeping his head clear.

“... nothing more,” Tony’s saying, giving a brief kiss to Peter’s delicate hand, and Clint pulls the Omega closer, mind focusing on the singularity of getting them home, keeping his pack safe.

He steers Peter through the door, walking them in a haze back across the busy streets, park sidewalks, and a few blocks further to their apartment. His Omega is obediently silent, beautifully pliant, and Clint instinctively rewards him, stroking through his hair and kissing his fingers as they work their way through the building and up the stairs to their apartment.

They stop in front of the door and Clint grunts open it, sweet Omega and keys jingle in the lock, his Omega perfectly opening the door and letting them through. He wraps his Omega in both arms, scenting deeply, and enjoying HappyContentRelaxedOmega.

But he’s on a mission.

He grabs his Omega, “Nest.” and waits for the verbal confirmation, “Yes, Beta.” before continuing, trusting his Omega to follow his order.

He scents the apartment, walking through the rooms at a steady prowl until he catches sweet Strawberries and Salted Caramel coming from the kitchen.

He sees his Omega in the kitchen, gathering food and water for their nest. She sees him standing at the entrance, but doesn’t submit. He growls at her in warning, but she just returns his gaze.

“Omega.” he gives one more warning, and she finally drops her eyes. Good.

He stalks closer, moving her hair to the side, and scenting her thoroughly, offering his own wrist for her to use. A few kisses to her neck, and he enjoys the scent of HappyContentRelaxedOmega for the third time tonight, silently urging her to gather the materials for their nest and follow him to find their Omega.

He makes his way toward the bedroom. His Omega has built a beautiful nest, warm and inviting, with perfect lighting and ample protection from outside threats. Both Omegas finish setting up the fortress, and start to strip.

He growls slightly, and they stop obediently, submitting to his wishes. He steps forward, slowly pulls both of them out of shirts, shoes, and pants, leaving intimate parts covered and perfect skin unveiled.

“Me.” he commands, and both Omegas move quickly, stripping his shirt and pants until all of them stand in a similar state of dress.

He steps forward to inspect the nest, already having approved of it thus far, and crawls towards the center, checking the scent distribution.

“More. Annie.” and a shirt is tossed his way. He scents the item and places it in their nest, continuing his path to the center.

“Come.”

One at a time, his pack joins him in their nest, and he settles them next to each other, covering their vulnerable areas with soft blankets, and cushioning their heads with pillows.

He joins them, sliding in between so that they are curled into his side, protected under his arms. Safe. Warm. Home.

“Sleep.” he growls, letting himself drift now that his pack is safe.

---

A few hours later, he starts to climb back into consciousness.

He can hear his pack talking near him, but it’s mostly nonsense. His mind feels heavy and blank, and all he can think about is keeping them safe. Keeping himself safe.

He opens his eyes, sitting up suddenly, and his packmates turn to look at him.

He goes to command them, needing control over the situation, but his Omega sits up taller, refusing to bare her throat to him.

“Apple,” she stares into his eyes, gripping his jaw, firm, and coaxing his mouth open. She slides the fruit between his lips and he knows— it’s familiar—

“Chew, Clint. C’mon.” and he obeys, taking a crisp bite. As he chews, he enjoys the sweet and tangy flavors, grounding him. He swallows.

“Banana,” oh, he knows now, and opens his lips to let Annie feed him a small bite of banana, letting the sweet and soft tastes contrast clearly in his mouth, and he hums appreciatively.

“Last one, Clint. You’re doing great, and I need you to answer. What is this?” Annie holds the last piece up to his lips, and Clint gives her a sweet smile,

“Carrot,” and Annie slips it into his mouth, letting him crunch down on it. So different from the fruits, Clint feels the hard veggie pull him back to the present, and he blinks in awareness.

Oh, shit.

Clint feels tears sting his eyes, as he looks for Peter,

“Pete, I’m... oh my god, I'm s-so sorry, I don’t even know what happened—”

The small Omega crawls towards him on the nest, making sure not to show his neck and continues to maintain eye contact, cupping his cheek tenderly,

“Hush. We’ll talk about it in a minute— but... Clint, you dropped in the coffee shop, I think, and you swung dominant.”

He knew it was something bad, and Clint starts to pull away, terrified of hurting his pack further—

Thump!

“Ow!” Clint grabs at the stinging on his temple, right where Annie just flicked him,

“You absolute idiot,” she chastises, turning his face to look her way, “Clint do you even know how wonderful of a Dom you were this afternoon? Even in your drop you protected us so well, so of course we kept you safe.”

