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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)

Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.

Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader

Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it.

Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support.

Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed.

— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me.

You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you?

Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable.

He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts.

— Dismissed.

He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want.

— B…but…

You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…

Colonel has a problem.

He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric.

It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances.

He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect.

— Sir? Is everything alright?

You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator.

Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t.

— I thought you’d heard me the first time.

— But I brought coffee.

— They make coffee machines in cows now?

— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…

— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away?

— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…

— They really sent me a magic cow, ja?

— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.

You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you.

You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow.

He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…

Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable.

— You forgot the milk.

— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk.

So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics.

— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty.

— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir.

— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here.

His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office.

But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise.

— Take off your shirt, Schatzen.

He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay.

— You want me to…take off something else, sir?

A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees.

Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already.

— Ja. Bra is next.

You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger.

Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though.

— Braves Mädchen…good girl.

You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target.

Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples.

— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…

He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window.

— You already think of the next time, Schatzen?

König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you.

He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life.

You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation.

— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…

— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel?

— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…

— Language.

He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him.

Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.

Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest.

— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…

He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop.

Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide.

He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges.

He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat.

König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created.

— How do you feel?

He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less.

— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.

You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles.

— My pleasure, Schatzen.

You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain.

He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all.

#cod #yandere konig #konig x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #konig #konig x you

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yoichiris · 1 year

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better than letting go | nagi seishiro x reader

✩ accidental sugar daddy nagi ✩ pro-player!nagi, roommates au, angst to fluff, heavy pining, miscommunication

"just go live with nagi," reo says offhandedly, "if you clean up after him, he'll let you stay there forever."

you open your mouth to refute the suggestion, because reo knows how you feel about nagi, knows you couldn't possibly stay in an enclosed space with him hours on day on end without jumping him... but before you do, nagi himself interrupts.

"i'm okay with that," he replies in his usual laid-back voice.

you glare at him because you think he sounds more excited about the cleaning part.

"you're going to be homeless," reo shrugs, "why not?"

you return your glare at reo, "why can't you just house me in one of your billion-dollar properties."

"then i'd have to ask my old man for permission," he waves you off like the asshole he is, "no thanks."

"what's wrong with living with me?" nagi wonders, and you hate him for acting like he wants to live with you so badly.

"look, just clean nagi's dirty underwear for the next year while you finish your degree and you won't have to worry about a thing," reo explains, as if there aren't other factors like your five-year infatuation with nagi, and maybe the fact that nagi lives like he doesn't know what a vacuum does.

you sigh, thinking about the end of your lease and the astronomical increase in rent incoming, and how much you don't want to work your stupid part-time job, and give in.

of course it's not that bad. all you had to do was keep your feelings to yourself.

"nagi," you hiss, "nagi, wake up, you're going to be late!"

he only stirs, covers tucked under his chin, as if he's hiding from you. you inch the door wider, stepping into his room hesitantly. he doesn't even make a move.

"nagi," you whine, crouching at the side of his bed.

he makes a sound of acknowledgment but keeps his eyes closed, so you sit cross-legged on the floor, watching his sleeping form. he's so cute like this, you think, yearning.

it's been a week since you moved in with nagi. in a lot of ways, he's exactly what you thought he would be like in private: he's rarely home, and when he is, he's quiet.

you thought he would spend more time in his room, under the covers, but you realize quickly he's furnished his couch with the coziest throw and likes to curl under there when he is home.

it makes your heart warm when you come home to see nagi, his toes sticking out from underneath the blanket, waiting for you to eat dinner.

"...what time is it?" you hear him mumble.

your heart skips a beat when he opens his eyes, groggy with sleep, and touches your arm. you sigh shakily.

"too late," you smile softly at him, "i'll prep your pre-workout so you can take it with you, okay?"

"thanks," he tells you, his voice raspy.

he smiles back at you and reaches out, poking you in the forehead. when you feel his fingers touch your skin, you think you'll drop dead right there.

"are you gonna move out after you graduate?" reo asks, nine months into your arrangement.

you've been avoiding even thinking about it. you're busy with graduation, you justify to yourself, you don't have time to look for a new place yet.

"hm?" you hum innocently, "i dunno. haven't had time to think about it."

"nagi asked me 'bout it," he mentions casually, and you freeze. is he counting the days down until you leave?

you and nagi have settled into a daily routine: you wake him up, he goes to practice, you study after class, and when he comes back late at night, he hangs out with you for an hour before he has to sleep. mostly, you and nagi sit on either end of the couch, sharing the cozy throw, and read manga.

it's lulled you into a false sense of security, you think.

"oh," is all you manage to say. maybe he finds you bothersome? maybe he wants his own space back?

reo hits you over the head, lightly. "what's that face for? it's been going good living with nagi, right?"

and it was. it was everything you had dreamed of, and it shocked you how well you got along with nagi. you think of how, in early mornings when both of you (mostly you) are rushing out the door, bumping hips in the kitchen, even then it seems like you were working together.

"yep," you reply, sipping your iced coffee, "too good."

reo takes a bite of his food, and suggests, "maybe you two should just keep living together. you can split rent or something."

"can't rely on nagi forever," you protest.

"why not?" he says, just like he did when he had first suggested this whole thing, "isn't that what you want?"

you kick him under the table, angry that he was bringing your feelings up now. yes, you want to scream, it is. but nothing has changed between you and nagi, nothing at all.

you're always trying to keep your feelings in check: when he peers over your shoulder as you're cooking, the warmth of his body hot asgainst yours. or how adorable he looks when he comes out of the shower, his shaggy hair falling over his eyes, his face shiny. those are the times your feelings want to burst.

"just talk to nagi about it," reo nudges. you're not sure if he's talking about the housing or the feelings.

you're curled up with nagi on the couch when you muster the courage to say anything. your legs are touching his under the blanket, and you feel as if that might connect you to him.

there's a month left until you graduate, which is absolutely not enough time for you to find a place to live, but you were scared. you hear the victory sounds of nagi's mobile game, so you decide now's better than never.

"so," you start, and his gaze drifts over to you, "i haven't really found a new place to live yet."

it's quiet. "s'okay," nagi mumbles, not even looking up from his phone, "you can move out whenever."

well, at least that answers your question on whether or not he wants you to move out. at least he wasn't pushing you out the door, you tell yourself.

you don't know what else to say. do you want me to leave so badly? you want to ask. can't i stay with you? you think, desperate. but those words don't leave your mouth.

"are you coming to my graduation?" you ask lightly, and regret it when you realize that you've opened yourself up again.

he shrugs. "dunno my prac schedule yet, but reo's going right?" he replies, as if reo could replace him.

you feel cold despite the blanket, and sink deeper into the couch, feeling drained. from the corner of your eye, you see nagi tapping away at his phone, signaling to you that he's still deep in his game. you take your legs away, knowing he wouldn't even notice.

"yep," you say and awkwardly crawl out of your warm spot on the couch. "i'm gonna go to bed first, nagi."

"g'night," he replies, finally looking up as you pass him with your head bowed. he watches you walk back to your room, and doesn't take his eyes off of you until you close the door behind you.

you eventually begged reo to find you an empty unit in one of his father's rental properties.

he had been insistent you just talk to nagi, as if he knew something you didn't, but you had to explain that you did, and nagi had no objections to you moving out, and you weren't going to wait until he shoved you out the door to move on.

it has been so awkward since that small conversation you'd had with nagi. maybe it was you, feeling out of place, like you had reached a point of no return.

waking him up in the mornings were now rushed, gently pushing him awake and scurrying off before he was fully awake. leaving his pre-workout on the counter instead of handing it to him. sitting at the kitchen table under the guise of studying instead of curling up on the couch with him.

it's not that he'd changed, you knew, it's that you couldn't keep playing pretend with your feelings anymore.

you hear the front door click as nagi walks into the apartment.

"hey," he says, pushing open the door to your room, "i'm home."

you turn from your position at the front of your closet, where you were just about to take out your suitcase. "oh, hey," you reply lamely, "welcome home."

he hovers, something he's never really done, as if he knows you have something to say, as if he had something to say. the words were stuck in your throat.

"reo told me you're moving out," nagi finally tells you.

traitor, you curse at reo. "uh, yeah," you smile tightly, "i didn't want to keep bothering you, so..."

"you're not bothering me," he replies, maybe a little too quickly, but you don't notice.

there's another silence. what else can you say?

"you don't have to leave," nagi continues, "i don't mind if you stay here."

but do you want me to stay? you want to ask. the way he says it so casually, as if it didn't matter whether you stayed or not, only solidified your decision to be away from him. at least then you could just be his friend without delusions of sharing a life with him so intimately.

"nah," you try to keep your voice steady, "it's probably better this way."

"i like living with you, though," nagi shuffles his hair uncomfortably as he says it.

you laugh, maybe a little bitterly, "because i cook and clean for you?"

"no," he says quickly, looking flustered, "no, i just like it when you're here."

but why? you want to scream. your heart pounds, because you feel like you're close to something, but at the same time it feels so far. sometimes you're convinced that he knows about your feelings, that sometimes you two are talking about them even though the topic is unrelated.

"it was nice," you settle on saying, as if it wasn't life changing, "but i can afford living on my own now."

"i don't want you to leave," nagi almost sounds like he's whining, and your heart skips another beat.

"why not?" you say, frustrated, breathless, "we can't just keep living together forever."

"what if i want to?" he says, and you feel like the conversation has become out of control.

your mind is racing. what is happening right now, you try to breathe through your nose. what is he talking about right now, you try to ask yourself.

"nagi—" you stop yourself, trying to get a grip, "what are you saying?"

you're looking at him now and you're surprised by the determination in his eyes. it's what he looks like when he's really focused, like he is when he plays soccer.

"i want to live with you forever," he declares, sounding defiant, as if that wasn't what you wanted.

but you're not sure what it means. you only know that five years is a long time to be holding onto your feelings.

"i don't understand," you mumble, staring at the floor, quieter than before, "i love you, nagi. not as a friend. so no, i can't just live with you forever."

you feel him before you see him, his body towering over you. when you look up, he's pouting. he puts his hand on top of your head, gentle, warm.

"why do you look so sad," he wonders, as if he hadn't heard what you just said, "that's why i want to live with you forever, dummy."

you wake up to nagi wrapped around you.

"sei," you groan, turning in his arms to look at his sleeping face, "you're heavy."

he mutters, groggy, incoherent, and you can't help but press a kiss to his nose. his hair is falling all over his face, but your eyes memorize every slope. he squeezes you harder.

"why are you awake so early," he mutters, nudging your chest with his head, "it's my day off."

you soothe your hand down his bare back, feeling the tight muscles underneath your fingers. he works so hard, and his days off are so rare. you wiggle some more, to loosen his arms.

"i know," you smile, "but let me go make breakfast, kay? i'm hungry."

he shakes his head and whines. "no," he refuses, "just go back to sleep."

you relax, unable to tell him no. mornings with nagi often go like this, except that you usually have enough self-control to get him up. but sometimes, you remember what it was like wanting him so bad, that now you remind yourself to enjoy it.

as a partner, nagi is clingy, vulnerable. but he's also determined, and sometimes, the intensity with which he wants you catches you off guard.

"y/n," he calls, his breath hot against your neck, "i'm happy you're here."

you close your eyes, nodding. "me, too."

#blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #yoi's crops 🌱#from: nagi seishiro 🎀

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hellisharchive · 2 months

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The Most Divine

Summary

▬ Drabbles of how Lucifer and Adam would fight over gender neutral reader!

・━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━・

・C/TW! ▬ 18+, NSFW

・NOTES! ▬ Literally did not mean to this post now but whatever hope you enjoy it. It's also 3 am yay

・━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━・

♡...... LUCIFER would take notice of you immediately in the Hotel, from your voice to your body to your eyes, you were beautiful in every sense of the word. He treated you like royalty, like you were the best thing he could have found ever in all his billions of years of existence. He never made any moves on you though, the mental scars from Lillith leaving him still fresh in his mind and heart. You two were both really good friends though and he wouldn't trade that for the world.

♡...... ADAM would take notice of you during your first year in Hell as you were out during extermination day. He hates sinners with his very being due to a certain fallen angel, but something about you enamored him. He managed to find you alone and decides to take his chance. He hit on you and he ended up throughly fucking you in exchange for being spared this year.

♡...... LUCIFER makes sure you're ok after extermination day, you tell him that you ran into Adam and that he spared you, but not the true reason why. It made Lucifer incredibly angry as he knew you were lying, but played it off as he didn't want to be too overbearing and controlling. He was just concerned for you as Adam wasn't the best guy, regardless if he spared you or not

♡...... ADAM decides to watch you from heaven, keeping it a secret from Lute as she would surely scold him and never let him live another day without her disproving self. But seeing you talk and laugh with Lucifer made his blood boil. How dare you move onto that bastard after you just got fucked by the original dick? He didn't expect his attraction to you grow this bad, but it every passing moment when he didn't have important shit do, he watched you and Lucifer be all buddy-buddy.

♡...... LUCIFER would finally confront you about Adam, feeling jealous that he would be so much better in bed than that man. He knew he would treat you right. He watched as you stared up at the sky, knowing you were missing that angel for some odd reason. You admitted it right away, the guilt eating away so badly it was hard to contain. You did miss him despite him really being a terrible person, you did miss him. He shushed you and told you it was ok and that he wasn't mad, he was just concerned if he hurt you in anyway.

♡...... ADAM would reach his breaking point when he sees Lucifer tllt your chin up and say that he would always be there for you. Always make you feel better and always make you feel loved. He couldn't take it. Watching the scene play out with a hug, you two parted ways. Watching and waiting until Heaven's mistake was alone, the first man opened up a portal to Lucifer lounging on his couch on his phone when he looked up, not surprised at the sight before him.

♡...... "Well if it isn't the first man. Been a while since Eden? How've been? Fucking my people you swore to kill every year?"

♡...... "Shut the hell up! You stole Lillith from me. You stole Eve from me. You will NOT steal them from me!"

♡...... LUCIFER stood up then, despite his shorter stature, he walked right up to Adam with a smirk. He wasn't going to back down. He wasn't scared of this asshole. Even if he was scared to let you in, he still loved you very much and didn't want you wasting your time here in Hell with this man.

♡...... ADAM simply looked down at him, letting his anger be very known to the fallen angel. The key word is fallen. He was a traitor to everything good, and Adam would show you everything good and more if you let him instead of Lucifer.

♡...... "You think they were screaming your name? Last night, we were going so hard they cummed multiple times on my face just from my tounge" It was a lie, you both never had any sex at all, but he wanted Adam to feel intimated.

♡...... "That's a fucking lie. I've been watching them and you laugh and joke but never fuck. At least I actually fucked them unlike your coward ass. How's Lillith by the way? She really seems to love being with you, prick"

♡...... LUCIFER was going to quip back as the snide about his ex-wife especially upset him, but the door opened and you walked in sleepily and asked what was going on while rubbing your eye. Every one of you froze as the situation was becoming apparent to you as you woke up. He watched as you started to panic, knowing that this situation got too out of hand. You rushed up and demanded what was going on in a half sleep state. He was too angry to fully appreciate how adorable you were like that.

♡...... ADAM didn't feel threatened by your prescence at all, in fact, this was going to work in his favor. Smirking, he sauntered up behind your smaller form and wrapped his hands around your shoulders, leaning down and asking in a soft voice if Lucifer ever fucked you. You said no and shook your head. He could tell by the fact that you were shaking that you were very anxious yet thrilled at what was happening. He knew you liked Lucifer, he was just too much of a pussy to take what he wants. It's ok though, more for him.

♡...... LUCIFER hated how Adam defaulted to sex instead of what a real relationship is and its far more than lust. It was always being there for them, helping them, ensuring they were safe and loved. Not someone who fucked them and stalked them. But the ruler of Hell would play his game. Walking closer to your caged in self, he got right up in front of your face with a certain type of smirk you've never seen him wear before. However, his attention was turned above your head to Adam as the taller angel rested his head on top of yours.

♡...... "What's big shot doing now huh?"

♡...... "How about this? We both fuck them at the same time and see which one of us they like better"

♡...... "Deal"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader x lucifer #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #reader x lucifer x adam #lucifer x adam #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader

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mickyschumacher · 9 months

Note

hi! I love the way you write and I’d love to see some Daniel Ricciardo or Oscar Piastri content!! Older brother’s best friend and something including model!reader or figureskater!reader. I also cannot begin to describe how much I love your Taylor song based fics. I was hooked on Style and Dress, thank you, have a wonderful day :)

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you don't have much in common with oscar piastri other than three things: you're both rare talents, you know each other through your older brother, and that, unknowingly, you both really like each other.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: older brother's best friend trope! (although not heavily enforced), suggestive but nothing crude, poor ice skating knowledge, mentions of the spa track, crashing and DNFing, reader likes to blame things on alcohol, lily (oscar's current gf) is his ex (oops), slight diss of tsitp, jealousy!!!, scene of harassment and a creepy man, a physical altercation in which oscar gets physically hurt, attending the wounded scene! (sobbing rn), a cute and horribly cheesy, fluffy ending!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x figureskater!fem!reader, arthur leclerc x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5k+ (um srry hehe)

𝐀/𝐍: i wanted to this was oscar but since he's kinda young, i did a one year age gap bc the territory of 'the older brother's best friend' for piastri is alarming to say the least. i also assumed it was a female reader due to my other works, hope that and this whole piece is okay!!

𝐏.𝐒: if you couldn't tell, it's loosely based off of taylor swift's 'i can see you' bc i ended up losing track lmao. sorry for taking FOREVER but coming back from holiday, going straight back into uni, and having writer's block is the worst combo 🤧 as usual, poorly proof read!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

In a world of billions, quite strangely yet only logically, there were many talented people across the globe. But very few were be a World Champion let alone the opportunity. You were part of this few. The Youngest World Champion in figure skating in history, a two-time World Champion and the 2022 Olympic winner.

You were a living legacy in your town.

Of course, you couldn't do it without the support of the people you loved. Your parents attended all your competitions. In fact, your father was the one who had brought you to the ice when you were three. And your brother, no matter how much of a menace he was, he was your number one fan. Despite all the things he had to do, he was always there for you.

Your brother was one of those Australian boys who had turned their passion for dirt biking into a career for motorcross racing.

Naturally, he had found a friend who was also very interested in racing. However, instead he loved driving a open wheel single-seater formula racing car at crazy speeds. That friend was Oscar Piastri. A childhood best friend of your brother's and a sort of acquaintance slash family friend of yours.

It worried you two see some of the most important people in your lives risk death almost every day but you enjoyed watching them do something they loved.

You could see it in their eyes when they raced. It was the same passion you had for the ice. The slivers of ice that occasionally touched your skin thrilled you was the same excitement that coursed through the two Aussies when they felt their engines rev.

It was odd. You could've sworn a few days ago, you were all kids playing in the backyard of your house; your brother riding his toy bike while Oscar raced him on foot and you commentated in Oscar's favour to piss your brother off. And now all three of you were leading your careers: you were a competitive figure skater, your brother was slamming the MXGP and Oscar was one of the best rookies introduced to F1 in a while.

