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jadevine · 4 months

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Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

#writing #preindustrial #horse riding #horse care #writing advice #medieval

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mingtinys · 1 month

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" you should rest "

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language

word count : 0.5 k

a/n : super super excited to be doing this little mini-series starting off with seungcheol !!

You're rudely awoken from your slumber by the slamming of brakes and Seungcheol throwing curses at the car in front of him. Your seat belt stops your momentum, though you can't say the same about your poor suitcases and bags in the back seat that tumble forward with a violent thud.

"Fucking idiot," he mutters, then looks over to you with a complete change of expression. "Are you okay?" He's still got his arm extended over your chest like a mother.

"I'm okay, are you?"

"Yeah," he sighs, letting his arm drop from its protective position in favor of resting his hand on your inner thigh. He squeezes ever so lightly in an attempt to ground himself. "Asshole cut me off and then slammed his brakes. I'm sorry to wake you."

You hum, reaching out to brush back his bangs from his eyes. A fond smile lights up his features at the gesture. "S'okay. How much longer do we have left?"

"About an hour or so."

An hour!?

"Cheol!" You scold, shuffling to sit up in your seat. "You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago to switch off!"

If there was only an hour left that meant he'd been driving for nearly three already. You only meant to nap during his half of the drive to your parents' house then you would finish the rest so he could get some sleep. You even made him promise about three times over to wake you up, but it seems that went unheard.

He just shrugs and steals a glance at you, that signature pout playing at his lips. "I don't mind. Besides, you've seemed stressed lately, I figured you could use the extra rest."

Admittedly, the extra shut-eye was pretty nice. But still, you wish he would've woken you. "I appreciate it, but I'll feel guilty if you take the whole drive. Pull over and we'll switch off for the last bit."

Stubborn as always, Seungcheol shakes his head. "I'll take care of everything, you should rest." There's honestly no arguing with him over stuff like this. So you just sigh and grumble about conquering the trip back on your own to make up for it. Seungcheol just chuckles at your dissent. "You're too cute."

You curl up in your seat once more, turning so you can admire glare at your boyfriend who's a little too happy with himself. He notices, and the way his lips crack into a smile is irritatingly adorable. Seungcheol reaches his arm to the back, fishing out his coat that had been buried under your multitude of travel bags. Placing it over your legs, he steals another lingering glance.

"You're not forgiven yet, I'm still mad at you." It's probably the least threading sentence you've ever uttered in your life. Your voice sounds whiney, even to you, and that really makes Seungcheol laugh.

"I know, baby. Sweet dreams."

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ilguna · 5 months

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☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle.

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case.

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise.

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder.

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack.

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up.

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out.

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too.

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively.

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried.

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees.

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—”

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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imagining a modern sej and coryo where they’re you’re roommates but you had just found ur boyfriend cheating on you so your roommates decide to cheer you up by showing you all the pleasures they can give you. and it turns to both of them being inside your pussy at once, rubbing their dicks together while inside of you

mdni | sej and coryo help you feel better

cw: 18+//threesome//double-penetration//fingering//cream pie//oral (f. receiving)//mentions of cheating—this fic is particularly dirty so please read at your discretion!

when you’d found those photos of that girl in lingerie on your boyfriend’s phone, you’d been heartbroken. you’d come home, mascara running down your cheeks, eyes brimming with tears. you’d rushed to your room, too embarrassed to face your roommates, and spent the next half-hour weeping as you scrolled through old photos of the two of you.

there was a knock at the door, and you didn’t respond, but the door creaked open and the heads of both coriolanus and sejanus poked through the door. when they saw how miserable you looked—you’d at least wiped off your mascara—they came straight in, offering looks of sympathy.

‘what’s wrong?’ sej asked, brushing the hair that had fallen in front your face behind your ear.

you broke out into sobs again, and he wrapped an arm around you. he was so warm, and you nestled into him.

‘he was cheating on me,’ you wept, and coryo came and sat down beside you, giving your hand a squeeze.

unlike sej, his touch was cool, but it felt pleasant, both of them touching you like this. it was oddly intimate. sure, you guys had always been close since your first year of uni, but you weren’t the kind to be kissing each other. not yet, at least.

‘i’ll kill him,’ coryo seethed, and you shook your head, gazing at him through bleary eyes.

‘no, that won’t help. i just feel like shit,’ you felt your tears trickle into sejanus’ shirt and shot him an apologetic look; not that he minded.

coryo eyed sej, and moved his hand over your thigh. you furrowed your brow, but you were so overrun with emotions you couldn’t make any logical decisions. his touch made your core tingle a little.

