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zephyrchama · 1 month

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Living together in a big house with one (main) (shared) bathroom means that mornings can be tough.

When you first arrived at the House of Lamentation, it was hard to fit in. It was really hard to get into the bathroom in the mornings and fight six demons for use of the sink. If more than two others were in there at the same time, they practically formed a living wall that blocked you out, forcing you to wake up extremely early or risk being late for school.

That got better over time though. You gradually managed to fit into the house's morning routine.

---

Lucifer has his morning routine down to an exact science. Usually he's fully dressed and has his hair brushed before leaving the bedroom. He might be running on pure muscle memory though - one time you handed him a warm washcloth for his face and he just stared at it in confusion for several seconds with a furrowed brow. He has no problems getting it himself, but this break in routine gave him pause. It took Lucifer a moment to realize what it was and to thank you.

If you get the chance to eat breakfast together, Lucifer likes to ask about your day. "What do you have planned? Remember, we have that meeting at five. Did you prepare for the ancient hex exam?" He might slide a bit of his food onto your plate before he goes, a way of returning the pleasant energy boost you always provide for him.

---

Mammon can hustle. Which means that Mammon can get up early if it benefits him in some way. A part time job, an early bird discount, a chance to slip past Lucifer's defenses and borrow some cash.

That doesn't mean it's easy. Waking up takes some serious effort. Mammon will stumble into the bathroom to do his business first thing in the morning, yawning with his eyes half closed and tugging up whatever pants he just tossed on for modesty.

The tsundere part of his brain takes a few minutes to kick in if he's just woken up. If he spots you, Mammon will demand a good morning hug and wrap his arms around you, deaf to your cries of "Mammon! Go wash your hands before you touch me!"

---

Leviathan is always groaning in the morning. He's probably not aware of it. He's probably muttering complaints but is too tired to actually speak the words properly. His blankets are always a tangled mess, wrapped unevenly around his feet and contorted around his body, but Leviathan can easily Houdini his way out of them when it's time to get up. If there's no event or livestream to wake up early for, he'll sleep in for as long as he can before starting the day with a nice shower.

He finds warm running water to feel so pleasant and you can often find Leviathan spacing out next to the faucet. He'll greet you with a sleepy "ah, morning," and accidentally splash you in an attempt to wave his hand. The embarrassment and slight panic from getting you a towel to dry off with is usually enough to properly wake him up, and he sheepishly exits the bathroom and guards the door until you've finished changing into dry clothes.

---

Satan can hardly even put his shirt on properly when fully awake.

The man's a sleepy mess when he tries to get dressed in the morning. He'll stay up all night to finish a book he's invested in, then stumble out of his room "ready to go" when it's time for breakfast. His pants are unzipped and the button is coming undone. He's only got one sleeve on and it's on the wrong arm, or the buttons on his shirt are all misaligned and half have been skipped over.

He doesn't protest anymore when you tidy him up. Some mornings he'll doze off while you straighten his tie and fall forward into you, then try to play it off as a hug. Satan doesn't want to let go though, you feel so much warmer on a chilly morning.

---

Asmodeus is a rare morning riser. Too much sleep is bad for the skin, he claims. If he has trouble getting up, he'll either go soak in his private tub for energy or seek you out.

"You have to hear what happened last night," he'll say, strolling into your room while there's still ten minutes left on your alarm. He sits on the edge of your bed, and if you try falling back asleep he pulls you up into a sitting position. "Listen to this, you won't believe it!"

Asmodeus isn't afraid to get touchy if it means you'll wake up faster and he gets your attention. He'll sit you in his lap, or press you against his side, or run his hands down your face and squish your cheeks with a mischievous smile.

When the main bathroom is too crowded to use you're free to borrow his, with the caveat he gets to style you for the day and you might be late when he gets overzealous.

---

Beelzebub can also be found awake in the mornings. The quiet hours before everyone else wakes up are best for stretching, taking jogs, and grabbing a pre-breakfast appetizer. He'll get spooked if he hears footsteps approach the kitchen and slam the fridge door shut in a hurry, but all is well when he sees you enter the room instead of Lucifer.

Beelzebub is a big guy who takes up a lot of space. When you run into each other in the bathroom and are rushing to get ready, it's easy to bump into him. On days he's still pretty tired, he might not even notice you bonk your head against his arm. That's fine though - you don't want him to notice you until he's brushed his teeth. After all, Beelzebub's morning breath is a potent magical weapon.

If you need the bathroom sink while he occupies it, Beelzebub is kind enough to nudge you in front of him (once you've confirmed his mouth is minty fresh). You both get to use the mirror this way, and you can both see each other's smiling faces.

---

Belphegor is the king of oversleeping. The powers of you and his twin combined are hardly enough on some days, but mostly the responsibility of waking him falls to you. You quickly learned it's best to wake him from behind his head, if you can manage to maneuver your way into a suitable spot to do so. Anywhere his limbs can easily grab you will result in being pulled into bed. He's like a sleeping kraken.

You suspect that Belphegor wakes up easier than he lets on, but he feigns ignorance. He insists he was totally fast asleep when you struggled to physically drag him down the hallway towards the bathroom, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso with all your strength. And when he clung on to your waist and nuzzled his head into your stomach. And when Beel came to help free you from Belphegor's clutches, but he rolled you under him and muttered "mine now."

Definitely fast asleep, doesn't remember a single thing.

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ifancyharry · 8 months

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Routine - Bad Habit (3)

in which YN spends the night - officially - for the first time, but Harry's daughter isn't really happy about that; fluff; angst; smut; dad!harry

wc: 5.9k

can be read as a stand alone, but if you want to understand more read Bad Habit (1) and (2)

“Hi.” Harry greets her as soon as he opens the door, smiling the same smile YN has been in love with since she was 20 years old.

“Hi.” She repeats his word as a form of greeting, and despite the shortness of it, nothing needs to be added, because the excitement they both transpire can be felt in the air between them.

This would be the first time YN officially spent the night. Of course, she’d stayed over many times in the two months they had been dating, but never officially. She’d always leave before Aidi could find her tangled in Harry’s sheets, and it had been fine at first. She hated waking up early, but she’d do whatever she could to reassure Aidi’s well being.

YN doesn’t know why all of a sudden Harry was eager to invite her over. He told her he felt ready, and she had felt excited despite feeling the fear of how his daughter would react.

Harry told her that he wouldn’t tell her right away, YN would just stay over and they’d see from there how it went. Of course, his nonchalance hadn’t gone unnoticed by YN, that on the other hand felt nervous about it all and would’ve much rather he told Aidi she would at least spend the night. But, she figured, she wasn’t a parent, and she couldn’t possibly know what was best for Aidi, so she had agreed to follow his plan with enthusiasm.

“Everything okay?” He asks when he sees she hasn’t moved from her spot.

“Just a little bit nervous” she shrugs, tightening the grip around the handle of her duffle bag.

“I see I still have tha’ effect on yah?” He chuckles, opening his lips in a teasing smirk.

“Shut up! ‘S not because of you”

“I know” he says, and his eyes soften at the sight of the girl in front of him, all shy and anxious about something that he thinks is so natural. “‘M just teasing. Everything’s gonna be okay”

She sighs at his words and takes a step closer to him, “ugh, I know… just want it to be perfect”

“‘S already perfect with you here” he smiles, grabbing her upper arm and tugging her closer to him. He circles her back with his arm and squeezes her against his chest, holding her tight in a soothing embrace.

“You’re perfect” she sighs once again, inhaling the pleasing scent of his fabric softener lingering on his hoodie.

YN still can’t believe he is hers.

“C’mon let’s go inside, yeah?”

“Mmhmm” she nods against the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Once Harry closes the front door behind him, he takes YN’s duffle bag from her hands and tells her to follow him upstairs.

“Where’s Aidi?” She asks.

“In her room”

“Is she… does she know I’m here?”

She watches as he nods his head, and she wonders for a moment if there’s something wrong going on. Is Aidi upset? Is it too soon?

“Harry…” she whispers once they enter his room, “maybe it’s too soon. We should have-“

“YN.” He interrupts her, a serious look adorning his gentle features, “I told you already everything is fine.”

“Okay” she nods doubtfully, not really convinced by his words.

He tosses her bag on his bed and after he turns around to face her. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it to reassure her. He knows how she is. How much she worries, but that’s the very same reason why he’s so sure about this. He knows she cares about Aidi very much, and he thinks she’ll be good for his daughter, even if it takes her some time getting used to having another person around more.

YN follows Harry out of his room, and, once they reach Aidi’s door, she watches as he gently knocks on it.

“Aidi?” He asks, opening the door and peeking his head inside. “Hi bug” he says softly, and YN feels herself melt at the interaction. He’s so gentle, so sweet. He makes her feel warm, like the first spring sun shining on her skin after a cold winter.

He opens the door wider and YN spots Aidi laying on her bed, her ballerina bunny squeezed under her chin. She lights up as soon as she sees her dad, and she nods timidly when Harry asks her if she was asleep.

“I was really tired, daddy” she mumbles, knuckling at her eyes sleepily.

“Tha’s okay” he reassures. “‘S almost time to eat dinner”

YN watches from the door jamb, unsure on what to do. She doesn’t want to interfere in their moment, still feeling a bit unease at the situation.

“Do you want to say hi to YN?” Harry asks when Aidi gets up from the bed.

She shakes her head no. “I already said at school”.

YN bites hard on her bottom lip. She knew it would be hard.

Harry furrows his brows and looks at his daughter, confused by her behavior. She loves YN. She always talks about how nice she is and how she’s so happy she’s his friend so he doesn’t really know where this is coming from. He figures she’s just grumpy from being woken up.

YN, on the other hand, thinks this is going to be harder than they thought.

…

It’s a little bit later in the evening, and despite the abrupt start, things seem calmer now. Aidi had played with her dolls while she watched cartoons on the tv, and YN had helped Harry with setting the table for dinner.

She thinks it’s nice. Settling into a routine and sharing it with them. She’s always been kind of alone, and she’s always thought of herself as more of a loner, but maybe she’s been wrong all along and this is where she was actually destined to be.

“Aidi?” Harry calls from inside the kitchen.

YN smiles fondly once she sees Aidi walking towards them with a pep in her step, she seems fine, until Harry asks her what she wants to eat, because nothing seems of her liking.

“Noooo daddy I don’ like that!” she protests when Harry shows her the package of pasta he intended on cooking.

“But you’ve always liked it! You looove when granny makes it for yah!”

“Yeah” she gives him a firm nod, “but yeh’re not granny”

YN has to refrain herself from laughing at them. She wonders if she’s like this everyday or she’s putting on a show just because she’s there.

“Uggh fine, then. How about…” he looks through the cupboard to see what other thing he could cook, he picks up another package of pasta, shaped like butterflies this time, and holds it in front of her, but Aidi shakes her head disgusted once again.

He moves toward the fridge then, taking out some chicken and showing it to her, but “noooo” she protests.

“Wha’s gotten into yah!” He sighs discouraged.

“I’m sorry” he mouths to YN, to which she replies with a knowing smile.

Harry opens the door to the freezer and YN spots a package of chicken nuggets inside, and she points to them trying to hide her gesture from Aidi, not sure whether she could eat that kind of food.

“She usually doesn’t like them” he shrugs, but when he takes out the package to show it to her, Aidi starts jumping excitedly in her place, “yes! Yes! Daddy want them, pleaseee”.

“But-“ he’s about to protest, but he feels it’s actually pointless to argue with a child, so he sighs and: “fine!”

“Make them crispyyy please daddy” she says seriously, but when YN erupts in an uncontrolled laughter, Aidi starts giggling too.

Harry joins in on their laughter, but his is more of a disbelieving one, amazed by his daughter’s behavior.

Once dinner is ready, Harry, YN and Aidi all sit at the small table in the living room.

Harry fills his and YN’s glasses with the most prestigious red wine he had, and he serves first Aidi (the chicken nuggets with looots of ketchup), then YN (the special pasta his mother taught him to make and that’s the only fancy thing he knows how to make — but, honestly, YN was fine with everything. Even if it meant eating dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets).

The air around them is quiet, there’s a comfortable silence between them, and YN feels happy. Like she belongs. She looks at Aidi tenderly when she hears the quiet humming of what she recognizes is a cartoon’s theme song, and she watches as the little girl dips her nugget in what seems to be way too much ketchup for only a small piece, and when YN raises her glance from Aidi’s plate, she realizes Harry is looking at her with one of the softest looks on his face she’s ever seen. He smiles sweetly at her, but, as opposed to how he used to always avert his gaze when they were still in college — embarrassed she’d catch on the crush he’d always had on her, he doesn’t look away.

‘What?’ She mouths, worried she might have something on her face or that he wants to tell her something without his daughter hearing, but he just shakes his head.

‘Pretty’ he mouths back, and his eyes do that thing YN loves, they twinkle like the brightest of the lights, the warmest shade of green she’s ever seen, like the grass on a chilly spring day, the feeling of seeing a bit of color after months of whiteness.

She bushes and looks down at her plate, still not used to his cheeky compliments.

After dinner, Harry takes out of the fridge the ice cream YN had brought, and when he opens it, he smiles fondly when he realizes she picked Aidi’s favorite flavors: chocolate and strawberry. In the same bag, there’s another tub of ice cream, much smaller, and when he opens it, to his surprise, he sees his favorite flavor: mint chocolate chip.

He knows now she remembers their ice cream runs after a long day of studying, but he’s genuinely surprised she would after so many years, and he thinks it feels nice. It’s nice having someone take care of you, even if it only means picking up your and your daughter’s favorite flavors of ice cream.

He comes back in the living room with the ice cream and three small bowls, and he places them on the table.

“Look what YN got you!” He smiles excitedly, hoping to spark some excitement in his daughter, since she’d been pretty quiet all throughout dinner.

“Ice cream!” She lights up, but when Harry shows her the flavors, she makes a disgusted face and pushes the tub out of her face.

“I don’t like chocolate”

YN, that had watched the encounter proudly, feels her face fall. She thoroughly remembers Aidi loves chocolate ice cream. She’d told her many times in class, and it was what she had asked that day Harry forgot to pick her up and YN had brought her to eat ice cream to distract her. Maybe she remembers wrong? She feels herself panic inside, because how could she have gotten it wrong! She’d been so careful while picking.

“But ’s your favorite!” Harry stresses, his brows furrowing on his forehead.

YN feels a little bit relieved at his words. At least she hadn’t gotten it wrong.

“No, it’s not” she shakes her head, grimacing.

“I’m so sorry, YN. I don’t know wha’s gotten into her” he apologizes, sitting back down in his chair, his shoulder sagging, he feels undefeated.

There’s no way Aidi doesn’t like chocolate ice cream, because he remembers she ate it two days before at his sister’s house, but he chooses not to tell YN that to not aggravate the situation more. He knows this is silly, because it’s just ice cream, but it’s then he realizes maybe everything isn’t okay and Aidi isn’t comfortable with having YN here.

He’s unsure on what to do, feeling conflicted about the situation.

He knows he should put his daughter’s feelings before his, but he also cares about YN, and he doesn’t want to push her away.

“Harry” he hears YN interrupt his train of thoughts, “maybe I remembered wrong. It’s no problem at all! Do you like mint chip?” She asks Aidi the last part, and her voice is soft.

Aidi nods, “’s daddy’s favorite”

YN smiles at her and then throws a quick glance at Harry, “really? You both have great taste then! You share that with your daddy and I’ll eat the other one, okay?”

“Okay” Aidi nods once again and leans forward on the table to pick up the tub of ice cream. She shows it to Harry to signal she wants it in the bowl, and he consents quietly.

Harry — too — realizes this is going to be harder than he thought.

…

Harry feels bad. Tonight hasn’t been what he thought, at all.

He had planned in his mind all the nice and fun things he wanted to do with both YN and Aidi, and maybe, he realizes just now, he had been wrong to assume Aidi wanted to do that. He understands it’s always been them. Since she was born, it’s always been the two of them, tucked away safely in the walls of their home, and Harry understands how she could feel now that YN is here as well.

He just feels bad, because he’d like to do some of those things with YN too. He’d like to eat breakfast with them, he’d like to watch a movie and cuddle them both under his arms, he’d like to kiss both of them goodnight, he’d like to snuggle with them in his bed until it’s inevitably time to get up. But how can he? Aidi is little, and she doesn’t understand what it means to share.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He hears YN gently ask, and he shifts his gaze from the tv to her.

Aidi wanted to watch the new Little Mermaid movie (her favorite of the week), and she had demanded her daddy watched too. YN hadn’t minded, and she sat contently next to them, but only half an hour into the movie, Aidi had fallen asleep against Harry’s chest, his shirt crumbled between her little fingers as she held onto him, almost scared he’d leave her to sleep alone.

Harry leans his head on the backrest of the couch, he then turns it and looks at YN fondly. She’s so pretty now, her hair frame her face perfectly, and the glasses on her nose make her face look softer.