Where time had gone... you could not even begin to wonder. Heck, once upon a time you were staring down Oscar in the school hallways because for some reason you could only talk to him outside of school. And now... well, it was complicated to say the least.

You had always liked Oscar. It was difficult not to. He was always around you. The boyish charm, the small smiles, the puppy brown eyes, his offers to help you with your homework, you visiting him when he raced... everything had built up inside you. It was festering.

But that's how you liked it. You didn't want to cross any lines. As heart-racing and flustering as your crush on him was, you could not bear the idea of telling someone who was brotherly to you that you liked him.

It was repulsing.

And as far as his dating history could went, Oscar didn't like you. Oscar wasn't a player but he definitely didn't like being single from what you could tell.

To be honest, considering you didn't see him that much due both of your schedules, nothing between the both of you would've ever happened if you're annual family holiday hadn't happened.

Your family and the Piastri's took time out at least once a year to relax together. And this year, your brother and Oscar's breaks overlapped, and you had persuaded your coach for two weeks off. That was all the both of your parents needed before booking a trip to Greece. Everyone wanted to go when they were younger and now they could finally go.

Two weeks... not much could happen. At least so you thought.

The moment you saw Oscar in Greece, your heart thumped against your chest like it had never before and you knew you were screwed. It was ridiculous. How after all the time did you still like this stupid driver? He was the root cause of your lonely love life. Which for most figure skaters was not a big deal... you had prospect lovers falling left and right. Especially the guys in pair skating. But no... you were head over heels for Oscar out of all people.

With the firm boundaries you had made, you ventured to not make a big deal about what you were feeling and pushed it to the side. But the thing about pushing things away, they have a funny way of coming back up.

━━━━━━━━━━━

On the first night of your much needed vacation, you had found one of the most popular restaurants in Santorini while endlessly browsing through social media and decided to get everyone out of the lovely AirBnB you had rented. Upon arriving, your parents and Oscar's were cooped up on one side of the dining table, leaving the 'kids', as your mother calls you three, on the other.

You released a sigh of content, feeling the crisp breeze dance past your skin in the warm summer evening air while your sip of assyrtiko (Greek white wine) slipped past your throat far too easily. Thank God you had chosen an outdoor restaurant tonight. Every time you were on holiday, you couldn't be more grateful to get away from all the stress. If you could live like this every day, with the warm breezy evenings and the amazing architecture, you would.

"So," your mother started, her voice hitting your direction. You flickered your gaze over to her, raising a brow. "How are my kids' love lives? Are you getting down?" She waggled her eyebrows behind her glasses.

A wave of heat pricked your skin at your mother's words. "Mom!" You hissed out in disbelief while your father and Oscar's parents chuckled.

"What? You guys never tell me anything anymore! I used to be the holder of all your secrets and now... now I am an old woman!" Your mother cried, wiping an invisible tear off of her cheek.

You and your brother blankly looked at her and then towards each other. To say your mother was a character was an understatement. She enjoyed her theatrics far too much for anyone's liking, more specifically you're liking.

Oscar grinned, reaching out his hand to hover over hers. "You could never be an old woman. Always young in my heart."

Your brother snorted at Oscar's cheesiness. After you and your brother, Oscar was your mother's son and Oscar was a suck-up. He liked being in the good books, especially that of your mother's.

"Of course," Your mother chuckled softly, patting Oscar's hand gently. She sucked in a sharp breath. "What happen to you and Lily? I heard you two broke up? I thought you liked her a lot?"

You could see Oscar tense at the mention of his ex, your own body rigid. It wasn't a surprise to you but you actually hated hearing about Oscar's love life. Unrequited feelings were already a bitch and you didn't need to make it any worse.

Oscar cleared his throat, a small smiling tugging at his lips. "I thought I did too..." He trailed off, falling into his own trance momentarily. Suddenly his eyes flickered around his surroundings before they landed on you. "I guess I just saw something I else I liked a lot more."

A slight shiver crept down your spine and your heart travelled towards your ears. You pressed your lips tightly together, furrowing your brows.

What the fuck?

You snapped your eyes away, firmly placing them on your empty plate that suddenly held your entire world. Oscar had never ever looked at you like that. Any time you looked into those puppy browns, they were usually some mix between happy, anger, annoyance, sadness, humour, and the God forbidden 'I-see-you-as-my-sister' type love.

But this... this was something else entirely. The softness of his gaze, his words, the timing of it all; a perfect execution of sorts... it was a first.

Maybe you had taken one too many sips of the wine. It was the only reasonable explanation behind your obvious hallucination.

Sooner or later, the sun would set, a main reason behind your picking of the restaurant. The parents and your brother were at the front of the house, arguing about who paid for tonight's dinner. You were more than happy to wait it out on the balcony and revel in the last few rays of light, eyes closed and the breeze dancing across your skin.

"Well don't you look happy," Oscar voice stated, nearing you.

You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to the side only to look back a few second later. Oscar and sunsets... you enjoyed that combo far too much for your liking.

"That's because I am. Sometimes being off the ice is refreshing," You told him, taking in a breath of the fresh evening air.

Out of your peripheral vision you could see Oscar tilt his head, eyes raking over you with a small grin tugging at his lips. You ignored the pace of your heart as he nodded at your remark, settling in next you with his hands on the balcony bar, a mere inch away from your own.

"I hear that," Oscar sighed, looking out at the horizon.

You forced yourself to look over at him, trying to read his mind after hearing the burdened sigh he released. "Oscar... I hope you know you're doing well in F1 right now. You're doing pretty good compared to Lando's rookie year."

Oscar smiled gently. You knew him far too well. "I know. I just... I feel like everyone's expecting so much more of me. Podiums... race wins... like everything else I've done. And then Spa came along."

You winced at the mention of the track. Oscar had collided with Carlos on the very first lap. Carlos said Oscar was too optimistic about making that turn and Oscar said that he didn't even know what Carlos doing; that the Spaniard turned as if he wasn't even on the track. Nevertheless, the collision resulted in both of them DNFing.

You snorted. "Spa is a shit track," You dismissed Oscar's current pessimism with a wave of your hand.

Oscar chuckled at your crudeness. He couldn't disagree with you. Spa was one of those tracks which felt auspicious to any driver. The one where you hoped you at least passed the finishing line. It didn't matter what your position was... as long as you passed it, you were okay.

"Guys come on! We've finished paying," Your brother called out.

The both of you turned around. Oscar pushed himself off of the bar, heading towards your brother. "Who won this one?" He asked in amusement, hands gliding past his waist. Ever so gently, in his walk, he teetered towards you, letting his hand brush past your own, sending a tingle down both of you.

You gulped at the racing feeling, immediately pulling your hand closer to yourself. This hairs of your body stood straight and your fingers felt numb. Heck, you felt numb.

Damn, you thought, this is some crazy good wine.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The thing about your inclination to blame everything on the alcohol you consumed was that it only actually worked if you consumed alcohol. You were lucky if you could extend to the remaining bits by a day with the claims of a hangover.

But right now, you were sober as hell.

An unfortunate event, to say the least.

"Y/N, wake up," Oscar's voice pounded against your blanketed, muffled ears.

"Ugh, no" You groaned, cocooning yourself into your blanket and pressing your head further into your pillow, savouring the warmth.

You always had such early mornings when you trained, waking up at ungodly hours only to workout before heading to the rink. Being on the ice was the only thing you loved. Your fans were sweet but everything else after that, the press, the workouts, the food, sucked. So you cherished the late summer morning in Santorini. And no person, let alone a boy who announced his F1 team to you by saying "I'm driving for a papaya", was going to ruin this for you.

Oscar put his hands on his hips, eyeing you with a twitch in his eye. "But breakfast is ready. I cooked!"

You laughed into your sheets lightly. "Oh boy, that's even worse!"

Oscar looked at your peeking head and humoured eyes blankly. "That," he started to say as he began to literally pull you out of your bed by your arms, "is very very rude thing to say to the chef."

"Oscar, no! Let go!" You begged, hands flailing to attach themselves to anything. Falling on the hard cold floor was not the ideal morning for you.

At least not alone.

You jutted out your leg, nudging Oscar's to the side, making him stumble over his steps. As he quickly realised he was losing balance, he threw his body under yours, creating a soft landing for you as you both fell to the floor.

You were laughing too hard to realise Oscar's one hand had even moved to your waist and the other to your head, as if it was to protect you from getting hurt.

"Oh my God! You should've seen your face! It was like–" You turned to mimic his expression but you couldn't find the words. All the air around you had been seized, your throat was dry and you were breathless.

When had Oscar's face become so close to yours?

You couldn't remember the last time you were this close to him. Probably as a child. He was cute back then as well. But growing up changed the both of you. The most apparent reminder of how old you were was the tiny short hairs from his chin that he always tried to shave off. His eyes were still as brown as ever, less big because he grew into his face. And his lips... they were kissable.

His face was also littered with freckles here and there. You didn't even realise your finger had shot out to play connect the dots with them until you could feel his faint warm breath from how close you were.

Your eyes trailed up his face to find his gaze firmly planted on yours. Suddenly you could feel where his hands were and your skin burned at his touch. The current heatwave in Europe had left you in some thin pyjamas. You didn't regret it last night but you definitely regretted wearing them right now.

Hypnotised, you found yourself leaning in naturally. Oscar's head also nudged forward. Your lips were barely a centimetre away from each other. You could hear your name slip out of Oscar's lips as the faintest whisper. Like it was a struggle to say your name because he couldn't think.

His woody and amber scent engulfed you and for a second, you couldn't think.

Not until you could hear your brother scream both of your names from the kitchen, demanding you to come to breakfast.

You blinked, falling out of your trance as quickly as you fell in.

Oscar felt you jerk in his arms suddenly, pushing yourself out of his hold and attempting to stand up. "Y/N, I–"

No. God, no.

You weren't ruining a friendship over this.

You could pretend. Yes. Pretend. You can't see him.

"We're coming!" You yelled back, feeling your cheeks redden with embarrassment and annoyance; both vexing feeling for yourself.

God, what a day to be sober.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Honestly how this holiday had gone from zero to a hundred was beyond you.

Pretending like nothing had happened in your room was harder than you thought. Not when Oscar looked at you with these burdened eyes and like he had something to say to you, right on the tip of his tongue.

You considered avoiding him. But doing so on a family trip was easier said than done. Besides, it would've been pretty obvious to everyone else and knowing your family, they would've made a big deal out of nothing. Because that's what it was: nothing.

But alas, you have a brother. And normally, he's stupid and self-obsessed to the point it bordered on unhealthy. But as your brother, it seemed he had some sort of sixth sense for these sorts of things. Something about the older sibling being superior or whatever lies he convinced himself with.

"Why are you being weird with Oscar? Your brother asked you while you ate some ice cream and caught up with the new season of 'The Summer I Turned Pretty'. At first, you couldn't fathom watching a character called 'Belly' out of all things but somehow you got hooked.

You paused the scoop of ice cream you put in your mouth, letting it slowly melt away as you stared hard at your nuisance of a brother. "I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"Ha, nice try. You're supposed to use 'literally' when you deny it the second time," Your brother smiled at you smugly.

You pressed your lips together, feeling your teeth slightly grind against your spoon. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to smack the shit of your brother with a spoon or bury him in a six-foot deep hole.

"Come on, lil sis, you can talk to me. Everyone's out of the house right now," He partially jested while being entirely serious.

Burying him in a hole it was.

"I have nothing to say to you," You stated, eyes reverting back to your show.

Your brother narrowed his eyes, grabbing the remote to pause the episode. Ignoring your exclaim of annoyance, he sat down next to you and took your ice cream and spoon away from you to dig into the pint for himself.

You shuddered in disgust. You were not having that flavour for a while.

He pointed your spoon at you. "I know you think I'm stupid, which I may be, but I'm not entirely an idiot. What happened with you and Oscar? You were all happy buddies a few days ago. Now he looks like a lost puppy and you look like you saw Pennywise in the hallway."

You bit down on your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. You couldn't actually let him know he was funny.

"Did he do something to you? Y/N, if he did something wrong to you I swear to God... just tell me and I will end him."

Your eyes widened at the sudden change of the conversation. Sitting up, you waved your hands in urgent dismissal. "No! Oh my God, nothing like that! Holy shit."

Your brother let a relieved exhale fall from his mouth before furrowing his brows. "Then what happened? Is it your stupid crush on him?"

"I–what?" You asked dumbfounded, looking at your brother incredulously.

"Your crush? Like the one you've had since you first laid eyes on him. You know everyone knows right? It's kinda obvious. Well, everyone but Oscar," your brother said nonchalantly.

You blinked blankly at him. "Before I throw myself off of a cliff, I can give you the generous choice of how you die? Personally I'm thinking asphyxiation, arson, or murder."

Your brother gulped, slowly putting away the ice cream. "Okay, first off stop watching Criminal Minds so much. Second of all, you don't need to feel embarrassed. All of us have been secretly rooting for you. Especially mom and Oscar's mom. You should've seen how happy they got when I told them Oscar and Lily broke up. It was seriously creepy."

You sighed, falling onto the couch. "It doesn't matter how creepy it was. We almost kissed! And then you called for us. Any later, I would've ruined our friendship. What's the point anyways? He doesn't like me. I'm gonna die in the friendzone," You dramatically sobbed out.

"Well you can start by not turning the other direction when you see him. Poor guy looks like you killed his dog. Do you think a guy who's dog was killed has any guts to speak to their murderer? And that's beside the fact that he may like his murderer."

Where was that shovel again?

"You know what you need to do? Do something that makes him talk to you. I got it! I could set you up with Arthur! He's in Santorini too! Oscar would hate it."

"Oh my God... do you want me to die?" You asked, slightly horrified at the look of pure joy on your brother's face .

Your brother grinned. "Of course, I do. Would I be your brother if I didn't?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

For as long as he could remember, Oscar was a peaceful guy. He didn't really get angry quickly. He was usually calm and usually could think before he acted.

But all those characteristics were thrown out the window, well into the air of the music festival everyone decided to attend, when he saw you walk into the event with Arthur Leclerc. His former teammate out of all people.

"Is that Arthur? Why is he here?" Oscar asked your brother.

"Hmm?" Your brother turned around, pretending to squint at the two of you briefly before catching your piercing gaze. "Oh yeah... that is him. He told me he was in Greece. Guess he found Y/N first. Makes sense I guess."

Oscar looked at your brother dubiously. "I... what does that even mean?"

"I don't know why but I always got the feeling he liked Y/N," your brother shrugged.

Oscar blinked. "You're taking the fucking piss..." He huffed in disbelief.

"What? Oh? Here they come."

Truth be told, Arthur was more than happy to oblige with your brother's game. He hadn't seen Oscar in a while because they were in different championships now. Getting the opportunity to play with him a bit was a hard offer to turn down.

"Ozzie!" Arthur cheered, bringing him into a hug.

Oscar raised a brow at you. That pet name originated from you when the three of you decided to become superheroes for a day and you decided to name eight-year-old Oscar, 'Ozzie the Mozzie' after he got bitten by one. No one else on Earth called him that but you.

"I was telling Arty here about that mozzie that bit you and he really liked Ozzie the Mozzie," You chuckled softly.

Arty...

God give him strength because Oscar wasn't sure how much longer he could bear this.

To be honest, you weren't much of a music festival type of person. It was always crowded, hot, and filled with some sort of drugs even if you couldn't see it.

But aside from that, you enjoyed the serenity it could bring; the indie music that was well on it's way to becoming pop; the calming breeze; the warming sun.

Well you would enjoy it more if a certain Aussie wasn't staring daggers to the side of your head–Arthur's head.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around to see a stranger. A somewhat attractively creepy stranger but a stranger nonetheless. You raised your brows and gave a small smile. "Yes?"

"I know you don't know me but I just saw you from over there and I wanted to say you're really pretty!"

You blinked, feeling the three boys around you stiffen at the compliment. You nodded slowly, putting on a grateful smile. "Oh, thank you so much," You responded, laughing awkwardly.

A moment of awkward silence settled in the air as the guy still remained in front of you.

"So... I was wondering if I get could get your number?" The guy asked with an odd glint in his eyes.

The alarms were ringing in your head and an uncomfortable shiver went down your spine. "Uh, I'm sorry. I... I don't really want to. But thanks for your offer," You politely declined.

"Oh come on. I called you pretty... that's gotta be worth your number. Come on."

Oh.

Honestly, you were speechless. Your number which for him was the leeway into your intimate life was worth a compliment.

"Yeah, I don't think so," You quipped sharply, gritting your teeth.

"Come on, baby girl. Let me show you a fun time." The guy stepped forward, his hand reaching towards your body.

You froze at his words. You wanted to move but you couldn't.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Oscar, Arthur, and your brother step in front of you.

"Mate, fuck off. She doesn't want you," Oscar pushed the guy away from you.

Your brother snorted. "I don't think anyone wants him."

The guy sneered, making you wince. He raised his hands in a feigned defence, beginning to turn away from you. Thank God. "Fine. I didn't want a girl like you anyways. All these guys around you... a whore."

Arthur and you, as the pacifists you were, watched in silent horror as your brother poked his tongue in his cheek and Oscar's head quickly whipped towards the guy.

"Oscar..." You warned meekly as Arthur tried to get your brother's attention.

The last thing any of you needed was famed athletes on the front page of ESPN, cited as the cause of a brawl.

"What did you say?" Oscar raised a brow, ignoring your pleas and walking towards the guy. His tone was dark and the total opposite of what he normally sounded like. He was raged.

"The truth," The guy chuckled. "I said she's a whore. Why? What are you gonna do about it, little boy?"

Yeah see, the guy most definitely had a couple of inches on Oscar and you brother. You weren't really keen on seeing them get pummelled to the ground.

Oscar said nothing in response but raised his fist, slamming it into the side of the guy's jaw.

Oh for fuck's sake.

As if the guy had lightening reflexes, the guy quickly pulled his head back up and got a hold of Oscar, getting into a cycle of punches.

Your heart dropped at the sight. Your brother, thank God, and Arthur quickly realised that Oscar wasn't winning anything here, stepping in to push the two men apart. A small crowd began to gather, some thankfully aiding in trying to stop whatever was going on.

Arthur pulled Oscar away and towards you. You held Oscar against you, clutching him tightly as your heart raced in your ears. Somewhere in the muffled sounds you could hear your brother.

"We're going home. Now."

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your brother and Arthur had decided to go explain the situation the both of your parents who were out having lunch because you couldn't blame all those bruises and dry blood on Oscar's face by saying he fell. This left you to clean up Oscar to reduce the risk of your parents having a heart attack.

You clenched your jaw, holding the first aid kid and a wet cloth to your side as you walked towards the seated racing driver who had found a lot of interest in the floor all of a sudden while icing his face.

"I can't believe you," You mumbled in annoyance, taking a seat next to him. You gently grabbed his chin, putting side the ice bag, trying to decide on where to start cleaning but you could only wince at his face. His bottom lip and his brow was slightly torn, the side of his jaw and the top of his cheek had started to bruise, and his nose was a blood fest.

All the pain Oscar felt began to disappear as he felt your hands gently graze past his skin, scouting all the damage that had occurred. He looked at your pained eyes and internally sighed. He hated seeing you in pain. "He was disrespecting you. I wasn't going to just let it go."