‘i know what can help,’ coryo murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

‘yeah?’ you asked, lips flickering into a small grin.

coryo’s hand travelled further up your thigh, past the apex, and stopped when his fingers brushed against your panties. you were wearing your favourite pair, pink and lacy—they had been for your boyfriend. he raised a brow when he was surprised that you were already wet.

‘jesus, sej, she’s so fucking wet,’ he remarked, and sejanus felt his cock stiffen at the mere mention of your cunt. both of them had dreamed of a day like this.

‘you want this, yeah?’ sejanus asked, ever the sweetheart. you nodded dumbly, already distracted by the pleasant feeling of coryo’s finger stroking your cunt.

‘we’ll make you feel better, hm?’ coryo cooed, slipping a finger inside your cunt.

seeing your expression of delight at the feeling of one finger, he slipped another inside, and pressed his thumb against your clit. you turned to face sej, entranced by his warmth, and pressed your lips flush against his.

it didn’t take long for it to extend into heavy, hot open-mouthed kissing, his hands gripping at the small of your back, yours wrapped around his neck as his lips stifled your moans. coryo’s fingers felt so good, you couldn’t believe you’d wasted your time on that stupid boyfriend of yours when you had two hot roommates.

once you’d come around coryo’s fingers, you could see both the boys were achingly hard. your cunt throbbed, and in the state you were in, your mind was too blurred by your orgasm and the anger you had for your now-ex-boyfriend. you couldn’t decide which one to have first, and gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip.

‘i want both of you,’ you admitted, and the two boys exchanged glances as if they were sparring for which one got to have you first.

‘both?’ sejanus raised his eyebrows in surprise. he was a little jealous, and was anxious he wouldn’t be able to match up to coryo’s prowess—coryo was the more dominant one of the two, and sejanus knew coryo could work his charm on you.

‘you can’t exactly make me choose,’ you pout, your hand ghosting sejanus’ bulge teasingly. he let out a breathy moan, but coryo, ever the envious one, grabbed your chin with his hand and forced him to meet your gaze.

‘maybe we won’t,’ coryo murmured, and you shivered a little, his icy eyes boring into you.

within seconds, coryo had slid your panties off of you, sighing at the sight of your glistening cunt. sejanus couldn’t help himself, and slid his fingers through your wet folds.

‘jesus,’ sej shook his head in disbelief. his cock was straining against his pants; he needed urgent relief.

coryo had removed his own pants, revealing a long, pretty cock with an achingly red tip. you let out a whimper at the sight of it, egged on a little by the feeling of sejanus’ fingers rubbing at your already overstimulated clit.

‘coryo, need you,’ you gasped, feeling your body surge with the beginnings of another orgasm, skin tingling.

coryo didn’t waste his time, and slid into your pussy, causing you to cry out. even though you definitely weren’t a virgin, he was the biggest you’d been with, and you could feel his tip poking against your cervix.

‘fucking hell, she’s so tight sej,’ coryo let out a stifled breath, resting his cock. ‘you need to feel her too.’

your brows raised in alarm, watching as sejanus unbuttoned his own pants, sliding them down, and then his boxers. his cock was beautiful too, girthy and dripping with precum.

‘gonna fill you up,’ coryo grunted, sliding himself in and out of you slowly, stretching out your tight walls. ‘think you can take me and sej, huh?’

you nodded blearily, and held your breath, eyes following sejanus as he struggled to find his way to your cunt. you’d thought he’d go for your other hole, but they took you wanting them both very literally.

you let out a cry, body trembling as you feel sejanus enter you along with coryo. it stung, but you feel so pleasantly full, and from the groans of the boys, it seemed like they were enjoying it too. it feels almost pornographic, having both of them in your cunt at the same time, and you feel yourself clench around them.

‘look at you, what a fuckin’ slut,’ coryo slid his cock against sejanus’ and you flinch, the sensation driving you mad.

‘fuck, coryo, i don’t know how much more i can take,’ sejanus admitted shamefully, his cock pulsing with pleasure.

the feeling of their cocks rubbing against one another, and pressing against your hole, testing the limit of what you can take sends both of them wild. coryo, ever daring, decides to give a thrust, watching as you writhe beneath him, tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

‘too much, huh?’ coryo taunted, a small smile flickering at his lips as he glances down at your cunt.

it’s stretched to the hilt; slick dripping round both their cocks, hole clenching at them. you look like such a slut, tears rolling down your cheeks, sweat beading your forehead; lips stretched into a pretty ‘o’ shape.

sejanus feels too scared of hurting you to move too much, but the sensation of coryo’s cock sliding in and out of you and against his cock makes him clench his fist, his breaths growing heavy as he urges his body to stop himself from coming too early.

‘please,’ you beg, cunt clenching around their cocks.

coryo drags himself out at a teasingly slow pace, and you can see sejanus’ face contorting with self-restraint. he can’t help himself anymore, and as coryo slips himself completely out of your hole, the feeling sends sejanus over the edge.