He shakes his head, wary of what she could say if he voiced his thoughts aloud, and when he sees her brows close in a furrow, he averts his gaze, his face facing the ceiling as he closes his eyes.

“Hey” she whispers, careful not to wake Aidi sleeping in his lap. When she realizes he isn’t opening his eyes, she raises her arm and rests it next to his face on the back of the couch. With delicate fingers she caresses the tender skin of his neck, below his ear, where she hears his pulse quicken.

“Harry, hey” she repeats, hoping to gain his attention, but she may have been a little too loud, because Aidi stirs in his lap and opens her eyes slowly.

“Hi, bug” he smiles down at her, his expression changing as soon as she woke up. “Let’s get yah to bed, yeah?”

He stands up from the couch and props Aidi on his hip, caressing her back gently to lull her back to sleep.

She falls asleep on his shoulder almost immediately, and YN raises on her feet quickly, placing a gentle and quiet kiss on her hair. Harry smiles at her and informs her he’d be putting Aidi to bed in her room.

YN turns off the tv and picks up the throw blanket to fold it, when she’s done she puts it on the couch and makes her way upstairs towards Harry’s room.

She sits on his bed and she waits for him, her heart beating fast against her ribcage. She wonders if she should leave. Is that what Harry is so scared to tell her? She’s sure he realized too that Aidi wasn’t comfortable with YN staying over.

She hears the door close quietly and she looks up immediately. She can feel her heart in her throat, convinced he wants to send her away.

Maybe it’s too soon.

Maybe he doesn’t want a relationship with someone his daughter doesn’t like.

Whatever the reason will be, she’s sure this will be their final conversation.

“Hi” he interrupts her train of thoughts.

“Hi”.

He walks towards her and stops in front of her, sitting between her open legs.

“Harry -“ she starts saying, but he interrupts her quickly: “Baby, I’m so sorry”.

“What?” she asks confused, “why are you saying sorry?”

“I thought… today was supposed to be different” he sighs. He raises both of his hands and cradles her face in his palms, caressing the skin of her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry” he repeats, “I wanted to make a nice dinner and maybe go for a walk, and… I don’t know, maybe watch a movie but…”

“But we did!” YN chimes in, bringing her hands up to squeeze his wrists, “it was perfect”

“I know but… Aidi…” he says, shaking his head, panic lacing his voice.

“You don’t think she’s happy…”

“It’s not that… I’m just scared. I didn’t think it would be this difficult” he sighs. He feels guilty, and if there was any way he could have this conversation with her without hurting her, he would. But YN has also taught him to communicate his feelings, and he couldn’t just not tell her what was going on in his mind, how scared he is for his daughter and to cause her pain.

“Oh Harry” she shakes her head against his hands, biting down on her bottom lip so hard she thinks she can taste the blood. “She’s just little, and not used to… all of this. I think you should talk to her.”

“I don’t know how” he looks at her pleadingly.

“Just say how you feel. Start from there. She’s the most wonderful kid I know, she will understand.”

It’s when she says things like these that Harry remembers why he is so sure about YN. She loves him, and perhaps she loves his daughter more than she loves him. Her presence is crucial in both of their lives, and Aidi needs to know her. She needs to be around her, because Harry thinks there’s a part of how YN loves that only she could teach, and he wants Aidi to learn, he wants her to see her dad happy, and he wants her to understand that love is really all that matters.

He gives her a small smile, not big enough to show the dimples YN really loves, but enough for her heart to tighten in her chest.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” She whispers, before tilting her head upwards and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He dips his head forward and deepens the kiss, sighing into her mouth.

Despite the heavy weight on his chest, he’s really happy she’s here.

Her lips are soft against his, and he wants to drink her in, drown in her taste, like the sweetest summer fruit.

Her hands make their way up his arms, her fingers dipping into the cotton of his shirt, and once she reaches his shoulders, she pushes him down against her.

They both fall on the bed, and with the way she’s kissing him, YN hopes she can reassure him. She hopes he understands she’s here now, and he doesn’t have to do it alone. His tongue caresses hers, and his hands are everywhere on her body, holding onto her skin desperately.

He settles between her legs, and pushes his hips forward when she bites his bottom lip, his erection pushing hard against her center where she needs him the most.

“Harry” she says as soon as he moves his head to kiss down her neck, “we shouldn’t. You’re upset” she breathes.

“Mmh” he whimpers against the skin of her neck, “please” he begs, “i need you. I need you so much.”

She tugs at his hear and he raises his head from her neck, the sight of him almost making YN cum on the spot.

As opposed to how he always is in bed, dark and dominant, he looks soft and pleading, his eyes big and veiled with lust, his lips wet with spit and a particular shade of red mixed with purple.

“You’re the only one that can make me feel better” he whispers looking directly into her eyes.

“Okay” she nods, “okay”.

Harry buries his head back onto her neck and kisses the skin there gently.

His hands travel down to her jeans and he quickly unbuttons them, tugging them down her legs and then throwing them on the floor.

His movements are frantic and eager, but everything about him is soft, from the way his hands caress the skin of her stomach to the way his fingers shift her panties to the side to expose her. He dips his thumb between her folds, rolling tight circles on her clit a couple times. She sighs heavily, and she has to refrain herself from moaning.

When he sees that she’s wet enough, he holds his weight with one arm and with the other he tugs his own jeans down, followed by his boxers right after.

When his cock is finally freed from its restraint, he doesn’t waste a second before he slides it between her folds, coating it with her juices. She brings a hand to his cheek and tilts his head up so he can look into her eyes when he slips inside of her.

“Oh” she whimpers, and he’s quick to swallow her sounds with his own mouth, sighing into her while his hips drill into her.

She feels warm against him, and he finally feels the comfort he’d been looking for.

With gentle fingers he raises the fabric of her t-shirt and exposes more of her skin, his hand resting against her ribcage, under her side boob. With his thumb he pushes her bra up and finally frees her tits, his head dipping down to kiss all over the new exposed skin.

He takes her right nipple into his mouth and sucks on it lightly, soothing it right after with his tongue.

“Please” she moans quietly, arching her back and pushing her tits into is mouth.

“Shh, baby” he giggles, leaving her boobs and going back to her mouth, “fuck” he whispers against her lips, “gonna make me cum already”

She clenches around him, flattered that she could make him reach his high so quickly.

“Baby I need you to cum” he says, and he brings a hand down between them, drawing tight circles on her clit. He knows she’s close by the way her walls clench around him, but he needs her to come before him, so he brings his mouth back on her nipple, the left one this time, and bites on it gently.

With the stimulation on her clit and now on her nipple, YN knows it’s going to take her seconds to cum, and she brings a hand to clasp against her mouth when he gives a particularly harsh thrust that makes her come on the spot. She sees stars and all her body trembles as Harry keeps moving his hips with the pace that made her cum, never taking his hand off her clit.

He parts from her nipple and when he sees her face beginning to contort in discomfort, he pulls his cock put of her and with a few tugs he comes against her stomach, his sticky liquid coming in spurts out of his slit.

“Fuck” he groans, giving another few thrusts against his hand.

When he’s done, he falls on the bed next to her, lifting his arm so she can squeezing in against his side.

She rests her head on his chest, and she can hear his heart beating hard against his chest. She almost falls asleep right there, lulled by the sound of his heart beating loud for her, but: “thank you. I love you”, he whispers against her hair delivering a soft kiss against her hairline.

She chuckles against the skin of his chest, placing a kiss there “i love you too”.

…

“I got more of that cream yeh like… the one made with wine”

They’re both still in their towel, the bathroom foggy from the steam of the hot water.

“Harry!!! Thank you!” She exclaims, “you didn’t have to” she beams at him, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as he shows the cream to her.

“I wanted to” he smiles, leaning down to kiss the side of her head.

This is what he has longed for all his life, always feeling like there was something missing from him. The comfortableness of sharing his routine with the person he loves the most.

They stand side by side in front of the sink, their naked shoulders touching, and YN massages the cream onto her skin while Harry brushes his teeth.

When he’s done, YN hands him the cream and “want?”

He nods, and, “you put it for me” he says, closing his eyes immediately and bringing his hand up to swat away a couple of curls from his forehead.

YN grins widely and she sprinkles a little bit of cream on the palm of her fingers. She rubs them together to warm the cream, and then she raises on her tips to massage it onto Harry’s face.

She’s delicate in doing so, rubbing his cheeks gently and then under his eyes, his nose and all the way down to his chin. He looks serious but relaxed at the same time, and YN rubs at his temples a little to ease what could be left of the tension he felt before.

He sighs dreamily and once she’s done, she rubs the remaining cream on his neck, and then she places a kiss on his lips, “all done”.

“Thank you baby” he smiles, leaning down to give her another kiss. And another. And another, until she’s giggling against his lips.

“Shh” he shushes her, placing another soft kiss against her lips.

“I’m so tired” YN says, knuckling at her eyes.

“Yeah… let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Once they reach his room, they both slip into their pajamas and hurry to get to bed, the tiredness of the day catching up to the both of them.

YN asks what side of the bed Harry sleeps on (the one near the door) and YN gets in beside him. She can smell the fabric softener of his cleaned sheets (that Harry had changed before they got in the shower), and she burrows herself more into the comforter, hiding her face under it.

“Where are yah!” He whispers, and when he hears her giggle, he raises the comforter over his head and joins her under the covers.

“Hi” he says once he’s face to face with her, the mint scent of his toothpaste tickling her nose. She looks extremely soft, her skin dewy from the cream and her eyes droopy with sleep.

“Hi” she repeats, moving closer to him. She rests her head on the palm of her hand, and she looks up at him dreamily. Harry feels a little claustrophobic from the lack of oxygen and the heaviness of the comforter over their heads, but he has to admit it’s comforting, being with her like this. Close.

“Thank you for giving me this” she whispers, shifting her gaze form one of his eyes to the other.

She hopes he understands what she means, because YN doesn’t mean the cream, the dinner, or the sex. She means a family. A routine. Something to look forward to at the end of the day when she feels exhausted. She knows now as long as she has Harry and Aidi she will never feel alone, and she will never have to question herself, how she did all those years ago in college when she would wonder what was wrong with her that made her so unlovable.

…

The next morning, Harry wakes up at around seven o’clock, too early for a Saturday morning, and he casts a glare towards YN that is sleeping soundly next to him.

When he realizes what time it is by looking at his phone, he understands something is missing. Aidi isn’t awake.

She usually wakes him up at around half past six by jumping on his bed, and then falls asleep almost immediately on his chest, clutching her stuffed bunny protectively to her side.

The possibility that she’s still asleep is very slim, and he decides to check on her, not without leaving a kiss on YN’s head before.

When he reaches Aidi’s room, he opens the door and frowns sadly at his daughter. She’s awake, lying on her bed still under the covers, talking quietly with her stuffed bunny.

“Hi bug” he whispers, “g’morning!”

“Hi” she says in a small voice, but she doesn’t raise her gaze to look at him. He knows she’s still upset.

“Why didn’t y’come wake me up?”

When she shrugs, he walks towards her bed, and with his hand he gestures for her to scooch over a little so he can lay down next to her.

He lays his head on her pillow and looks at her. She’s still sleepy, her eyes laced with sleep and her hair ruffled and curly. Her pajama top has shifted a little to expose the soft skin of her tummy, and Harry adjusts it to cover her.

“Cinna” Harry addresses her stuffed bunny once he realizes Aidi doesn’t want to talk to him yet, “why’s Aidi sad?”

Aidi pets the bunny’s ears and keeps her eyes forward, not looking at her dad.

“Is it because YN is here?” He asks gently, whispering as if it was a secret between them.

Aidi wraps her small fingers around the bunny’s neck and makes it nod its head. Harry smiles sadly at her, his chest aching at the sight of his daughter hurting, and him being the cause of that pain.

His sudden reaction is to just reassure her and he wonders if YN would understand if he told her to wait a little before coming over again, but then he remembers what she told him: that Aidi is smart and she will understand if he talks about his feelings. He figures it’s worth a try.

So, “Come here, bug” he says, stretching out his arm so she can rest her head on his chest.

It takes a while to convince her but after a little bit she shifts and places her cheek on his chest, holding her bunny tight under her chin.

“My baby” he coos, petting the hair out of her face, “just because YN is here it doesn’t mean we can’t do what we always do!”

He hears her sigh loudly through her nose and he understands she isn’t really convinced by his words.

“It doesn’t change the love I have for you” he says, but she’s little, and he tells her he loves her everyday, so it doesn’t do very much.

“YN is really nice” he tries, “and she’s my friend. She’s funny and she loves ice cream. And she gives great cuddles. Like… great. Way better than I do, because she’s warm and she smells nice, like candy”

He hears her giggle at his words, so he keeps going, “and she makes me really happy” he coos.

“How much?” Aidi asks, her voice muffled from the cheek she has smushed against his shirt.

“Ooooh, like how much happy we are when granny comes over”

Aidi hums and raises her head from his chest to look at her daddy. She looks a little less sad now, her lips open in a small smile.

“And she loooooves bunnies. She has like three stuffed bunnies,” he smiles, and Aidi looks down at the bunny clasped in her small hand.

“Really?”

“Yeah… she actually asked me if you and Cinna’d like to meet ‘em?”

She nods her head eagerly, “maybe we could invite them over next time?” She asks doubtfully, almost shy, and Harry beams with pride upon seeing her reaction.

“‘f course bug!” He exclaims excitedly, circling her back with his arms and squeezing her against his chest. He tickles her back and she giggles uncontrollably, her laugh muffled from his shirt, “daddy stooop! Please daddy!”

He joins in on her laugh and he stops tickling her, squeezing her hard against his chest one last time.

“Is miss YN still asleep?” Aidi asks.

“Dunno,” he says, “do yeh want t’check?”

When she nods her head, he sits up on her bed and takes her in his arms, propping her on his hip and picking up her stuffed bunny.

They make their way towards Harry’s bedroom, and when they open the door, YN is still sound asleep under the duvet.

“She’s sleepin’” he whispers, and smiles when Aidi clasps her hand on his mouth, shushing him.

“Do yeh want t’sleep a little mo’?”

“Like always?” She asks, looking at him with big eyes.

“Yeah”

Aidi nods her head and points toward the bed with the hand that’s holding the bunny, “in here”.

“Okay” he nods amused.

He lays her down on the bed next to YN, tucking her under the covers, and then he scooches in next to them, shutting the small light on his bedside table.

“Harry?” He’s almost half asleep when he hears her small voice, and he opens his eyes tiredly to look at her.

“Everything’s okay?” YN asks, her voice laced with a bit of worry, that he’s quick to reassure.

“Yes. She wanted to sleep a little bit more”

“Okay.” She nods happily.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’. Everything’s perfect” he reassures, stretching a hand to caress her face.

He smiles fondly when she turns her head to kiss the skin of his wrist and then he lulls her back to sleep like he did with his daughter, petting her hair soothingly.

YN falls asleep almost immediately, and Aidi, too, is sleeping peacefully between them.

Harry, despite the tiredness, stays awake a little longer to look at both of his girls trough the dark, sleeping next to him, his heart growing in his chest every second he spends looking at them, and he wonders what they’re dreaming about, these two girls that in different ways gave him a reason to love again.

In the morning, he’ll be the last one to wake up, alone in his bed, and he’ll hear the laughter coming from the kitchen along with the sweet scent of pancakes and bacon. He will let Aidi tell him all about how YN really gives the best cuddles and smells of candy, and he will kiss YN tenderly on the head. Aidi will ask YN when she can meet her bunnies while she bites down on her Nutella pancake, and YN will say whenever her and Cinnabunny are ready.

And Harry will finally feel at peace in his routine. No pieces missing.

omg bad habit 3 is finally here 😭 i missed writing for them so much, they're all so cuteeeee ugh lmk if you liked it and if i should write more blurbs about them!!! love you all so much

#harry styles blurb #bad habit #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #teacher!yn #dad harry styles #dad!harry #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles love on tour

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obae-me · 7 months

Text

He looks at you like artistry. A contemporary piece he's never seen before. Taking in every detail with calculating eyes. Wondering what intentions the skillful hands of the cosmos had in mind when making you.

He wishes to know your story, the happiness that makes the music of your voice, the experiences settled in the sculpt of your frame, the tragedies brushed into the strokes of your irises.

The complexities of your being astound him, mesmerize him. Every new fact he learns about you adds another stanza to your sonnet.

To him, you are art in its purest form. Not one part can exist without the other. The greatest of symphonies would not be complete without their rests. He adores all of you.

How foolish he was at first, to think you were just a simple creature. Oh, the things he has taken for granted. When did he become so blind? Was it his Pride? Or had he simply been breathing for so long, that the sweet orchestra of life became dull to his ears? How long had it been since he stopped to watch people commune in the streets? Or sat a while to watch the trees sway from his window? Or pondered on the meaning of a wonderful word?

Excitement. How many centuries since he's felt like that? Filled with a rather humiliating child-like giddiness. But it's...invigorating. Everything stands out to him fresh, avant-garde. You remind him that there's still so much for him to discover.