You rolled your eyes, slowly wiping away the dry blood. "He was like six foot two, Oscar. You're like five foot. He could've ki... he could've really hurt you," You jested before your voice fell into a bare whisper.

Oscar's heart clenched as you went back on your words, watching you grab some antiseptic with shaky hands. He grabbed your hands, holding them with his own and softly looked into your eyes. "But he didn't. I'm fine. See?" He smiled widely before wincing at the pain shooting through his face.

You snorted. "As if."

"Hey, you're talking to a guy who crashes at most craziest speeds. Bet that guy can't do that," Oscar shrugged nonchalantly.

You narrowed your eyes. "If you weren't already hurt, I would've smacked the shit out of you right now. Just so you know."

Oscar grinned at you. "Ah, there's the ever kind Y/N I love."

You rolled your eyes before processing what he had just said. As friends. Friendly love. Right. You shook your head out of your trance, removing your hands from his and returning back to the stupid first aid kit next to you.

Oscar mended his brows together. "Hey," he tapped your thigh, "you heard what I said right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," You said idly, opening the tube of antiseptic cream.

"What? I..." Oscar sighed, taking the cream out of your hands before pulling you closer to him. His hands held your face, looking you dead in the eye. "I said I love you, Y/N. You know... the type where you look at someone and all you know is that you can't breathe without them? The one in your books?"

Your mouth felt dry. You blinked blankly. Your hands felt clammy. You chuckled nervously. "Pfft, what? You don't love me. You mean as a friend, right? I think you need some medicine. Maybe there's some in this kit." Your eyes darted down, frantically looking around the box as your heart thudded against your chest.

"Hey, hey," Oscar called, using his hand to turn your chin towards him. "I don't. I mean, I do love you as a friend, but no. I love love you."

"Well... what about about Lily?"

"As I said... I realised I loved someone else more," Oscar told you, letting his confession sink into your mind. "You know... if your idiot brother didn't call us that day, I definitely would've kissed you."

Oh.

Well.

That was something.

This was real. You weren't dreaming. You hadn't died. Oscar, your childhood best friend and your brother's best friend, was confessing to you.

"Huh... well, if it's any consolation, I probably would've kissed you too," You retorted, trying to keep your quirking lips at bay before you began smiling for too much for anyone's liking.

"Probably? That kinda sucks. Are you sure you wouldn't have definitely kissed me?" Oscar grinned, grabbing your waist and seating you down on his lap.

"Hmm... I mean maybe. This current environment is nowhere near as enticing as my bedroom. I mean what is sexier than me waking up, am I right?" You joked, trying to cover up the fact that you were dying at the proximity between you two.

Oscar pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek, holding your jaw while his thumb grazed your lips. "Well, I can think of a few other things."

You silently watched as Oscar leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His lips were softer than you could ever imagine.

You blinked, taking a mere second to register what was going on. Oscar Piastri was kissing you. Holy shit, Oscar Piastri was kissing you!

You kissed him back, feeling his hand wrap around the back of your neck and the other holding you steady against him. Your skin burned at his touch, feeling his fingers snake past the hem of your shirt and rest on your hot skin.

Oddly enough, despite your heat, goosebumps sprawled across every inch of your skin as his tongue darted out, exploring your own, giving you access to his mouth.

You could've sworn you were walking on fire. One more step and you could've combusted. Your thighs clenched at the moan that slipped from Oscar's mouth as your teeth tugged on his bottom lip, your hands roaming around his chest and his arms.

Oscar's hand wrapped around your hair, enjoying the softness he had wanted touch ever since he realised he had feelings for you. His pants felt tight as he felt your hand brush against his bare torso. Fuck. You were going to do him in. He fell back further into the couch, holding you tighter against him.

The desire you had was blinding you. Your other hand fell to his cheek, forgetting about his injuries till Oscar murmured an "ouch".

You retracted your hands, pulling back from his lips, a move Oscar clearly didn't enjoy as his eyes followed your lips. "Shit!" You exclaimed, "the antiseptic! Sorry!"

Oscar paused in his trance, realising what you were talking about. He smiled softly, lips widening even further when he saw your swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

You carefully applied the cream to his brow before moving to his lips. "The diagnosis for you Mr Piastri is no more kissing for you," You grinned.

Oscar looked at you dumbfounded. "I–what? For how long?"

"Mmm... a week?"

"A week?" Oscar repeated in exasperation. "There is no way I can last that long. Not after this. Besides I'm pretty sure kissing actually helps you heal faster."

Your skin warmed further at his confession. You cleared your throat and held his hands. "I am confident that is not scientifically true."

Oscar narrowed his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. "You need to read better medical journals, doc."

You tilted your head to the side, leaning in further. "I think I have an alternative."

"Yeah?" Oscar's eyes danced across your face, smiling softly. "What is it?"

"It's less practical, more theoretical. Confessional, if you will," You shrugged, letting your forehead rest against his.

Oscar shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth of you. "Oh really? Don't let me stop you."

"I love you, Oscar. I've loved you since we were little heroes running around in the backyard."

Oscar opened his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist. He smiled widely at you. "Are you sure you said a week?"

You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest playfully. "I'm sure."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine

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yutaholic · 4 months

Text

the show must go on (M)

PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Your best friend, your ride or die, Haechan has never once left your side, but all good things must come to an end.

WARNINGS: strong language; brief mentions of alcohol and drug abuse; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 7.9k words; this is part three of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Seattle, 1991

We met in detention. Eighth grade. Not to be cliché, but I knew Lee Haechan was trouble when he walked in.

Takes one to know one.

What I didn’t know was the role he would come to play in my life. I doubt many people meet their soulmate in middle school. I was pretty lucky in that.

The two of us practically lived in detention that entire year. Ninth grade was a little better; we just hung out behind the school instead of inside it. A silly pair of dumb kids wearing matching leather jackets and passing a cigarette back and forth, coughing up smoke and thinking it made us cool.

We thought we had it all figured out. But only Haechan turned out to be right.

He was the one that started the band. Haechan threw us all together and made music out of our chaos and trauma. He was the glue and without him, we would fall apart.

You clambered quietly into the passenger seat and whispered, “They’re asleep.”

Haechan was behind the wheel, but the van was parked on a grassy knoll just off the main highway. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he mumbled, sitting in a cloud of smoke that poured from his lips. The thick scent of marijuana filled the van from stem to stern.

You followed your best friend’s gaze. His eyes were firmly planted out the window at the black curtain of nightfall painted with billions of little lights. “The sky looks so pretty,” you said in awe.

“I know. It’s crazy seeing stars this bright.”

There was a tiny lull of silence. You were thinking. It wasn’t often you got to be alone with Haechan lately and it was making you crazy - not getting to confide in your best friend.

“I let Mark raw me,” you blurted out.

Haechan snorted. “I heard, but clearly your birth control did its job.”

“I snorted cocaine with Jeno… and fucked him in a dressing room.”

Your best friend looked at you, arching a brow. “So?” Doing crazy shit with Jeno wasn’t new, to be fair.

“What the hell am I doing?”

“What you do best - loving everyone except yourself.”

You frowned. Nail hitting the head every time, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t do that,” you said in a small voice.

Haechan smirked and put the joint to his lips, taking another long drag. “You know me better than to think I’m going to be your conscience and scold you,” he said a moment later. “It makes sense you’re trying to get in as many rounds of fun before the summer ends.”

The summer was winding down. August was half over.

I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t. Because I knew in my heart when we went home, we would go our separate ways. Forever.

There would be nothing holding us together anymore.

“Haechan?”

“Yes, my love?”

You fought back tears as you asked, “What are we going to do when it’s all over?”

Haechan slapped on a playful grin for your sake and said, “We’re going to get scouted at a concert and get a huge record deal and I’ll eat you out over a bed of hundred dollar bills.”

You snorted. “God, that would be a dream.” You quickly sobered. “What’s the reality?”

Your best friend’s grin melted away and his voice turned to frost. “Go home. Find a minimum wage job. And try not to turn into raging alcoholics like our parents.”

“I thought so,” you sighed, hanging your head.

Haechan reached over and rubbed your arm. “Save the major depressive episode for back home. Let’s just enjoy these last few days.”

“I don’t want to give up,” you said, meeting his eyes again. The fire inside you lit itself with resolve. No matter how small it was. “I want something more for us in life.”

“I know you do, baby,” Haechan crooned, touching your cheek affectionately. “But some things are just out of our control.”

You blinked with the urge to cry. You couldn’t fight it anymore. Regardless of his gentle tone, Haechan’s words sounded final. You slipped out of the seat and to the floor to lay your head on Haechan’s thigh, closing your eyes as he stroked your hair.

After a moment, Haechan whispered, “I’ll never forget you for as long as I live. No matter what happens. I hope you know that.”

The tears slipped down your face as you smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Haechan’s lips twitched. He wanted so badly to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t. He knew damn well when the summer ended and the band came up empty, there would be a permanent wedge of broken hearts and crushed dreams between you.

So, so lonely. That was Haechan’s biggest fear. Losing his best friends would destroy him beyond repair. He would go through life jaded and bitter, like his parents.

Maybe it really was unavoidable. Fighting fate sounded great in songs, but reality wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.

The next morning, you woke in the bed with Jeno’s arm tucked around your waist, his body molded to yours keeping you warm. There was no telling which boy scooped you off the floor and put you in bed, but your money was on Mark. He was having a hard time looking at you and Haechan was mysteriously quiet.

But you knew why.

Tension had settled over the van, the worst of the worst. After the show in Seattle, there were no more gigs to be played. Now, the long drive home would begin, shadowed by defeat and failure.

You resorted to doing what you always did; trying to alleviate the pressure and raise everyone’s spirits. Once the boys were up and actually keeping their eyes open, you had Jeno drive to the nearby state park.

As he did, you drifted between them. They were like strangers, devoid of energy and hope. Mark hadn’t touched his guitar since the final gig. The gentle strumming of his acoustic and the beauty of his softly whispered singing didn’t fill the van anymore, to your dismay.

Haechan curled up in the bed and didn’t say a word. Jeno drove silently, smoking one cigarette after another and blowing the smoke out the window. You started with him, running your hand over his shoulder as he held the wheel. Jeno glanced at you briefly, offering a weak smile that even he couldn’t keep. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

You went to Mark next and curled up next to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly. Mark was a little surprised, seeing as how the two of you had been working hard to keep your hands off each other, but was over the moon to have you in his arms again. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands up and down your back.

“Won’t you play a little something?” you asked gently.

Mark shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, closing your eyes to fight the tears.

Finally, you went to Haechan and sat on the mattress next to him. He just looked at you, his stare vacant and blank. You brushed his long hair from his face and leaned in to trace a few kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, just to see if you could spark a reaction.

Haechan pushed you ever so slightly and said, “That’s not going to work this time.”

You frowned. And gave up. The three were inconsolable and it broke your heart.

Sidling over to the cabinet, you found your notebook and began flipping pages, going to where you’d left off. Your brows stitched when you didn’t find it and that was when you noticed the torn remains of paper in the metal spiral.

“Okay. Which one of you ripped the page out?”

Mark met your eyes and said, “Don’t look at me.”

You called, “Jeno?”

“You know I wouldn’t touch your shit,” he replied calmly.

Leaving you to turn to Haechan, his eyes closed. “Haechan?”

“I don’t give a fuck about your memoir,” he said, hissing your name.

That made you flinch. You understood his anger, but not the vitriol toward your story. Your eyes fell to the notebook and the missing page, and your hands began to shake.

You threw the notebook at the cabinet and it landed in a pitiful heap. Tensing with frustration, you bent your legs, wrapped your arms around your knees, and hid your face, crying as quietly as you could.

Mark moved slowly, grazing against you to pick up the notebook and tuck it back into its place neatly, but he didn’t have the courage to comfort you. Too scared he would make it worse.

It was Haechan that slipped to the floor and enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest and dabbing at your cheeks with his sleeve.

When Jeno pulled into the park, you breathed in relief. The van was too stifling, suffocating you in all its misery. You hopped out of the van without a word and started marching for the scenic overlook advertised on a giant sign like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

One-by-one, your bandmates whined and huffed, but inevitably followed. They could wallow in their own disappointment, but they couldn’t stand seeing it hit you.

That’s how the four of you came to sit at a lone picnic table, silently staring at the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves ebb and flow in all its unwavering glory.

The tears had dried on your face. Breathing in the sweet, salty air grounded you again, clearing your lungs and your head.

You were the one to finally break the silence. “I need to come clean about something.”

“Go ahead,” Jeno replied, yawning as he still struggled to shake off sleep.

Wringing your hands in your lap, you began, “I’ve been mailing pieces of the memoir to Cassie.”

“That explains the trips to the post office,” Mark said offhandedly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be glib or not.

“And?” Jeno pressed.

You took a breath. “She submitted it to a publisher for their… consideration, I guess it’s called.”

Well, that woke everyone up.

“Are you serious?” Haechan asked, his eyes wide.

“Yeah?” You were befuddled by the reaction, glancing around at them. All three of your boys were sporting similar looks of shock. “You knew I was writing a memoir.”

“We knew you were scribbling in a notebook to toss in a bin and find it again twenty years later and laugh at all the dumb shit we did…” Haechan’s tone of disdain was not lost on you.

Jeno’s gawking increased. “Babe, are you insane?”

You felt small on that picnic table between them, utterly confused, and snapped, “No. I’m trying to get us out of this hell!”

Grimacing, Mark asked pointedly, “You wrote about all the very illegal shit you’ve been doing?”

Oh. That’s why they were freaked out. Underage drinking. Marijuana. Cocaine. All very punishable offenses. You shrugged and plastered on your cutest, most innocent smile. “A little?”

“Fuck,” Jeno swore, sliding off the bench to his feet and running a hand through his hair.

Haechan shook his head and chuckled. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You rubbed your arms awkwardly.

I was so determined to make it work. It was tunnel vision, so intense I could see nothing else.

“What did the publisher say?” Mark asked, touching your shoulder in comfort. The awkwardness was killing him too.

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I call Cassie at every stop to check on the dogs and she promised to update me on any replies from the publisher.”

Jeno looked to Haechan. “Can they report us to the cops?”

Haechan waved him away, looking more amused the longer he thought about it. “No. She can just say it’s all fiction. Very embellished fiction.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Good thinking.”

You almost laughed. Haechan could lie his way out of almost anything. In this case, it would be in your favor. You glanced around at your boys again. “So…, is everyone mad at me or are we good?”

“We’re good,” Haechan said, patting your head. “For now.”

“Fuck.” Mark sounded exhausted. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I could handle losing our music career, but being notorious in a fucking book.”

It was your turn to comfort him, running your hand across his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers.

Jeno kicked at a pinecone, watching it skitter across the rocks. “We’d be the fucking losers just known for banging bitches at every stop,” he sneered. Then, the drummer had a thought and raised his brows. “Actually, whatever gets us paid, I don’t really care.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” Mark asked curiously. “You technically wrote the book, but it’s about all of us.”

You made a face. “It’s our story. Of course I’d split everything fairly with you guys.”

Haechan smiled at you ever so faintly.

“I can’t believe our story’s almost over,” Jeno mumbled bitterly.

You perked up. This was as good a time as any. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

You got up and spun on your heels, so you could face them all at once. “I was thinking…,” you said, shifting your weight. “We could get a place together and we’d work odd jobs to pay the bills, but we would play gigs here and there. Whatever we could get.”

Jeno simpered. You weren’t clinging to the band. You just didn’t want to let go of them.

“We’d be scraping by a living forever,” Mark pointed out.

“But we’d be doing what we love,” you argued.

“Try loving something that never loves you back,” Haechan said harshly. “You become bitter and miserable. Just like my parents. And yours.”

You scanned their faces. Each had the tiniest bit of hope in their eyes, but their expressions were firmly rooted in defeat. “You guys just want to go home after everything we did this summer and…,” you trailed, a tremble creeping into your voice. “Pretend like it never happened?”

Jeno softened. “Of course it happened. We’ll always look back and remember this as the best days of our lives.” He talked to you like he was soothing a fussy baby. “But best days don’t last. That’s why you look back on them.”

Your eyes burned. More tears would come any moment now and you weren’t ashamed of them. “I just don’t understand why you’re all giving up. Why am I the only one trying to keep us together?”

“Because you’re the dreamer,” Mark sighed.

Haechan snapped, “Stop being so gentle with her,” and Jeno was quick to warn, “Don’t be a dick.”

Your best friend jumped down from the picnic table and approached you. You knew by his tone and his gait that he was about to dress you down and you readied yourself for the blow.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Haechan started, pointing at the guitarist. “Mark’s parents will blow their entire retirement savings to send him to a good college to recover their reputation. And they will never let him date someone like you.”

You flinched.

“Fuck you,” Mark hissed, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.

Haechan continued, “Jeno won’t be able to hold down a job. He’ll be a regular customer in rehab, then jail.”

Jeno held up his middle finger. “Go to hell.”

Haechan set his eyes on you and a chill ran down your spine. “And you,” Haechan said through clenched jaws. “You’ll meet some guy you can barely stand, but he’ll keep a nice roof over your head. He’ll put a couple babies in you after some miserable missionary and your entire personality will center around the screaming kids you never wanted. Just like your mom.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Planting both hands on Haechan’s chest, you shoved him back and screamed, “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”

Jeno was suddenly caught in a very precarious position. As you stomped off, his first instinct was to go after you, but in the next second, Mark was off the table and charging toward Haechan. So, Jeno had to decide whose life was in the most imminent danger.

And he correctly chose Haechan.

Mark grabbed Haechan by the collar with both hands and crowded into his face. “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he roared, but Haechan didn’t fight back.

He was numb. His face was blank, his eyes cold.

Jeno did his best to wedge himself between them, but he was too defeated. All the thunder was gone from him. “Why did you do that to her?” he asked sadly.

“She has to let go of us,” Haechan replied, looking from Jeno to Mark. “Make her hate you. It’s the only way.”

Mark shook his head in dissent, clenching his fists even tighter in Haechan’s shirt.

You put plenty of distance between yourself and the boys, and the moment you found a solitary bench between trees, you collapsed onto it, buried your face in your hands, and wept.

We have no secrets, Haechan and I. He knows the darkest depths of my soul, and I know his.

I never thought he’d use that as a weapon, but I should have known.

He was the only one that dreamed bigger and harder than me. With it all ending, his heart was dying and pain makes us do horrible things. Especially to the ones we love most.

Because he knew I would still love him anyway. No matter how much he broke me.

Time lost all meaning as you cried on that bench. It wasn’t just Haechan’s words that crushed you, it was the cruel reality of life. You didn’t want to live without your boys. The four of you were too interwoven and connected. Being parted from them would be like tearing at the fabric of who you were.

You were expected to walk around with a gaping hole in your chest forever?

Sure. Most people did. It would account for all the hate and anger in the world.

“My love?”

You lifted your head at the sound of his voice, roughly wiped your wet cheeks, and growled, “Go away, Haechan. I swear to god, I will slap the shit out of you.”

Haechan dragged his feet over to you and said, “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

You refused to look at him as he sat beside you. Your eyes focused on the ocean.

We had the same biggest fear. Becoming our parents. As time went on, the more it seemed inevitable. A cycle that couldn’t be broken. We were fools to think we could be different.