‘fuck,’ sejanus pants as he spills his load in you.

coryo laughs in disbelief, watching sejanus buck his hips helplessly into your hole; and he takes his own cock and slaps it against your pussy. you whine as it presses against your clit; body tingling with the dual sensations. sejanus’ cum is hot and sticky as he pulls out of you, and coryo groans, desperate to rebury himself inside of you.

‘want you to eat her pussy, sej,’ coryo directs as he slides into you.

you gasp, pussy raw but so achingly wet at the same time. you don’t know how much more you can take. sejanus obliges, crooking his neck so he can press his mouth against your slick folds. his tongue slides over the folds, fingers rubbing his cum and your own slick over your pussy.

coryo thrusts into you roughly, chasing his own orgasm as sejanus’ cum coats his cock. you felt so good around him, pussy clenching in spite of having been stretched out by the both of them.

you gasp as sejanus’ tongue finds its way to your clit, body going fuzzy with the start of your own release dancing across your skin. the sight of the both of them, coryo bucking himself inside your hole, and sejanus’ pretty mouth suckling at your clit sends you wild.

‘so good,’ coryo muses as he takes you further, hands gripping at your waist as he pounds you.

you feel yourself coming undone, cunt gushing around coryo’s cock. you run your fingers through sejanus’ curls, tugging as he sucks your clit into overstimulation. your mind goes white and fuzzy, and you cry out—it’s so good. you can’t even remember your stupid ex-boyfriend’s name.

‘such a slut for us, huh? bet you regret dating that stupid boyfriend of yours when you’ve got me and sej?’ coryo grunts as he ruts into you.

you nod, completely fucked out on his cock. sejanus’ mouth has moved to take one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth, and you mewl as you feel his tongue lap at the buds.

coryo finishes inside of you, breathing raggedly as he spurts thick ropes of cum against your walls. you can feel it mixing with sejanus’, and coryo can’t help but go hot at the thought of their cum together inside of you. you look so pretty like this, fucked out on them, cunt dripping with their pearly white loads.

‘thank you,’ you manage to murmur, head lolling back with pleasure.

needless to say, letting your roommates help you ‘feel better’ became a frequent occurrence.

969 notes · View notes

somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Missed Connection

Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Quick little one shot for @irish-piece-of-trash request! Sorry this took me so long!

Part 2 Part 3

You absolutely loathe airports. The chaotic shuffle of strangers inconsiderate of one another, the price gouging, the garbled screeching over the speakers telling travelers their gates are closing. It’s enough to make even the most zen person go postal. You figure that’s why they open the bars at the break of dawn.

You’re seated at your gate, praying no one sits next to you as you wait for your connecting flight home. Your headphones block out all the surrounding noise, allowing you to check out for a while as your playlist shuffles through. You absently watch people pass you by, imagining them waltzing through the terminal to the beat of the music in your ears.

Several people around you begin to stand, which was confusing because your flight wasn’t scheduled to board for another 45 minutes. You peer around a column, past the angry faces of your fellow flight mates, to find the news on the screen above the gate.

DELAYED - 6 HOURS

You lean back in your chair, tilt your head back, and sigh in exasperation. You hate airports, and now you’re stuck in one. You dislike crowds just as much as airports themselves, so when people begin to rush to the desk for rescheduling, you stay in your seat. You’d rather endure the terminal for hours before you go through the stress and anxiety of trying to find another flight. Plus, the only thing you’re going home to is your cat, who basically leads a life of his own in parallel to yours.

When the group around the desk begins to grow, extending to a mass in front of your seat, you decide to retreat. You pick up your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, shuffling through the throng of unhappy strangers to make your escape. The airport is massive, so you figure you can find an empty gate somewhere to hide out for a few hours. You trudge along, searching for areas that are less populated. You’re kicking yourself now for not paying to get into a lounge club, where peace and quiet were usually a guarantee.

You veer around a group of teenage boys wearing football jerseys and pick up your pace, desperately searching for an unoccupied corner. The food court is chaos, you’re reminded of the scene in Mean Girls where the teens turned into animals at the mall, and it makes you shiver. A conveyor walkway is blessedly empty, so you shuffle onto it, continuing your pace and letting it whisk you away to another terminal.

As you’re nearing the end of the conveyor, you stretch your neck up, searching for an empty gate. Your eyes lock onto one in a far corner, not a single person sitting remotely near it. You pick up your pace, ready to leap off the moving sidewalk and secure an outlet and a few chairs.

It must have been your eagerness to hide that caused you not to see the girl in your path. Generally, you were painfully aware of everyone around you, but in your haste, you looked right over her head. You bound off the conveyor and slam right into her, sending everything in her arms flying and your bodies crashing to the tile floor.