A change in the wind, the turning of a page to a whole new chapter, a swelling crescendo, you are enticing. Every second spent with you leaves him craving more.

All he desires is to be in your presence. To see your colors. To hear your melody. To bask in the opus of your existence. It was only a matter of time before you would manage to become his everything, his obsession, his passion. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

For Lucifer is a connoisseur, and to him, you are nothing less than the crown of luxury.

#just getting into the habit of writing little things on a whim #I miss just smashing words onto a page #and doing more poetic stuff #not focusing exclusively on long projects #or perfection #but that's neither here nor there #thank you for listening to my tag ramble #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc

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rosepresley68 · 2 months

Text

X; Are you going to the doctor again?

Me; if I feel very bad

X; Are you sure that guy is helping you? Maybe you should see someone else.

Me: It's not necessary, he makes me feel good... I-I mean he helps me a lot!

THE DOCTOR;

#elvis presley x reader #big daddy elvis #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis the king #army elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis photos #elvis imagine #elvis history #elvis fans #elvis the pelvis #elvis music #elvis aaron presley #elvis movie #change of habit #Doctor #John carpenter change of habit #Elvis Presley John carpenter

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xspiderxx · 11 months

Note

Hey, can I request some headcanons for reader breaking up with Miguel? How does he reacts? Is he mad or sad?

note: I hope you like it 💖

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋

paring: Miguel O'hara x gn!reader

warnings: just angst, mentions of sex?

⸙ You would expect screams, things getting thrown across the room (yeah, just remember how he throws that empanada to Miles jaja), him yelling for an explanation, but never silence, and that's why it's more painful to you

⸙ Miguel just nodds when you tell him is over, looking at you with his tired and bored eyes, like it's nothing. That makes you feel like you mean nothing to him

“Bien” he says “do you need help to pack your things?”

“that's all you have to say?” you ask, tears on your eyes

“well, yeah. If you wanna break up I'm not gonna try to stop you”

⸙ he tries to focus on his work, trying to distract himself so he doesn't have to think about you, but it never works. His mind always finds its way to you, thinking about everything he did wrong

⸙ he forbis Lyla to talk about you again or even mention your name

⸙ and I don't think he would throw away the things you gave him or delete all those photos and videos he has with you. He would keep them on a file and watch them whenever he misses you

⸙ he totally regrets how things ended and feels really bad for it

⸙ probably he will call you when he's drunk, not asking for a second chance bc he thinks he doesn't deserve it, but to tell you how sorry he is for being such a jerk with you

“hola... uhm... Look, maybe you don't wanna talk to me anymore but... I just wanted to apologize. I was cruel and an idiot. You were always kind and loving. It wasn't fair. You know how much I love you... Thank you, for everything and I'm sorry...”

⸙ I think after your break up you're not totally friends, but it's because Miguel is trying to keep some distance from you. He knows he broke your heart and doesn't want to do it again

⸙ but i'm sure you eventually fuck around, catching feelings for each other again

⸙ yeah, I think he's the type of guy who has toxic off and on relationships and he will never move on

#i'm writing about his toxic habits #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 headcanons #headcanons #oscaar isaac #miguel ohara

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it-happened-one-fic · 5 months

Text

Undying Devotion - Sebek

Author Notes: Ah, hand kisses my beloved. I actually stole this hand kiss from a Trigun manga panel I believe.... But anyway, this fic has actually been sitting and gathering dust for quite some time. In fact, I had this written before I started posting my Strictly NRC Dancing series, but I'm pleased to finally be sharing it with you all now. This fic was also edited to "Bad Habits" by Ed Sheeran. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader, fluff, flirting occurs, romance heavily implied

Word count: 922

Sebek walked silently beside you, the perfect image of a stoic bodyguard with his arms behind his back as he carefully listened to you.

His eyes were riveted to your form, even though all you were doing was prattling on about one of the many books he’d recommended to you.

A knightly romance. The sort that he adored even though he would never admit it.

After all, he’d only recommended it to you because he thought YOU would like it. Not because he himself had enjoyed it.

“Hey Sebek, you know more about knights than I do. Why do knights always kiss their lady’s hand?” You tilted your head to look at him as he somehow managed to straighten even more at your question.

A preening smile appeared on his face as he realized that you’d just acknowledged the fact that he did know more about something than you did. “It’s simple, human. But remember that they do not only do this for their lady love. They also do it for the lords to whom they owe allegiance.”

He glanced at you, making sure you were listening even though you were the one who’d questioned him in the first place, before he continued, “Kissing the ring on their lord’s finger is a show of undying devotion to that ring, which almost always signified the lord’s throne. Naturally, the knight’s undying devotion is extended to the person wearing the ring.”

A smile crept onto your face as you put two and two together, “Awww, so they're promising to be eternally devoted to their love when they do it for the lady?”

Sebek nodded, a quick, short motion that matched his single-word reply that was totally at odds with your pleasure over your revelation, “Theoretically.”

You were grinning now, seeming pleased with the discovery you’d made, which had Sebek tilting his head.

Presumably you thought it was an incredibly romantic gesture, and that was why it made you so seemingly giddy.

But then your smile faded and you frowned, stopping in place before you turned to face him fully, “Then why doesn’t the lady ever do the same for the knight? I mean if it’s just a pledge of devotion, why don’t they make the same pledge?”

And there it was. Your infuriating ability to make him question the very same thing you pondered. But Sebek had been raised in the knightly manner, so this was one of the things he staunchly refused to question.

And, just like he usually did whenever you had him questioning something he’d always taken for granted, he found himself sputtering out a characteristically loud reply, “BE- BECAUSE THAT JUST ISN’T HOW IT’S DONE! THE LADY NEEDS NOT MAKE SUCH A PLEDGE BECAUSE HER KNIGHT HAS ALREADY DONE SO! IT IS NOT AS IF THE LORD WOULD PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO HIS KNIGHT!”

You were still frowning slightly as you eyed the green-haired young man, “Yeah, but it’s sort of different when it’s between a lady and her beau….”

Your hand caught his in a surprisingly gentle grasp as you smiled at him, confusing the young man as he watched you lift his hand that was now clasped in yours, “I think it’s only fair that she make the same pledge as he.”

With those words, you pressed your lips to his knuckles in a featherlight kiss. Causing Sebek to freeze with a quiet intake of breath as he stared at you.

Either unable or unwilling to yank his hand away from yours, as you silently and gently kissed his hand.

A hand that was already scarred from his training but that had not yet faced the great trials of this world.

You withdrew with a smile, and it was like Sebek had suddenly started working again as he jolted slightly before hastily yanking his hand away from yours as you started laughing, “HUMAN! How DARE yo-”

“Relax, I’m just teasing you,” Laughter bubbled out of you as you continued to giggle at the now-flustered knight until your phone made a quiet buzzing sound.

Your eyes widened in an almost comical fashion as you glanced towards your pocket and then back to Sebek, “Oh crap! I’ve gotta go, or I’ll be late for the unbirthday party! Bye Sebek!”

And just like that, you were off. Trotting away from him and towards the mirror chamber that would take you to the party that you were apparently about to miss, like you hadn’t just flustered the young man beyond all reason.

But Sebek wasn’t looking at your hastily retreating form or pondering the party to which you were headed.

Instead, he was silently staring at his hands. The ghostly sensation of your lips on his knuckles leaving him stunned even now.

Truthfully, Sebek did not recall moving his hand but found himself thoughtlessly pressing his knuckles to his own lips in the exact same place that you had kissed anyway.

His eyes were closed, as if he were deep in thought, before he at last pulled his hand away from his mouth. A curious expression on his face as he finally looked up in the direction you’d long since disappeared.

“A pledge of undying devotion….” Despite himself, his lips twitched up into a slight smirk as he turned to head back to where his lord and master awaited his return, “Preposterous.”

But despite his words, Sebek could not deny the warmth in his chest as he pondered how you would react if he responded to your silent, if joking, vow in kind.

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scary-lasagna · 4 months

Text

HABIT

“I just wanted flowers.”

It really pained you, that you asked for the simplest thing and didn’t receive it.

After months of asking, and buying your own flowers, you decided to not let this battle slide away from you anymore.

HABIT was always good to you, with constant praise, and date nights, and promises to get you things.

And yet, you always have to drag him out of his work just to remind him that you exist that day.

And deep down, it hurts. Because flowers are so simple, and at the right time of year you can find them in the side of the road.

They’re not expensive, not that money is of any proper value to him.

Your hope was fading, and you’ve realized you have pushed too far, because u like the other times you didn’t want to take, “I’m working on it, my sweet. I have plans for you. Big ones ” for an answer, when he has said that over a year ago.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, knowing he won’t come to bed until the late hours of the morning after hovering over his work for the whole day.

He won’t notice the dried tear stains on your pillow because he was too busy admiring how soft your skin looked in the moonlight.

A hopeless romantic, they call them. Maybe even a little narcissistic.

Too obliviously in love to value what you asked for, and has already decided what you really want.

HABIT didn’t think that you wanted silly old dying flowers. Nooo, you wanted a full garden. A bountiful garden that will last through the cold winters and stormy summers.

But you didn’t want a garden.

You only wished to dust off your vase, even just for a week out of the year.

Just flowers. Just for one week.

#get your partner flowers #or your friend i’m sure they’ll appreciate it too #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta blog #HABIT #habit x reader #habit emh #habit everymanhybrid #emh x reader #inspired by an event that previously happened #Of course in habits case habit is just an asshole #but as a human you must come to the realization that others will not think the exact same way you do #nor will they love you like you love them but that doesn’t mean that they love you less #love yourself #that’s all kitty will ask of you

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ghouljams · 9 months

Note

fae!soap’s darling is one of those crazy makes you throw up poems in her notes app girls

Ding ding ding, here's the threat, the hard darling, the crazy girl

Warnings: Very public sex, themes around addiction/interventions(if you squint)

This is really Gaz's hunting ground. The thumping bass, the technicolor lights, the sea of people. But Soap isn't looking to hunt tonight. He's drained, wasted some of his best magic on a musician that wouldn't pan out. What he needs is thoughtless, what he needs is sex. He catches your arm as you walk past him. The prettiest thing in this hole.

"Can ah buy ya a bev, Bonnie?" He asks, watching your eyes flick approvingly down his body.

You've never been one to pass up an easy catch.

He presses you against the wall, his tongue insistent against yours, hands gripping your hips tight. You get the feeling this guy just got out of a relationship. This sort of intensity only comes from trying to forget someone. Which is good for you, means less talking.

Soap slides a hand from your hip to push between your legs under your skirt. The club is loud, crowded, not very well lit, good for a quickie. You're already wet at the prospect of it. You can feel his smile against your lips when he feels just how soaked you are. He pulls away from kissing you to press closer, speak in your ear where he knows you'll hear.

"All this for me, hen?" He's cocky, you like cocky.

"Could've been for my date if he'd found me first." You tell him, you don't think he's used to being a second choice. Cocky guys never are.

"Just have to make it f'me then," He tells you low and dangerous, fingers rubbing you through your underwear. You smile, tipping your head to suck at his neck as you rock against his fingers.

He's good with his hands, you'll give him that.

Soap pushes your panties to the side, fingers collecting your slick before pressing into your hole. They’re thick, dextrous, crooking to stroke your walls with practiced precision as the heel of his hand grinds against your clit. You hum, your hips following the stroke of his fingers. He pushes them against the spongy spot near your entrance over and over, stirring need in you like he has a direct line to your orgasm. You press against him, twist your fingers in his shirt desperate to hold onto something while he works you up. You drop your forehead against his shoulder, grind against his hand as you focus on the tight knot in your stomach.

“Come on sweetheart,” He whispers, lips catching the shell of your ear, “be good for me, yeah?” You nod all too eager to cum when you can feel his hard cock pressing against your leg. That’s what you really want, you can pluck at a few strands and push yourself over the edge if it means you get fucked after. You shake against him, his fingers never stopping as your walls flutter around them. You can feel the slick dripping off of you when he pulls them out.

Soap opens his belt and fly one handed, pulling his cock free, his slick fingers pumping it, getting rid of some of your wetness before his hands hook under your thighs. He lifts you with that wonderful inhuman strength and pins you between the wall and his body. You wrap your legs around his waist as he thrusts his cock against your slit. The weight, the angle, god when he fills you he fills you. Gorgeous thick cock pushing your gooey walls apart to make room for itself, the length of him hitting you deep enough you feel it in your stomach. You purr, clenching around him as you squeeze your arms around his shoulders.

“Fuck you’re squeezin’ the life outta me, bonnie.” He groans as you tease your teeth against his pulse. That’s the idea. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, your t-shirt the only thing protecting your back from being scraped against the wall, and you bite him as he bounces you on his cock.

The drag of his thick length is hot enough to make your head spin. His hips snapping against yours, hitting that deep spot that makes your toes curl, that makes heat knot in your stomach again. You moan into your bite, doing your best to muffle yourself when all you want to do is scream. You’re oversensitive, and he is driving you back to the edge as he chases his own high. You do your best to meet his thrusts, distract him from your fingers threading through the tethers that lead off of him. There’s got to be something in- You pull on a painter’s thread and Soap shudders, pressing hard into you as he cums.

You feel the trap on your back light up, tugging attempting tethers into the sink like a black hole. Sexual energy fills you as nicely as Soap’s thick seed. Your legs feel a little weak when he pulls out and sets you back on the ground. You lean against the wall, catching your breath as he tucks himself back into his pants. You give him a thumbs up when he reaches to… you don’t know, check on you?

“I’m gonna find my date,” You tell him. A look of confusion crosses his face, you don’t give him time to respond before you disappear into the crowd. No need to stick around and deal with whatever baggage he’s got.

You bump into Soap at a shitty underground show your friend dragged you to, promising cheap drinks and hot potential hook ups. Normally you're a one and done sort of person, men are so emotional you really can't spare them more than one no strings attached fuck. You don't think this guy has even heard of feelings the way he holds you against his cock and grinds against you in the dim lights on the outside of the mosh pit. He certainly doesn't seem to feel anything but desperate when he bites your shoulder.

"Too many people," You tell him as he soothes his tongue over his bite.

"Wasn't a problem last time," You roll your eyes, yeah you'll give him that. People are a little more watchful here though, this show is at a bigger risk of getting busted up by the cops. You're not getting cuffed outside the bedroom again.

"Ok well it's a problem this time, so find somewhere private." You gripe, hearing a grumble of protest before Soap pulls away to glance around the venue. "Think there's a loft somewhere, might have a bed." You pick at your top, waiting on Mr. Bitey to come up with something better. His eyes dart around the top edge of the warehouse before nodding.

You half lead, half follow him to the loft space overlooking the party. You test the lock as he tests the bed, or the mattress. What is it with punk guys not having bed frames? Is a bed frame too establishment? Better than nothing you suppose, and the place looks clean. Now that you think about it this might be the band’s place. Funny.

You don’t really want to stick around here too long. You drop to your knees in front of Soap. His hand moves immediately to drag fingers along your jaw, tip your head to look at you.

“Wouldn’t want anyone else getting this view,” He tells you, you roll your eyes more focused on getting his belt open than whatever charm he’s trying to hit you with. It won’t work anyway, you’re more than protected against his magic. Still, it’s always funny seeing weavers try to work you.

“Your dirty talk could use some work,” You tug his pants down, wrap your fingers around his cock. You hadn’t seen it last time, but it’s just as pretty as the rest of him. You’re careful as you drag your tongue along his length, slicking the pump of your fingers. Soap swears over you, eyes fixed on the movement of your mouth. You put on a good show for him, kissing his thick cock between strokes of your hand, sucking at the head and lapping at the beading pre-cum. Your eyes lock on his, enjoying the way his pupils dilate for you.

“Fuck you are good at this,” He groans, watching you swallow the length of his cock. You hum affirmative, your hand leaving his cock to cup his balls. You’ve done this enough times, you should be at least competent at it.

You can feel the pentacles on your back starting to turn, the itch of warded magic. So compliments are part of it. Noted.

Soap’s hand presses against the back of your head, and you’re happy to give him a second just to feel your throat constrict around him as you swallow before you’re bobbing your head. Your tongue drags along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins and circling the head. You never take your eyes off of Soap, too eager to watch him lose a piece of his composure.

And he does, the cracks in his cocksure mask slipping as he swears and bucks into your mouth. Curling over you with a low moan when he does finally cum. You lick him clean as more hooks get redirected by your ward. More threads worked into your trap. Insurance.

You leave to find your friends before he can get it in his head to ask about the tethers.

You're talking to a guy at the bar, half interested too, when someone catches your arm and drags you away. You yank your arm away in protest and round on the guy only to realize you recognize him. Fuck what was his name, you've hooked up a couple times before.