That’s what I was hanging onto. I had to avoid that fate at all costs. Part of me thought that as long as I had my boys, they could save me from it.

“How could you say my worst nightmare so casually like that?” You were still shaking.

Haechan hung his head. “I was trying to hurt you.”

You scoffed, deadpanning, “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like all the air was sapped from his lungs. When you didn’t respond, Haechan said, “Look at me. Please.”

“No.”

Your best friend sighed loudly and slouched into the bench, resting his head on the back. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, watching the world pass you by.

“You’ll prove me wrong,” Haechan said tenderly. “You will be the one that breaks the cycle. The rest of us will just watch.”

Still, you said nothing. You hated him.

Because Haechan always ended up being right. It was a gift and a curse.

Mark and Jeno came looking. The latter was the only one brave enough to approach you, holding out his hand without a word. You peered up at him and let your hand slip into his, and Jeno led you away.

Haechan blinked and the tears escaped. He held them back until you left, refusing to cry in front of you. Keeping his hands in his lap, Haechan didn’t bother to dry his cheeks.

Mark blew out a pained breath. “What do we do?”

“You know what you have to do,” Haechan said, cutting his eyes at Mark. “If you don’t stand up to your parents, they’ll make you give her up.”

“I won’t,” Mark started.

“They will wear you down. You know they will. She’s not who they have in mind for their perfect boy. They hate her.”

Mark nodded.

“If you grow a spine, the two of you can at least live happily ever after,” Haechan joked, but there was a bitter edge to his voice.

“What about you and Jeno?”

Haechan stood. “It is what it is.”

The cloud in the van darkened. Jeno and Mark were miserable, and predictably stoic about it. Neither knew what to do with you. As it turned out, you were the rock, not Jeno.

Curled up in the bed with your back to them, you closed your eyes, but had no intention of sleeping. You would just lay there and wait for something to break or change. You’d done the heavy lifting so far. Now it was their turn.

Haechan couldn’t take the silence anymore. He trudged out of the van and slammed the door behind him.

You didn’t bat an eye. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to ask or care.

That wasn’t true. I always cared. Nothing could ever make me stop caring. We are all cursed and that was mine.

When the doors wheeled open, Haechan was sweaty and disheveled. You wondered how much time had passed as he sat on the mattress beside you. “Come with me,” your best friend said, holding out his hand.

You smarted, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll drag you.”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him an obstinate glare, but your curiosity was piqued. The hell had he been doing that got him so shiny with sweat? It didn’t take him that long to jerk off.

A defeated sigh left your lips. He was still your best friend, even if you hated his guts at the moment.

After batting his hand away, you got up and followed Haechan outside, rolling your eyes at the looks Mark and Jeno were sporting.

Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as Haechan led you into the trees, not too far from the van. When you saw what he was bringing you to, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

A camping tent was set up; the one Haechan had insisted on strapping on top of the van in case he found a nice spot. And it seemed he found one.

This was a habit of ours. When the yelling at my house got to be too much, when I couldn’t block it with my locked door or the blankets over my head, I would sneak out the window.

My parents didn’t notice. Hard to notice if you don’t care. Haechan would always be waiting to run off with me to the park. There were safe, secluded areas to set the tent up without fear of being interrupted.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten laid in that pathetic little tent. I’d probably mourn the damn thing when it finally fell apart.

Just as I mourned my relationships.

“How about a night not sleeping in the van?” Haechan asked, unzipping the front flap and holding it open for you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you barked, narrowing your eyes at him and crawling inside.

Haechan bit his tongue. Any witty remarks would not be appreciated at the moment.

But given Haechan was allergic to quiet, he wasn’t going to keep enabling your cold shoulder for much longer. Watching you lay on your back and make yourself comfortable over the sleeping bags, Haechan sidled up next to you as close as humanly possible.

“I’m still mad,” you huffed.

“I know.”

Well, with that out of the way, you relaxed. He knew you were upset. Now the groveling could begin.

Haechan rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, staring at you and how intensely you were ignoring him. He reached over and stroked your cheek tenderly, and said, “I love you. It’s gonna hurt so much when you leave me.”

You closed your eyes, your heart clenching in your chest. “Then why are you trying to make me leave?”

“To give myself some control over the pain. Maybe.”

You turned your head and looked at him. His hair had grown longer over the summer, its natural jet black. It was cute; falling into his eyes, hiding them behind fluffy strands. You brushed some back with your fingertips so he couldn’t hide. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Haechan smiled softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “You’re my best friend. I’ll be next to you in a nursing home.”

“Will you still kiss me if I have no teeth?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Heck yes. That would be hilarious.”

Both of you laughed at the sudden mental image of you and Haechan as two little old people sucking each other’s faces.

The rest of the world melted away. Your summer wasn’t coming to an end. It was just another night spent from home inside Haechan’s tent. If you didn’t think too hard, you could convince yourself nothing had changed.

Nothing was over.

You talked for ages, about everything. Like always. The light beyond the tent died and everything went dark, prompting Haechan to light a familiar lantern beside the sleeping bags. Soon, the ambience shifted from birds chirping to crickets singing.

When the atmosphere changed, so did the gravity inside the tent.

He was good at talking you away from the edge. Haechan made you laugh hard enough you forgot your anger and sadness, and he started stealing kisses between words. His hand occasionally traced patterns on the bit of your exposed stomach until it slipped under your shirt and got comfortable palming your breast. That’s when you began initiating kisses and running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing overtook conversation. You were immune to all the pain when his lips were on yours and you wanted more, wanted to overdose on the feeling until your heart was made of stone.

Haechan was my family. He was the only home I’d ever known, the only person who loved me unconditionally like my parents were supposed to. Soul mates aren’t always romantic. Maybe they’re just the person that loves you despite everything.

There was a little hitch in his breath as Haechan deepened the kiss, his arms heavy around you. He needed it too, needed to feel loved again before it was all over.

Your lashes fluttered as Haechan settled on top of you, abandoning your lips to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, having been pulling him to you impatiently. His leg wedged between your thighs, pressing against your sex.

Haechan tugged at your clothes, undressing you while he bruised the base of your neck with his lips and teeth. When you yanked off his clothes and finally felt his naked body against yours, you moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his long hair.

It was so familiar and comforting. With Haechan, everything was okay. Nothing could hurt me here.

He seemed in no rush to touch you where you really wanted him to. Typical. Haechan always dragged things out and made it last. He knew you had all the time in the world and was in no hurry to plow through it. Pun intended.

Haechan sucked your nipple into his mouth and pinched the other with his fingers. You bit your lip and squirmed under him, feeling his hard cock against your thigh. You hooked your legs on his hips and flexed, bringing him flush against you for good measure.

You flipped your positions and Haechan let you, holding your waist as you rolled onto him, straddling his lap. He kissed you even deeper, running his hands up and down your back while you cradled his face and tried to snatch all the air from his lungs.

Haechan broke from the kiss to ask playfully, “Have you been writing about sex in the book?”

You were breathing heavily, flushed and dazed from his kisses. “Yeah,” you rasped, running your hand through your hair to get it out of your face.

Haechan tugged you back down and trailed kisses over your jaw before whispering in your ear, “I need to give you some new material.”

“As if you haven’t given me plenty already.”

“I have competition,” he retorted, brushing his hands to your breasts. “Jeno is a slut with a dragon dick. You have a fat crush on Mark and he railed the shit out of you.”

You snickered. “Who are you then?”

Haechan steered you up and shuffled down until his arms were around your thighs and his mouth was inches from your sex, and purred, “I’ll always be the one that gave you your first nut.”

Though you were about to laugh at that, the next sound out of your mouth was a whimper as Haechan tongued at your folds. You were mindful not to put too much of your weight on him, but his hands on your hips said otherwise, bringing you down to meet his lips.

The sight of his face buried in your pussy, between your thighs, was so arousing you felt your walls clench on nothing.

“Fuck.” You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. Reaching for his hands on your hips, you held on tight and joked breathlessly, “The book will give us more groupies than the band ever did.”

Haechan stopped sucking on your clit long enough to retort, “God, I hope so.”

An involuntary shudder shot through you when he latched back onto your bundle of nerves. You squeezed his hands even tighter, eyes winching closed. Another moan tumbled off your tongue. Haechan didn’t play when he was sucking you dry.

It was probably one of the few things in life he took seriously.

“Mm,” you hummed, trembling when his tongue swirled around your entrance before returning to your clit. “So good, baby.”

Haechan made a noise against your cunt. “You know, you only call me baby when I’m getting you off.”

“Do I?”

“I like it.”

“I like when you touch me,” you said in barely a whisper, biting your lip lest you go into juicy detail.

Haechan would have loved that.

You were so far gone already. Your hands found his hair, your hips bucking against his face. Little nothings mingled with your moans. Haechan kneaded your hips, but as you got closer, he reached up to grab and squeeze your breasts instead.

It felt so good you felt guilty that you weren’t touching him. Releasing his hair, you lilted back and wrapped your hand around his hard cock, feeling it twitch the moment your fingers made contact.

Haechan broke away from your pussy and scolded, “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“Only think about yourself right now. Be selfish. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed and let Haechan guide your hands back into his hair, and he bit the inside of your thigh as a warning to do as he said. Your body tensed when he lapped at your clit again and you decided to obey. You would be selfish.

Haechan smirked when you arched away from him, propping yourself over him on your arms and riding his face. He reeled a hand back and slapped your ass, the best way he knew how to convey to you that you were giving him exactly what he wanted.

He lapped at the arousal between your folds, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves again. Haechan knew that was your weak spot, where you were most sensitive. If he played his cards right, he could have you screaming for mercy from the overstimulation.

“Right there,” you panted, voice pitching higher. "I'm close."

For once in his life, Haechan said nothing. He ate you out like a man starved, suddenly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. He sucked on you until your legs shook and you whimpered his name.

And when orgasm hit, you went higher than where the cocaine took you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body shuddered, and you chanted, “Fuck,” like a mantra.

Haechan kept going until you pushed frantically at his head.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you begged, fisting his hair and finally earning yourself a reprieve.

Haechan chuckled, slipping his arms under your legs and tossing you to the side. You gladly rolled to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, waiting to come back to your senses.

You felt his hand smoothing its way up your thigh before cupping your sex, feeling all the slick he’d gotten out of you and muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. His fingers prodded into your pulsing pussy, hooking at your sweet spot, and you writhed, sensitive.

“Put a condom on,” you told him hurriedly, still trying to catch your breath.

As you came down from the high, Haechan crawled over to the other side of the tent and returned with a packet, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched him fit the condom on his hard cock and you spread your legs invitingly when he moved between your legs, grasping your knees and pushing them toward your chest, bending you in half.

You rested your hands on his hips and drew him toward you when he slipped his cock into your entrance and stroked in slow. “Mm, baby, you’re so good,” you mewled dramatically. “The biggest ever.”

Haechan, whose eyes had been on his cock sinking into your tight cunt, tossed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “Fuck you,” with a tiny snort.

You grinned and sank your fingers deeper into the flesh of his hips, tugging him toward you in tandem with his movements. He loved when you left scratches and bruises in his skin. A reminder of you he got to carry around with him for days after.

“Kiss me,” Haechan whispered, rocking into you harder.

Without missing a beat, you lifted your head to meet his lips, but his hands wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the ground. A noise of frustration left you, because you couldn’t close the rest of the distance with him holding you down.

Nipping at your lips, he taunted, “What’s the matter?”

Rather than answer, you moaned as his cock bottomed out in you again. Your face tensed with pleasure, every thrust making your toes curl. You were still raw from orgasm and his cock hitting you right made a shudder race through you.

Haechan went still. When you peered up at him in confusion, he smirked and said, “Fuck me.”

You hooked your thighs higher up his hips and started grinding into him. Haechan looked down to watch you bouncing on his dick, sucking in a breath when your pace grew more hurried and desperate.

“Please move,” you whined, eyes closed. Sweat formed at your back with the effort, your body burning.

“You’re doing fine without me.”

“I’m never okay without you,” you said breathlessly, out of your mind with lust and emotions. The two were colliding.

Haechan draped over you, slipping his fingers into your hair, and fucked into you at a ruthless pace for that, making you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

The last thing you wanted was his name echoing through the woods. You would never live it down.

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” You clawed at his back, trying to find purchase.

Haechan gathered you in his arms and you sat up face-to-face, straddling his lap. Haechan kissed at your neck, crushing you in his arms. You rode him, his hips matching your rhythm.

“Come for me,” Haechan purred in your ear, saying your name silkily. “Again.”

It wasn’t fair that he could snap his fingers and your body would answer. You were so close and had been together for so long, your skin knew his touch. Your heart gave in to his every desire and whim.

Ecstasy spilled over and a moan caught in your throat.

Haechan held you even tighter as you came, biting his lip as he felt you clamp down on his cock, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm until you sighed his name and slumped against him.

You buried your face in his shoulder and whimpered as his thrusts turned ragged, his groans pitching higher until he released into the condom. You rubbed his back and kissed his neck while he came down, lowering you to the floor gently and landing at your side.

The two of you breathed heavily. Sex broke something in you both that you needed. It felt final.

Like it was the last time.

Haechan discarded the condom and crawled back to you, getting a blanket out from one of the sleeping bags to drape over your bodies. You nestled closer to him, ready to doze off in his arms. Haechan settled a hand on your thigh, the other behind his head. Your eyes fluttered closed as his chest rose and fell with his breaths.

“I’ll never stop fighting,” you whispered with resolve. “And you shouldn’t either.”

He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to your temple.

The next day, the van was on its way home. You sat in the passenger seat as Jeno drove, just as you had when summer - and the trip - started.

When Jeno parked at a rest area, you ventured inside to look for a payphone.

Haechan leaned back against the van, arms folded.

Mark wandered over to him, asking in a soft voice, “How is she?”

“Ask her yourself,” Haechan retorted.

Mark frowned. “You know her better than anyone.”

Haechan’s eyes darkened as he said, “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jeno, who had been hovering close by, smirked at the exchange and murmured, “Says the one person actually capable of hurting her.”

Haechan shot him a glare. “She loves Mark more than she ever loved us,” he started.

Jeno was quick to cut him off, “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“Maybe she’s right about us,” Mark spoke up, glancing between them. “Maybe we should stay together and try to make it work.”

Haechan let his head fall back and groaned. “Pussy power strikes again.”

“Are you done?” Mark snapped. “You are the biggest hypocrite, you know. You’re hoping and praying she’s right. That she makes something happen. You’re trying so hard to look like you don’t care, but you don’t want to lose us.”

Tears filled Haechan’s eyes. His lips pursed.

Jeno cocked his head. “We know that, Mark,” he crooned cutely. “Our Donghyuck cares the most. That’s why he tries so hard to hide it.”

Haechan quickly wiped his cheeks. The tears had escaped too fast. After a pause, getting himself together, Haechan said, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean it.”

“We know that too.” Jeno reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

The two looked at Mark expectantly. His anger faded and he huffed a sigh.

Your voice broke the moment. “Guys!”

“What?” Jeno barked, turning to see you racing across the parking lot toward them.

You could hardly breathe, panting like you’d run a marathon. “They want to publish the book!”

All three of them gaped in perfect sync.

“Are you fucking serious?” Haechan wheezed.

“Yeah,” you said in disbelief, chuckling to yourself. “They want me to keep sending in chapters and they’ll assign me an editor to help organize everything. And then I’ll have to fill in the gaps, but… it’s gonna be a book. An actual book!”

In the next second, you were the meat in a boy sandwich and you couldn't have been happier about it.

Once everything calmed down, Mark shook his head and exclaimed, “This is insane!”

Haechan took your face in his hands and planted a big kiss on your lips with a loud, “Mwah!” Which made Jeno whine, “I was gonna kiss her and I can’t now!”

“I’ll kiss you too,” Haechan taunted, wagging his tongue and reaching for Jeno, making the drummer turn on his heels and run for his life.

You giggled as Haechan chased after him and Mark took the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your neck, enveloping you in a hug. You held him tightly and closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“You did it,” Mark whispered, saying your name in reverence. “You made this summer count for something.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

Haechan and Jeno traipsed back over, pushing and shoving each other with big grins on their faces.

With the celebration winding down, you looked at your boys one-by-one and said, “There’s a couple of conditions.”

Jeno grumbled. Haechan arched a brow.

“I won’t write the last chapters and send them in until you get clean,” you said, pointing at Jeno.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” You planted your feet and stared him down. “You think I’m going to risk this book being a hit and us getting a huge payday just for you to blow it all on blow?”

Jeno sulked.

“It’s a fair condition,” Haechan said lightly.

“I know it is!”

You waited patiently.

“I’m not an addict,” Jeno insisted. “I am a casual user.”

“Then you can casually stop,” you smarted.

He made a face. After a tiny lull, Jeno handed you the bag from his back pocket and you didn’t hesitate to cram it into your own. Its next destination was the nearest toilet.

You turned to Mark. “There’s a condition for you too.”

Mark grimaced nervously. “I’m listening.”

“You have to do what you want with your own life. Not what your parents want.”

Mark visibly relaxed. His eyes went soft. Something happy and content washed over him. “But I don’t know what I want.”

You shrugged. “You have time to figure it out. Change your mind as many times as it takes until you find what makes you happy.”

“Okay,” said Mark, smiling.

Finally, you turned to Haechan. “And you.”

He tilted his head and puckered up his lips.

“You’re not your father, Haechan.”

“You sure? I was pretty quick to cut you down.”

You scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m still standing. Bitch.”

Haechan chuckled.

“She’s right,” Jeno said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to press a kiss to your cheek. “We shouldn’t give up on the band already.”

“The book could make some people check us out,” Mark added, optimistic again.

All eyes were on Haechan. He smiled bashfully and said, “And if it doesn’t - if it all fails - at least we’ll know we tried.”

“No regrets,” you finished with a nod.

Haechan suddenly reached into his pocket and handed you a balled-up page.

The missing chapter of your memoir.

You gaped when you realized what it was. “I should have known you took it.”

“I couldn’t handle someone talking so highly about me,” he said under his breath.

“Oh. Only you’re allowed to speak highly of yourself?”

Mark and Jeno laughed.

Haechan did too. Then he sobered and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for believing in me.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Haechan, you started the band. Don’t you remember?”

“No?”

“We met in detention in eighth grade,” you reminded him, to which Haechan bobbed his head. “You noticed Jeno drumming his hands. You said you saw Mark playing acoustic by himself during lunch. And you heard me singing under the bleachers when I skipped gym.”

“I forgot all that,” Haechan mumbled, his eyes twinkling like they shone with stars. “Damn, I really gotta quit drinking.”

Mark moved to your free side and said, “Yeah, dude. We’re all here because of you.”

Haechan looked at his three best friends, his family, smiling at him, and it almost broke him on the spot. He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

Jeno laughed loudly. “I’ll be damned. All you’ve ever wanted is to be the center of attention and now that you’ve got it, you don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Yep,” Haechan said with a sheepish grin.

You closed the distance and hugged him, patting the back of his head. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” you whispered for his ears alone and Haechan let go the breath he’d been holding, releasing all the tension and pain in his chest.