A muffled “oof” escapes your lungs, your chest crushing into her shoulder. You scramble to untangle yourself from her, pushing your hands into the ground to lift your weight off her small frame.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry are you okay?” You clamber backward, trying to give her space.

She sits up, rubbing her shoulder, her expression bewildered. You feel terrible, you’re at least half a foot taller than her, and you’ve certainly got forty pounds on her, your backpack not included. You sit back, trying to gather yourself as she does the same.

“Have you considered rugby?” Her voice is light, pleasantly high-pitched, and you think it fits her quite well.

You furrow your brow, confused, “Rugby?”

She winces, still rubbing her shoulder, “Or maybe football?”

Your face shifts from confused to shocked when you realize she’s giving you a hard time for tackling her. You shake your head no, pushing yourself to your feet and offering your hand out to her. She takes it, and you pull her up easily. You’re still so worried about helping her you begin to scurry around, collecting all the things she’d dropped. A book, a pair of black headphones, a notebook with a pen in its spine, a script, and her phone. You stack them all neatly as she dusts herself off.

When you hand them back to her, you finally get a good look at her. She’s gorgeous, and it makes you feel even worse about the situation. You were never a very social person, but being in the presence of a pretty girl truly showed your inability to be normal.

“I’m really sorry again,” you say, dusting some dirt from her shoulder.

She squints at you like she’s trying to figure out what planet you’d come from, “It’s okay, really. I’ll take note to stay far away from these moving walkways for the next ten to fifteen years, though.”

You grimace, then smile through the grimace. You must look like an idiot because she laughs at your expression.

“I was just…in a hurry. I must have looked right over your head.”

She raises a brow at you, “Are you saying I’m short?”

You frown, your eyes wide and confused. Was she serious? She couldn’t be more than five feet tall.

“Uh, I just, I-“

She laughs again, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, “I’m joking, don’t have a heart attack.”

You can’t do anything but blink at her, which makes her narrow her eyes at you again. At least this time, there’s still a smile on her face.

“Are you going to be late?” She asks, glancing side to side.

You tilt your head, “For what?”

Narrowed eyes again. She must think you’re an absolute idiot.

“Your flight? That’s why you were in a hurry, right?”

“Oh!” You exclaim, “No, I don’t leave for another six hours.”

The confused smile she gives you clues you in to the fact that your answer makes no sense, so you rush to clarify, “I was in a hurry to find an escape from…that,” you gesture to the bustling food court behind you.

Her expression shifts, her narrowed eyes widen, and she looks intrigued. The corners of her lips pull up just slightly. You wonder if you’d said something stupid, or if you really were just an idiot. She’s intimidating you without trying, and it’s slightly embarrassing. You’re not sure why you’re shaking in your Vans at someone so tiny, but she’s just so beautiful. And for some reason, a tiny part of your brain thinks she looks incredibly familiar, but you can’t put your finger on why.

She glances over to the empty gate you were headed for and looks back up at you, “It looks like we’re doing the same thing then. Do you mind if I sit there too?”

You shake your head no, unable to form words. She raises an eyebrow at you and smirks. You stand there and stare at her, waiting for your brain to return to functioning capacity. After a moment, she turns on her heel and heads for the empty row of chairs; you follow automatically, like a puppy on a leash. When she drops her bag in one chair and sits in another, you sit across from her and slide your backpack from your shoulders. In an effort to regain your composure, you dig through your bag, looking for your charger, giving yourself time to think more clearly. You plug your phone into the outlet and leave it on the chair next to you. When you look up, she’s sitting cross-legged, her headphones around her neck, and watches you with plain curiosity on her face.

You shoot her an awkward smile and duck your head, “Uh, is there something on my face?”

She laughs and shakes her head no, “I’m Jenna. What’s your name?”

You flinch, chastizing yourself internally for not having better manners, “I’m y/n. Sorry, I think maybe the airport is scrambling my brain, I’m usually not…” you stop yourself, realizing what you’re about to say is a lie.

“Usually not, what?”

“Well I was going to say I’m usually not this awkward, but that would be a lie.”

She chuckles and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, “I think, given the way we met, it’s okay to be a little bit awkward.”

You wince, “Sorry about that again.”

She shrugs, a playful look in her eyes, “It’s okay, I’m sure the air is thinner up there, I don’t know if brains function properly with altitude.”

Your jaw drops open, and you lean forward, “Was that a height joke?!”

She smirks at you, sending your stomach into cartwheels, “I guess at least you don’t miss sarcasm, right? So maybe you’re less scrambled than you think.”

You can’t believe what's happening to you right now. This girl is either flirting with you, or she’s got so much rizz it comes out unconsciously. You’re practically swooning in your chair. You blink at her dumbly, unsure of how to respond.