"Oh hey, Mr. Clean, welcome back." You absolutely fumble whatever he's actually called. He barely seems to hear you, already dragging you towards the bathroom. The broken mirror and sticker covers stalls barely register over the way Soap kicks a stall open and pushes you into it. He locks the stall door behind you, and turns the both of you so you're pressed against it, dropping to his knees.

"Why is it every time I see you, you're with someone?" He asks, hardly waiting for the go ahead before he's dragging your shorts down.

"Bad timing?" You joke, he doesn't laugh frustrated with something. Not you, you think, otherwise he wouldn't press his mouth to your cunt with such an eager groan. You thread your fingers through your hair and exhale as you feel one of your hooks grab him. His tongue rolls over your clit, stoking the rapidly igniting heat between your legs, you wonder what’s got him all worked up. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’s an easy meal.

You let out a shuddering breath, his tongue following the movement of your hips as you try to keep quiet in the empty bathroom. His mouth is hot, a furnace befitting a summer fae, just at the edge of too warm for you. His lips close around your clit, fingers digging into your thighs to leave bruises for the rest of the bar to see. The suction makes your hole clench, and you can feel the way slick smears with each drag of his hungry tongue. Eating you like a last meal, fast and aggressive. Like he can’t think of anything but your cunt.

He might not be able to. You’re never sure about your dosage for repeat customers. Coaxing his energy just a little heavier, feeling the rush of it when he palms himself through his pants.

“Good boy,” You purr, enjoying the shiver that sends down his spine. The renewed need that has him pressing his tongue into you, tasting you from the source. You press your fingers a little more insistently against the back of his head, hips bucking to follow the stroke of his tongue. He needs this, you think, needs the easy rush as badly as you do. An addict chasing their high.

His tongue twists and you whine, pressing your hand against your mouth. He does it again and you know he wants to hear you. But that won’t happen here, and he sure as shit isn’t coming back to your place. Still, it’s good, electric and wet. The attention to your clit sends sparks up your spine, paying you back for leaving him last time.

His hand leaves your thigh to push his fingers into your cunt as his tongue flickers against you. His fingers crook, twisting and stroking until the added stimulation makes you push down hard against his mouth, whining loud into your hand as you cum.

You feel his tethers hit your trap hard as your legs shake. His groans against you, fingers and tongue still working your clenching cunt into overstimulation. You grab a fistful of the tethers leading off of him and yank him back. He stares up at you with glassy eyes as you pull your shorts back up and tumble out of the stall to get the fuck out of dodge.

Soap stares daggers across the bar table, his fist tightly pressed against his mouth as his scotch sweats in front of him.

"What's bit your ass?" Gaz asks, barely drawing Soap's attention away from the space over Price's shoulder.

"Ah'm bloody starvin'." Soap snaps, the other three men at the table exchange a look. He's been through more artists in the last three months than ever before.

"What happened to the bird with the violin?" Gaz tries, voice measured and slow to keep the concern at the edges. Ghost's brows twitch together watching Soap drag a hand down his face.

"Only gave me one piece."

"Any good?" Price chimes in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Soap frowns.

"Really good."

"Then what's the problem?" Price presses. Soap doesn't know. It used to be enough. Ages ago one haunting piece could keep him for months, years if it was good enough. He was patient, he wasn't as jaded. What happened?

"Johnny," Ghost starts, Soap turns his glare on him, Ghost glares back switching tactics as the concern leaves his voice, "Find a new meal. There's a reason leanan don't live long." Soap scowls.

"Ah found one, and they don' give two shits about me."

"Sounds like a nice change of pace." Ghost says dryly. Price nudges him.

“You got any tethers in ‘em?” Price asks, trying to ease the Scot’s tension. Soap stops, thinking. He’s met you three times, he should have something, but as far as he can feel they’ve been empty interactions. So why do you fill his head at every spare moment? Why does he want to see you so badly?

“Not one,” Soap says finally.

“Christ you’re as bad as Ghost,” Gaz groans. Price stays silent, gaze heavy, inspecting. He snuffs his cigar after a moment, and pulls a new one from his pocket.

“I’m only gonna ask this once, so I’d think real hard on it,” Price strike a match to life with his fingernail, lighting his cigar with narrowed eyes like he’s worried Soap might lie, or might not know, “How many hooks they got in you?”

Soap counts zero, nothing, tries to feel for anything new that might have latched onto him. He’d know if a human got a few hooks in him, especially if he hadn’t gotten any in them. But the longer he thinks, the more he feels them.

Intricately latticed gossamer threads dig haphazardly into him, squeezing the other tethers and wrapping around old hooks. They constrict and expand just shy of tight. Just shy of noticeable. Now that they have been noticed, the feeling makes him shudder, it’s unmistakable. Soap drags a finger along one, hissing at the blood it draws, the way the line lights up red before falling away. Gaz leans back away from him, pressing against Ghost’s stiff form. Price exhales smoke across the table, the tendrils latching onto the spider silk threads and snapping them.

#Did no one consider that Soap's darling might not be an artist?#or at least not one in anything but body language #What do you give the man that's never had to work for his darlings affection?#a chase #wow ghoul this seems like another case of two unhealthy people finding love with each other #and what about it?#I have a lot of apprehension around this darling and Soap #my worry is I've gone too ooc for Soap #but I think seeing his own destructive habits mirrored will snap him back to sweet soap #need someone to be genuine for this man #I've been thinking too many sad thoughts about Fae!Soap #Imagine a life knowing no one actually loves you they only love what you give them #afab reader #x reader #fae!Soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x oc #hard darling

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changbunnies · 3 months

Text

Crave, Final (18+)

♡ Pairing: Romantic Demon!Hyunjin x Plus Size Human Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: supernatural au, demon au, age gap relationship typical in monster fucker fics, some slight angst, more porn with plot <3

♡ Word Count: 5.1k

♡ Summary: "The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain." - Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy. In which Hyunjin, a demon from the nine circles of hell, finds himself impossibly infatuated with the very human he once set upon himself to destroy.

♡ Warnings: this is the final part! please read the previous parts before this one <3 part 1, part 2, part 3, supernatural abilities, mentions of dying and going to hell (nothing bad happens to reader i promise), hyunjin feels a lot of guilt over being a liar and loving reader, hyun's demon side makes its full appearance!, brief mention of blood.

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): we are going full on demon / monster fucker in this part babyyy, pet names (my love, lovely, baby, gendered language such as "good girl"), dom/sub dynamics with switch vibes, some more biting and marking, improper use of a tail :) take that as you will :), oral (m receiving), size kink, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, creampie.

♡ Notes: i'm gonna be real with ya'll i worked so hard to get this out quickly cause a game i've been waiting for comes out this week and the internet is going to be dead to me while i play it fdfgdfgdf so if i'm a ghost for a while after this upload that's why!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin is first to awake despite having fallen asleep after you. Even without the exhausting pleasure gauntlet he subjected your body to, he would’ve woken first regardless; as a being who doesn’t require sleep, he doesn’t stay in that state for nearly as long as a human does. And even then it’s not a “true” sleep; it’s more like a meditative state, that surely did help give his mind and body rest, but was wholly unnecessary when it came to his ability to function.

Given that he’s already forced the state once tonight, it’d be almost impossible to do so again as it’s simply not in his biology to do so. And despite himself, he still wants to linger; so he closes his eyes again, and though sleep does not return to him, he stays that way- holding you close, listening to your deep, slow breaths, his fingers lazily and softly tracing over your skin.

The meditative state he’d been in for the last few, entirely too short hours did thankfully offer some much needed clarity to his racing mind. Hyunjin, grappling with the fact that he lost control of himself, carelessly (or maybe instinctively, unconsciously), bared his fangs to sink into your skin and mark you like a werewolf would his mate left him both ashamed and frightened for what would come next.

It’s far from Hyunjin’s proudest moment, and never before has he had to grapple with the possibility of losing something important to him. There’s part of him that still doesn’t even fully understand why you’re important to him. He’s a demon for fuck’s sake- demons don’t fall in love with humans, they manipulate humans to fall in love with them. They destroy human’s lives for fun, they take and ruin and feed until their prey is left with nothing, and then they move on to the next person.

And Hyunjin knew he was different from a standard demon, not just in physiology and intelligence but also in the way he approached life, but it still baffled him to realize just how different he truly was. He did the exact opposite of what other demons in the same position as him would have done; he could have charmed you for an easy fuck where you think you’re in love though he is a stranger and it would’ve been enough to satiate his need to have you.

He could’ve avoided spendings months getting to know you, he could’ve manipulated you to suit his whims from the moment he formally met you instead of spending all his time to foster a real connection. He could’ve lied through his teeth at every moment, and while he certainly did lie, it was only ever necessary lies; he never, not even once, lied about something he felt or thought. Every glimpse into his personality, ideals, likes and dislikes were all genuine, when instead he could’ve just given you thoughtless answers that he thought you’d want to hear, never injecting his real self into the dynamic.

But for reasons he couldn’t understand, he wanted you to love him- and not for some idealized man he crafted to meet your every need and preference, but to love him for who he actually is as a person. But.. he isn’t really a person, not in the way you are. Still, he followed that notion, and at every moment he was genuine; every look, every touch, every date and every gift- they were sincere admissions of a love he truly felt and wanted you to share, his proverbial heart being worn on his sleeve.

It reached a point where lying to you ate away at him, but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. In what reality did it make sense for him to confess that he’s a demon and for you to be okay with it? And his mistake has forced him to confront that difficult truth much sooner than he had hoped to, has given root to the fear of rejection, loss, and unrequited love- human emotions he never expected to feel, that he thought he was incapable of feeling in the first place.

All he can do is pray that when he tells you the truth about who he is, that you don’t turn away and rebuke him. And how ironic it is for him to pray for something- to want something so badly that all he can do is plead to the higher power he’s supposed to be against to grant him this selfish wish he doesn’t want to let go of. Hyunjin has come to understand in his time with you that the relationship between humans and demons is more complex and codependent on his end than he would’ve initially given credence to, but maybe all it took to spark that epiphany was meeting the right person.

And how foolish he is, to devote so much time and love to a being whose existence will only equate to a mere fraction of his own, who is fragile and weak and without lasting power. Maybe if he’s lucky, when you are met with mortality your soul will find him in his domain in the second circle, where your sins will go unjudged and unpunished for as long as Hyunjin remains at the top, where your eternity of “atonement” can be spent with him, where he’ll regard you as a queen of equal standing.

Dark fades to light with the rising of the sun, and still he keeps his eyes closed, as if preventing them from opening would also prevent the reality that is fast approaching from coming to pass. Eventually, when the sun is high in the sky and brightly illuminating your room through your open blinds, he feels you stir, cautiously opening his eyes to the sight of you trying to blink away the sleepy fatigue that still maintains a grip on your senses.

You offer him a soft, lazy smile as you wake further, clinging closer to him with a tight squeeze of your arms around his torso. How naturally you smile at him and hug him is both a soothing balm and cruel crutch that he knows will break the heart he isn’t even supposed to have when it is gone. Thankfully, in your sleep-addled state, you don’t recognize the looming dread that hangs over him, and he’s able to quickly shove it down to return your smile and plant a soft kiss to your face, reminding himself to enjoy his time with you while he still has it.

Pushing your hair out of your face as you wake up more, Hyunjin catches a glimpse at your neck, the speckled bruises and fading indents of his teeth becoming entirely visible. Well, all marks of his teeth were fading except for one- the two holes left behind from his fangs, the shameful evidence that he lost control of himself in a way he never had before. Broken skin doesn’t mend in just a single night’s sleep, and he knew the moment you touched your neck or looked in the mirror you would know they were there and you would look at the mark, at him, with either fear, confusion, or both as you try to comprehend how his bite would cause such a thing.

“How’d you sleep, lovely?” Hyunjin decides to ask so his mind doesn’t dwell and linger on your neck. “Good,” is all you say with a small, bashful smile, pink crawling over your features as you recall all Hyunjin did to and for you. Honestly, you can’t remember the last time you slept so deeply, and you don’t think you’ll ever forget that feeling of ultimate bliss as your eyes grew heavy and mind drifted off comfortably.

“You make me so happy,” you follow up, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a soft, good morning kiss. “Want to make you happy too,” you whisper against his lips before kissing them again, and his heart squeezes almost painfully in his chest because he feels it- lust, passion, desire, love. What starts as a small prick to his senses builds to an all encompassing tsunami the more you kiss him and entangle your limbs with his, love, love, I love you your soul radiates.

It’s all he’s ever wanted, all this time it’s what he’s been working towards and hoping for, and it shoots almost painful electricity throughout his every nerve ending- overwhelming, consuming, too radiant and bright and pure to belong to a man such as him, who isn’t really a “man” at all but an entity entirely undeserving of your grace. Selfish, desperate, shameful- he holds you as if he is none of those things, as if he doesn’t taint you just by loving you.

You push Hyunjin so he’s flat on his back, rolling yourself on top of him, your hair tickling his skin as it falls over his face when you kiss him. His grip on your hips is tight, almost painfully so, but you welcome it. He’s so fucking hungry for you, he craves you so, so bad, and you meet that hunger enthusiastically, your hands ghosting over his chest and down his stomach, making quick work of the shirt he slept in.

You suppose taking the lead comes naturally to you once shyness and subtle insecurity is dealt with, but you’d easily concede control to Hyunjin again should he have the desire to once again make you pliant beneath him. Your hips roll down onto his hardening cock, and the groan that escapes him makes your stomach flutter with countless butterflies. He nips at your bottom lip with his teeth, sometimes tugging before soothing the bites with soft licks of his tongue.

The rest of your clothes come off in a blur- your nightgown practically ripped off of you by Hyunjin while you fumble with the tied knot of his sweatpants, both of you panting into each other’s mouths, every noise being muffled and swallowed. Wrong, this is wrong, selfish, you’re wicked, deplorable, the back of Hyunjin’s mind screams at him in stark contrast to the way he desperately paws at you, lust and hunger casting a fog over his rationality.

But when he opens his eyes as you pull back for a breath, his eyes instinctively travel back to your neck, the mark he left on your skin expounding upon his building guilt. He has to tell you now- before the guilt eats away at him entirely, before he loses control of himself again, before he does something else he’ll regret. An almost guttural pained noise leaves his throat when you roll your lower body down on him again, fingers digging into the swell of your hips, his now bare cock becoming slick with your essence.

“Shit, fuck- wait, baby wait-” Hyunjin breathes out, the most ragged and strained you’ve ever heard his voice. He can feel your passion and desire become background to concern and doubt, can feel your anxiety spiking as you cease your movements. Fuck, he feels so bad- but you have to know he’s not what you think he is, he won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t tell you now. “Listen, I-” Hyunjin starts, then swallows, and your eyes swim with care as you see him struggle, “I- your neck, its..”

“Hyun, I wanted you to do it, don’t worry about that,” you tell him sweetly and softly, one of your hands grabbing his and rubbing soothing circles on it with your thumb. His heart squeezes once again, and he shakes his head, “That’s not it, I.. just feel it, or look at it, or..” You furrow your brows in confusion but do as he asks of you, trailing your fingers carefully over all the spots you knew he bit and sucked your skin.

You don’t feel much, at first- just a bit tender where you assume bruises have formed, some extremely faint indents of teeth, but as you get closer to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, you feel it and your entire body freezes. What.. is that..? You scramble to grab your phone from the nightstand, turning on the camera and flipping its view to see yourself, blinking as you try to process what you’re seeing reflected in the viewfinder.

What the fuck? Slowly, in disbelief as your mind lags and struggles to compute with the reality of what you’ve seen, you lower your arm and let your phone fall from your hand. Are you dreaming? You feel like you’ve been transported to one of those YA vampire romances you read in college for fun- but that’s impossible, isn’t it? Things like that aren’t real, are they? There’s no way you’ve been dating a supernatural being for months.

Your next thought is that this is an ill-timed prank, though you can rationally tell it isn’t. And Hyunjin’s hand that is still in yours.. You can feel it tremble with uncertainty and apprehension, his eyes relaying a deep seated fear of rejection and.. Guilt? Guilt for what? Do you even want to know the answer to that question? You assume it’s related to whatever this is, whatever he is, but.. what is that, exactly?

Hesitantly, you ask him, wondering if this is really your teen fantasy Twilight moment- stark naked, sitting on the dick of a man who might not actually be “a man” at all. “You may not believe me if I tell you, but I can show you,” he says quietly whilst cautiously squeezing your hand. “O-Okay.. sure,” you breathe out nervously, squeezing his hand back in support. Maybe this is a mistake, but seeing the utter anxiety he’s struggling with, you can’t help but empathize.

If the roles were reversed, and you were an otherworldly being in a relationship with a human, would you be able to tell them? Wouldn’t you be scared of losing them if they knew the truth? And maybe you shouldn’t forgive him easily, regardless of what the truth ends up being, but you think you can understand what would drive him to keep such a deep secret. You’re still fucking scared of whatever it is, if you’re being honest, but you don’t want to believe that the Hyunjin you know is anything but the sweet, perfect, gentle boyfriend you’ve known him as thus far.