Once you parted, Mark reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. You melted into his familiar arms and flushed when he said, “You are, by far, the greatest person I have ever met.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.”

“Wait.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted to your toes. “Maybe a little more.”

Mark smiled as his lips met yours in a chaste kiss that he poured his all into.

A kiss that was dramatically interrupted by Jeno, knocking into Mark enough to jostle you both. “It’s not your job to save us, you know,” he chided sweetly.

Yes, it was and it always would be. Because they saved me first.

“Hey, I’m just an instrument of the power of rock and roll,” you said, putting a hand on Jeno’s chest and giving him a playful shove.

“I take back every compliment I’ve ever said to you,” he joked, tickling your sides.

You laughed.

The four of you gabbed and teased each other for what felt like an eternity. The air was lighter. The sun a was a little brighter. Your boys were smiling again and you felt the pieces of your heart snapping back into place.

Hope is a powerful thing. A gentle promise that maybe - just maybe - we could all be happy and whole.

“We’re burning daylight,” Jeno eventually said.

You exclaimed, “Let’s hit the road,” and it was the first time you said it without dread.

Hopping into the van after you, Mark stuck his head out and called, “Don’t forget the trash.”

Jeno proceeded to scoop Haechan up in his burly arms and carried him to the van.

“Very funny,” Haechan deadpanned, but he couldn’t help but grin.

Smiling till your cheeks hurt, you got in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, pulling out of the rest area and onto the highway, toward the new life awaiting you and your boys.

Everything would change for us. The drive home wasn’t some miserable journey we’d been fearing. It was the final chapter of our summer, but only the beginning of our story.

#nct #nct smut #haechan #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #haechan x reader

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hey-hamlet · 3 months

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BNHA AU Idea - Let's Kill Sensei!

I just got reminded assassination classroom is a show that existed so im shamelessly cribbing the premise.

Midoriya Izuku didn't make it into the hero course. Without a quirk and only 10 rescue points - it just wasn't enough. Still, his score in the written exam saw him placed in gen ed - class 1C - with all of the other failed hero students. The classroom has an uncomfortable vibe - the recent and abrupt retirement of All Might after a villain attack on his home left him badly injured, coupled with their own failures, leave them all on edge.

To say they were expecting the man who walked into their classroom would be a mistake, but the gut wrenching fear that followed was almost expected.

All for One, the man they'd all seen nearly murder All Might 3 months ago, grinned - red eyes squinted in real mirth. "Hello, students. What on earth shall I teach you today?"

1C has 1 year to kill their homeroom teacher, or he takes over Japan. 1 year to kill a 200 year old villain with more quirks than UA has students. The student who kills AfO will be given 1 billion yen and moved to the course of their choosing.

What AfO hasn't told anyone is that he has a special gift for the student who manages to off him - if any of them do.

Featuring:

this is a deal with UA and the HPSC - UA wanted him with 3rd year heroics students while the HPSC insisted on gen ed - UA thinks the students have a chance, while the HPSC wants cannon fodder they can throw at AFO so they have extra time to plan.

the only person aware of this deal on UA staff other than Nezu is Present Mic - the man who was supposed to be gen ed's homeroom teacher. Nezu wanted to tell Eraserhead as well, but AfO argued that that was an unfair advantage to UA

gen!ed uraraka - without her rescue of Izuku, she didn't get enough points for the hero course

Dad for One - but Izuku doesn't recognize him (its been like 10 years, plus 'Hisashi Midoriya' had black hair). It's pretty clear Izuku is AfO's favourite student. but given that just means hes even tougher and like. Also a murderer. No one is particularly jealous.

Izuku, Shinso and Uraraka friendship - none of them really have anything to lose - either they are the ones to kill AfO or their lives are over.

#lets kill sensei au #bnha au #bnha #this is very silly and i love it honestly

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satorusdiary · 1 year

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Sorrows

Plug!Eren x reader

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, arguing, crying, breaking up

Summary: Eren ends up missing your 2nd year anniversary. Not even a full day goes by and you find out he was cheating on you. :(

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Today was a bummer. You’re sitting on your shared bed, letting your tears freely fall from your eyes and onto your dress. A blank expression was written all over your face.

Your phone was laying on the sheets, a photo from a. random number of her naked, with a guy. Not just any guy, your boyfriend. Eren Jaeger. He was on top of her, it’s sick enough for her to be taking such a photo during sex but for her to send it to you? Fucking disgusting.

You always had a strong front, able to take the hardest things well. But this? You just couldn’t handle it. Here you were dressing all pretty, for your boyfriend since it was your guys 2nd year anniversary, and there he was freely cheating on you with his Clients.

A few bags were packed, they were by your feet as you waited for a friend to pick you up from the one place you called home. The one place you expected having a family in, the one place you planned on spending your forever in with the love of your life.

With a sore throat from all the sobbing, it was immensely dry. Too dry for your liking. Which forced you to sit up from the bed, and head tot he kitchen to get a cup of water.

While your drinking your water the front door near the living room opens, making you stop drinking to put down the cup. But you never turned around.

Eren was confused, you hand not greeted him like you usually would when he comes home. It would always be with a soft smile, or with tones of energy which made his day get way better.

“Baby?” He called out into the empty house. Or he thought it was empty until he entered the kitchen. And there you were, your back facing him with you staring out the window.

A smile appears on his face as he looks at you all dressed so pretty, like an angel. He thinks that you’re attending a party, he waits for you to invite him along just so he’d have another fun night with you by his side. Per usual.

He wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles into your freshly curled hair. Making you flinch. It leaves him more confused.

He lifts his head to look at you, heart dropping when he looks at your tear stained face. Instantly, he turns you around to look at him, his heart breaking even more when your bottom lip quivers. Before he could say anything, three words spill from your lips making him question if he wants to cry and scream.

“Let’s break up.”

Your words were quiet, coming out hoarse as you rub your eyes with your free hand. More tears threatening to come out while you couldn’t even look at Eren in the eyes.

He hold around you tightens, and he shakes you once making you look at his broken face. Assuming from the news you had just told him.

“Wh-What? What do’ya mean you wanna break up?!” Eren exclaims, holding two of your hands to look down on it and kiss it. That’s when his orbs land on your promise ring, the promise ring he had put on your ring finger 1 year from today. Then it hits him.

Todays your anniversary. Not just that, but two years!

Erens world falls apart infront of him at this second. You shook your head not wanting to repeat the three words you never thought you’d say in a billion years.

“Ma, wait. Let’s talk about this real quick, don’t just drop the question of me without an explanation.” Eren smiles, grabbing your wrist lightly. Careful not to hurt you.

You don’t smile back, in fact. You push him away. The look on your face instead was a broken expression. Tears falling down your cheeks as you try calming your breathing. It’s hard not letting out a sob, but you don’t want to break infront of him completely. Not now, not ever.

You turn on your heel and make your way towards the bedroom, sobs begging to be released as you feel Eren right behind your trail.

The sight in your bedroom makes him want to throw up, the sight of your bag packed and your closet emptied. Your side of the bed and night stand not having the lovely photos any more.

“y/n, you can’t just leave me because i missed our anniversary! You have to fucking talk this shit out with me too!” Eren cries out, making your cheeks heat up in anger. Your whole chest burning with hurt and anger aswell.

You turn to your bed and get your phone, immediately unlocking it to pull up the photo you had received a few hours ago. When Eren wasn’t home. You showed the screen to Eren and threw the phone at him.

“It’s not just that! You’re cheating on me with your clients you fucking bitch!” A sob gets out as you yell at him. You fall behind you and land on your bed, on your bottom. Tears freaking falling out as you hide your sobbing face into your hands.

Eren looks at the screen in horror. The guilty, heart wrenching feeling continues inside his body. He frowns and keeps his head low, the sounds of your cries breaking his heart even more.

Whn you bring your head up, a tearful smile comes onto your features. Though he loved your smiles, this smile just screamed that he fucked up. A smile that Eren wanted to kiss away, but he stayed frozen on the spot. Not knowing if he should comfort you.

The tears freely trickle down your cheeks. It was a painful silence, loud enough for you to hear your own heart breaking.

“Eren, how could you!” You point a finger at him and push him back, outside the room. “What does she have that i don’t? Why am i not enough for you?!” You cried out, knees threatening to buckle as you continued sobbing.

“Nothing.” He states, a panicked desperate tone lacing his voice as he spoke. “She meant nothing Y/N, you’re my everything please!” Eren begged. Eyes getting glossy as he never felt this feeling before.

Eren was never one to beg, but at that moment he begged every god around him to not take you. To forgive him for all the sins he’s committed, and all the times he fucked both of you up. To give him another chance.

To make you give him One more Chance.

Tears began blurring up Erens vision. He never cried, Eren never cried.

“no, no, no. Baby, please. y/n, it’s not like that!” He takes steps towards you, which you seem to notice but you don’t move. Your frozen on the spot, sniffling continuously.

Your heart aches when he begs. How he wraps his arms around you and sobs into your neck, his heart hurts even more whne you don’t hug him back. You felt so cold.

“Please, y/n! D-Don’t leave, ‘m so fucking sorry! I don’t deserve you, love, please!” He continues to beg.

“I love you—“ Eren croaks out. You sniffled more and wiped your tears, removing himself from you as your run into the room to get your bags. Eren hot on your trail as he continues to cry and beg, his whole future was leaving infront of him.

“No you don’t, dont fucking say that ‘cause you stopped loving me when you decided to cheat on me!” The frown on his face growing, all he wanted to do was kiss you and hug you. Seek for your warmth. But that’s something he couldn’t do anymore.

He doesn’t want to lose you. All those hours of pillow talk, all the years you’ve spent together. All the history you have together, he regrets just letting it go like that, because he couldn’t resist his own client. His ex.

“Please, Please i’m so sorry. Stay! I’ll be better mama, i swear! Don’t go..” He stutters. The heartbreak, and sobs that wanna be released clog his throat.

You ignore him and walk around him as quick as possible. When was it so hard to go past the door to leave your home? Or the place you once called home.

You stop when he hugs you, tight. His head on your head, making you feel wet tears fall onto your shoulders.

“Stay. Please.” He begs.

You shake your head and push him away, as far as you could and unlock the door.

“I’ll love you forever, Ren. See you soon.” A sad, tearful smile enhances your features. Making Eren sob out as you ran out the house to get in your friends car. The door was slightly opened but he didn’t care, his loud cries were let go then and there.

“I’m so sorry angel, i love you s’much. So sorry for not being able to keep you to say with me.” He says to no one in particular. The one person he wanted to say that was now gone, and he didn’t know how to deal with that fact.

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Author’s note: This was hella rushed.. sorry if it’s bad guys😓

#eren angst #snk eren #attack on titan #eren headcanons #eren imagines #eren jaeger x y/n #eren x reader #eren x you #plug!eren #eren jaeger #aot smut #aot fanart #aot x y/n #eren aot #eren yaeger headcanons #eren jaeger fluff #eren fluff #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren x y/n

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seraphinalovesme · 1 month

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The Sweetest Of All

The third wife of Adam, Reader, is the calmest and most elegant seraph of the two main seraphs. Besides helping around the office and sending small messages to other angels, she is the Sera Assistant.

____ is the most calm and elegant Seraphim, and every Seraphim that you have ever met is the most calm person that you will ever meet too! If you want to vent out some sadness, go to ____; if you want to vent out some problems you have, go to ____; she is the most kind one, because whatever your problems are, she is willing to help at any time. Seeking help from the Seraphim can provide a sense of relief and comfort. Their calm and elegant nature creates a soothing environment that allows individuals to express their emotions freely without fear of judgment. Additionally, they provide individuals with the support and guidance they need at any time, regardless of their situation. All you need to do is ask her husband. To be honest, no one goes through because her husband is blocking the way. and the problem is... Her husband is Adam, the first man, and he has lived up to that title for billions of years. You see, why is that a problem? Well, that man is the most arrogant, self-centered, asshole angel that you ever met; he will cut you off when you mention his wife, because he wanted to talk about him and him only, because damn, he is the first man after all; he deserved to be talked about, i mean! He is in the Bible! and all humans came from his nut! and the other angels were shocked that why did ______ marry that guy out of all the angels here who are super nice, caring, and also loving, but they all have the same answer: "Oh! My dearest Adam is the sweetest man once you get to know him better! After all, we don't judge the cover of the book!" ______ smiled at the angel and gently pinched his cheek before walking up to Adam and staying by his side the entire day! listening to him about rock and his rant about his work and sera _____ is currently at work helping Sera with some of the problem on earth and as well Hell and its being overpopulated yes _____ she knows about the extermination and how her Husband Adam leads it and every time when the extermination start she always reminds Adam to be careful which He always reply "Chillax babe i am The Adam! the first man!! they wont lay a scratch on me okay? now stop worrying Babe cause that type of stuff doesn't suit you at all!" _____felt her cheek being cupped, she look at Adam in the eyes and sighed and kiss him by the cheek and hold his hand "I know, i know... its just that... i don't want that someday when i waited that portal to be open and i didn't see you...i-" "Hey! Hey! babe you don't trust my strength at all? No Dirty Sinners will touch me! let alone kill me!!" Adam reassured ____ that he will be safe cause he is fucking Adam no one can kill him! .. With his words and reassurance, he smiled at Adam and hugged him tight. Adam kissed _____ by the lips and hugged her back. As soon as the door was opened, Second Hand Lieutenant Lute Adams entered the room. "Sir, it's about to start," she said as she looked down, knowing that the couple were kissing once she heard the room was quiet. The hug was broken by Adam's sigh and he pulled away.

#hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x you #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel one shot #hazbin hotel x reader

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sonicslushie · 1 year

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Slipped My Mind ~ P.P.

Summary: You’re the person who designs Spiderman’s suits, but you never actually met the man- or boy- behind the mask.

A/N: terrible summary & first fic, originally this was going to be based on the conan gray song “yours” but it took an odd turn in there so it's not lmao. But if you wanna read that let me know i’m dying to write more for petey boy. This is also like a little fluff thing that i threw together in a few hours so it’s not the best (my b)

a playlist for u to listen to as u read<3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark Intern!Reader

TW: kinda a clueless reader, mentions of blood and open wounds,

Wordcount: 3.6k

Ice cream was all you wanted. It was your lunch break from Stark Industries, the place you interned at because of your impressive resume, and partly because your dad just so happened to be the owner of Tony Stark’s favorite burger place. You had been a pretty smart kid, finished highschool early and graduated MIT with a degree in engineering and all you wanted was to build supersuits. That was the dream, wasn’t it? Helping the world’s mightiest heroes by being the one who created their high tech suits and accessories, actually making a difference for those who saved billions of lives? Yeah, no.

You started out three years ago as Ms. Potts' personal assistant at the ripe age of 16. You spent 2.5 years of that assisting just doing the basic intern stuff; grabbing coffee and burgers, attending meetings to take notes, scheduling and yatta yatta, the occasional fake laugh at a dad joke that Mr. Stark made. It wasn’t until you joined Ms. Potts in Mr. Stark’s lab to give him his burger, and you corrected his formulas on some project and you thought it was OVER. He looked surprised that you even spoke to him, oh fuck, you messed up. Or so you had thought. He actually told you that you were right?? Then, I swear to god, he asked what you would do to improve the project he was working on. (It was a super suit for the newest hero, Spiderman.) He liked your idea to add what you called the “training wheels” protocol. Mr. Stark decided to give you a chance and he had you help him create the rest of the suit, and now 6 months later, you were in charge of all things Spiderman.

But that’s not the point of the story right now, right now, you wanted ice cream.

And you had just bought two big scoops in a freshly made waffle cone. Honestly the best use of 5 bucks, or so you thought. Just as you were about to take the first lick, a red and blue streak sprinted past- no into you. It was like a movie, all you saw was your delicious creamy dessert flying up in the air in slow motion, then- SLAT! Both you and the ice cream were on the ground, a familiar looking super suit standing above you, stammering about how he was “so sorry” and “chasing a bad guy” in a very peppy voice.

“You’re Spiderman, why weren’t you swinging from building to building?” You asked, furious you were now going to have to buy another one. You just wanted one thing, could you not just have it without dealing with this bozo?

“Forgot to put in new web fluid. I’m sorry about your ice cream but I’ve really gotta- I don’t see him anymore. Shoot.” He says, shaking his head. “You know what, let me make this up to you. I’ll buy you another one.”

Well that seemed fair and it slightly cooled off your now bad mood. You agree and wait in line with the dude who you create super suits for. The funny thing is, this was actually the first time you ever met the one and only Spiderman- or Spiderling as Mr. Stark calls him. You don’t even know who the person is under the mask, but at this point you really didn’t care about it, you just wanted your ice cream.

After waiting in line for what felt like forever and making meaningless small talk with the masked hero, you make it to the front of the line.

“Two scoops of strawberry, please. Waffle cone.” You smile at the worker, then turn to Spiderboy. You say at the same time as the employee, “5 bucks.”

The Spiderdude pats his sides as if feeling for a wallet, then looks at you with that expressionless mask- god you had to work on that- and says, “I don't have my wallet.”

You could almost smack him in the back of the head, but you just take your wallet out and give the worker a 5 dollar bill. Taking the new ice cream, you turn to the hero, “Well now you owe me two, Spidey.”

“I-I’ll make it up to you, do you have Venmo?” He asks, panic rising in his voice. He sounded young, maybe around your age. If you were honest, he piqued your interest. So instead of rolling your eyes and walking away, you pulled your phone out.

“Here,” you say, ready to just get back to the lab. He takes a picture of it and gives you a thumbs up.

“I’ll have to make a new venmo so you can’t figure out my identity, but I gotta run.” He says, and literally runs off. You stand there, looking at the hero you basically manage but just met, then your ice cream. What a day, huh? You shrug it off and begin to eat your ice cream as you head back to the office.

The ice cream had been off your mind ever since you finished the yummy dessert, and went back to designing your own web fluid. Sure the dude had his own way of making it (you weren’t really sure if it had been coming out of him or not until today, you never really had the chance to ask anyone), but you knew you could do it better. Everyone at Stark Industries called you ‘Junior’ for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of your crazy intelligence. It might have also been the slight egotistical self assurance and the stubbornness you possessed.

As you worked you listened to music and snacked on the various foods you hid in the lab unbeknownst to Mr. Stark. Here and there you would test the web fluid with some of the new web shooter prototypes you had made, at this point you could swing around New York from how often you used these things. You often thought of it and giggled at the thought; ridiculous, these silly little dreams you possessed.

You had been giggling about it to yourself when the one and only Mr. Stark walked in- with a kid who was talking so fast and in such a familiar peppy tone that you couldn’t help but look up.

“-and then I looked up dodo birds and did you know they’re basically just big pigeons?” He finished, looking up at Mr. Stark with big brown doe eyes that sparkled in the light. Sparkle in the light? Oh come on, y/n. You caught yourself ogling at the new kid, still trying to figure out where you heard that voice before. Little miss genius might be able to create the highest tech super suits in the world, but boy oh boy did you have a hard time connecting dots.

“Right, big pigeons. Anyway, Peter, this is y/n y/l/n. Junior, this is Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark says, looking at you as if you could take the excitable kid off of his hands.