He stays silent, dropping his eyes, and Peter presses up against his side in solid comfort.

Annie continues, “I know swinging dominant is hard for you, I get it. But you’re not like him, okay? You kept us safe, and we kept you safe. Give yourself a break.”

It’s hard to believe, but he nods anyway, murmuring a quiet thanks to his packmates.

They are content to sit in silence for a few moments, filling their nest with Happy and Home.

Annie breaks the silence again,

“So— who’s gonna tell me what happened?”

Clint defers to Peter, hoping to get their smaller packmate to gush about his date, but Peter doesn’t take the hint,

“I’m drinking tea with Tony, talking about improving efficiency of hydroelectricity in international power exchange, and suddenly Clint is giving me the panic sign and we’re running out of there,” he takes a sip of his tea, “okay, it’s your turn, C.”

Damn the pretty minx.

“I— okay, it’s not all clear to me. One minute, I’m hitting it off with this gorgeous Omega— yeah, Pete, you were right— and then he mentions his pack Alpha and I just lost it,” he turns to Peter, feeling hurt again, “why didn’t you tell me they had a pack Alpha?”

“C—clint I honestly… I had no idea. Tony never even mentioned that Bucky was an Omega, I guess I thought— I’m honestly so sorry, I assumed they were both Omegas, like our pack. Tony’s just so dominant—”

“No, it’s not— it’s not your fault, Petey.”

“How dominant?” throwing a sly smile, Annie redirects the conversation innocently, and Peter lets out a scandalous gasp.

“Annie!”

She laughs, grabbing at him to tickle his sides which makes him squeal,

“I wanna hear all about our future pack, guys, so tell me: how dominant is this guy? You said he’s a Beta, right?”

Clint and Peter exchange a hesitant look, and Peter speaks up, “Future pack?”

Annie looks between them and rolls her eyes,

“Well, you had a compatible memory with Tony, right? And Bucky sounds like a whole snack. We’ll work up to meeting Steve, but for now, it’s a definite possibility.”

Clint wants to protest this, upset at how his best friend is so easily dismissing his past trauma, but takes a moment to think. He did really like Bucky, and Tony is incredibly handsome and charming. Oh, and he looked like Peter’s second half— even on their first date.

While he’s silent, thinking over the options, Peter has been sharing details about his admirer with Annie, who is looking more and more intrigued by the second.

“— so he brought you your all time favorite drink—”

“— by Clint’s suggestion—”

Annie waves it off, “and then what?”

Ah, Clint almost forgot about that kiss.

He moans, dramatically and indecently, but it gets Annie’s attention,

“Watching Tony and Bucky kiss almost had me fucking coming in my pants, Annie—” she snorts a laugh, and Peter shakes his head, interrupting—

“No, Annie, it was so hot. You know how you like it when I make out with Clint?” she nods, mouth hanging wide open, “like that— but it was Tony.”

At that, Clint rolls his eyes, “It was Toneeyyy,” he mocks, getting both Omegas to laugh as Peter throws a pillow at him.

“Shut up, Clint,” Annie smacks him in the arm lightly, “leave the horny Omega alone.”

Peter gasps again, “Betrayal!”

Both of them cackle and pull Peter close, ignoring his pouty face and snuggling him close. Clint relaxes around his pack, thankful again to have them so close to him tonight, and is surprised when Annie, and then Peter, start purring.

Clint hums, “You two are my favorites.” and his packmates both press closer.

He’s unsure about the future. Unsure about things changing so fast. But as long as these two stick next to him, he can face his fears, knowing he’s not alone.

“Good,” Peter whispers, “because I want Tony to visit soon, and formally meet our pack.”

#starker #stuckony #stucky #stony #d/s fic #panic tw #clint barton #peter parker #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #winteriron #ofc #fluff #angst #fanfic #MiGLT #omegaverse

31 notes · View notes

barnesbabee · 4 years

Text

Dirty Laundry || K.H

Summary: While you were practicing your guilty pleasure, an unexpected spectator offered a little help, which you gladly accepted.

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Words: I’d say quite a lot

Genre: Smut

A/N: Please enjoy! I love hearing your feedback, also the requests are open :D

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

It was now part of your weekly routine, to take your basket full of laundry and visit the familiar laundromat.