All you do is blink and instantly the Hyunjin before you is different, as if a veil that was covering your eyes has been lifted to reveal his truest self. His facial features and hair are the same, recognizably Hyunjin through and through, but his skin has changed from a natural, honeyed tone to a deep, scarlet red hue. His eyes, in turn, are no longer a dark, boba-like brown, but instead an unnatural crimson.

Long, pointed ears like an elf you’d see in a fantasy game or movie, horns the same color as his skin protruding from the top of his head, curving gently until they point straight up. You can just barely see the points of his fangs between his parted lips, can see bat-like wings struggling to fit beneath him on the bed, as well a long, slender tail with an upside down heart as its tip. And his body, which was already warm, now feels almost impossibly hot, as if he has a dangerous fever coursing through him, with his nails now more like claws in their length and pointed edge.

He’s.. still so beautiful..? You weren’t sure what kind of change you were expecting, and you still don’t entirely understand what he is, but he’s undeniably just as gorgeous now as when he was presenting himself as human. His form is reminiscent of the beauty found in the work of Gustave Doré, whose art Hyunjin had once praised and talked at length about; ethereal, otherworldly, mesmerizing-

Wait. Something clicks- the rumors of your apartment being haunted by a demonic entity before you moved in that you disregarded and didn’t believe in. The times you’d wake up from sleep and notice something had been moved, always slightly off from how you’d left it. The presence you’d sometimes feel despite being alone, the sensation of being watched that sometimes lingered, but always seemed to go away when Hyunjin was at your apartment. His extensive knowledge of art and history that feels as if he lived through the era rather than just having read about it, his fluency in latin that goes beyond mere college study..

You’re in love with a demon. And you suspect that he’s known you longer than you’ve known him. “I’m sorry, I never wanted to lie to you,” Hyunjin breathes nervously after he sees understanding flash in your eyes as you put the pieces of his identity together. “I just, I.. became so utterly, impossibly infatuated by you. But I couldn’t just.. show myself, even if I wanted to. And I- I wanted you to know me, because I love you more than I ever thought was possible for someone like me.”

It’s hard to say whether or not you’ve been manipulated and misled to trust him, but you do, even if you shouldn’t. And you’ll have to hope God will forgive you for the sacrilege you’re about to commit. Squeezing his hand in a display of acceptance, leaning down to kiss him once more in a display of love regardless of the truth you’ve been shown, dedication to an act entirely unholy. Though, if Hyunjin is what will be waiting for you in hell, maybe damning your soul there isn’t so bad.

You feel him positively melt with relief, soft apologies from him and acceptances from you rolling off the tongue. “Promise me this is the only lie, promise this is the only secret and I’ll forgive you,” you breathe and he affirms without hesitation, enduring promises of true love and honesty pouring from his lips. “We can even make it a pact if you want,” he says after a string of promises and you shake your head with a slight smile.

If what you’re led to believe from media is true, if Hyunjin made a pact with you in which his end of the deal is to never lie to you, he’d suffer grave consequences for breaking it. “I’m choosing to trust you without that, so don’t break it, okay?” Hyunjin nods with a smile before you’re kissing once more, his arms wrapping around you and hugging you tight to his impossibly hot skin.

When your tongue enters his mouth, you curiously explore the point and feel of his fangs, and when he nips at your lips, the sharp point very nearly draws blood with each bite, the subtle pain utterly intoxicating. It’s not long before your lips end up swollen and bitten red, your tongues continuing to swirl and move together, your hands fervent in their exploration and demand to feel.

Soon enough, he’s flipping your positions, your back now against the mattress with Hyunjin pushing himself between your legs, his mouth trailing gently over the marks he left the previous night. He sucks over the skin once more, deepening the bruises he’s already left behind, brightening them in color. It aches, and yet you tilt your head to the side to make his task easier, feeling him smile against your skin as his fangs poke at your sensitive skin.

He doesn’t bite down, not like he did last night- he doesn’t want to hurt you too much. Instead, his teeth scrape and taunt, the feeling of them enough to have you whining even without the bite. When he pulls away to look at you, your eyes are already pleasantly glazing over in a lustful haze, and seeing his fangs when he smiles confidently down at you makes you dizzy. He’s so fucking beautiful, sexy- it’s going to drive you crazy one of these days.

You jump slightly in surprise when you feel his tail slinking up your leg, wrapping around and hugging your thigh. And it’s when you look down to see how his tail looks wrapped around you that you finally catch a glimpse of his impossibly hard and leaking cock, so unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It’s big- much bigger than you imagine a human could ever compare, and just as deep and supernaturally red as the rest of him.

You’re practically drooling at the sight, at the thought of having it in your mouth- would he taste the same as a human, or would his essence be entirely unique? Hyunjin has to hesitate from smirking when he sees you blatantly staring and curiously, hungrily licking your lips, the increased lust from seeing his cock spilling from you in droves. “You want a taste, lovely?” he asks with a charismatic, almost mischievous tilt of the head, his grin growing when you nod eagerly.

“C’mon then, love, ‘s all yours,” he says while uncurling his tail from around your thigh, standing up and letting you come meet him at the edge of the bed. You tentatively reach out to touch his cock, and fuck, it’s so heavy in your hands. Your hands look so small wrapped around him, your fingers unable to wrap entirely around his girth, and while usually both your hands are enough to cover the entire length of a cock up to its tip, Hyunjin still has much more than just the tip poking through.

Long, thick, big, you’re not sure how it’ll fit in your mouth, much less your pussy- but you’re not a quitter. You start with kisses that turn into kitten licks as you rub up and down his length with both hands, looking up at Hyunjin through your lashes, eager for a reaction, for praise. He brings a hand to the back of your head, waiting for you to open your mouth for him. He carefully guides and urges you to take more and more of him in, until the tip is touching the back of your throat.

It takes everything in you not to gag and choke, your eyes brimming with tears as you breathe through your nose. “That’s it, what a good girl, taking so much of me,” Hyunjin pets your head as he praises you, and he can see you pressing your thighs together, squirming and desperate to hear more. You want to take all of him in your mouth, but you recognize that’s an impossibility- so you settle for pumping what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hands, doing your best to match the pace of your hands with the bobbing of your head.

Hyunjin’s soft, breathy moans fuel you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he begins to take control of the rhythm. You let out a squeak of surprise when you feel his tail snake between your legs, gasping when you feel the tip of his tail teasing your clit. “‘S good? You like that?” Hyunjin asks when you moan around his cock, another smirk gracing his beautiful, perfect face when you quickly nod.

The combination of his cock down your throat and his tail rubbing your clit makes you dizzy, the pace of your hands faltering as your thighs twitch and tremble. Eventually, your hands drop to your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you let him play with your clit and use your mouth, tears falling as he holds your head while rolling his hips and making you take as much as you can handle.

Determined now to make you cum while his cock is deep in your throat, he moves one of his hands to your chest, tweaking and pulling at one of your nipples, earning a muffled whine as your eyes squeeze shut. Your hands, no longer curled into desperate fists, now cling to his thighs, your nails digging into his skin as you cry and whimper. Hyunjin is relentless on all fronts- from the pace he fucks your mouth, to the flicking of his tail against your clit, to the way he pinches and tugs on your nipples.

“Gonna cum just like this, aren’t you, lovely? Go ahead baby, let go and show me how good you feel.” With Hyunjin’s permission, and a few more quick flicks of his tail against your clit, you’re cumming with a loud, but muffled cry, your nails failing to break the skin of his thighs despite how harsh you claw at him. You suck in a deep breath when he pulls out of your mouth, your chest heaving as you come down from your high and air returns to your lungs. Hyunjin showers you in more praise as he wipes the tears away from your eyes with his thumbs, subsequently leaving a lingering trail of kisses to your cheeks where they streaked your skin.

He guides you to lay back down on the bed, planting sweet kisses to your lips once you’ve finished catching your breath. You can feel his cock, wet and still impossibly heavy, between your legs, and you want it in you now. “Hyun,” you start, a pout gracing your lips as you prepare yourself to shamelessly beg, “want you so bad, please, please, fuck me, I need it.”

You can feel his cock unceremoniously twitch at your pleas, a groan leaving his throat at your desperate tone. “You don’t have to beg, my love, I’ll give you anything you want,” Hyunjin says as he rubs his fingers between your folds, feeling how slick you’ve gotten for him. Truthfully, he should prep you more first, but you’re both so fucking needy for each other, and he’ll just have to hope that fingering you last night and making you cum again since then will be good enough.

He kisses you and lets you squeeze his hand as he pushes inside, the stretch so much more intense than anything you’ve ever felt, so full that your eyes are rolling back before he’s even thrusting his hips. It aches, it stings, but it’s also the most addictive pleasure you’ve ever experienced, and you want all he has to give you, more and more, until you can feel and think of nothing but him.

Hyunjin holds one of your legs, his tail once again wrapping around the thigh of the other, this time using it to keep you spread and open for him, allowing him to sink as deep as he possibly can. “Fuck, baby-” Hyunjin groans once he’s sheathed fully inside, your walls so wet and hot and squeezing him impossibly tight, “needed this, needed you so fucking bad, you have no idea.”

“You too, needed you too Hyun, so bad,” you mirror his sentiment between gaspy moans and shaky whines when he finally starts pulling out, pushing back in one swift and fluid motion, building a quick, desperate pace. Despite the desperation however, his pace is far from sloppy- every thrust is precise, leaving you arching your back as your cries grow in volume, your nails digging harshly into his forearms.

When he knows you can handle it, he fucks into your faster, capturing your mouth in messy, open kisses, your saliva mixing and pooling until it drips from the corners of your mouth. His grip on your thigh tightens, his fingers sure to leave bruises behind in their wake. Sweat drips from his brow, sometimes falling to your cheeks, and God, the sight is utterly mesmerizing- even as sweat drips down his face and sticks his hair to his forehead, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

And again he feels it, the utter love and trust pouring forth from your soul, radiant and perhaps undeserving to be felt by him, but it exists all for him nonetheless. His head drops to your shoulder, every emotion that he feels spilling from you driving him further and further into bliss, his pleasured moans dancing in your ears. “Tell me, please, fuck, please tell me-” Hyunjin practically whines, his nails now digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucks you harder.

Tell him? Tell him what? Somehow, you think you know what he wants to hear, because it’s the very same thing that you want to hear too. “Love you, I love you, lov- fuck, love you so much,” you breathlessly spill the words between moans, and you hear Hyunjin keen, pleasure erupting from every nerve ending, the wave of love that you exude enough to drown him completely. “Lovely, my love, I love you, I’m gonna- fuck, ‘m gonna cum, tell me again,” Hyunjin pleads, desperate and urgent, his cock throbbing and twitching as he approaches his own high.

You do just as he asks, stuttering out endless “I love you”s until you’re both cumming hard, a blissful intensity that steals your breaths away and leaves your bodies shaking. His cum shoots inside you in long spurts, filling you to the brim, so much so that it spills out of you even with his cock still firmly pressed inside you. “Mine,” Hyunjin mutters as he kisses you, passionate and deep, no longer sloppy and desperate as it was in the throes of his orgasm, “my baby, just mine, aren’t you?”

“Just yours, all yours,” you say, and he knows you’re telling the truth, can feel it with every fiber of his being that you mean it sincerely. It was surreal, realizing the truth about your boyfriend and loving him regardless of who he is and how he truly appears, but you don’t think you regret it. He cleans you up diligently, he helps you get dressed and makes you breakfast, he showers you in kisses and endless praise just as he always does throughout the rest of your day.

Because even though he may appear different to you now, he’s still the same Hyunjin you met; the one who dotes on you endlessly, who takes care of you sweetly, who spends hours talking and cuddling and listening to every thought you have. Though you can’t explicitly read emotion the way he can, you always know what he’s thinking and feeling- because with you he’s transparent, with nothing to hide and only love and tenderness to give.

Maybe it’s wrong for a human and demon to be in love, but you like to think this is the happiness you were meant to have, that this is where you’re supposed to be- right by Hyunjin’s side, until your final breath and then in eternity, a love that transcends your human mortality. If there is one thing you are certain of, it is that spending forever with Hyunjin will bring you a love you’ll feel eternally- warm, gentle, and true.

hello, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed <3 i just want to clarify here at the end in case you felt any confusion or questions about demon anatomy while reading: hyunjin does have like, a physical heart that beats (he has to get his demon blood pumping through his body somehow!) but i imagine that demons don't have an "emotional" heart, because their heart doesn't react to thoughts, feelings, and emotions the ways ours does.

to help get this point across, in japanese they use 2 different words for "heart"- shinzou for the literal, physical, medical side of the heart: it's the word you'd use for saying things like "they had a heart attack", "i have heart disease", etc, while kokoro is for the emotional, feeling side: used in sentences like "my heart beats so fast when i look at him" or "wow that story really moved my heart"

so like. when hyunjin is saying things like "proverbial heart", that is what he's referring to- having an emotional reaction that he's under the impression he shouldn't be having. he is only just now realizing he has an emotional heart, and not just a physical one :') i hope that makes sense to you and i hope it wasn't confusing whilst reading gsdfgfd thanks again for reading <3

#skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #hyunjin smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #despite scolding myself last time i once again stayed up all night to finish this #its 7am.... bad habits die hard... good night...

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jhoneybees · 4 months

Text

Stutter

Lordy lord☝️

Hehehe another fic! This one is a John Carpenter fic and I hope you enjoy it!! I was watching the 'Change of Habit', movie yesterday and thought he's such a nice man😮‍💨 and here's a fun fact about me if anyone is interested is that I have a stutter! The reader in this fic has one as well! It's a pain in the a- @hooked-on-elvis for the tags !!

My brain is finally cooperating with me again but I don't wanna jinx it 🫣 And I'm sorry that a lot of my fics include crying, I just can't get enough of crying comfort fics😭

Characters: John Carpenter X stuttering!reader

Warnings/triggers: Doctor clinics, stuttering, crying

_____________________________________________

This week hasn't been going smoothly for you, and it’s all your stutter’s fault. One thing you couldn’t spit words out when a couple of ladies were asking you for directions to the nearest post office and then when you had to call the dentist to make an appointment, it tied your damn words down. It’s absolute torture and you were so fed up with it. You've had this speech impediment for as long as you can remember and everyday you wish it would just disappear, out of your life, away from your worries but you had to learn that it's only fair for each individual to have their own problems in their lives but you still thought about that wish of yours. Sometimes…Well daily it makes you cry thinking about how hard it is to deal with.

Something that helps your stutter though is John, John Carpenter, your beloved boyfriend. He's always been there for you whenever you want to pour all your concerns out, about anything your brain can think of. He’d always listen and you couldn't ask for any other guy than him, he's all you need. Just someone who would look past your evidently painful stutter and just patiently waits for your next words. He knows about your stutter and understands how hard it can be because he often works with people with problems like this and he has told you several times if you want help, he is always there but you just think John has enough on his plate of taking care of himself and his patients so having his girlfriend to take care of as well? In your brain it seems like it's too much for him. Yes John is a doctor and that’s his job to take care of others but oh you couldn't possibly burn your wonderful hard-working boyfriend out, you really couldn't bother him with your problems even though he wouldn’t mind at all and would be happy to help.

One afternoon, as you were sitting on the couch those worrying thoughts were constantly circling your mind and you just wanted them to go away so you decided to go to John's clinic for a visit, to get your mind off things.

As you arrive and open the door into the foyer, you peer through the window of the clinic door to see John talking to a patient, who you think is the last one for the day. Quietly you turn the door knob and make your way inside. John notices you walk in so he says goodbye to the patient and waves a hand to gesture for you to follow him. Taking you to his office for some privacy. “How's my girl doing hm?” he asks as he watches you close the door and hang your purse up on the cloak stand. You hum softly “Good, b-been good” silently sitting down on a chair opposite from his, brushing a strand behind your ear. John smiles, “Busy week?” You shake your head and lift your eyes up to look at his “N-no, p-pretty quiet this week…I-I- I didn't have a lot on my sched-..schedule” nodding his head he hums in response. “Aren't ya lucky… been crazy busy in the clinic this week” he sighs and snickers to himself.

You smile small and giggle slightly “Mhm, a-alot of..of- of sick people?” asking in a quiet tone. John chuckles “injured, mostly injured” nodding as your eyes trail down to the papers on his desk, the troubling thoughts crawling back into your head. “Mhm…” John's smile returns and his eyebrows furrow a little. “Something on your mind honey?” your eyes dart back up into his and you laugh nervously and brush it off “Oh no..N-no just- just tired ‘s all” giving him a small smile before you go back to your zoned out state. With his ankle resting on his knee and leaning back in his chair and his hand wiping under his nose, he watches you quietly. Seeing your eyes sadden and your arms resting at your sides, presuming you were twiddling with your thumbs under the table. “Ya sure you're tired?” Earning a silent nod. He stays silent for a few moments, continuing to watch as you sulk. “You don't look tired..” he states, you breathe in briefly and look at him “John, I am just tir-...” he raises an eyebrow making you sigh. “Fine I'm not tired” your posture slouches. John breathes out “What's ya thinking about baby?” tilting his head to the side, his eyes staying glued to your face. Looking down at your lap, you bite your lip gently “M-my…my s-s-stut-” you huff out being so sick of it, John nodding slowly “Take your time honey” you take in a deep breath and slowly break down the word “stut..ter, stutter”

It’s embarrassing, making tears well up in your eyes and you shyly wipe your nose. your breath trembling, “I-its annoying…it- it really is'' John's face softens and he leans his body closer, resting his arms on the desk. Humming softly, he listens as you tell him your woes. “I'm sick of it…s-so sick of it” your breath hitching quietly before an unexpected sob escapes your mouth.