“Where are you headed?” is the best line you can come up with.

“Back to LA, you?”

“Same, actually. Are you from there?”

She frowns at you again, like she really can’t figure out what planet you’re from, “Sort of, like two hours away. But I live there now.”

You glance over at the pile of belongings you had collected for her when you crashed into her, and the piece of information you’d missed in your panic finally dawns on you. The script.

“You’re an actress?”

She nods, her expression telling you maybe you’re on to something.

“I don’t watch tv much,” you clarify, “I’m a nature photographer. Kind of get lost in my work and forget to be a human sometimes.”

Why you’re telling her this much is lost on you. You try not to second guess it.

She jerks her head back, surprised, “That’s so cool! Is that what you’re doing in New York?”

You feel like you’d rather ask her questions about her job, but indulge her for the moment, “No, this is just a layover. I was working in Europe all winter. How about you, though? Any big projects I should look out for?”

She chews on the inside of her lip, considering the question like it’s loaded, “Nothing much, I was on SNL this week, though, so that was cool.”

You blanch and gulp. SNL is not just “cool.” The realization that she’s more famous than she lets on slams into you.

“So, uh, you’re like a big deal then huh?”

The way she cringes makes you second guess your statement, “I hate that you just said that, honestly. I’m just me.”

She steers the conversation back to your work, and you leave the questions about her career behind. You can take a hint, and she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. Before you know it, she’s moved from her seat across from you into the one next to you, and the interaction is so easy it’s almost appalling. Time slips away from you and hours pass.

The speaker over your head mumbles something and she sighs, stretches and stands. She gathers her things and smiles down at you.

“That’s me. This was actually really refreshing. I never do this, I’m actually specifically told not to do this, but here’s my number,” she hands you a gum wrapper with her phone number written on it, “Let me know if you have free time when you’re in LA, I’d like to do this again.”

You take the wrapper and smile up at her, wondering when she’d written it down without you seeing it. You bid your farewell and watch her go, in a daze.

—-

When you land in LA that night, you’re still riding the high from your time with her. Your Uber picks you up, and you gaze out the window, excited to return home after months overseas.

You’re on the freeway when you see it. A giant billboard, illuminated by lights at the bottom. Youre forehead smacks into the glass window and your eyes widen, your jaw dropping.

It’s Jenna, dressed like Wednesday fucking Addams, holding a sign that reads “Congrats, you looked up from your soul-sucking electronic device.” In red under her sign is the Netflix logo.

“No big deal, my ass!” You exclaim.

Your driver turns in her seat, “Sorry?”

“Oh no, no, not you. I just got that girl’s number a few hours ago,” you point at the sign.

She glances out the window at the billboard and gasps, “You met Jenna Ortega?!”

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader

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aliensupastar · 6 months

Text

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work.

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic.

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so.

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform.

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise.

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?”

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time.

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple.

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time.

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney.

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it.

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you.

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that.

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway.

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too.

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible.

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.”

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue.

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard.

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home.

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him.

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly.

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out.

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset.

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out.

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment.

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him.

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest.

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff.

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind.

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait.

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.”

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices.

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much.

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you.

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you.

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.”

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.”

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression.

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.”

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.”

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice.

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go.

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto angst #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

466 notes · View notes

grimm-writings · 12 days

Note

hihi >_< could i request chilchuck x reader, maybe with reader flirting with him constantly, and then getting flustered when he actually decides to flirt back?

“what a flirt!”

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, suggestive comments, grimm trying so hard not to make the flirting sound cring, mention of chilchuck's wife

…wc! 698

…notes! my stupid doodle of chil with an iron is at 4203 notes at the time of writing my fic blog reputation has been squandered by the shitpost… but i finally got motivation do actually WRITE who cheered!!!! hope you enjoy and apologies for the wait!!

“Gosh, Chil, with those hands of yours you could easily please a partner!”

With his back turned away from you all you can hear from the picklock doing his job is a very deep inhale. You can’t miss the way the tips of his ears glow red, even in the dim dungeon light. You know there’s a ‘rule’ to not disturb the half-foot as he works but… goodness it’s just too tempting! It’s not like there’s any harm in it!

When Chilchuck finishes his task he stands up and glares at you pointedly. You return it with a bright smile. “Thank you very much!” you chorus with the party oh, so politely. The rest have partially given up on convincing you to not say or do anything while Chlichuck is busy. He still gets the job done, at least…

Travels continue, and you find yourself trying to match a tall half-foot’s pace. You have to slow down considerably but in your head all you can think about is how adorable Chilchuck might look if he tried to match your pace instead.

Right as you were about to drift off into fantasy, Chilchuck cleared his throat. “You got somethin’ to say or is your head in the clouds again?”