For most people it was just a task, a burden even. But you yearned for the days you had to wash your clothes. When the weeks were slower and you ceased to leave your house that much, you found a way to get more laundry to fill up the basket (whether it was by "accidentally" spilling something on your shirt, or simply just by asking your flatmate if she needed her clothes to be washed), JUST to have a reason to visit said place.

Why?

Because of a guilty pleasure of yours. The pleasure you felt whilst leaning your clothed core to the edge of the vibrating surface of the machine as it washed your dirty clothes made you feel guilty, and dirtier than the cloths it washed. But you couldn't help it... Doing such a thing, in a public place, where people stood... It brought so much ecstasy and excitement upon you, it was indescribable. One day you walked in the laundromat near your place and looked around.

"Empty..." you thought, and sighed.

It was quite thrilling, the thought of you pleasuring yourself with people around you, that had no idea of what was happening, but there was nothing you could do.

You set down the laundry basket that had been resting against your hip until now and opened the machine's lid. Removing the book you had brought along (to somewhat disguise your "wrong" doings), you started shoving in the clothes. When you were finished, you took a glance at the corner of the washing machine as you turned it on and bit your lip.

You then proceeded to sit on said corner and open the book on a random page, pretending that you were reading, just in case someone walked in and, as if you were foreseeing the future, someone indeed did.

Around five minutes had gone by and you felt a breeze of hair hit your face. You looked up and saw a young man with a pair of familiar narrow eyes. He, just like you, visited this particular laundromat quite often. You smiled at him slightly, as an awkward greeting. Weirdly enough, he did not smile back, instead, he smirked.

"Weird..." you whispered to yourself.

You disregarded it and let the man do his laundry, as you recalled your focus to what you were originally doing.

Your breaths started becoming heavier and faster, and suddenly you cursed your choice of clothing, as a particular stain could be spotted from the front of your grey sweatpants, caused by your excessive wetness.

Of course, you tried to cover it up, but it was useless. Your wetness was spreading from the pleasure the machine was providing you with, and your whimpers were becoming impossible to sustain, one or two occasionally slipping out.

It was unknown to you, of course, but the man who had previously walked in was watching you carefully, as a much-wanted hard-on started to grow on his pants. He started palming himself through the cloths as he watched you try to suppress small whimpers, but fail to. He couldn't handle it anymore. All of these weeks, seeing you, observing you pleasuring yourself right in front of him... He couldn't wait anymore.

Suddenly, a hand snatched away your book and threw it somewhere, while an arm embraced your waist. Your head shot up and your eyes widened as you felt a hot breath against your neck.

"Come on baby, I bet I can find you something much better than that corner." He whispered in your ear,

You suddenly understood the sly smirk he had given you as he came in the laundromat. He knew about it.

Your shocked look left your face and was replaced with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about, love"

Seeing your face and your confident response, the man took that as an incentive to proceed with his actions. He smirked with you.

The man's fingers trailed your body and went past your sweatpants and your panties. He rubbed your core for a mere second making you roll your eyes back, You were already so sensitive form the machine action...

He pulled out his fingers and held them in front of you both.

"So I guess you're just this wet all the time, for no reason?" He asked.

You shrugged, as he took those fingers to his own mouth and licked them clean. You bit your lip, while you enjoyed the sight.

"Come on princess, I want to taste you better." He said as he picked you up by the waist and sat you on the machine.

He looked around before doing anything, making sure that the spot you were in gave you time to mascarade what you were doing in case someone came in. He then smirked again and brought his lips to yours.

The kisses started not-so-innocently from the get-go. He was quick to slip his tongue inside of your mouth and explore every corner of you. You immediately started to wonder what amazing things that mouth could do and moaned into the kiss.

That moan drove the man's hand down your body, and he pat your butt, so you would lift it. Once he was able to, he removed your pants and underwear just enough so you were exposed to him. His fingers rubbed your clit for a minute or so, before his mouth started doing its way down your body. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck, then your hip, followed by the inside of your thigh. The man then decided to tease you, by blowing hot breaths on your sensitive core.

"Please just do something..." You begged.

He smiled mischievously and started sucking on your clit as he fingered you. His tongue worked miracles in you and you were loving it. He soon replaced the fingers with the tongue, as he began tongue fucking you.

"Oh... oh my G-god." You stuttered.

He pulled out and looked up at you.

"What's he have to do with this? It's Hongjoong you should be moaning, I'm the one doing all the work baby." The man you now knew as Hongjoong said, and winked at you.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged on it while he ate you out.

"Hongjoong if you keep doing that I'm gonna come." You warned, out of breath.