“Aw honey…” you bury your face into your hands. John gets up from his chair and walks around his desk, shifting your chair to face him as he kneels on one knee. Clicking his tongue and prying your hands away to cup your cheeks. His eyes move from one eye to your other as you pitifully cry.

“I-it’s so annoying! E-every t-time I try to speak..i-it won’t let me!” you sniffle, John nods and hums then a small grin grows on his face “You’re speaking right now” he raises an eyebrow and snickers softly, you gently swat his shoulder “I meant speaking clearly!” you exclaim making John laugh louder “M’sorry I know what you mean darling, I know” his hands rest on your knees, caressing with his thumbs. You wipe your tears away with the back of your hands, sniffling one last time. John smiles “Want a hug?” he asks as he holds his arms out, you accept. Both standing up “ It really is a pain isn’t it?” he sighs, you nod quietly as you rest your head on his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.

John sighs again and kisses the top of your head, rubbing your back soothingly. Staying quiet for a while before John speaks up “Would a lollipop make you feel better?” to which you agree “mhm…” Pulling away, John walks back around to open a drawer to pick out a lollipop for him to walk back, holding it in front of you “Here..” you shyly take the sweet and attempt to open the wrapper, frowning in frustration. John shakes his head and chuckles again “I’ll get it” taking the lollipop out of your hand and with ease, he unwraps it. “Thank you” you say quietly. Pecking your forehead lightly, John admires you with love in his eyes.

“it’ll get better through time”

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #70s elvis #60s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #i love him #change of habit #elvis fanfiction #elvis fandom

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ifancyharry · 1 year

Text

Bad habit (1)

In which YN is Harry’s daughter’s teacher, and she and Harry used to be friends in college; fluff; angst; dad!harry

Word count: 4.5k

First days of school were always chaotic, and YN, despite having been a teacher for two years of her life now, never got quite used to the tantrums little kids would throw on first days — and maybe the following week, or until they felt confident enough in the school environment that they didn’t miss their parents to the point of crying at the mere thought of them.

September always carried with it a nostalgic feeling that YN loved, and she usually found herself thinking about warm sunny August days spent sunbathing and eating pasta salads. Her teacher salary didn’t allow much room for vacations, but YN managed to always find contentment in the premises of her hometown.

That’s what she’s thinking about when she walks through the school’s doors that Monday morning, waving at a couple of her coworkers to greet them. She usually was far more chatty, but she was feeling fidgety at the thought of meeting her new baby students, and she didn’t trust herself enough to chat with someone; who knows what she could say!

No one truly understands YN, she’s younger than her coworkers and sometimes she feels like no one really cares about what she has to say. It’s been that way since she was a little baby, really, so she’s gotten quite used to it, and she doesn’t feel bad about it.

She often wonders if maybe there’s something wrong with the way she communicates, but her students seem to understand her rather well — as much as little kiddies can understand —, so she always crosses that thought off the list. It doesn’t necessarily have to mean there’s something wrong with her, so she doesn’t know why sometimes she wonders if things would be a little different if she was different in the first place.

She wishes it came a little easier, people never really seem to understand how hard it is to talk. It’s why she loves her job so much. Kids are easy to talk to, because most of the time they don’t remember conversations and they never question her on why she’s being quiet or in her mind, like most of her coworkers do.

The bell rings at 8.30 sharp, and YN tries to put on the most heartwarming smile she knows, because she understands sometimes first days can be though. And not just for kids.

“Hi!” She coos when she sees a little girl walking in her classroom holding her mum’s hand.

“I’m Miss YN, it’s a pleasure to meet you! What’s your name!”

The little girl hides behind her mum’s leg and YN frowns jokingly at her.

“She’s shy… her name’s Amy” the mum says, throwing YN an apologetic look.

“Hi, Amy! It’s okay. I understand shy.” She nods, crouching down on her legs to be at eye level with the small kid, “since you’re the first one, why don’t you choose your desk? Your mummy can help you pick it out?”

The little girl nods her head against her mother’s jeans and YN smiles brightly at her.

With time, more kids start to come in, and YN greets all of them, trying to be as warm as possible. She talks to their parents and lets them stay with their children until they get accustomed to the classroom. Some of them already have friends, and it’s always easier for them to let go of their parents’ hands; for others, it takes a while, and YN tries to be as understanding as possible, especially with them.

When the clock strikes 9 am, only one chair is empty, and she wonders if maybe the school had mistaken the number of students who’d come in. She’s about to introduce herself to the class of small kids that are looking at her with bright eyes and shy smiles, when she hears a knock on the opened door, her body turning quickly at the sound.

She feels lightheaded as she takes in the image in front of her, and she grimaces in surprise. It’s Harry. The Harry.

Many years have passed since the last time she saw him, but she knows she’d recognize him everywhere and in anytime.

He was three years older than her and used to hang out with her group. They attended the same creative writing class and she remembers how his knee used to brush against her thigh when he would fidget in his chair, readjusting his body as he cussed at the uncomfortableness of the wooden chairs.

She remembers how he always used to ask her for pens, sometimes for a spare sheet of paper or if he could borrow her laptop’s charger because “fuckin’ hell, — he would say, and YN would blush a little at the way he would close the space between them, reaching a hand to grab for the charger — mine's completely gone ’n all m’work’s in there! Days worth o’work!”

He’s standing against the doorway, his body leaning against it, holding a pouty little kid on his opposite hip.

He looks the same, a bit older, maybe, his hair less disheveled and his clothes more serious — he’s wearing grey tailored pants and a sweater vest with cherry blossom flowers on it, he lost the skinny jeans and his adored Chelsea boots, but it’s definitely still that guy she used to have a crush on all those years ago.

“YN?” Harry questions, tilting his head to the side in surprise. YN notices as the little girl in his hold buries her face in his neck, trying to hide from the attention.

“’s me, Harry! Y’remember, right? From college!” YN blushes a little at his words and tries to regain control of her body as she seems stuck to the linoleum floor.

She’s a little taken a back at his remark; he thought she wouldn’t remember him! How would that even be possible, YN doesn’t know.

His voice hasn’t changed, it’s still the same scruffy and deep voice she used to blush upon hearing, and she remembers vaguely that one time on one of their usual hang outs, when he picked up a guitar and started singing, a little drunk on cheap beer, and she remembers wondering how his voice would sound whispering tender words in her ear…

“Of course I remember!” She smiles, trying to hide her nervousness, “of course!” She repeats, and, deep within her, she really hopes she’s coming across as cool and not as that completely shy and weird girl who used to have tons of pens and a crush on her older classmate who seemed to always steal them.

“The world really is small, huh?” He remarks, a cheeky grin spreading across his mouth.

“Yeah” she breaths out, smiling shyly at him, “it is.”

“Teaching, huh? I can see it” he says, nodding his head as he looks her up and down jokingly, and YN feels herself fluster under his gaze. She doesn’t understand why she still longs for his approval, but there’s something really tantalizing in the way he said ‘i can see it’, as if he was telling her a secret about herself she couldn’t wait to hear.

“And who is this?” She replies quickly, tilting her head to take a closer look at the baby on his hip, hoping to shift the conversation from her to him. If he’s bothered by the sudden change, he doesn’t show it, instead, he brings a hand to cup the little girl’s head and pats at it gently, “This is Aidi” he smiles proudly, “m’daughter”.

Oh… Oh!. YN doesn’t know why she’s so surprised by his remark. If she remembers correctly — and she does, because YN isn’t one to forget details easily — he should be around 29 now, a perfectly appropriate age to have a three, four (YN can’t be sure, she looks small but she hasn’t seen her face still) child, as much as there really could be an appropriate age to be a parent.

Maybe, but she doesn’t like this thought and she doesn’t want to linger in it more than she needs, it’s what — or, should she say, who — comes with a child, that startles her: a partner; and at the idea of Harry being married, she feels lightheaded. It feels weird, thinking about the Harry she used to know, being married. Not that he wasn’t marriage material, he often used to say how he wanted to have a family pretty young, it’s just weird to her how his life could have gone on and there’s parts of it she wasn’t around to participate in.

She tries to scramble her brain and see if she remembers Instagram posts of her friends at his wedding, or at least an engagement dinner, but she can’t find any, but she isn’t sure if that’s because she isn’t in contact with her old friend group anymore.

“Hi, Aidi” she coos, raising her hand in a wave when the little girl raises her head from her father’s neck. “I’m YN, it’s very nice to meet you”

Aidi has light brown hair wrapped in a beautiful braid, and YN wonders if Harry was the one that did her hair or his partner did, her eyes are unmistakably her father’s, a deep shade of green, with a little twinkle to them that makes them so unique.

YN remembers many times where she had found herself thinking of the correct term to name the color of his eyes, if ever it existed, and she always came back empty handed. When she thought they were a deep forest green, he would look at her and they’d be a mix of green water, like the color the lake behind her grandparent’s house would turn out in the spring. Other times — YN noticed mostly at night —, they would be a dark shade of green, like the way a forest would look in the rain if she lived in a dark academia movie.

Aidi opens her pouty lips to let out a shy ‘hi’, but when YN takes a step closer to them, she snuggles closer to Harry, clutching his sweater in her small hands.

“’s the reason we’re late…” he sighs, “she’s nervous” he explains, and he lowers his head to look at his daughter’s face, the arm that’s holding her against him flexes a little and Aidi squirms in his hold, holding tighter — if possible — on his shoulders.

“It’s okay” YN smiles softly, but she isn’t talking to him, “first days can be a little though, huh?”

Aidi nods her head against her father’s neck and YN raises her eyes to meet Harry’s, and she flusters when she realizes he was already looking at her, an amused twinkle shading his gaze.

He tries to lower her down on the ground, but the little girl just squeezes his sweater tighter and kicks her legs out in protest, so Harry raises again with a sigh and Aidi resumes happily her previous position on his hip.

“Y’re bein’ irrational about this” he stresses, but YN looks at him amused, because it’s not like a little kid understands what ‘being irrational’ means.

“I’m s’sorry” he smiles nervously, shaking his head, “she’s not usually like this.”

“’s okay, you could… you could stay, for today… let her get comfortable?” YN suggests in a low voice, hoping Aidi isn’t listening to her. She doesn’t know if Harry needs to go to work, despite how much the school advises the parents to take the first day off, because children never really go willingly and always need a little push, she doesn’t know if he received the email, perhaps his wife did and didn’t let him know? YN feels silly for thinking like this. She’s usually rational about these kinds of things, and she never lets herself linger in inappropriate thoughts about her students’ parents, but he isn’t just a parent, and despite him being someone else’s Harry, there was a time where she fantasized he could be her’s.

Fantasized is the correct term, because as I said YN is pretty rational in her daily life and even in her daily daydreaming, and she knows rather well how Harry never even spared her a thought, in college. She was just the girl that lent him pens.

“Figure I could stay” he nods, more to himself really, and YN wonders if maybe he has to inform someone that he’s not coming home right after dropping Aidi off, “really just needed to go grocery shopping, but I guess we’ll go after, huh?”

Aidi seems to light up at the suggestion and she raises her head to look around the classroom.

“Daddy is stayin’?” She asks hopefully to YN, and when she nods her head, Aidi squirms in her dad’s hold and demands to be let down.

Harry chuckles at his daughter and throws a quick amused glance at YN when Aidi begins to tug him towards a small, baby blue, round table, where a couple of kids are coloring a drawing YN had printed out and left on the table before their arrival that morning.

Harry isn’t the only parent that stayed, and despite some of her coworkers disapproving of her method of teaching, she knows the kids had to warm up to her slowly, and if she demanded the parents off, it would be extremely difficult to get in their good graces.

She understood first days could be though, and she remembers how hard it was for her every time she started something new, a feeling that never really leaves you (not even many years later, when she no longer has first days), so she would let the parents stay as long as they could.

Of course, when she suggested Harry to stay, she only had Aidi’s best interest at heart, it wasn’t like she wanted him to stay, and perhaps talk to him, or maybe catch him looking at her with the corner of her eye when she was busy playing blocks with a baby student. It wasn’t like that at all. So why was her skin burning under his gaze for all the two hours he colored with his daughter?

…

Harry and Aidi leave around noon that day, and when Harry complains that it’s too early and he needs a couple of hours in the afternoon to work, YN reassures him quietly while Aidi is putting her little coat on, that she’ll get used to school hours and she’ll slowly but eventually want to stay longer; it’s always like that, and kids are simple beings, and pretty similar in their behaviors.

So he leaves with a resigned sigh and a chatty baby on his hip, and YN follows them with her gaze before going back to give her attention to the little kid fussing in her lap and chatting her ear off about his holidays in the countryside during the summer.

She smiles and nods her head every once in a while, to assure him she’s listening and is interested in his story, but she can’t help but let her mind wander to the thought of seeing Harry for the first time since college. He looked so mature and put together, she feels small and silly in her choice of outfit (simple jeans and a sweater with a bunny printed on it — that the kids loved!), and she wonders wether Harry was making fun of her when he told her he saw her as a teacher. What did that mean? She doesn’t remember talking about a teaching career with him, and she certainly doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with being a teacher, at all. So, was he making fun of her? He must have been joking and she, as always, didn’t get the joke. But why did it matter?

She doesn’t know, and she tries to think about what he possibly could’ve meant that didn’t involve making fun of her, but came up empty handed, and once again, she finds herself thinking about him the same way she did in college, with a tang bitter taste of ‘what if’s.

…

“Sorry we’re late… Someone was a little grumpy this mornin’, huh?”

The rest of the month had gone by quickly; YN isn’t required to come in every morning — she alternates mornings with the other teacher, Miss Enya, so she doesn’t get to see Harry as often as she’d like, and when he comes to pick up Aidi in the late afternoon (he had started to pick her up a little bit later with every day that passed, claiming he could really use the extra hours to work, and he had told YN to call him if Aidi started asking about him), he greets YN with a brief wave of the hand, which is kind of awkward, both to him and to YN, but she goes with it and waves back.

Sometimes, when Aidi takes a while to get her little coat on, and she takes her time saying bye to her classmates (because she’s very much a loving kid and she can’t just leave without saying goodbye, her daddy always tells her it’s impolite!), Harry chats a bit with YN, mostly about the weather (“’s crazy, this weather! ’s so hot I think I’ll melt”) or about Aidi, asking her if she’s been good and whether she’s getting along with the other kids, and YN is polite, always polite, she answers his questions and laughs a little at his jokes, and in a way, it feels to her like time hasn’t passed, and she’s still that girl that used to have a crush on her older friend in college.

It’s Wednesday now, September is almost over and with it the warm days, leaving place to the chilly weather sneaking on you when you’re least expecting it.

The week had been calmer than usual, kind of uneventful, really, a couple of kids got sick with the flu at the beginning of the week, and by mid week the class was almost halved, whether they really got sick or their parents were just preventing that from happening, YN didn’t know, but it was fine either way and she understood the precautions taken.

That’s why when Harry comes in that morning, a little after 9 am, YN waves his tardiness off nonchalantly, “it’s okay!” She smiles at him kindly, “most of the kids are at home with the flu, though” she pouts, looking around the room at the small group of students playing with legos on the floor.

“Oh! Sorry to hear that” He reciprocates her pout, letting his daughter on the ground and holding out her small backpack for her to take.

They watch as Aidi walks slowly to the coat hangers, hanging her backpack on the hook and then her little coat.

When she takes a seat on the table to color a cute bunny YN had printed that morning, Harry shifts his eyes to glance at YN beside him, that is still looking at his daughter lovingly.

“Tha’s a nice shirt ye’re wearin’!” He chuckles, rising his brows and pinching the fabric of her shirt between his thumb and index finger.

YN tries to control the redness that creeps up on her cheeks when she turns her head to face him, looking down at her shirt with a printed bunny dressed up in a ghost costume, where his hand is still holding the pale yellow fabric of her shirt between his fingers.

“This is a very fancy shirt, Harry. I take bunnies very seriously” she pouts, her brows dipped.

“Oooh,” he coos, “yeah, I remember.”

“What do you mean?” She says.

This thing with bunnies had started when YN was around five (her first stuffed animal had been a bunny and she found great comfort in Mr Carrots — that was his name), and it kind of stuck with her; whenever she had something important to do she would have a little bunny with her, whether it be a pendant on a necklace or just printed on her shirt, she’d feel comfort knowing she’d have a bunny with her.