Now, Mr. Stark is a lot of things, and busy is one of them. This just so happens to affect his memory, and in this case, he completely forgot that he never introduced Spiderling- Peter Parker- to his favorite intern. It slipped his mind, I mean when you’re a billionaire CEO and a superhero, the little things tend to slip the mind. It’s not like he meant to never introduce you two, he really did mean to. But every time Peter’s been at the tower, Junior was always gone either for the weekend or for her lunch break. Plus, Mr. Stark had things to do. Like right now; get out of this boring conversation and get burgers from his favorite burger place with Happy.

“Oh it’s nice to meet you, Peter.” You say, not knowing that you met Peter earlier that day as Spiderman. But Peter knew, and he also forgot that he had to venmo you for that ice cream from earlier. Caught off guard, his eyes just go wide and he awkwardly smiles and waves at you like an idiot.

“Um okay. Anyway, Mr. Stark, I was about to head out, but I got the new web fluid made and finished up the new prototypes for web shooters. I also started up blueprints for a new suit. I forgot to mention I saw Spiderboy today and I gotta say, that suit does nothing for his ass.” You say, going back to the blueprints in front of you, making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow morning. Mr. Stark takes a peek over your shoulder, nodding in approval, then says, “Well I’ve got to hit the road, I’ve got… an important meeting to attend. Yeah. See ya tomorrow, Junior, same to you Pete.”

You and Peter tell Mr. Stark bye in various fashions, being left in an awkward silence, neither of you really knowing how to proceed from there. Mr. Stark never told you that you would be meeting with Spiderdude to discuss your progress on the new ideas you had come up with but if he didn't show up before 5 you weren't staying, you'd didn't get paid enough. Peter wasn’t told he would be seeing the girl he literally ran into and owe her ice cream money. Seems like it just slipped Mr. Stark’s mind again.

“So um, whatcha doing here Peter?” You say, begin to clean up your workstation to go home. Peter was just standing awkwardly behind you, trying to figure out what to say. He was also unaware that you didn’t know that he was Spiderman, he had figured Mr. Stark would have told you if you were the one working on his suits all this time.

“Oh I was um- just leaving actually. Looks like you’re ready to go home, so I- Yeah I’m just gonna go.” He says quickly, turning on his heel to leave. At this point you were just ready to go home, so you shrug it off and say, “Nice meeting you, Peter. See ya.”

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves. If he was being honest, he’s never been good at talking to pretty girls. Not to mention super awesome pretty intern girls who have been providing him his super awesome super suit. Probably too many “supers” but he didn’t care, he could barely even function in the same room as you. Not to mention he made a fool of himself earlier, but honestly you didn’t even seem to remember, which threw him off even more. And when you said “nice to meet you” it confused him, you two had met earlier that day. God, he had to get some fresh air.

Peter made it outside and was cooling down from that super awkward and weird encounter, when he saw you pulling out of the car park in your car, singing along loudly to some Miley Cyrus song. He turns away, trying not to make it obvious that he was avoiding you. But you turned your head as you were looking for oncoming traffic, and you saw him.

You don’t know why you did it, but you rolled your window down and yelled above the loud ass music, “Hey Peter! You waiting on a ride?”

He was too caught off guard to lie, and to be fair he didn’t even like lying, so he shook his head and before he knew it, he was getting in your car.

“Where are you heading?” You asked, turning the music down. He tries not to be as awkward as before as he says, “Queens, but it’s a far drive you really don’t have to-”

“Oh I live there too! Don’t even worry about it,” you say, happy you could do something for the odd kid. He was a bit awkward, but in a cute sort of way. It almost made your stomach get butterflies at the thought of you of all people making him nervous.

“Oh okay, thanks so much. I really appreciate it,” he says, then after a beat of intense silence with Miley wailing in the background, he decides to try and make conversation. “So how long have you been working for Mr. Stark?”

“Since I was 16, so like 3 years. Most of it was being Ms. Potts’ assistant though,” you say, tapping your fingers to the beat.

“Woah, wait so did you like graduate early?” He asks, now immensely intrigued. You give him the rundown of the past 6 years of your life, to which he’s very impressed and totally not thinking about how pretty you look in the dying sunlight. Totally would never do that.

“But yeah, that’s me. What about you, how did you get involved with Mr. Stark?” You ask, glancing over at him slightly. You must say for a dork, he had some very nice features.

“Very long story that includes him hitting on my aunt. Ugh,” he shivers at the memory, “And a trip to Germany.”

That rings some bells in your head, but to be fair Mr. Stark is in Germany a lot so you don’t really question it. Like I said, you don’t connect dots very well unless it’s in the form of equations.

You guys talk all the way to Peter’s apartment, you even give him your phone number if he ever needs a ride to the office. As Peter walks off, you both can’t help but wonder how weird the day has been. But as you drive off and turn up the radio, you put it out of your mind. Time to go home and relax.

Only when you got home, you didn’t relax. Almost as soon as you step into your apartment, your phone lets out a little “cha-ching” noise, notifying you that someone just venmoed you. You completely forgot about Spidey owing you for your ice cream until you saw the little notification: Spidey paid you $10 with an ice cream emoji underneath. You smirk, then go back to fully entering your apartment. Only to hear your phone go off a few seconds later, another venmo notification, this time a comment left under the money he just paid you.

I feel really bad about earlier. I figured I’d pay for both.

You raise an eyebrow at your phone, smiling a little to yourself. He seems sweet. Sweeter than most guys you’ve run into in the middle of New York. And trust me, it’s happened more often than you’d like to admit.

You type back.

I really appreciate that Spiderdude. Love the profile pic;)

His profile picture was that one Spiderman meme with the three Spidermans pointing at each other. It made you giggle, at least he had a sense of humor. Most superheroes (*cough* Steve Rogers *cough*) didn’t. A few seconds later he sends another message.

Next time I’ll get you three scoops:)

You smiled and decided that was a pretty good deal, three free ice creams? Sounds like a scam but you weren’t going to question it. You just put your phone down and decided it was time to have a nice warm bath and rock out to Taylor Swift.

It was a while before you heard from both Peter or Spiderman, and you were still clueless to the fact that they were the same person. After a few weeks of that whole situation being off your mind, you were going into work on a late night call from Mr. Stark said that something urgent came up with the Spiderling and he wasn’t in town to take care of it. So, you jumped out of bed and rushed out still in your pajamas to the Stark Tower.

You sped all the way there, the stars oddly bright for the city. You made note to go to the rooftop of your apartment whenever you were able to make it back. You always had a thing for the stars, having not grown up in New York. The city was beautiful, but you could truly say that you hated the nights there. No stars glittering overhead, cars and people being loud at all hours of the night. The only good thing you could say about the night in New York was all the food places that were open 24/7. (You tend to have a craving for Thai food at odd hours of the night.)

Upon arriving at the Stark Tower, you ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s going on, and she directs you to your lab. You make your way up there, wondering what in the world this kid could be needing that’s so urgent. If it’s something stupid, dear god, help him. You would molly whop him into the next dimension.

The lab doors upon a very beat up Spiderboy, who’s laid across your desk. Laying in a pile of blood. Okay, good enough reason, you supposed, immediately dropping all idea’s of punching the poor kid in the head.

You rush up to him, taking in his half dead state of being. A giant would- no a hole would be a better way of putting it. Just a big hole in his side, with a lot of blood seeping out of it. You poke him, making sure he’s still breathing. He groans in response, it’s enough to get you moving. You had planned on this a long time ago, you created a device to regrow skin just for this occasion. You found it and within seconds, his wound began healing, though it might take a while for him to create enough blood to be able to even be able to sit up again. At that thought, you ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get the building’s onsite medical team to get the kid.

Once you were finished fixing his gaping hole, you poked him again, praying he was still alive. There was so much blood everywhere, but you tried to keep your Thai food down as you begged for him to wake up.

“Come on kid, you can’t die on me. Mr. Stark would kill us both,” you say, starting to shake him now. You could see his chest moving up and down slightly, but he wasn’t waking up. You pleaded in your head for the med team to get there quickly, you didn’t know why you were so upset by this. Sure, it would be sad if the kid died, but you didn’t know him like that. You didn’t know him well enough to be crying over his dying body, begging him to just open his eyes or say something. Not that you could see them through the mask-

The mask.

Your trembling hand goes to take it off, but the medical team rushes in just as you begin peeling it off, only exposing his neck.

You step back as the med team begins working on him, you let them know that you healed him, but he needed blood. That was all you could say before they moved him onto the gurney and began taking him away, you called after, “Just wake up, Spidey, please!”

That was the first thing that Peter remembers hearing, your voice. Lights were flashing overhead as he heard people saying things above him, though he couldn’t comprehend any of it. God, he was so dizzy. And why wasn’t his side hurting anymore? He started grabbing for his side, but the people around him stopped him from doing so. What was going on?

“You were bleeding out,” one of them says from above him, he’s starting to hear them more clearly now. Maybe his superhealing had finally set in. “No, Ms. y/l/n just saved your life. Now calm down, you’re going to be okay.”

Peter didn’t realize he was just speaking his thoughts as they came to him, he also didn’t realize that you had decided to follow the medical team just to make sure he ended up okay. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to be sure. So much for looking at the stars, huh?

Peter kept babbling as the medical team got him to their facility a few floors down, starting to connect tubes to give him more blood. One of them goes to take his mask off to check for any head wounds, but he stops them. He’s conscious enough to know that he knows none of these people, and none of these people need to know that he’s Peter Parker.

“You’re Peter Parker?” You say, total confusion in your voice. Damn it, did he say that out loud? “Yes, you did, you idiot.”

You get as close as you can without getting in the way of the people trying to help him. Once they were all done and he was getting the blood that he needed, you asked them to leave so you could talk to Peter. How did you not realize? He has a very distinctive voice, and obviously that’s why Mr. Stark brought him into your lab a few weeks ago. Seriously, not your best moment.

“So you’re the infamous Spiderman?” You say, sitting on the edge of his cot. He peels his mask off and takes a breath of fresh air.

“Wait,” it hits him that you didn’t know, what is going on? “You didn’t know?”

“Nope,” you laugh, “I’m not really sure how I didn’t, especially after Mr. Stark brought you in there. I’m also not sure how he never mentioned that you were there person I’ve been making all this superhero stuff for. Must have slipped his mind.” Understatement of the century.

“I thought you knew, that’s why I never really mentioned it. Also,” he smiles a little to himself, “I promised to get you ice cream next time I saw you. How about it?”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “You’re in a cot getting blood poured into you.”

“When I’m better?”

“Sounds like a date.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #mcu peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic

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verysium · 2 months

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I’ve been seeing some discourse around twitter about the blue lock boys and whether they’d be a loyal bf or not 😭 Curious to know who do you think would be more inclined to cheat or who just wouldn’t at all!!!

I saw someone say sae would 100% cheat like whattt I feel like he wouldn’t even bother looking at anyone else if he already has someone (Cuz I mean dating him would likely mean you actually mean something to him) but I digress

ok anon you had me pulling up a whole argumentative essay here cus WHO TF SAID SAE WOULD 100% CHEAT??? 😔 that mischaracterization is so painfully inaccurate. twitter really took the whole emotionally unavailable itoshi archetype and ran with it. let me just clear the air here because my man deserves some explanation.

sae itoshi would not cheat. as in capital N and capital O. he took nearly an entire decade off his life just to work on his own issues and finally form a functional and healthy relationship with another human being. and you're telling me he's just going to let all that wash down the drain for someone else? 😒 twitter logic really be showing its illogical side here. apparently a man can be loyal to a professional sports career for eighteen years, but he can't be loyal to his significant other.

i think this misunderstanding probably happened cus of shidou. people read the manga and saw that sae dropped rin for a bug-eyed freak and automatically assumed he was disloyal. 😑 let me just say two things here:

(1) sae and shidou's relationship is strictly professional. imagine being stuck in an god awful corporate office with coworkers who bore you with their weaponized incompetence and a boss who annoys the living shit out of you. and then one day, the company hires a new recruit who is probably the most unhinged and debauched creature known to man. you're probably left wondering how he even got hired in the first place. but then you find out...he's useful. he takes risks and gets a high return on what he invests. it's impulsive and stupid, really. but at least it's unconventional and outside-the-box. he has your interest piqued. that's basically sae and shidou in a nutshell.

(2) just because sae gave shidou his number after the u-20 game does NOT mean he would do the same to any other person who would try to encroach on your relationship. and let's be real here. sae would get one text from shidou and block his contact.

anyways, here is my analysis on the bllk boys in general. introducing the anti-cheating to pro-cheating spectrum:

(A) cannot cheat under any circumstance (as in they already hate the fact that they live on a planet with 8.1 billion other people who are not you):

itoshi brothers (atp they don't even have the physical or mental capacity to entertain a third party), ness, reo

(B) cannot cheat due to physical incapability (literally cannot pull anyone within a five-meter radius to cheat with):

ego, igarashi, raichi, bachira (not that he's in any way unattractive...it's just...i feel like he would purposefully act weird to drive off people who aren't you)

yukimiya, barou, kunigami, noa, loki, gagamaru, chigiri, niko, hiori, karasu (baby boy literally felt inferior cus his crush was the cutest in his class), kurona (head empty, just you)

(D) would not cheat (on you but everyone else is not included)

isagi (unintentionally a homewrecker to others but would never let anyone homewreck his relationship with you), leonardo (idk why but i just don't trust him entirely)

(E) could cheat (depends on what they get out of it):

kaiser, shidou (honestly what did you expect when you willingly dated a blonde man...)

(F) would cheat (either proven by canon or they accidentally fucked up somehow):

otoya, oliver, nagi

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peachypinkygloss · 9 months

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hiiii beloved ! already said that but im so so happy for you, you deserve it and so many more! let's go to 1 billion !!!!

stepbros!namjoon and jungkook, dumbfication, manipulation and dollification or bimbo reader idk totally up to u ! do and add what u want my love, i just know is going to be amazing 😌

and again, congrats peachy, love uuuu 🥳💜

- m🤍

sjjsjhgvufdh hi baby 🥺 thank you so much !! 😩 i love you a lot lot lot <3 your support means the world to me ): 🤍

remember

When alone in the house, your stepbrothers play with you.

pairing: stepbrother!namjoon x fem!reader x stepbrother!jungkook

genre: step siblings au, smut

warnings: joon and jk are meanies (like assholes of the year award im not kidding (why is this hot tho)), pseudo incest, kind of dub-con, free-use??, manipulation, degradation, dumbification, crybaby reader 🥲, fingering, cum eating, 1k words.

a.n.: filth is my second name btw AND as always don't read if you don't like!!

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game if you want to participate and send in a request of yours! 🤍

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

"What's the matter, mh?" Jungkook whispers in your ear, his fingers skillfully moving in your cotton panties, tracing your puffy clit. "Too stupid to form a simple sentence?" He mocks and you can't help the whine escaping your mouth right after.

Jungkook is being really unfair and mean, as usual. Nothing's new, except for the manly hand dancing in your underwear while your other stepbrother, Namjoon, is in the kitchen. It won't take long until he comes back into the living room.

It's exactly at that moment that you hear Namjoon's footsteps approaching, Jungkook's mouth beside your ear whispering to you again. "Remember, that's what you wanted," he smiles, knowing he has you wrapped around his finger.

He quickly grabs your chin and turns your head around in order to kiss your lips, exploring your mouth with his tongue. He backs away before Namjoon enters the room, keeping his hand at the right place where it belongs.

"What's wrong with y'all?"

You freeze when you hear your brother's deep voice, a scowl drawing on his face. His brows are frowned, looking disappointed, but he doesn't seem to want to stop Jungkook, not at all. You have the impression that he knew and didn't expect it to actually happen.

Jungkook's fingers penetrate you and you gasp loudly, tears forming in your eyes as you feel your pussy burn, fingers stretching you out really well.

You glance in Jungkook's direction, watery eyes asking for pity, begging for mercy. But that's what you wanted, wasn't it?

He doesn't have any pity for you, you realize, and so you turn your head back around, gaze shifting up to Namjoon's face. "I- I-" you begin, but miserably stop as Jungkook starts pumping in and out of your wet pussy. "I asked for it!" You finally squeak out, grasping on Jungkook's arm.

You open your legs wider despite you, your entire body on fire, Jungkook's fingers being too big for your own good. This one smirks at you, satisfied you listened to him and lied to Namjoon. Willingly or not, you did what he said because you're nothing more than his dumb little stepsister.

"I'm sorry, Joonie, I'm sorry," you sob out, apologizing because Jungkook has made you believe it was just all your fault. Sure, you're nowhere near against it, let's not lie, but you also feel like you're betraying Namjoon.

The last time you were alone in the house, Jungkook was locked up in his room playing on his Playstation and Namjoon was studying in his room, too.

You don't really remember how it happened, but it hadn't been long until you found yourself getting pounded into your mattress, crying fat tears under Namjoon.

You had almost lost any rational thoughts that day, only remembering his name that you were crying out each time his hand around your throat tightened or when his cock reached impossibly deep into you.

"No, you're not," Namjoon shakes his head, refusing your lame apology. He steps closer, placing himself just in front of you so you have to tilt your head up to look at him. "Do you know what you are, though?" He questions.

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. "No..." You mutter, shamelessly getting fucked by Jungkook's fingers. Your nails dig into his forearm and scratch his skin as you claw at it, leaving white trails and crescent forms behind.

Namjoon leans over and grabs your chin, his eyes boring into yours. "A stupid slut," he responds all too casually, his hot breath hitting your face.

Maybe he's right because the only thing you can answer is a moan as Jungkook finds your sensitive spot way too easily. Your mouth is agape and you whine in Namjoon's face. You should be embarrassed, but shame doesn't even make its way to your brain as you're too overwhelmed by the pleasure building up in your core.

"What did we do to deserve a brainless girl like you as our sister, huh?" Jungkook chuckles beside you while your gaze is still connected with Namjoon's, little pearls falling down on your burning cheeks.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, weak and defeated. Always sorry for something that isn't technically your fault. That hand didn't sneak in your panties by itself, someone's controlling it. And Namjoon didn't break into your room just like that, it was calculated.

In the end, it doesn't matter whose fault it is because you want it as much as they do.

"Stop fucking whining, you're annoying," Namjoon scolds and you close your mouth, really feeling ashamed now. "This is what you wanted, so fucking take it," he says with a firm voice, making your heart ache in your rib cage and your walls clench around Jungkook's long fingers.

Namjoon lets go of your face roughly and now Jungkook completely wrecks you, moving in and out of you and curling his fingers inside, his digits patting the spongy spot inside your pussy.

You move your legs apart until your feet dangle in the air, hands grasping on the cushions underneath, nails sinking into the material. You keep your mouth shut, but your whines are still heard as well as your sobs, hips bucking upward to meet your brother's hand.

"You're going to cum, aren't you, baby girl?" Jungkook wonders, but it's evident. Your thighs are shaking, your cunt can't stop clenching around him and your cries are amplifying. "God, you're sucking my fingers in like a slut."

Of course, it's after he says that that you feel your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening. You can't keep your mouth closed anymore and moan out as your orgasm passes through you intensely.

You close your legs around his hand, now too sensitive to handle his fingers. You breathe heavily, looking at them with a blurry vision and damped cheeks from your tears.