"Come for me baby. Come in my mouth, I want to taste you as you come."

His dirty words threw you over the edge, and you came with a scream you suppressed by covering your mouth with a hand.

"God baby you shouldn't have covered your mouth... Now I'm gonna have to make you scream foreal." The man said, faking his pity.

He locked your lips together in a passionate kiss, as you grinded against his hard-on. You broke the kiss just to push his buttons.

"Do you think you can seriously make me yell though?" You teased him as you looked him in the eye with a suggestive look.

"Is that a challenge?" Hongjoong asked you, receiving only a shrug as an answer.

"Oh baby you are getting fucked hard and raw right here." He growled in your ear.

He undid his belt and zipper, and pulled the pants and underwear he was wearing just enough to expose his hard dick whilst his mouth worked on your neck.

Hongjoong slowly entered you, and, to prevent yourself from doing any noises, you grabbed his chin and made him kiss you.

His thrusts started slow, as a way for you to adapt to his size. But as time passed, he became faster and more violent, after all, he had been challenged. Your nails were gripping his shoulders tightly, and although he had a shirt on, you were certain he would have your marks the next morning.

Hongjoong started getting annoyed. You were being quiet, besides some small whimpers, so he grabbed onto your waist tightly and thrusted as violently as he could, and that made you see stars, You threw your head back, and started moaning loudly. In Hongjoong’s ear that sounded like victory.

"Hongjoong I'm gonna come." You warned.

"That's right baby, say my name."

"Hongjoong!" You yelled, gripped his arms and hid your face in the crook of his neck as that last thrust that sent you over made you dizzy.

The feeling of your walls clenching around him and the sound of your moans sent the man over the edge.

The man pulled out, and with a couple simple strokes of his cock he came over the outside of your pussy, with an agape mouth and a loud groan.

He leaned on you and you both stood there, catching you breaths, until you had to get dressed.

"That was fun. Let's repeat that." You suggested as you handed him your phone.

"For sure baby, but next time, my flat." He said with a wink as he typed in his number.

He gave you a simple kiss on your cheek (which for some reason made you blush) and left, with his signature cheeky wink.

#ateez #kq #kqfellaz #smut #ateez smut #hongjoong #hongjoong ateez #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong smut #kpop #kpop smut

547 notes · View notes

shianhygge-imagines · 4 years

Text

Silver Rose [Vergil/Reader] {Devil May Cry} Umbral Angelo

AN: I managed to finish this one in record time, and am already working on the next chapter. I’m intending the next chapter to be a bit of a dive into V and Vergil’s mentality, so it’s going to be a bit tricky to write... and a bit long. (If you take a look into my masterlist, I’ve already titled the next chapter “Bury the Light” so I’m going to try extra hard to make the next chapter worthy of the song.)

On another note: I’m probably going to start using my handwritten banner for this series from now on. I’ve noticed that gifs are rather intense for loading on certain devices/internet speed... and I’m tired of looking for appropriate gifs to use. I may end up changing the banner once I get photoshop or something >.>

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link| |First Chapter| |Prev. Ch.| --- |Next Ch.|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

15th June 06:03am

- V’s POV -

V watched as you raced to greet Nero with a flying tackle hug that nearly sent the one armed boy tumbling to the floor from the force of your excitement. The mortal half of Vergil couldn’t help but feel equal parts bitterness, sadness, envy, and longing as he watched you fuss over Nero with worry. As he was, V didn’t feel like he was capable of having a family. Not only was the mysterious man dying the longer he remained separated from his demonic half, but because he felt unworthy after everything that had transpired since the day his family home was burnt down. Although he longed for this, it was probably one of the biggest conflicts within him during the past few weeks with you… and one of the reasons why the days had passed with too much left unsaid.

“Nero! Light of my life! My reckless son!” You continued the embarrassing titles while straightening his jacket and hair, taking care to pat down the spots covered in rubble dust. “I’m so happy to see you! Nico did such a good job with your arm! Oh! But that last one broke-”

The demon hunter’s cheeks pinkened as his mother continued to fuss over him, “Mom,” he whined, embarrassed at the fact that a stranger like V had to bear witness to this. “It’s good to see you, too, but I’m fine. I got a spare arm here-” Nero gestures to the red colored mechanical limb attached to his hip, “-see? I’ll be fine. But enough about me, what are you doing here?”

Like mother, like son, I see. V mused with amusement when the pair of you completely ignored the dying Goliath. Shadow had stalked over to sit at your side with a content flicker of its tail while leaving his weakened master to slowly walk over. “Little wanderer…” V addressed the dying demon, raising his cane to deliver the killing blow, “hie thee home.”