“I remember” he repeats, “from college. You had that… that necklace, I think. Oh, and the notebooks, I remember those as well.”

“Oh.” YN doesn’t know what else to say, and she knows she’s being awkward, of course she knows! But what is she supposed to say? He remembers probably the most intimate detail about her, and once again she is stuck asking herself, what does it mean? For him to remember? Does it have to mean something? Because it’s not like she was hiding the bunnies… she had them splattered on her shirt!

“Yeah” he nods, eyeing her carefully. He retreats his hand quickly, almost as if the shirt had caught on fire and his fingers’d started to burn, and he clears his throat, embarrassment pumping through his body.

“I have t’go, now.” He chuckles nervously, “need t’get Aidi tha’cereal she always eats in t’morning”.

“Of course, of course” YN nods, waving a hand in front of them to dismiss him.

He waves at her awkwardly before stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, turning back towards the door.

YN doesn’t wait for him to get out of the classroom before she turns the other way, walking towards the group of kids that are playing on the ground.

…

“‘llo?”

“Harry? It’s YN, well the… the school” YN rambles, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she holds the thermometer against Aidi’s temple.

She’s got the little girl curled in her lap as she lulls her back and forth, trying to soothe her the best she can, because she knows from experience that the infirmary always scares kids the most; apparently when painting the school no one thought about extending the silly cartoon characters that are painted on the classroom’s walls to the infirmary as well.

“Yes, ‘f course. Wha’s wrong?”

“Aidi’s burning up… I’m taking her temperature now, I think she’s… she’s sick?” She doesn’t know why it comes out as a question, but it does, and YN curses herself in her head for being like this. She’s got told many times to be careful when calling the parents, because most of them freak out simply from seeing the school’s caller ID, so she needs to be really more considerate in the way she delivers news.

“’s okay, I’ll come get ‘er, yeah?” He says, and YN hears shuffling from the other side of the line, and she wonders if he’s putting on his coat.

He sounds calm, and she’s glad she didn’t worry him, because it’s really just a fever and there’s nothing to worry about, but Aidi is little and she’s hurting, and she’d understand if Harry had freaked out a little bit.

“Okay, yes, yes” she agrees.

“Be there in 10”, he says, and she hangs up the phone and puts it back in the back pocket of her jeans.

She wonders if Harry has notified Aidi’s mum, and for a brief minute, she ponders whether she should ask the little girl in her lap, but then she feels extremely guilty she would even take that in account, and she tosses the thought out of her head, reminding herself it’s none of her business.

“Your daddy is coming” she coos, and Aidi shifts in her lap to look up at her.

“Miss YN, my tummy hurts” she whines, big tears pooling in her green eyes that look up at her and YN feels her heart clutch in her chest.

“I know, I know” she nods, petting her hair to help her soothe a bit, lulling her back and forth.

When the thermometer’s timer rings, YN removes it from her temple and winces when she checks the temperature.

“Just a few more minutes” YN whispers against her hair.

After what could’ve been five minutes, but felt like hours, YN sees Harry rush through the school’s infirmary, and when he spots them he raises his brows in a greeting manner.

“Hey” YN whispers to the sleepy toddler that’s curled up on her chest, “your daddy is here”

“Daddy?” Aidi mumbles in a small voice, raising her head to look up at her dad.

She knuckles at her eye and YN smiles softly at her, petting her hair once again.

“Hey” Harry sighs, crunching down on the ground to be eye level with his child, “how ye doin’, bug?”

“Hurts” she whimpers, raising her arms to signal him she wants to be picked up.

“I know, ’s okay” he props her on his hip and starts rubbing her back soothingly, cooing soft words in her ear.

“I think she’ll be fine with some bed rest… it’s normal for kids to get sick this time of the year” YN reassures him, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Yeah… ’s just… she’s never been sick ’n I don’ know how… she’s little” he takes a big sigh and looks at her, his panicked eyes burning in hers, and it’s only then that YN realizes he’s worried. Of course he is! And how stupid of her to think he wouldn’t be. It’s his child and she’s in pain, YN doesn’t have children of her own and she can only imagine in a certain way what could it mean.

“Harry, hey” she squeezes his shoulder with her hand, “she’s going to be fine. It’s just a fever, yeah? Just a fever”

He nods at her words, albeit unconvinced, and he tilts his head to look at his little girl that’s sleeping with her face smushed against his shoulder, her cheeks red with the warmth of the fever.

“It’s going to be fine” YN repeats.

…

New message:

from: YN

to: Harry Styles

Hi, how are you?

Hi, Harry, how is Aidi?

Hi, how’s it going?

Hi, Harry, it’s YN. How is Aidi? How are you? :)

YN sends that last text and throws her phone on the couch next to her, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.

She sighs loudly before picking up her phone again and unlocking it, the messages app opens immediately and she reads again the text she’d written, the smiley face at the end mocking her.

“Fuck!” She whines, “A fucking smiley face?! Why are you so awkward!”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer before she gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen to cook something for dinner.

She’s staring at her empty fridge when she hears her phone’s chime, and she hurries back to the living room, a pep in her step as she anticipates in her head what his answer could be.

from: Harry Styles

to: YN

Hi!! She’s okay now, the fever’s gone down a bit, but she still isn’t eating :(

And I’m good btw

How r u?

She reads the text probably four times before responding, and this time she tries not to be as serious as she was in the first one.

from: YN

to: Harry Styles

I’m good too

Happy to hear that :)

Not that she isn’t eating… that sucks :’(

from: Harry Styles

to: YN

YN feels her heart skip a beat.

He sent a heart. A heart!!! If she was 14 years old she’d do a little happy dance and probably think about it for the rest of the evening, but she hasn’t been 14 in a long time, and she sticks to just liking his message and locking her phone, making her way back to the kitchen to finally eat something.

She isn’t 14 anymore, yes, but she can’t help but think about that heart for the rest of the evening.

…

Aidi comes back to school a week later, and she greets YN with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, and YN holds her tight to her chest, happy to see that she’s alright.

YN and Harry both watch as Aidi greets her classmates, a pep in her step as she runs to them, ready to tell them all about the bad bug she caught that made her sick (as her daddy had explained).

“I’m happy to see she’s alright” YN says, smiling fondly at the sight in front of her.

“Yeah… me too” he sighs, “I wanted to thank yeh… fo’ takin’ care of ‘er”

“Harry” she chimes in, “it’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do, though. Y’re a teacher, aren’t yeh? Not a nurse” he shrugs, smiling a cheeky grin at her.

“You do have a point” she laughs, nodding her head, “but you don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything special.”

“Still” he shrugs once again, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. “We should catch up… sometime… ’s been s’long”

“Yes” she nods swiftly, maybe a little too excitedly to not be embarrassing, “yes… I would like that”

“Fine then… I’ll text yeh, yeah?” He says, taking the keys of his car out of the pocket of his coat and playing with the keychain with his fingers, rolling it around absentmindedly.

“Have t’go now”

“Yeah” she agrees, but he’s already turned around.

YN doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline that’s making her see things, or if maybe she’s the one that’s coming down with a fever now, and it’s making her delusional, but she swears she saw a bunny shaped keychain attached to his car keys, and she feels her heart beat loud against her chest. She really hopes she isn’t imagining things.

PLEASE let me know if you want part 2 and if you liked this!!! 💞

Read part 2 here!!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles imagine #harrystyles #harry styles angst #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles love on tour #bad habit #dad!harry

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aidemint · 10 months

Text

Bad Luck and Bad Decisions | To Break A Habit

Summary: Hobie gets called back to HQ. Miguel does what Miguel does best. You... have a good day. For the most part.

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Hobie Brown/GN!Reader

Notes: canon-level violence, mentions of blood! read at your own discretion

Masterpost | AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2

Gwen meets Hobie at the mouth of Sector Seven at Spider-HQ—Miguel’s office.

If it had been a normal day she’d show up with iced coffees and a smile, start light conversation during the walk through the control room, laugh as Hobie snags bits and bobs from the walls and keyboards. But this time she’s empty-handed, keeps her head down, doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t say anything even when he pulls a circuit out and pockets it.

She seems less of a friend, more of a guard—Hobie doesn’t miss the way she keeps her hands straight and still by her sides as she paces. She looks a lot like the person she was when she first came here.

Hobie’s brow twitches at the thought, fingers curling to press crescent-shaped craters into his palm. Unfortunately there isn’t much time to stew on the notion, as he treks the path through an old portal frame and past dim orange screens, soon approaching a familiar, open-ceiling room.

Blue light bears down on tilted towers and slanted bars, layered atop each other to carry the walls of the place on their backs. In the center of it all, a muscled figure elevated on a floating platform, a galaxy of tangerine screens surrounding his hunched figure.

A glare sharpens Hobie’s eye, narrowing the edges as Miguel O’Hara turns around to face him.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” the latter quips with the tilt of his head. “Earth-40081 seems plenty interesting.”

“It is,” Hobie remarks right back. “Bloody shame you can’t experience it yourself.” The clench of Miguel’s jaw tweaks the left end of his mouth upward.

“You can fill me in on it, then. Like you were supposed to.” Miguel pauses as his stare flickers from him to Gwen, though it remains every bit as piercing. “You can go.”

Perhaps some part of Hobie hopes that she’d stay—stand by his side as some semblance of the support he’d once given her fresh-faced, past counterpart. He remembers the time he offered an arm to wrap around her, a shoulder to cry on, a room to live in without fear. But it only takes one look at the glance she casts him, sideways and long and walled-off, for him to know better. Much better.

Gwen Stacy spares him guilt—every bit of it in the shredded, desperate mess it is—then walks away.

A fire begins to burn in the column of Hobie’s throat the moment the heels of her shoes—his shoes—disappear beyond the walls of the chamber.

“What’d you pull me in here for?” It’s less of a question, more of a demand, spoken low, searing across empty air. “Comin’ on me with a two and eight.”

Miguel provides no reaction to the provocation, expression unmoving as he steps down from his platform to stand on even ground. “I think you need to know something about Earth-40081,” he says, stilling with his hands on his hips.

“Thought you wanted me to tell you about it,” Hobie halfway scoffs as he crosses his arms in tandem.

A small sigh hunches Miguel’s shoulders. “I’m not even going to try to argue with you, I just need you to listen.” Silence from the latter, though reluctant and accompanied by judgment, is enough indication of compliance for the former to continue. “Earth-40081’s period of bad luck isn’t just because of the anomaly.”

The statement catches something in the air, pulls a cord, twists a latch. Hobie’s brow furrows in sudden attention as the motion threads through him, as he receives the news. Something stirs in his chest, a pinball striking dials all the way up to his head. Explain, his gaze seems to say, with no attempt to disguise how pointed it becomes.

Miguel obliges—“The thing about Earth-40081,” he starts grimly, “is that it’s more delicate than the other dimensions. It runs on a linear line, a consistent path that everyone follows without deviation. It works like a routine, bound to a set of rules.”

A breath, a break elapses for a moment. Silence stews thick in the atmosphere in the time it takes, dragging comfort in conversation thin as it swirls. The back of Hobie’s head tingles with a suspicion he doesn’t want to pay attention to, especially with how Miguel’s expression seems to confirm it.

Unfortunately, O’Hara can’t read his thoughts. “One of these rules is the prohibition of the existence of the supernatural—which includes superpowered people,” the former continues, making room for the slightest downward tilt of his chin. “That’s the reason why 40081’s Peter Parker never developed powers after getting bit. And the rules are strict. If the dimension senses properties that go against it, it starts affecting the normal—the canon. Whether it be you or an anomaly, the longer interference continues, things are just going to get worse.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The query comes from Hobie just as the image of you flashes across his mind. It’s useless asking, really—he knows why, remembering how you confided in him, spilt all the details of your out-of-the-ordinary encounters with your environment. But when he asks himself the reason such a thing tumbled from his lips, he thinks back to how warm you were in his arms; he thinks about how vacant it feels just standing here. He wonders what it would be like to have never had you at all.

Miguel seems to somewhat share the sentiment. “I know what you’ve been doing.” A flicker of something bright red passes by his iris, but it doesn’t glow like anger. He stifles a grunt as he rolls his shoulder, fatigue in what looks like recollection catching up with him. “With your friend.”

Your laugh rings in Hobie’s ears, sweet and soundly. “What about the mission?”

“You finish the mission you were assigned, then you need to get out and stay out. Then things will go back to normal. It’s the best outcome.” Miguel’s jaw tightens, the tips of his talons unsheathing with the effort. His voice dips low, as worn as it’s ever been, gaze downcast to follow it. “You know that I’ve tried, Hobie.”

Maybe once Hobie would have something to say in the face of it before, a retort for respite, but it’s different this time. Grief claws at Miguel’s visage, teeth sunk far into the depths of him. It’s imperceptible to any untrained eye, but Hobie can make out the print of the smallest, tenderest hand that still lays steady upon his heart, staying with him during the day and haunting him throughout the night.

Despite it, Hobie tells himself in soundless reckoning that he’ll find a way, just as he always has.

But his silence feels like betrayal—once more is it taken as compliance.

“Hope can only sustain us for so long.” Miguel shifts to move back towards his platform, back now facing Hobie. “Then we move back to reality.”

You like to tell yourself there’s a positive to every negative.

The past week was highly irregular, spilled drinks, soiled clothes, angry customers and all, but you got a cute date and a kiss out of the effort, so it wasn’t a total loss. You keep reminding yourself of the sweetness of Hobie’s taste, the feel of his lips, the delicacy of his hold throughout all the moments of anger or disappointment that now seem to make themselves a new part of your routine; you remind yourself that things will get better because that’s the way things are, that for every bump in the road there’s a reward to reap at the end.

Perhaps you thought holding your ideology steadfast wasn’t for nothing today. It was normal—what you were used to, at the very least. You caught your train on time, managed to be punctual and pay attention in class, even got a drink on the house from your favorite spot.

Work was better than all the other shifts you’d taken in the past week. The shop’s daily regulars were tipped better today, wearing kind, pitying smiles. You assumed the purpose of the gesture tied into them witnessing how the customer the other day had made a hissy fit. You’d gotten over the outburst early on, but the extra cash sure helped seal the scars better.

Hours of calmly juicing fruits and veggies and making quinoa bowls turned the sky dark and soon enough you find yourself making one final sweep of the shop and clocking out your closing shift.

“See you!” your coworker bids with a wave, turning in the direction of their block.

A snick of a lock and a returned goodbye has you treading away from them and towards the path to your apartment, a sigh of relief pushing past your lips. The ache in your legs is the only thing keeping you from resolute peace, but the prospect of sinking down into your couch back home numbs the pain, if only by a little. Gratitude pricks at you when you recount the day, legs on autopilot as you walk—for the worries of adopting a bad routine that awoke you this morning, you’re glad that they were somewhat put to rest.

All that’s left is to get back safe, wash up, and melt into your mattress with the hope that tomorrow will herald the same kind of luck.

The notion keeps you complacent for the road you walk down an emptier avenue, lampposts sprinkled down the side to provide ample lighting for any person active at this hour. Perhaps you’d normally see other late workers coming home from their shifts, dragging their feet, some even having the spare energy to muster a greeting, to which you’d return, just as exhausted. But today, it’s only you that treads the concrete, dimly lit underneath dirty yellow in the city that never sleeps. Today, there is no company to address, no comparison to be made.

Today, you are strangely alone—or so your weary vacuity brings you to believe.

One step forward into the space just beyond a flickering streetlight brings about two things: a wince at the crick in your right ankle, and the click of hard metal right behind your head.

You—mind, body, blood, and soul—still.

“It’s loaded. Hand over your bag.” The demand is dark and deep, muffled by fabric but nonetheless whetted as it cuts you.

Fear is a rather merciful word to describe what runs through you in the absence of your tangible pulse. There’s no room to think or move or do much else, what space the sensation takes up. Gooseflesh raises across the back of your neck when you feel the rounded front of a pistol barrel press against your skull. It’s colder than the clamminess that envelops your hands, chills your spine straight.

“I’m not going to ask again. And if you scream, I’m shooting. Give me your bag.”

Curses don’t come easy—no words do, really. All you can focus on is the thought of how hot steel can get in the time it takes to fire a bullet, how warm the wound would be in the same place where such bitter metal bites. There’s this—terror—and then the conceptions of the smallest shred of hope that hasn’t drained from you yet—flashes of red, black, and blue carved in the shape of a spider.

The gun does not shake like you do, however. A ragged gasp tears through your chest when the weapon is shoved into you.

“Give me. Your fucking bag.”

Your vision blurs with tears as you feel a hand try to pry your arm away from what it clutches so desperately against your side. In a blink, your resistance has you wrestling with the figure behind you, against your better judgment, against the looming kiss of death to the bend of your head. Digits clamp over your mouth, smear oil against your lips to prevent them from parting, a knee delivers a swift impact to your ribs, an elbow gives your back a sickening crack—but pain means there’s a chance, pain lets you know your breath still tremors through your lungs. Nails dig into your cheeks as they moisten and burn but you grip whatever you can and pull.