Jungkook slowly retracts his hand away from your heat, licking his fingers clean from your cum. You have the feeling that this isn't finished, quite far from it, and you're soon proven right.

Namjoon pulls you up by your arm, only to shove you against the couch on your stomach after. "If you cry again, I won't have any other choice than to shut you up myself."

#m 🤍#🍑 [drabble game]#requests #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfiction #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon drabble #namjoon x reader

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maxarchive · 3 days

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MAX-IMUM ATTACK 2017 Season Photos and words by Darren Heath

Monday lunchtime, Heathrow Terminal 5. Standing next to the slowly revolving baggage carousel, a fresh-faced, slightly awkward-looking - just out of his teens - young man is awaiting the arrival of his chattels.

Dressed in bland black trainers, similarly hued skinny jeans and an oversized hoody, this Young Turk ain’t winning any style awards. iPhone in hand, he’s busy swiping the screen in that head-bowed social media style billions of us now ‘enjoy’.

Max Verstappen doesn’t really do flash. He couldn’t look more ‘normal’. Yet put him in a racing car and he’s just about the most special talent to arrive on motor racing’s top step for decades.

Schumacher-esque – Michael of course! – is a term increasingly heard up and down the F1 paddock, such is the impact the Netherlands’ premier sportsman is now making.

I can see it too.

The fresh-faced 16-year-old boy who was, upon his arrival, so ignorantly dismissed by many within the sport is rapidly becoming a man. It’s amazing how quickly young sportsmen living life in the public gaze assume adulthood. Just take a look at Sebastian Vettel. The gawky kid of 2009 became the handsome dude of 2010!

What sets the potentially great apart from the mediocre? What makes Max Verstappen so, so much more special than, say, Carlos Sainz?

I guess it’s the whole package: the look; the mien; the steely character honed to be a racer almost from before he could walk; the utterly uncompromising way he dismisses any questioning of his racecraft; the toys-out-of-the-pram reaction to harsh penalties; the fast straight-out-of-the-box attacking style; and the rapier-like overtaking ability, the like of which we haven’t seen for many a year. Such was Max’s impact on the art of passing and defending, the rules had to be rewritten!

The way the car looks through the turns, the application of throttle, steering and immensely late braking. Metronomic in his blisteringly fast lap time delivery, this boy has the lot. He IS the future of Formula 1.

In so, so many ways – but let’s hope not all – Max is the new MSC.

Racing in an aggressive and forceful style often results in on-track contretemps with some of his more seasoned rivals. No matter, Max takes no prisoners, batting away questions about the legality of some of his racing moves with a dismissive arrogance that’s strangely appealing in its delivery.

Up to speed now and surely making Dan Ricciardo question his team-leading abilities, Verstappen is unquestionably Red Bull’s main man.

Off-track too, Max is sorted. Guided by his F1-experienced father, the young Verstappen has an able and well-qualified navigator at the helm. Learning from his own ill-advised 1990s F1 driving career decisions, Jos pays absolute attention so as to ensure his son maximises the opportunities on offer.

With top-drawer drivers in short supply, Red Bull had better make damned sure their 2019-and-beyond engine supply is top-notch. The bidding war for Max’s signature is already in full swing. Ferrari and Mercedes are enviously eyeing the Dutchman’s abilities with covetous desire.

It’s easy to forget that Max is only 20 years old. Way ahead in racing driver maturity - a relative term! – than so many millions of a similar age, Max has appeared mentally developed beyond his years since first he appeared in the F1 paddock at Spa 2014. It struck me then how entirely capable this 16-year-old boy was dealing with multiple language questions and untold camera lenses. Listening to his interrogator politely before answering calmly and intelligently, Max appeared born to the role…

Fast forward to now and Verstappen is a multiple grand prix winner and 2018 title-chasing challenger. Part of the new breed of F1 racers, Max leads the pack. Publicly respectful of his rivals, although privately dismissive of many, he well knows his place among the potentially great.

Michael Schumacher once opined – in an interview I photographed – that his father had advised him to heed well the arrival on the scene of the next great talent. The one who’d challenge and quickly replace the dominant male. Well, Lewis, Sebastian and Fernando, that man has arrived.

You’d best heed Herr Schumacher’s words well…

#max verstappen #f1 #2017

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silverzoomies · 3 months

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Turkish Delight

peter maximoff x reader smut

chapter 1: sweet talkin'

warnings: shameless smut, porn without plot, phone sex, mutual masturbation, best friends, dirty talk

word count: 6,368

a/n: hiyaaa !! i'm back with more filth !! peter speaks russian in this one. i've seen people use russian in place of sokovian language before. and since i've been learning russian for a while, i thought i'd give it a shot !! if you're familiar with the language and anything seems off, please let know asap !! as usual, apologies if peter seems ooc, or if my writing isn't up to par !!

tag list (if i forgot you, please remind me !!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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Chillaxing on the sofa in his mom’s basement, Peter drew out a sigh. His hooded eyes gaped at the TV screen. As he channel surfed, his thumb tapped lazily on the remote. Peter stopped to check each channel in abrupt intervals. Afternoon cable was boring as hell today. It failed to grasp his short lived attention span.

Seinfeld reruns? He saw just about all of ‘em. Soap Operas? Those were more his mom’s thing. Huge pass. Nature documentaries? Could be cool. Guess it depended on which one, though.

Oh. It was the one about the polar bear’s great journey across the arctic! Nifty enough. Except, Peter saw that one three or four times already now. Скучный (boring). Так скучно (So boring).

‘Kay, soooo…TV was kind of a no-go. Instead, Peter popped on the PS1 and settled for a game of Metal Gear Solid. The game’s opening intro was a little too slow for his liking, but Peter forced himself to focus. It sucked he was so antsy today, so fidgety and impatient. He needed some kind of distraction. Any distraction. And he needed one fast.

Peter bounced a leg, half invested in the game’s dialogue. His fingers absentmindedly flicked the controller buttons. Not even five minutes into playing, he found himself frustrated and bored again. This time around, he figured some company might ease his ennui.

He darted across the arm of the couch to a side table. Over a stack of comic books and empty cans of soda, he snatched the receiver to a Garfield phone. Peter dialed a number in less than a second. Too fast, at first. The phone didn’t even register his request. Rolling his eyes, he dialed the number again. Slower this time.

Peter kept the vibrant hunk of orange plastic between his cheek and shoulder. Buzzy ringing echoed on the other end of the line, as he waited for the recipient to pick up. The time it took for a voice to finally respond felt like fifty billion years. Your voice. One of Peter’s closest comrades. The pal he shared most, if not all, of his free time with.

There were days when you visited, and you laid back on the sofa with him. With your legs stretched over his lap and a magazine in your hands, you relaxed. Peter would always do his usual, playing whatever game he ‘bought’ from the local K-Mart. Every time he cursed himself for making a misstep, you giggled. You knew how frustrating it was for him, if he wasn't a hundred leaps ahead of everything. And just to get back at you - but also to hear you laugh again - he’d reach over and dig his fingers into your belly.

He loved that it took such minimal effort to make you laugh. You always had an easygoing warmth about you. And maybe you were also pretty cute too. Sometimes, the crook of your smile made him blush. Oh, and you didn't mind duking it out in Mario Kart sometimes. That was also kinda cool. What more could a lonesome guy ask for? Просто друзья. Ничего больше (Just friends. Nothing more). Yeah. He could be content with that. No problem.

Ten minutes into conversation with you, Peter breathed a yawn into the receiver.

“You know, I’m surprised you have the patience for talking on the phone.” You joked.

The speakers roared with a soft buzz in his ear. Peter didn’t register your words at first. Blinking lazily, he tapped the PS1 controller buttons at rapid speed. In the game, Snake fought off an onslaught of bad guys. Peter faked his offense with a scoff.

“Seriously? Man, what’s up with that? It’s like everyone thinks I can’t do stuff at normal speed without goin’ berserk.” He said, cursing under his breath as Snake got gunned down again.

A small part of him wished you were there, with your legs over his lap, cracking jokes at his expense. Over the phone, you emitted a gentle laugh.

“Because you have? Multiple times, dude!” You said.

Surely you could hear Peter’s eyes roll in his skull.

“Oh, yeah? Name five.” he pressed.

The fast paced clicking of the buttons echoed like a trill in the basement. He overheard the sound of rustling as you shifted in place. If Peter had to guess, he’d bet his left foot you were still lazing around in bed. It was a Saturday, after all. With the hour tipping on the edge of late afternoon. You always moved at the slowest of speeds on your off days.

“I’m just saying! I totally get it. Even I don’t have the patience for chats on the phone sometimes.” You said, and a squeaky yawn followed.

More rustles scuffed from your end, as if you moved to stretch. Keeping his gaze fixed on the flickering, CRT screen; Peter followed flashes of light from each grunt’s gun. His reaction time proved effortless as always. His methods, not so much.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Peter mumbled after a beat, “Doesn’t bother me much if I’m talkin’ to you. You’re not boring, first of all. And on the off chance I do get bored, I can just say - hey, babe, I’m gonna hang up. And you won’t get-uhhh…” He lingered on his next thought, distracted with gunning down more masked baddies, “You won’t get, like, butt hurt over it."

“Why would I?” You laughed, “Did someone seriously get offended by that?”

“My aunt did once. She got mad pissed ‘cuz I told her I was ‘kinda bored’ on the phone. She made me pass it to my mom, so she could rat me out. Said I showed a ‘lack of consideration'; ‘er whatever.” Peter paused, brows furrowed. In Metal Gear, Snake perished yet again. Peter rolled his eyes once more, “She’s kinda mental, though. это возмутительно (it’s outrageous).”

Your only response was a quiet hum of acknowledgement. Peter broke the silence that followed.

“Hey, you’re not busy today, are you? Wanna do somethin’ later?” He asked, knowing full well you had jack shit to do.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling soooooo lazy today.” You playfully teased.

The soft pattern of your breathing sent electric tingles down Peter’s neck. Shuddering, he shook off those unexpected chills. Another beat, and Peter groaned, as Snake perished over a low poly landscape. You gotta take it slow and stealthy, man - Peter reminded himself.

“Хорошо (okay)? So? Come be lazy over here then.” He replied, “Tell you what. If you do, I’ll go ‘n snag some of those Turkish delights you like. The same ones my mom gotcha for your birthday. Remember? From Sokovia?”

Your voice perked up instantly, bringing a cheesy smile to his face. Homely fondness simmered in his chest, and Peter felt himself blush. He pulled his lip between his teeth, pausing his game to focus more on conversation. Leaving Snake stranded in the middle of the snow.

“Oh my gosh!! No way?? I haven’t had those in forever! Seriously, the ones from Sokovia?” You chimed.

“Hell yeah! But you gotta get outta bed first, dingus. C’monnnn.” Peter whined, “I’m so bored here, babe. Oh! I totally forgot. I finally got my hands on a Gameboy Color too. Swear on my life I paid for it this time. You could come over ‘n try it ouuuuuut.” He teased in a sing-song voice, wiggling his brows.

“Gameboys and Turkish delights? You’re spoiling me today, Peter! What’s the occasion?” You joked over the line.

He shrugged, forgetting you couldn’t see him, “Bored outta my friggin’ skull. That’s what.” After a beat, he awkwardly added, “And maybe I like hangin’ with you? Do I even need a reason?”

“Well, I gotta admit…you had me at Turkish delights.” You feigned a dreamy tone.

Peter chuckled again. Under his breath, he muttered softly, “ Это все, что тебе нужно, да (That’s all you need, huh)?”

“Huh?” You asked, oblivious to his comment, “What’d you say? I didn’t catch that last part.”

Peter ran a hand through his silver locks, leaving his hair loose and messy. Cradling the phone in his other hand, he knitted his lips to one side.

“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You want me to come get you? ‘Cuz I can.” He checked his digital watch, decked out in a Star Wars theme, “I can right now, if you-”

“It’s fine. I love going out with you, but I really don’t wanna deal with motion sickness today. I just had lunch too. No offense!” Another yawn rang over the phone, hitching into a squeal at the end. Peter didn’t realize he was smiling so big until his cheeks started to hurt, “I’ll just drive over. Sound good?”

Peter rolled his eyes, sarcastically groaning. He threw his head back into the sofa cushions, playing up his fake frustrations.

“Auuuuuuugh! But that’ll take years.” He dragged a hand down his face, pulling his cheeks under his fingertips, “Is this ‘cuz you blew chunks last time?? You know that doesn’t bother me, right? Everyone does it, babe.”

You made a noise of disgust. Something like an eugh , “Please, don’t remind me. That sucked so much. Yeah, no, I’d rather not. I really need a break from it.” You sighed again. Kind of a bummer, but he could deal.

“It’s whatever you want, I guess. So, when are you gonna head out?” Peter asked, sitting up on the sofa and putting the controller aside.

He bounced a leg at rapid speed, his knee moving in a flesh tone blur of motion. Less from agitation, more due to anticipation.

“I’ll leave soon. Just give me a few minutes. Think you can wait?” You chuckled in that sweet, quirky way again. The melody gave Peter butterflies. Ignoring the fluttering in his belly, he pushed himself off the couch. Grabbing the base of the Garfield phone, Peter cradled the lil guy in an arm. He figured he may as well get dressed, and freshen up before you arrived, “It’s so cold today. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet! I’m still bundled up in my undies. Got your jacket on too. You left a Game n Watch in the pocket, by the way. I didn’t even know they still made those!”

“Yeah. I totally called that one. Get up already, ya slacker.” Peter joked trapping the phone between his cheek and shoulder again. He scratched his bare chest. His fingertips grazed the sparse covering of white hairs there. Yawning, he nodded, “Okay. Okay. Okay. Sure, just-”

Something about your last statement finally clicked in Peter’s brain. He rapidly blinked, shaking his head fast enough to give himself whiplash. Peter did a quadruple take.

“Подожди (wait)! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, waiiiiiit …hold on a sec.” He narrowed his eyes, “Say that again?”

“Say what again? The part about the Game n Watch?” You asked, and Peter’s brows furrowed.

“N-Nah. The…did you just…have you been lyin’ around in your underwear this whole time?”

“Uh, yeah? Why? Is this revolutionary information?” You chuckled.

“In my jacket? Like, I didn’t hear that wrong? What’d you like…sleep in it ‘er somethin’?” Peter arched a silver brow, pressing the phone handset closer to his cheek. As if doing so might somehow help him hear you more clearly.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal either way. You borrowed his jackets all the time. Peter never thought anything of it before this conversation. Aside from the fact that - when you did return them, he loved the sweet scent you left behind. The smell of your perfume, with the added bonus of your natural pheromones…

Ебать (Fuck)! Why was he even thinking about this? The two of you had such a casual thing goin’ on. But now, Peter thought of you in a different light. Something friskier. Not that he meant to. Maybe killer boredom + cute friend = horny speedster. Or perhaps the planets aligned in some totally off-the-wall way.

Whatever the case, Peter’s mind raced on autopilot. He pictured the way you might look right now. In your room, spread across your bed in nothing but your underwear and - Ебена мать (Holy shit) - his jacket. With your long legs bare, your knees bumping together as you squeezed your thighs shut. Tummy exposed. And your tits-

Woooooooah there! Slow down, casanova! Peter shouldn’t be…nah, he really shouldn’t be wondering what your breasts looked like. Ppfffbbbbt …’kay, so, maybe in the past he thought about it once or twice. But what dude wouldn't contemplate the hidden mystery of a pal's titties sometimes, ah?

“Well, so what if I did? That doesn’t weird you out, does it?” You asked, a careful waver in your voice.

“Uhhhh…nahhh, babe. Just…” Peter shifted in place, rerouting his thoughts, “Just…got one hell of an image in my head. Might’ve pictured you like that for no particular reason at all.”

Lucky for him, you didn’t seem to think anything of his confession.

“Not much to imagine…” You replied. Сомнительно (Doubtful).

“I mean…pffbbbttt…sure, yeah. Maybe not.” Peter awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of his neck. His voice dropped, a little more hushed, “Unless…you’re wearin’ some really cute panties over there.” Again, he laughed, rushing out a quick, “I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m totally messin’. Just bustin’ your balls, babe.”

Except…he sorta wasn’t. Peter found himself oh-so curious. Twisting the phone's orange wire around his finger, he anticipated your reaction. Anxious you might think him weird for pushing things too far. Never had the two of you charted this kind of territory. It was a minefield, with a 95% chance neither one would make it out unscathed.

“I guess? I think they’re kind of cute.” You added, innocent as ever. Awesome. You weren’t peeved at him, at least. Peter brought the phone to his chest, exhaling an anxious breath to calm his racing heart. When he put the phone to his ear again, he figured you’d moved on. But your cadence shifted. To test the boundaries of your friendship, you teased, “They’re pretty small on me, though.”

Ah. Ah. Интересно. Очень интересно (Interesting. Very interesting). What an unexpected but totally wicked development. Peter lowered himself slowly onto the couch, setting the phone's base on the side table. He eased backwards into the cushions, and tightened his twisting of the phone wire. Swallowing hard, Peter found he had difficulty focusing. Especially with his imagination running so goddamn wild.

“Yeah? …How small is pretty small?” He dared to ask.

Long seconds of silence ticked by at the pace of a narcoleptic sloth. If Peter weren’t so eager to hear what you had to say, he may have torn his hair out. Over the line, you laughed.

“Small enough they barely cover my ass? Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” You cooed.

Peter fluttered his inky eyes, nibbling chapped skin on his lip. Fuzzy pink swarmed the rest of his face, as his mind conjured images of you so effortlessly. Clear as day. Heat stirred to life in his groin, and Peter pictured the way your plush cheeks might hold in tight painties. His breath hitched.

“I-uh…” Peter felt the heat in his cheeks creep down his neck, flustered at lightspeed, “Just thinkin’...maybe you should do somethin’ about that?” He gritted his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. What a lame response, “Черт возьми (damn it)!” He huffed under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

Toying with this newly discovered sexual tension, Peter humorously asked-

“Sooooooo…what color?”

You giggled into the receiver, airy and light. His body registered the noise somewhere , down south of his belly. He wondered if you were as flustered as him. And the visual of your bashful face and shy smile had his heartbeat ramping up to mach 10.

“What? A-Are you for real asking me…oh my god, dude!” Your giggles turned into goofy snorts. Which he found so endearing. Once you composed yourself, you spoke again. Though, your tone came off as more flirtatious, “If you really wanna know so bad…then fine. They’re black. Lacy. With a little bow on the front.”

Дерьмо (Shit)...

His silver brows soared high, disappearing under his bangs. Paying little attention to his instinctive actions, Peter guided his free hand between his thighs. Inwardly, he told himself he was only adjusting his uncomfortable hard-on. ‘Cuz it’d be totally weird if he did anything else…right? Best to ignore the movement of his thumb, as it absentmindedly circled his bulge.

“Huh…that’s so…” Peter blinked, clearing his throat and masking his nerves with a chuckle, “‘Kay, I’ll be up front with you, babe. That sounds cute as hell. Very nice.”

“Really? Oh, please, Peter. They’d be cute on anybody.” You scoffed.

“Uh huh…” He smirked, dropping his tone even lower, “‘Cept, now that I’m really thinkin’ about it? I’m bettin’ they look criminally cute on you.” Peter lazily smirked.