Just as the massive demon faded into burning ashes, you and Nero stopped your fussing to address V’s arrival. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, Nero.” Your grin is sheepish as you pointed at V with two hands, “Apparently, V’s been living like a hobo before he came to Devil May Cry for the job. Since he didn’t want to leave Red Grave City… and I have a house here, he kinda stayed with me the past few weeks.”

“Uh-huh.” Nero crossed his arms and leaned on one foot, his expression incredulous as blue-green eyes flickered between you and V. “You expect me to believe that your old house is still standing after over two weeks of this.” To V’s amusement, Nero nodded at the rubble and chaos that surrounded them as he finished his sentence.

Kid’s got a point. Griffon communicated telepathically as it circled the sky above their group.

You pouted and slumped over slightly, “… well, it’s not standing anymore.” You looked saddened and bitter at the loss of your home, something that V understood. It had been the home Vergil gifted you, and watching the structure of the building get torn in two had been a devastating loss to you both.

Nero grimaced and uncrossed his arms, pulling you into a comforting hug. “Shit, mom. I’m sorry.”

“It’s uh, one of the reasons why I’m here, actually.” You confessed, hugging your son back. “I’ve got business to settle with Urizen… and I’m sorry to intrude, but would it be okay to stay at the orphanage with you and Kyrie after this is all over?”

“Do you really gotta ask?” Nero smiled gently, pulling away. “Kyrie’s been begging me to ask you to come over. So, just take this as a permanent invitation, okay?” The boy’s attention diverged to V, who had settled to stand off to the side, “By the way, V… Thought I was gonna have to pick you out of his… uh… tummy teeth.”

V didn’t bother hiding the smirk that appeared on his face when you pulled away to look at the fading Goliath and promptly giggled when you realized that the dead demon did indeed have tummy teeth. “Pardon our delay.” The mysterious man holds up the collection of William Blake poems to show Nero, “I was… catching up on some reading.”

Nero’s eyes narrowed at the book, “Yeah… looks like a real page-turner.” The young man remarked dryly. In the background, V and Nero both noticed your renewed laughter at your son’s dry tone while a section of the Qliphoth Tree crumbled. “So uh… you think Dante’s still in there?” Nero asked V, the pair now watching as a path forward was cleared by the falling debris.

“If Urizen defeated him, then I expect he’s not much more than Qliphoth pollen by now.” The somber words from V’s mouth put a stop to your laughing, and while he hated when you were upset, he would rather stay honest when possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- Y/N’s POV -

You knew what a Qliphoth tree was, so you didn’t bother paying attention to V’s explanation, preferring to explore the area for anything remotely useful or valuable. Shadow followed after you, its red eyes watching your surroundings in case a demon tried to get a drop on you while away from V and Nero. “V may very well be right about Dante.” You muttered to the demon panther as you nudged a slab of concrete to the side with a foot. “But we’re also talking about Dante, here.” You smirk down at Shadow with hope, “He’s always been the lucky one out of the Sparda twins. Whether it be a winning prize popsicle, or taking on a demon overlord… Dante’s always been able to pull through…”

When you hear the distinct sound of a car smacking against slabs of stone, you turn to walk back towards your son and V, watching with barely concealed amusement at Nico’s antics. “You know, Shadow… Some days I wonder what would have happened to us if Vergil had even half the luck Dante has.” Ignoring Shadow’s questioning gaze, you wave at the trio waiting for you by the van. “Oh well, forget I mentioned.”

Once you were close enough, you plastered a carefree grin on your face, “Hey, Nico! Thanks for looking after my reckless son!”

“Wha-Hey!”

You and the aspiring legendary smith ignored Nero’s indignant cry. “Ah! Don’t mention it, Mrs. S! It’s always mah pleasure!”

“Bullshi, then why do you compl-”

“How much does he owe you for a new arm?”

“Mom! I can pa-”

“Nuh-uh, Mrs. S. Don’t worry about it.”

“D-Don’t worry about it?! What a load of-”

“Aw! You’re sweet as always, Nico!” You grin, walking around to enter the van with V in tow. “I’m looking forward to working with you!”

“Ditto, Mrs. S!”

Poor Nero looks like he’s about to have a fit from his seat inside the van. You feel slightly guilty for teasing your son in such a way, but quite frankly, you and Nico were having too much fun. To rain on your parade, when V climbs up the stairs to stand just behind you, he leans over to whisper in your ear, “Perhaps you shouldn’t tease the boy so much.”