Hobie, you plead silently.

“Fucking bitch!” Steel batters the back of your skull and fuzz appears where the clear road once was. A variation of the phrase spits from behind you when your teeth catch fingers that aren’t yours and bite down hard, also earning you the taste of blood on your upper lip as a palm slams back toward you.

Help! you think you scream in the flurry of pain and ache and cloudiness. Help me!

Hope fuels the invocation, whatever supply you’ve dug from the depths of yourself now untucked and bared in exchange for your life. For a moment, it seems like someone hears—a change in the wind, a rustle in the bushes—and your weakness loosens you. But when your bag comes away, the friction in the motion tearing skin from your arm, nothing gives back to the void you bore as you collapse, bloody, bruised, and blind.

Then there is silence. Silence without reason to rise, so you just lay there, waiting for the world to swallow you whole.

It takes a few minutes to realize that, after a while, a different presence has arrived, and you are not alone in the street.

Bergamot, plum, and sandalwood envelop the air around you as a gentle hold wraps you in an embrace. Your eyes only crack open to let out fresh tears, watercolor fractals painting the background in rhinestones. A sob—a sound—sears, serrated, through the length of your torso, from your quivering heart to your trembling gut.

The touch that graces you brushes all your points of hurt, familiar loving pressing the memories of affliction in such kindness it shakes you. It makes you forget you’re on the ground, bleeding from nose to chin, sitting in suffering with a pounding head and an empty bank of promise.

Somewhere along the line your lips find the feel of worn leather and smooth plastic, buried in buttons and a comforting bend of the body. Your fingers meet the edge of a shoulder, the curve of a chest, and latch on with reckless abandon, indifferent to the way spiked adornments dig into your skin.

When your cries subside into choked, stuttering breaths, you grip tighter. “Don’t leave,” rasps the heavy whisper that spouts from you. “Don’t leave me.”

There’s no new tension in Hobie’s hold when he receives the request. If anything, it only becomes softer—impossibly so, feather-light in binding the breaking bits of you together.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s alright.”

It’s enough to convince you for now, sniffling into the warmth of his collar.

After the affirmation, the trip to your apartment is wordless. Hobie doesn’t swing—he walks, arms supporting your figure as he carries you back the entire way. It’s a trail you’ve tread a hundred times but somehow when you think of trekking it alone again, consolation seems so distant.

At your apartment complex, you tell Hobie the code to your door, let him inside so he can set you on your couch. He pulls up a cushion for you to rest your head on and manages to find a first aid kit tucked away in the lower cabinet of your bathroom.

The first question comes after all the cracked and dried bits of blood and snot are rubbed off your face. “Do you want to talk?” he asks, voice hushed and tender.

A beat passes as you blink. “Got mugged,” you reply after, meeting his eye when his thumb caresses the crescent-shaped marks on your cheek. “Didn’t see their face but they had a gun and threatened to shoot. I fought a bit, but…” You bite the inside of your cheek, deciding to omit the part where you thought of Hobie. “But they took my bag. And everything in it.”

The man who’d plagued your thoughts then, now maskless and kneeling in front of you, sifts through some bandages in the white box he holds. He looks troubled, though you know he tries to hide it, judging by his half-cinched brows and subtle frown.

“It’s okay though,” you reason in an attempt to alleviate the tension. “I still have my phone in my pocket with my ID and license and my laptop’s in my room. Just lost some cards, cash, and a water bottle. I can always get new ones. Not the end of the world.”

Hobie’s fist clenches around a roll of gauze. “You had a gun to your head.” His tone is hardened, though the low volume of the phrase remains consistent to the query posed earlier—he’s holding back. “Don’t… You could’ve been killed.” He doesn’t miss the slight wince that passes by your face at the mention of what happened, and the wrinkles that etch his features only deepen.

“I know,” you murmur as he works to patch the scrapes on your joints. “But I wasn’t. And you’re here with me. And I’m okay.”

Hobie just sighs, moving on to place a cooling patch on the bridge of your nose and left eye to ease the swelling. He’s uncharacteristically quiet. The look of self-blame in contemplation is all too recognizable on him.

You try a smile in return, tilting your head to the side. “It’s okay,” you repeat, weakly reaching to massage his temple. “I got out alright. It’s not gonna happen again.”

His fingers linger on your face even when he finishes bandaging you, his eyes trailing across the same places his digits ghost.

Your hands slowly guide his lips to yours for a soft peck, open arms allowing him to slip around you and hug you close. Hobie’s chest touches yours as he leans forward, the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beginning to align with the drum of your own the further you connect.

“What kinda chav am I to have you comforting me like I’m the one that needs it?” he mutters, a slight scoff lilting the sentence.

“A cute one,” you hum playfully, twisting a lock of his hair between your fingers. “But bad things happen. I think as a superhero, vigilante, activist, whatever you do call yourself, it’s to be expected. I’m just happy I’m okay, and that you’re here with me.”

You press a kiss to the space between his brows, then two more on both his eyelids. Your smile grows when you feel his shoulders relax, a breath easing out of him.

“Just stay with me for now,” you murmur, nuzzling further into him as he joins you on the couch. You feel his lips on your forehead before being drawn into a cradle of legs and limbs.

The rest of the night is spent in Hobie’s arms, safe and warm, until you feel the tug of slumber pull you under.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, tucked into layers of cushy blankets with a fresh, frosty ice pack resting on your bedside table.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown/reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown/you #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara #to break a habit #fluff #angst #hobie brown being hobie brown

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vintagepresley · 1 year

Text

The Doctor Will See You Now… Part Two

Pairing: John Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 2,617

Warnings: SMUSMUTSMUT 18+ Unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), rough deep throating, fingering, dirty talk, praise, use of the word whore, breeding kink, use of medical equipment.

Author's Notes: LORD HAVE MERCY. I hope my John Carpenter besties enjoy this second part. Thank you once again for all your dirty little prompts that made this random mini series happen. Love y'all. Also possible spelling errors because I'm too lazy to fix them.

Part One

"You're doin' so good for me.."

Since that day in the examination room with Dr. Carpenter you couldn’t stop thinking about it or him and the way he felt inside of you, or the way he spoke to you. It had been almost two weeks since you last saw him. It felt as if he was avoiding you because of his nurses catching on to his lustful and inappropriate behavior with you. He had scheduled an appointment for you to come in and see him again so he could check if you were pregnant. But that was weeks away because he wanted to give it time. But you couldn’t wait that long. You needed to see him. So you made your way down to his office and when you went inside the nurses had all been distracted by their patients and the young nurse sitting by behind the desk up front was too busy reading her magazine to notice you as you snuck by past her. You usually would fake sick just to see him but after last time everyone knew what the two of you were up to. You went looking for his office and you smiled happily when you found it and the door was open and he was busy looking over some paperwork as he sat behind his desk. You watched him for a moment before you knocked on the door. He assumed you were one of the nurses so he didn’t even bother to look up as he spoke. “Yes, nurse?” he said softly as he shuffled through his papers. You giggled quietly as you stepped into the room.

“Hello, Dr. Carpenter.” you said sweetly.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere and he looked up from his papers and his eyes widened from the sight of you and he jumped out of his chair and he quickly walked over to shut the door behind you. To say he was surprised to see you would be an understatement. “Uh, what are ya doin’ here, Y/N? I had an appointment scheduled for you in a few weeks.” he whispered. You bit your lip and moved closer toward him and your hands clutching onto his belt as you pressed yourself against him and you leaned up to kiss his lips softly and he returned your loving kiss before he pulled you back.

“I missed you. Didn’t you miss me?” you giggled and your hands still gripping his belt as you began to unbuckle it and then unbutton his pants. You stared up at him with those innocent eyes of yours. He cleared his throat trying to hold back his groan as he felt your hand pressed up against his cock, swallowing harshly.

“I-I missed ya too, honey. But y-you can’t be here today..” he uttered softly. You raised an eyebrow at his words and then looked down at his cock that was already erect and ready for you. You smirked to yourself as you slowly sank down to your knees before him and you looked up at the handsome doctor, ignoring what he said and tugging his pants down just enough to get his cock out of his pants and you licked your lips at the very sight of it. You wrapped your hand around the shaft of his cock and tucked back his foreskin with your other hand and you dragged your tongue around the head of his cock tasting the saltiness of his precum coating your tongue. He let out a long and low moan as his head rested up against his office door. “Fuck baby..” he mumbled under his breath. You kept your eyes on him as you swirl your tongue around his head once more and then down along his entire shaft and he groaned loudly. You slowly pulled back with a smirk.

“What were you saying, doctor? I shouldn’t be here?” you hummed as you pressed soft kisses along his cock batting your eyes up at him with a smirk.

“Fuck..” he mumbled under his breath and he grabbed a handful of your hair holding in a makeshift ponytail and wrap some of it around his wrist. “Shut up and take this cock into that little whore mouth of yours.” he growled and he forced his cock into your mouth and groaned loudly as he forced it deep. You gagged softly when you felt his cock hit the back of your throat and you grabbed a hold of his thighs your nails digging right into them as he took control and roughly fucked your face and you squealed softly around his cock as you choked and gagged. The saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin. Your eyes watering and ruining a bit of your mascara and you finally managed to pull away so you could get some air. He groaned, licking over his lips. “You okay, honey? Was that too much for ya?” he said with a smirk. You shook your head at him as you took in some air. He grinned and pulled you back down by your hair and forcing his cock back into your mouth and bobbing your head on his cock as he used you for his pleasure and causing the most obscene noises escape you and now you were drooling on his cock and he finally pulled you away and you coughed softly trying to catch your breath as your chin dripped in your saliva onto your dress. “Goddamn, woman.. I ain’t gonna let ya make me cum yet.” he chuckled.

You giggled softly as you wiped your mouth clean, staring up at him with a smirk. He helped you back up on your feet and you stared up at him running your hands along his shirt. “I think I’m ready for my examination now.. It’s been throbbing for you..” you cooed. He combed his fingers through your hair as he smiled down at you and he kissed you deeply and you let out a soft moan against his lips as you returned his kiss.

“We’ll get to that, baby.” he hummed as his hands cupped your face and his eyes stared deeply into yours. “Now tell me, since I last saw ya.. Have you been experiencing any pregnancy symptoms?” he asked. You shrugged because you hadn’t really noticed any kind of changes and your period had been on time. He raised an eyebrow and you let out a soft gasp when he groped your breasts in his hands and kneaded them slowly in his grasp. “Does that feel tender when I do that, honey?” he uttered. You shook your head slowly, biting on your bottom lip, not wanting him to move his hands. He gave you a nod and pulled his hands away and you let out a needy little whimper, wanting more. He could tell you were so impatient and he chuckled as he shook his head. He led you over to his desk and he pushed off all his things onto the ground and he lifted you up and plopped you down onto his desk, which only turned you on more. He got so close that his lips hovered over your own and you could feel his breath against your mouth. “Take your dress off for me, baby. Slowly.” he demanded. You nodded and slowly began to unbutton your dress and he captured his bottom lip between his teeth at the sight of your bare breasts. You slowly let the dress drop in a puddle on his desk and you kicked off your heels leaving you in just your white panties. He smirked as he ran his big hands over your thighs. “Panties too, baby.” he mumbled.

You giggled and shimmed out of your panties and kicked them from around your ankles onto the floor. You watched as Dr. Carpenter grabbed his medical bag and rifled through it for a moment before pulling out a speculum from his bag. You raised an eyebrow looking at the medical tool as he walked back over to you.

“What’s that?” you asked curiously.

“What I use for my exams, honey. I know they look scary, but I’ll be gentle.” he said softly.

“You didn’t use them before..” you murmured.

“Mm, I know. But I just want to make sure I didn’t hurt ya too bad last time so I wanna get a good look, now lie back.” he responded. You took a deep breath and nodded keeping your eyes on the speculum as you leaned back on your elbows on his desk and bringing your knees up and parting your legs for him and once again having your pussy on full display for him and he sat down in his chair and wheeled himself over between your legs. “Now I want ya to take a deep breath for me, honey. You’ll feel some pressure..” he said soothingly. He slowly inserted the speculum inside of you and you shut your eyes tight feeling slight pressure and the coldness of the metal as he opened you up with them and you winced softly. “It’s okay, baby. It’ll all be over in a moment. He smirked at the sight of your very exposed and very open pussy and he checked to see that everything was in order. “Just to be thorough let me just feel that everythin’ is good.” he smirked and reached over for some rubber gloves snapping them onto his hands once he slipped them on. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth as you slowly opened your eyes to watch him as he moved closer between your legs.

“Ya may feel some more pressure..” he hummed as he slipped two of his glove-covered fingers into your open pussy, feeling around inside of you and you gasped and your body slightly jolted at the feeling because it wasn’t pressure.. It was a pleasure you had never felt before. As he moved his fingers knuckle deep around inside of you he sneakily slipped another finger inside watching as your pussy was becoming wet with his every move. It caused a soft moan to escape your slightly parted lips. He smirked at the delightful sound continuing his thorough examination and watching with lust in his eyes how your slick coated his gloves and the sounds leaving you grew louder with every movement. “That’s a good girl..” he cooed.

“I-Is it supposed to feel like this?” you said between your whimpering moans.

“Mhm.. You’re doing so good for me..” he hummed as his fourth finger slipped inside of you causing you to moan louder, your eyes rolled back and before you could even comprehend what your body was feeling the noises that left you nearly took your breath away as you came all over his hand. He smirked at the wonderful sight of your cum seeping out of your throbbing pussy as he slipped his fingers and the speculum out of you and you shuddered at the feeling. “It’s working just like it’s supposed to and ready to be filled.” he said with a grin plastered on his face as he stood up from his chair and slipped his gloves off and dropped them into the trash. Your head was spinning as you laid on his desk staring up that ceiling and trying to compose yourself as he walked back over to you and his hands ran along your legs.

“Are ya ready for the next part of your examination?” he asked with a smirk.

You sat up on your elbows and looked right at him, nodding your head so eager and chewing on your bottom lip. “Yes, please.” you mewled. You watched as he began to unbuckle his belt and your eyes grew wide at the sight of erection and when tugged his pants down you grew even more excited. He grabbed your legs and held them up and forced them further back and grabbed your hands to make you hold them in place. Your pussy was the only thing he wanted to see as he grabbed your waist and tugged you forward. He slowly guided his cock deep into the warmth and wetness of your cunt and groaned lowly as his cock sunk into you. He had missed the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock that he couldn’t help himself when he started roughly slamming his cock deep inside of you his pace quick and hard that he had the entire desk moving along with his movements and you cried out his name as you moaned doing your best to keep a hold on your legs as they dangled in the air.

“Mm.. You’re such a good little slut lettin’ me fuck ya and dump my seed inside ya.” he grunted between his loud moans. His cock was forcing you open and hitting right against your walls so forcefully that the pain was even becoming pleasurable. You were already so sensitive from his fingers being so deep inside of you that your body was shaking and you whimpered and cried for him to not stop. Your pleading only furthered his pleasure as he wrecked your pussy and his balls slapping against you. It all felt so good that you didn’t even notice your legs growing numb from the position that they had been in for a while.

“I-I’m gonna cum!” you squealed, feeling your orgasm rising and burning within you.

“That’s it, mama.. Cum for me..” he grunted loudly.

Those words were all you needed to hear to push you right over the edge into that euphoric feeling. All your muscles felt like they were tightening, your body numb with pleasure and your breathing heavier than ever as you came all over his cock and the moment you did was when he completely lost all control and he held you down on his cock as his orgasm hit right when yours did and he came hard inside you, ropes of his warm cum filling every inch of your used and bruised cunt. The both of you rocking back and forth against one another milking every last drop of each other until you came to a complete stop and he slide his cock out of you and before his cum could come seeping out he shoved his fingers right into your pussy and held them there so that you didn’t waste a drop of his seed. “I expect you to make me a daddy.” he said beneath heavy breaths. Your ears were ringing and you just nodded at his words not being able to say a word. He removed his fingers from your aching cunt and you felt a shiver run down your spine as your body collapsed onto his desk tiredly. He cleaned himself up and fixed himself as he slipped his pants back on. He grabbed his white doctor’s coat needing to tend to his patients that were probably waiting for him. He walked over to you and leaned down to kiss your lips softly and you kissed so hungrily and desperate that when he pulled away a soft whine escaped you.

“I expect to see you again for the appointment I scheduled. You know your way out.” he said sternly as he composed himself one more time before he headed out of his office, shutting the door behind him and leaving you to lay naked over his desk as his cum slowly dripped from you. You pondered for a moment in the silence if what you were doing with the doctor was right or if you were actually ready for a child. But that thought was fleeting just as fast as it came because you knew you’d do anything for Dr. Carpenter.

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