You laughed, breathless like you ran a thousand miles, “Wh-...what are we even doing right now? Seriously, why am I talking to you about my-” The uneasiness in your voice bled through the line.

Your concern was for good reason. Nevertheless, Peter interrupted you mid-sentence.

“Easy there, chuckles. We’re just chatting. Nothin’ too unusual, right? We’ve had some seriously raunchy conversations before. Remember? That time I got laid on a golf course? You told me about that time some dude shot a load in your eye. What’s the difference, anyway?” Peter grimaced, as he recalled your story from eons ago.

You giggled yet again, “Peter, you know damn well what the difference is!” You clarified with a sigh, still playful. The phone wire went slack around his finger, as Peter second guessed himself. He parted his lips, on the cusp of apologizing. Bringing one hand up to the phone, he held it loosely. Your sugary voice chimed again, “I’m kinda wondering, though…what would you think if I told you I’m topless right now?”

His grip compressed around the handset.

“Topless, huh?” Peter cast a quick glance at his hard-on, twitching painfully under his boxers. His mind jumped straight to sinful places again. Peter thought about what your tits probably look like, embraced in his jacket. Nipples hard, grazing the inner-lining. He swallowed, “What’re you tryna tell me? You gonna drive over here in nothin’ but that?” Peter quipped.

A more sultry laugh melted through the receiver. Peter trembled, as your smooth voice coaxed him like a tempting song. His free palm squeezed his bulge, putting pressure to his length over fabric. Peter’s brows turned inward, and he fluttered his eyes shut.

“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad, if it wasn’t so cold outside. It’s freezing today. I don’t know how you can run as fast as you do when the weather’s like this.” Your tone disguised itself with lighthearted innocence again, “It’s not any warmer in my room either. My nipples could cut glass. They’re, like, soooo hard.”

Peter adjusted himself on the sofa, giving the swell of his bulge another teasing squeeze.

“ Ты маленькая соблазнительница (you little temptress)...” His hot breath fanned the phone.

“I love it when you talk like that…” You replied, “Even if I have no idea what you’re saying. It sounds really hot, to be totally honest.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peter teased his lip with his teeth, speaking in a more flirtatious voice; buttery smooth, “ Я забыл вынести мусор (I forgot to take out the trash)...” For added effect - just to embarrass you more - he tacked on a husky moan.

Peter made himself blush, as the sound came out far more pornagraphic than he intended. The rasp of his voice scraped through the line in a hushed, “ Oh, yeah, baby. ”

The erotic tension you felt from his teasing was palpable, even over the phone. Peter could sense the shift in the way you gasped. So faint, so shy, so cute.

“Oh…oh, wow...uhm…” You tried concealing your bashfulness with more of those candy coated giggles. But Peter could practically hear the blood racing to your cheeks, “What’s that mean? Something good, I hope.”

Peter bit his tongue, lips turning in a cheeky grin.

“It means you’re really turnin’ me on…”

Another hesitant pause fell between the two of you, before you scoffed.

“Oh my god, no it doesn’t! I can hear you laughing!” You griped, snickering along with Peter. A few more tension heavy beats pulsed over the line. You spoke again, “Hey…I’m sorry. Can I put things on pause for a sec? I just wanted to ask…are you okay with this?”

“Are you?” Peter gently asked, giving you ample time to think about it.

“I don’t know…maybe…” You whispered, “Isn’t this, like, super weird for you?”

“I mean…suuuuuuure. It’s totally weird. If you kept goin', I wouldn't be into it...at all...” He bullied you with a playful edge, hoping you could read the flirtatious undertone in his voice.

“Ohhhhh…you wouldn't be?” Judging by the saucy lilt in your voice, you most definitely caught on, “You know what would be even weirder?”

Peter adjusted on the sofa again. Getting comfortable, he laid on his back. His taut legs stretched across the cushions, and Peter propped his head on the couch’s arm.

“Whazzat? Enlighten me, babe. I’m listenin’. You got my full attention.” He teased.

“Your full attention, huh? I must be doing something right.” You snickered, “So…you know how I said I love it when you talk…like that?” Your voice wavered, “What I really meant was-uhm…when you do that on the phone…it makes me kind of horny.”

His brown hues burst open, wider than ever. Peter’s pupils dilated, expanding as far as the universe itself. He swallowed again, his mouth falling open. Your filthy confession set his arousal ablaze, making his dick twitch. As heated desire took over, Peter couldn’t restrain himself. He snuck his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, fingertips gliding over silver hairs. A small piece of him almost felt guilty for doing so.

“It does, huh? Хорошо знать (Good to know).” Peter whispered, tenderly grasping his shaft.

You made a naughty squeak of a noise in response, “Y-Yeah, Peter, I’m serious. You really have to stop doing that.”

“Почему (Why)? Are you soakin’ yourself over it? Gettin’ a lil wet? It’s cool. You can tell me…” Peter heckled, expelling a breath as he gave his dick a single tug.

“Oh, I bet you wanna know all about that, huh? You’re so bad, Quickie...” You teased, clicking your tongue.

Peter’s ears burned, turning pink as he took in the coquettish nature of your voice. Scoffing, he feigned his indignance.

“What?! Hey, nah nah nah! You started this! Это несправедливо, черт возьми (it’s not fair. Dammit)!” Peter laughed, carefree with you as always, “You can’t seriously drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to-”

“Not to come running?” You hummed, sweet tempered, “I’m just messing with you, baby. But since we’re on the topic…I made such a mess of these little panties. Just from listening to your voice.”

Peter couldn’t even pretend he didn’t like the sound of ‘baby’ on your tongue.

“Oh, man…anything but the panties…” He joked, “You should-uh…you should save yourself some trouble. Y’know…take ‘em off, maybe? Might be more comfortable.” Peter hinted, playing nonchalant, “Just tryna be a good friend. Give you some advice. You should for sure take it.”

“But I’m already so cold…” You whimpered, “Your jacket’s so warm. Smells good too. Really good. But it’s not enough to keep me covered.” You spoke with flirtatious innocence, and Peter played along.

“No harm done, принцесса (princess). I’ll warm you up if you need me to.” He reassured, sweet talking you over the phone, “Ты думаешь, что я не позабочусь о тебе? (Do you think I won't take care of you)?" Peter mumbled again. He listened to your sickly sweet laughs, before asking, “So…do you get like this every time we talk on the phone?”

“Mmmm…maybe.” You hummed, “What if I said yes?” You shuffled around again, and Peter’s mind jumped elsewhere. He imagined you shed yourself of damp, black lace. Leaving you wanton and needy in nothing but his jacket, “You know…we’ve been talking about me a lot this whole time. You wanna tell me what you’re wearing? I don’t really have a visual.”

“Oh…me?” Your request caught Peter off guard.

“Yeah, you. Who else, blockhead?” You playfully quipped, smoothing your voice to say, “You don’t have to be shy. I just wanna know, so I can think about taking it off of you.”

Peter didn’t know he could blush this much. Puffing a bashful laugh, he looked down at his body. Mostly nude and toned enough. He had his x-gene to thank for his pecs and hard abs. A fluffy bouquet of silver hairs peeked out from his boxers. Underneath, his dick throbbed, pressing eagerly into fabric.

“Uhm…I’m not wearin’ a lot? Nothin’ special. Just some black, boxer briefs, I guess. Wait, no-” Peter lifted a foot, his lips curling in a goofy smile, “Got my Star Wars socks on too.”

A sensual moan graced his ears, “That’s so hot.” You softly whined, “Star Wars socks? Peter, just take me now.”

Despite the fact you were totally messing with him, that playful comment made his chest tight.

“Nothing else though?” You pressed.

“Nnnnnnnnnnope.” He drew out the word, popping the P, “Just the-uh…yeah. Boxers ‘n sexy socks. Not much to take off.”

“And you’re pretty fit, aren’t you? You always looked really jacked to me, so-” You said.

Peter cocked a brow, snickering to cover his embarrassment.

“Wooooahhh…you been checkin’ me out, babe?” He asked, darting his dark hues across his athletic bod. Peter flexed an arm, “Sure, I guess I’m in decent shape.” He found he couldn’t dismiss your compliments. Peter looked good, and he knew it. But he preferred hearing it from you, “Hey, you wanna know somethin’, like, way crazy?”

“This? What we’re doing right now is so crazy, right?” You laughed, sounding as bashful as him.

Peter snickered, “True. Truuuue. But, uh…” He shrank in his spot on the couch, pressing the vibrant handset closer into his cheek. Pre-cum seeped through his boxers, as Peter tugged his dick steady and slow. Careful not to stimulate himself too much yet. He dropped his voice to a hushed rasp, “I’m kinda in the same spot you are right now. If you-uh…if you catch my drift.”

The two of you knew each other for a long time. Several years, in fact. But never once did Peter think he’d hear his closest pal say-

“Ohhhh. Are you hard right now, baby?”

Oh. Yeah, this buddy-buddy friendship was in major trouble. Doomed to crash and burn. As soon as the words fell from your lips, spoken in your honeyed voice; Peter’s breath hitched in his throat. He sank his teeth so hard into his lip, he almost broke skin.

“Y-Yeah. Since you-uh…started talkin’ about your panties. I’m sorry, babe. Just been kinda bored and worked up all day.” He sheepishly chuckled.

“You poor baby…” You coddled him over the phone. And while he should’ve been embarrassed, Peter had no problem with you talking like that, “Can I ask how big you are?”

Peter stalled for a moment, before pulling the front of his boxers down. His hardness flopped against his belly, pulsating and ruddy from his teasing. Taking his aching length in his hand, he rubbed the underside with his thumb.

“You mean my dick? It’s-uhhhh…like six, maybe seven inches almost?” He squeezed his cock, milking beads of pre-cum, “But size doesn’t matter, yeah? It’s the motion of the ocean, babe.”

“Noooooo, baby. You’re so perfect. Wish I could see how good you look like that…” You cooed over the phone.

Your kindly words and airy tone made the veins in his dick throb with electric heat. Peter clutched his cock tight, pumping the velvet skin a touch faster. Giving himself just a simple taste of relief. His stomach clenched, hardening his abs.

“Не так идеально, как ты выглядишь (Not as perfect as you look)...” Peter muttered, drawing in a shallow breath, “Babe, I gotta tell ya, I’m really feelin’ this. I’m so into you right now. W-Want you to keep talkin’ like-uh...”

His imagination took his depravity to the next level. Now, Peter thought about joining you in your room. He wondered how soft and smooth your skin would feel. Supple and hot under his fingertips. What might you look like writhing under him, whimpering as he played with you? As he teased you? Man, you were both so screwed.

“Never thought dirty talking with me would turn you on so much…” You giggled.

Peter secured the handset between his cheek and shoulder. With both hands free, he raised his palm to his lips. He drew a long stripe with his tongue, bringing his damp hand to his cock. The slick lubrication pulled a gentle moan from his throat.

“M-Maybe a little bit. Ебать (Fuck), maybe a lot.” Peter groaned, labored in his breathing, “Can you - Ебать (fuck) - you wanna do somethin’ for me? Just a little favor between friends? S’all I’m askin’, baby.”

“Anything you want, Peter.” You mewled.

“Can you- mmmmohgod -” Peter choked up. He almost chickened out, but pushed himself to ask, “Can you touch yourself for me? Please? Пожалуйста, моя маленькая принцесса (Please, my little princess)...” His foreign whispers weaved pretty whimpers from your lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, if you want me to. But you have to do the same for me too. It’s only fair, right? Equal exchange?” You whispered, acting playful again.

Peter breathed a guilty chuckle, “Uhm…yeahhhhh…about that…”

You softly gasped, “Have you been-”

“Playin’ with my dick this whole time? Maybe.” Peter admitted. His thumb caught another pearl of pre, spreading the slickness over his sensitive head, “But I’m not, like, totally jerkin’ it yet…” He lied, pressing you to encourage him.

“Oh, you’re not, huh? What are you doing then?” You asked, “Are you being a bad boy, Pietro?” The abrupt drop of his given name shocked him into silence.

Peter felt his groin tighten, and an exhilarating rush electrified his nerves. For the thousandth time, you giggled. And for the thousandth time, Peter’s heart leapt. Dumbfounded, he gathered his composure and played along again.

“Y-Yeah. So bad. You gotta help me, babe. I’m just-...I’m so hard. Don’t think I can stop myself if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Through the receiver, Peter’s ears caught wind of a needy mewl. He gripped his cock hard, guiding his fist in firmer strokes. His legs quivered, and the heels of his Star Wars socks slid across the couch.

“Does it feel good when you touch your pretty cock like that, sweetheart?” You cooed.

Peter almost went straight into cardiac arrest. He jolted in place, feeling his cock stiffen in his grasp.

“Святой трах (Holy fuck)..." Peter suffocated on his own groans. For an instant, his words failed him, “Uhmmm…hah…wow-uh…Ебать (fuck). Feels good, yeah. Don’t think it’s enough. I need-...uhm…I want-uh…”

“Yeah? What do you want, baby. It’s okay.” You spoke so sugary sweet again.

“I-...Я просто хочу увидеть тебя (I just want to see you)...” Peter’s veins tingled under his touch, as he tugged his dick with more urgency, “Shit! I-...how come I never knew you could be like this-” And to Peter’s ultimate humiliation, he whimpered your name. Along with another whiny, “ Ебать (Fuck). ”

“Like what?” Your coy voice teased him over the line.

“I dunno…so-uh…so damn nasty.” He joked, and even through the phone; he knew he had you flustered again.

“I guess we all have our secrets, hmm? Tell me more, Pietro. When you touch yourself like that. With those big, strong hands…how’s it feel?” You asked, driving him to keep going.

Peter snorted a laugh, “Strong hands? What??” His endearing playfulness took a backseat, as he grunted into the receiver, “God…feels like my strong hand’s not enough. Мне реально тебе нужно прямо сейчас. Нужна так сильно (I really need you right now. I need you so much).” His voice fell to a whisper. Pumping his slick, crimson cock through his fist, he breathlessly pleaded, “Talk to me, baby. Please. Tell me-ohhh…tell me what you’re doin’ over there.”

You squealed a sultry giggle, further igniting Peter’s pleasured frenzy. He squirmed in his spot on the sofa, forcing himself to stay put. Battling the forces of the universe, it was all Peter could do not to race to your room. Just to spread your legs and hump you like a speedy bunny.

“Mmmm…I’m just doing what you asked me to…I’m being so good for you right now.” You whimpered.

“Oh. Okay…uhm…far out. Uh…wanna gimme the steamy details?” He heckled again, fumbling his words in his nervousness, “Please, don’t hold off on me, baby.”

“I’m…” Your precious voice wavered, teeming with awkwardness as your confidence dwindled, “I’m playing with my little pussy. Just for you. And I’m so wet. I can’t stop thinking about your hands…so big…”

“Боже мой (my god).” Peter muttered. Combating impatience brought upon by his genes, he willed himself to take things slow. His strokes became steady and teasing, as he edged his aching cock, “Holy shit, babe. Yeah? Keep goin’...”

You moaned soft squeals into the receiver, “I want you so bad, Quickie. Please, baby, don’t make me beg. Can you touch this little pussy for me? Please? Your fingers are so big. I don’t think they’d fit all at once. It’s been a while, and I’m so tight.” Your naughty voice pleaded.

“God, I wanna touch you so bad. Я хочу прикоснуться к этой сладкой киске (I want to touch that sweet pussy).” Peter’s impatience got the better of him, and he quickly gave in. He grasped his cock hard, wringing himself fast enough to make his balls bounce. Creasing his brows, he groaned, “Ohhh..What’re you tryna to do to me, babe? Talkin’ about how tight you are…Ебать…”

“But I ammmm.” You whined again, “I’m squeezing my tiny fingers so tight. It’s so soft and hot for you. Bet it’d feel really good if you stretched me. With your fingers, with your cock - fuck, Pietro. I just need you, baby.”

“Please, baby, oh, please? Wanna be inside you. Wanna feel you. I promise I won’t go too fast. Я обещаю (I promise).” Peter whimpered. But as you mewled again, another forceful wave of carnal heat crashed over Peter. In a quieter tone, he choked, “Нет, я могу. Я пойду так быстро (No, I can. I’ll go so fast).”

“Pietro, you can go as fast as you want, baby. I won’t stop you.” You pleaded, your broken voice so kittenish and wanton, “F-Fuck. I’m rubbing my clit. So sensitive. Thinking about you. Thinking about your mouth on me.”

“Ебать!!” Peter moaned through clenched teeth. His self control rapidly abandoned him. Speedily rutting his sore cock through the squeeze of his fist, his body refused to slow down, “Говоря о скорости (Speaking of speed)...” Peter craned his neck back, raising a hand to keep the handset to his ear, “You gotta stop makin’ all those cute noises, baby. Please…I can’t-”

As surges of horny pleasure circulated through his body, Peter thought of you again. He imagined you on your bed, caged under him between his arms. In his daydreams, he kissed you intimately, touching your pretty, naked body. Peter wanted to feel how wet you were for himself. And hell, the danger of pushing your friendship past its limits made you more tempting. Such a lewd, risky thought pushed him closer to the edge of something righteous.

“Baby, I wanna see you. Can I? Can I see you stroke that thick cock? Would you let me? Ohh, fuck, Pietro.” You whimpered. And your noises were so shamelessly lecherous, you could’ve made a pornstar blush, “Can I kiss it, please? Can I kiss your big cock?” You whimpered.

“О боже мой, пожалуйста (Oh my god, please)!” Peter choked, every word hitching in his throat, “Baby…babe, you can’t do this. Ya really can’t be-” He laughed lazily, his dark eyes falling half lidded. His cock throbbed, bright red and turning purple at the tip. He rutted in a speedy blur, “Stop. Stop. Stop. I’m gonna…babe, I’m gonna bust-” He slurred.

You squealed his name as loudly as your hushed voice would allow. And Peter swore he could hear the slick sound of your fingers. As they played with your pretty, little cunt.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. Please cum with me. Please? Pietro, OH~!”

“я кончаю, я кончаю (I’m cumming, I’m cumming)! ‘M Gonna-” Peter’s moans seeped through the receiver, his wet lips parting and mouth hanging open.

His swollen cock erupted in white-hot jets, coating his pecs and belly. With all his muscles tensed, Peter’s legs trembled. He rode out those lusty waves in tandem with you. The pleasure of orgasm sounded leagues more intense on your side. You took longer to cruise through it, whimpering and moaning Peter’s name. As you did, Peter basked in his momentary afterglow. Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, his head resting on the arm of the sofa; he listened to you with a smirk on his lips. At the end of your journey in ecstasy, your moans turned into flustered giggles.

Peter's thoughts reeled him in again. Imagining you, looking so sheepish and fine in his jacket. Now, he desperately wanted the real deal. To see you in all your post-nut glory. Mere seconds later, his sore cock pulsed to life again. As his hardness squirmed on his belly, Peter breathed another sigh.

On his end, you heard nothing but silence. You kept calling his name, your tired voice infused with anxiety.

“Uhm…Peter? Hey…are you there?” You asked.

And he didn't say a single word more.

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #txt #im terrified this is like...not as decent as my usual but whatever !!

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