And of course his father would be against my need to tease. You roll your eyes and sigh theatrically, “Alright, fine. I’m sorry, Nero. Please forgive your mother?” You know he already did, but you bat your lashes at him anyways for the fun of it.

Nero just shakes his head and folds his arms, “Just sit down. I don’t wanna risk you two falling and breaking something because of Nico’s shitty driving.”

You and V take a seat to the soundtrack of Nico’s indignant yelling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

15th June 06:26am

- Y/N’s POV -

“I think we should split into two groups.” V suggested as the group of you sat in the van while Nico worked in the back.

“… And cover more group. Good idea.” Nero finished, turning to leave the passenger seat.

“Three groups.” You amended, getting up to snatch the Totsuka from where you rested it. “We’re splitting into three groups to get rid of the Qliphoth roots, and I’m leaving no room for arguments.” You shot a challenging look at both Nero and V when they opened their mouths to protest.

“Wait, Mom. Are you sure about this? We could still get this done in two groups.” Nero stood up to stop you from leaving the van.

“Yes, I would rather we all play it safe as well.” V’s green eyes locked with yours, silently worried for your well-being.

Sighing, you lifted a hand to pat your son’s cheek fondly. “I’m touched that you’re both worried about me, but you both said it yourselves. We’re on a time limit if we want to stop Urizen. I have Nico’s number, okay? So if I run into any problems, I’ll make sure to call.” With that, you waved goodbye to Nico, Griffon, Nero, and V before departing from the group, jumping out of the van with a spring to your step.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

15th June 08:30am

“Maybe I should have stuck with V.” You muttered out loud, back hand-springing off the wreckage of an industrial building to land on a sturdier platform. A few moments prior, you’d been strolling rather peacefully along the city’s central boulevard… or what was left of it anyways. When you noticed a peculiar figure standing in a dead-end of the collapsed street.

Having just dealt with a few lingering red Empusa stalking the streets and destroyed a few bundles of Qliphoth roots, you were still on high alert. For a moment, you simply stared at the tall imposing figure before it clicked in your mind how familiar the shape was. The last that you had seen that figure was a dark stormy night. “Nelo Angelo?” You whispered in disbelief, yanking the Totsuka from a dying Empusa and taking a step towards the imposing figure.

Of course, the moment you stepped towards Nelo Angelo’s direction, it turned its back on you and jumped atop the rubble blocking the street, only turning to look at you briefly before walking away. You weren’t naive enough to rule out a trap considering how close you were to the main Qliphoth’s structure, but if that phantom was connected to a main root… you would have to deal with him anyways. Sheathing the Totsuka, you followed after the figure, eyes set with flames of determination ablaze.

Which led to your current predicament: scaling collapsed buildings and platforms as you followed the figure of Nelo Angelo. “Honestly, why does every incarnation of Vergil make it their life’s goal to be difficult?” You cursed when your feet made contact with another unstable platform.

The floor gave away just as Nelo Angelo stopped to turn around, your eyes connecting for a moment before you plunged into what seemed to be a tunnel made by the Qliphoth roots. When you failed to grasp ahold of something to stop the fall, you cursed and fixed your position midair. Ah shit. Stick the landing. Stick the landi- You tucked and rolled to absorb the impact from the fall, but instead bounced as you rolled, “Oof!” You grunted when your back collided with a fleshy wall.

“Oooo… ‘A’ for effort.” You huffed, out of breath as you clambered to your feet and strolled over to pick up your Totsuka.

It was… deceptively quiet in the tunnel while you regained your bearings. Red, fleshy, pulsating walls told you that you were definitely somewhere inside the Qliphoth, though probably not in its main structure… maybe you were within one of its main roots? When the walls pulsed rather violently, you grimaced and backed away from the wall, trying not to remember Dante’s comments about demons and vore. “Urgh. Too late.” You groaned, going the slightest bit green as you journeyed deeper into the tunnels.

The further down into the tunnels you went, the less light there was, until you were forced to use a smidge of demonic energy to see in the dark. You’d seen Dante and Vergil use this ability mostly for intimidation purposes, but you found that it was useful for seeing in the dark. With a simple blink, gone were your human eyes, and in their place stood slit pupils, dark sclera, and ethereal glowing light grey irises.