You giggle. “No, just thinking about how handsome you are.” Once more, you relish in how flustered Chilchuck gets, attempting to speed walk ahead of you and start up a chat with Laios instead.

It’s so irritating. Chilchuck can’t say or do anything without you making some kind of dumb comment! He’s convinced even in a life or death situation you’d find some way to make him choke on his words and stumble. You probably would let it happen if it means you can get the jump on him and humiliate him once again!

Before Chilchuck knows it he’s gritting his teeth together, his seething not going unnoticed. Laios says quietly enough so you aren’t quite able to pick out what’s being said, “why not fight fire with fire?”

It’s an alright suggestion, sure, but that means… having to flirt back with you. Chilchuck doesn’t know what constitutes flirting really. His old flame used to say that he only ever honeyed her up when he’s a few drinks in. Is that really what it will take to get you off his ass?

His question would be answered just a few hours later. Combat isn’t Chilchuck’s forte, so once again he’s hiding behind some rock somewhere, slightly elevated off the floor. That way he could avoid any collateral damage.

So he hoped at least. A swing of a tail from the creature, slamming on the rock floor, proves him otherwise. The ground collapses beneath Chilchuck and for a second he internally laments that he’s going to acquire another spot of brain damage.

But he doesn’t. Instead, your arms easily catch underneath his knees and torso, holding him almost like a bride. It’s you, and you look just so relieved, off guard.

Almost on instinct, Chilchuck lets the words slip.

“Looks like I fell for you.”

It’s so awful. It’s so pathetic. At least your pick–up lines were actually creative. He almost wishes you’d let him break a bone or two. Marcille’s healing might actually hurt less.

What he doesn’t expect at all is how your face deepens in colour and dusts across your face and cheeks, how your eyes widen and your jaw hangs open. In your hold, Chilchuck feels your arms shaking. Chilchuck only had to think for a second before realising that you seriously can’t take what you dish out.

The smug, brash grin that makes its way onto his face could infuriate anyone else, but you just feel your knees buckle. “C’mon, be an angel and let me down, yeah? Can’t have you dropping me, though I know my charm is irresistible.”

Funny how just a spot of encouragement can bring out this side of him. Even as you do as you’re told with a pat on the head and, “why, thank you” being cooed at you, you know this isn’t the end of this.

Chilchuck will make sure you never forget how his words make you feel.

#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi imagines #chilchuck imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck tims imagines #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader

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trblsvt · 1 year

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the long way | yoon jeonghan

summary | it was just like any other shoot. go in, pose, drink water, don't get food on the clothes, and don't joke around with the staff. easy. except it wasn't that easy. genre | just fluff, model!jeonghan warnings | swearing (?), like one innuendo word count | 2.2k words pairing | yoon jeonghan x gn!reader min | lowercase intended @i-luvsang likes to torture me with this concept so here it is. you're welcome. i may have diverged a little from your original concept... i actually don't think there's any language in here. i tried to make this gender-neutral, but if anyone finds a fem!reader pronoun please let me know!

jeonghan liked his job. really, he did. what was there to complain about it? it was an easy, not to mention, fun life. he liked traveling. he liked the different foods he got to try. he liked the nice clothes he got to wear during photoshoots. he would be lying if he said he never stole some of the clothes that he got to wear. he especially enjoyed chatting with the staff.

they were usually amiable with him and entertained his antics. sometimes he even got a genuine laugh out of a few photographers too.

but sometimes, just chatting was boring. especially when the conversations were cut short by photographers calling him back to get a few more shots or make-up artists coming up to him to touch up his make-up. so jokes in between shots and lipstick touch-ups were a must.

today was no different. he had to advertise for the brand that he was an ambassador for, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. the clothes were comfortable, the air temperature was just right, and his audience was readily accepting of his jokes.

half of the time he couldn't remember the point of his jokes. he just said whatever came to mind. sometimes he was monologuing his thoughts and people would laugh. it did boost his ego, though. his inner voice was funny enough to garner laughs without even trying

as jeonghan was setting up for another shot, the photographer asked him to fix his stance. "i need you to spread your legs a bit more, jeonghan," the photographer asked. jeonghan had worked with him a few times, so he felt comfortable cracking a slightly inappropriate joke. "wow, mingyu, i thought you'd ask me out on a date first. already trying to get between my legs," jeonghan chuckled, fixing his stance. mingyu only rolled his eyes and went back to adjusting his camera settings.

that joke got a few laughs.

but it was jeonghan. he needed at least seventy-five percent of the staff to laugh at least one of his jokes. what else was he supposed to do when he was there? stand there and look good, yes, but no.

besides, he needed to test his standup on a live unsuspecting audience.

so that's how the rest of the shoot went. jeonghan finding ways to make puns here and throw a few sexual innuendos there. he appeared to be a hit, and that's all he wanted.