When light was at its minimal, a wail reached your ears from deep within, and suddenly you were sprinting down the tunnel. The closer you came to the wailing, you realized with shock that it was a baby’s cry. What’s a baby doing down here? You wondered, turning as the tunnel drifted left before skidding to a halt at the scene before you.

“That’s not…” your words stopped, caught in your throat as something tight and unpleasant clawed in your chest.

They stood before you, a family. They weren’t much more than shades… shadowy images and illusions… falsehoods… but you knew what you saw. A mother comforting the crying baby boy in her arms while the father stood by his wife’s side, helping her quiet the little one with comforting shushes and whispered words.

“Shhh, shhh, everything’s going to be okay, Nero.” The woman carefully rocked the baby boy in her arms. “Vergil, do you mind humming to him? He always did love it when you sing to him.”

The man nodded and gingerly accepted the baby from his wife’s arms. “Of course, Y/N. You should get some rest, it’s my turn to look after our son tonight.”

The woman yawned and rested her head upon her husband’s arm, watching as he began to hum a familiar lullaby to his baby son. “No, I think I’ll stay right here, Vergil.”

You watched, eyes transfixed with longing and melancholy over the scene. How you wanted this for your family. How you wished that Vergil would have stayed all those years ago. How you wished that Nero was your biological son. How you wished and wished, but your wishes never came true.

The shades before you vanished into wispy shadowy smoke before reforming into two figures and a bed. The tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes fell as you stared in misery at the scene before you. “No. I don’t want to see this.” You sobbed even when you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the two figures involved in a passionate embrace. Your hands rose to cover your ears, not wanting to listen as a shade of your husband made love with a woman that wasn’t you.

“V-vergil! Ah! Harder!”

“Stop.” You begged, finally closing your eyes, but you could still see and hear the shades.

“Y-you said you had a wife waiting for you at home.”

“Please. Stop!” You cried, shaking your head, not wanting to hear or see any of this.

“Tell me you love me, Vergil. If you don’t care about your wife.”

“… I love you.”

“STOP!” You wailed, throwing a volatile pulse of demonic energy at the shades, banishing the scene completely until you were the only one stood in the middle of a large room filled with rubble. Huddling into a ball of misery, you wept, your hair now a dark silvery white to match the rest of your family.

“Why must you torture me?” you asked the figure stood behind you, though you didn’t rise to confront them face to face, still drowning in your woes. When the figure didn’t answer, you let out a bitter laugh, sniffling, “Figures. You never answer. I don’t even know what I didn’t file for a divorce all those stupid years ago.”

Still crying, you rose to your feet and turned to meet the eyes of Nelo Angelo, though its armor was much different than you realized. Though its eyes glowed red from within its helmet, and its body was solid, you noticed that wisps of shadow and smoke would occasionally fall off it like a fog. This entire time, I was chasing a shade… Umbral Angelo. Probably a pawn of Urizen given life by the Qliphoth. Your grief seemed so intense that it felt like you were choking, but somehow you found it in you to be angry. “Of course Urizen would find it amusing to dance all over my emotions.” You snarled, drawing your blade to point at Umbral Angelo. “So, what! Are you a puppet as well!?” You demanded, taking a menacing step forward. “Are you a puppet to Urizen like Vergil was to Mundus!?”

Umbral Angelo seemed to flinch back, as if struck, but still it didn’t answer you, opting to hold its massive blade at the ready. Gritting your teeth in frustration, you charged forward, swinging the Totsuka in an overhead strike that Umbral Angelo easily parried and countered with a backhand, sending you flying backwards even when you blocked.

“Tsk.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance as you skid backwards upon sticking the landing, “Katana versus broadsword. Really should have taken Dante up on those spars.” You couldn’t get cocky here, you decided, widening your stance and sheathing the katana once more. “I’ll let you come to me, big guy.”

The shade knight raised his broadsword with both hands in a preparation for a lunging motion, the blade glowing and ominous purple before it blinked forwards. You barely had time to switch your footwork and unsheathe the Totsuka to parry the blow to the side before Umbral Angelo was upon you again. Being much smaller than the shade knight, you dodged the incoming elbow thrust by getting in close and under his arm, thrusting the Totsuka into a crack of the armor before pulling away and creating distance.

A growl escaped the shade knight as he too jumped away to create distance. For a moment, the two of you stood at a standstill, simply observing one another from across the room. “I don’t understand you.” The statement falls out of your mouth, eyes narrowing as you run a hand through your silvery hair. “You won’t attack unless I provoke you. You won’t speak. You just stand there!” When Umbral Angelo remained silent, you threw up your arms in exasperation. “Is it the grey eyes? The silver hair? It’s probably a little darker than those of Sparda’s bloodline, but- I’m getting carried away. Answer me!”

The shade remained silent, only changing its position from one ready to attack, to one of rest, stabbing its broadsword into the ground in front of its feet.

“Fine!” The Silver Rose is drawn and its trigger pulled in the blink of an eye, the single bullet hitting the wall just next to the knight’s head.

“…s…r…gi…” Broken sounds echoed from within the confines of the shade knight’s helmet as it shifted its position once more, raising its blade to swing. “…fea…m… w…i…”

Surprised, you could only jump to avoid the wave of energy sent at you from the swing. “Wait. What did you say?”

It didn’t reply, sprinting forward in a violent horizontal swing as you bent backwards to back hand-spring away. The assault of strikes was overwhelming as you were put on the defensive, parrying and dodging while trying to get a few hits in with Totsuka and Silver Rose. There were chinks in its armor, but very little injury to his person. Now that you were closer, however, you could finally hear what Umbral Angelo was muttering.

“…use your gift… defeat me with it…” The shade knight muttered, its voice an echo of something that was once familiar, but long since a memory. “…you must… for your own sake.” It pulled back just enough to throw another downward slash at you. “…please…”

The force of the strike as you block it causes the ground under you to give away. The knight is unrelenting as you struggle to lift the blade or even parry it to the side. You didn’t want to rely on your demonic power so much, but at this rate, you were bound to be defeated by a mere phantom.

A flash of light blankets the room in searing white as you call to your demonic powers. You can feel your body absorb both the Totsuka and Silver Rose as it changes. Before the bright light can disappear, you’d practically teleported to dodge the still descending broadsword.

You grunt in annoyance when you feel your grey hair cascade down your back, having grown longer than it was in your mortal form. Like Dante, your Devil Trigger causes you to take on a draconic appearance, tough silver, grey, and black scales adorning your body in a mimic of a knight’s armor. There’s a ridge around your neck and shoulders that resembles a high collar, protecting your neck from potential damage should the need arise. Your head and face are pulled into what looks like a snout, though your mouth and eyes seem to be stuck in an eternal grin of mischief. Behind you are a set of white leathery wings and a long tail. You have little practice with your wings in tight spaces, so they are currently folded into your spine, keeping them out of the way while you make use of your tail, probably one of the only weapons you have in this form besides your fists and feet. Though describing the appendage as a simple tail would be an understatement, as it is probably more like a stinger, its point, a sharp dagger that can shoot energy beams.

“If you want me to win so badly,” your voice is a hollow echo when you activate your Devil Trigger, “Then, come at me now.”

Umbral Angelo flies at you with another lunge, but this time you dodge and summon white energy copies of the Totsuka to lay into the knight while you throw in a few jabs and kicks, mixing the barrage of attacks up by occasionally backing away so your stinger has enough room to fire a beam of energy or two.

The assault is too much for the shade knight, and it is forced to create as much distance from you as possible. It looks like it can barely lift its sword from the damage you caused. Umbral Angelo drops his broadsword and falls to its knees, weakened and defeated as you approach.

“Now, let me ask again. Why did you show me those things?” You demand, releasing your Devil Trigger to stand as mortal once more.

“To show you the truth. To show you his demons. A part of him regretted. But a part of him did not. Before you face him again, you needed to know.” Umbral Angelo forced himself to reply, though his voice was weak. “There is… one more thing. He-”

Umbral Angelo did not get the chance to finish when a sword cleaved through his chest, killing the shade instantly.

You stood, wide-eyed, your face slightly splattered with dark blood as another figure bearing Nelo Angelo’s semblance stood before you. When it didn’t attack you, you wondered briefly why it had killed its own ally. And then, you heard a distorted demonic cackle behind you.

“A pity it wasn’t even useful to defeat his old whore.”

You had no idea what the hell you were staring at. A three headed woman fused with a giant chicken fetus. Wait… whore?

“WHORE!?” You screeched, immediately activating your Devil Trigger once more to rush the cackling abomination. “I’LL SHOW YOU A WHORE YOU RAGGEDY EXHIBITIONIST!”

“Oooh! I touched a nerve!” The abomination sneered before disappearing into a portal. “Deal with her.”

Just as you’re about to close in on the backend of the retreating abomination, you’re tackled so hard that you get sent through the floor and into open air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once again, Thank you for reading! :D

106 notes · View notes