that is until he made some half-assed joke that he didn't even think about when he heard something. something so.... attractive. a laugh. from someone who had not laughed at his jokes until the lamest one he had cracked all day. he glanced over his shoulder in the direction that he heard it and his eyes landed on you. you were covering your face with a hand while the other clutched a tray of drinks and a binder tucked under your arm.

he made eye contact and quirked an eyebrow at you. you instantly averted your gaze to the ground and fumbled around for your phone.

cute, he thought.

he needed to hear it again.

for the remaining hour on set he tried and tried to get to you laugh again, but much to his dismay you were on the phone for most of the time.

soon enough he was out of the clothes and into his regular day clothes. the stylist quickly removed the extravagant make-up, and he swiftly grabbed his bag so he could find you.

as he ran out of the dressing room and onto the set. he scanned the room in search of you, and caught a glimpse of your silhouette walking out the door toward the city and not toward the back where the cars were. "jeonghan, are you coming?" his manager called to him. "the car is waiting." jeonghan shook his head and watched as the door closed behind you. "i'm actually going to walk home today. this was the last activity scheduled today, right?" jeonghan stated. even if it wasn't the last thing he had to do today, he had more important things in mind.

"uh, yes, that's all. but are sure you want to walk alone?" his manager questioned.

"i think bringing people with me garners more attention than me just walking by myself," he shrugged. so with that he swung his coat over his shoulders, hat on head, and left the same way you went.

he saw the back of your head make its way through the surprisingly empty street. he checked his watch and realized that it was right before rush hour. he jogged to catch up with you.

he was so close to you now. he could probably reach out and grab your hand if he wanted to, but that would be weird. he didn't even know your name.

how could he even approach you? "hi i'm jeonghan. i thought your laugh was pretty-" wait was that too personal? too forward?

he was so deep in thought, he didn't notice the way you tensed up when he got too close. suddenly you whipped around, "are you following me?"

he paused with a wide-eyed look plastered on his face. this was not the way it was supposed to go. "well, yes. but, not- not in the weird way," he tried to clarify. he looked slightly frantic, he looked worried. you examined his distinctive features. "oh, mr. yoon. i didn't recognize you with your hat on," you laughed.

there it was.

"please, just jeonghan is fine," he assured.

"okay, just jeonghan."

ha, you were pretty witty too. he held out his hand for you to shake. "___," you introduced yourself.

amazing.

"are you on your way to anything important?" he asked after looking at you for a bit longer. you glanced down at your phone and around the street. "i was actually going back to the office to drop this off," you said motioning to the large file bag you held.

"i can accompany you, if you want," jeonghan offered. "if you're not too weirded out by me at this point."

"oh, no. i'm not weirded out. i'm just surprised. i mean, you are a model. models i usually work with don't talk with staff much," you mentioned before starting off walking again. he followed quickly behind you. "so would you say i'm different from other models you've met," he asked playfully.

"yes i suppose. for one, models don't usually joke around on set as much as you do," you noted, glancing down at your phone hoping he wouldn't notice how he was making your heart speed up. "they're a bit too serious sometimes. you were nice though."

jeonghan felt a bit proud of that.

he filled the rest of the walk with pleasant conversation. lightly brushing against your arm. he got you to laugh about ten more times through the walk.

yes, he was counting.

you took him through the park and chatted

"well, this is me," you said standing in front of the large building. he looked up, and he instantly recognized the logo plastered on the door. "wait, you work for-" he started.

"yes, i work for the brand that you are an ambassador for," you giggled. "why else would i be at the shoot? did i not mention all the other models i've had to worked with?"

jeonghan was utterly baffled. "yes. i mean you did. i just, i don't know i wasn't really focused on that part. maybe you just wanted to see a handsome man like myself," he tried to recover.

"well, seeing handsome men like yourself is in my job description. i have to make sure our ambassadors are representing us well," you nudged his arm, and he felt like he could burst with joy.

"well i didn't expect someone as attractive as yourself would work for a place like corporate," he attempted at gaining his confidence back. it appeared to work.

you scoffed lightheartedly and looked away from him. "you flatter me too much, jeonghan," you laughed and looked back at him. suddenly you heard your name being called. "___! there you are, i've been looking for you for the past hour," your co-worker (well more like friend since you had known her since forever) called. you glanced between her and jeonghan. "hey, i'm sorry. i got a little - distracted," you explained apologetically to your obviously frazzled friend.

"really, its my fault. i must've made the walk a bit slower. the park was just so nice today," jeonghan commented, glancing at you hoping that you would look back at him again.

"the park? that's the long way around, you could've taken-" your friend started before you clasped your hands on her shoulders. "well, i seriously do have to bring this back to my manager. thank you for walking with me, it was very kind of you," you said smiling at him.

"of course," he smiled. he held your eyes for a moment before you chuckled quietly and turned away with your friend. "goodbye," he called after you.

"bye," you replied back, only turning your head slightly towards him. you exchanged hushed whispers as the two of you made your way up to the entrance. "isn't that yoon jeonghan?" your friend quizzed. "he's the one who was at the shoot you went to, right? why'd you take him through the park? you know that's the long way. it adds like fifteen minutes to your walk."

"yeah, yeah, i know, he was just so easy to talk to. i needed an excuse to talk to him longer. plus, his laugh was super cute," you remarked.

it had been maybe an hour or two since you had said your goodbye to jeonghan downstairs. you hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. how sweet and kind he was. he wasn't too full of himself like some of the other models were, but confident enough to make your heart beat a bit faster than usual. to top it all off, he was genuinely funny too.

you weren't exactly sure how you were supposed to just - forget about him. you worked with many models for the past few years, and sure most of them were nice. just not as nice as jeonghan.

you checked the clock and realized that there were only about thirty minutes left until you could clock out. maybe if you showered when you got home you could get jeonghan's cologne out of your senses.

as you sent your last email of the day and logged out of your computer, you began to gather your things from your desk. unfortunately, you were a bit too preoccupied to notice how the room outside of your office stilled. you were grabbing a few things that fell onto the floor.

then you heard someone clear their throat from your door. "uh, ___, someone is here to see you," one of your other co-workers said.

"uh, i just clocked out, but i can definitely add them on my calendar first thing tomorr-" you trailed off as you lifted your head and saw jeonghan standing outside your office behind the very nervous-looking receptionist.

"i'm afraid that won't work for me," jeonghan sighed absentmindedly looking around your office, hands clasped behind his back.

"mina, you can go," you told the receptionist. mina nodded and ran off. jeonghan stepped into your office and gently closed the door. "this is a surprise, mr. yoon," you said standing up.

"hopefully a welcome one," he joked. "and please, i was gone for a couple hours and you forgot i'm just jeonghan?" you stifled a laugh. "please do not feel like you need to contain you laughter from me, ___," he assured. you nodded a silent, but happy, agreement. "well, jeonghan. what is the occasion for this visit? were you unhappy with something today during the shoot?" you asked, approaching him. "and if tomorrow morning does not work to discuss this matter, i can figure something else out or i-"

"no. it's actually the opposite. i had a great time today. i think my only complaint is that you have not been there for the past few times i've modeled for this brand," he said getting closer to you. you could smell his cologne again and you knew you were in for it. "also, tomorrow morning won't work because i wanted to see if you were free tonight to get dinner with me, that is, unless you prefer breakfast," he smiled.

you were dumbfounded.

jeonghan was here. after hours. asking you out on a date. he was funny, kind, and not to mention quite attractive. you had been thinking about him for the whole day daydreaming about him, and he was here looking very handsome and very sincere. and who were you to decline such a tempting offer?

"how would you know that i would say yes?" you asked as the two of you walked out of the building.

"well for one, you didn't take the subway like a normal person would. secondly, you added a whole extra fourteen minutes to your walk because you skipped the subway and went through the park," he shrugged.

"were you counting?" you giggled and nudged his shoulder playfully.

"and what if i was? and what if i was counting every time you laughed at something i said today? what if i said that was the fifteenth time i've made you laugh today?"

"i might have to kiss you then."

"please do."

min | wow. that was sort of disgustingly cute. am i good a fluff, maybe? im softening with age i think. leave feedback and reblog if you want! it's appreciated. not proofread

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astroboots · 9 months

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME #11.5 SPECIAL

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: Heavy angst and character death. Dead Dove do not eat.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara, and in an experiment gone wrong, my genetic code was partially rewritten with Spider DNA, giving me superpowers.

My home is Earth 928-C where I was the one and only Spiderman... of my home dimension at least.

I invented and built a dimensional travel device that allowed me to jump between universes with the goal of exploring the limits of the multiverse.

And then I met a woman in this other world who nearly died from a crazy freak accident.

I saved her of course.

Then I saved her again.

And again, and again.

... And again.

We fell in love, and I decided to stay with her in her world.

You know the rest. We got married. We had a life together.

I was happy. Really happy.

For a while.

[Earth 383-D]

3 YEARS AGO

"Goddamn idiot bird," Miguel mutters under his breath.

Vulture is on the loose again, wreaking havoc on the city. The maniac is flying high above the city grounds, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake.

Miguel's been in pursuit for the better half of two hours. In that time, the bird has derailed the High Line, literally hit a traffic light and managed to knock over the spire on the Statue of Liberty as if he was flying under the influence.

Then somehow flew across town through Tribeca, along Lower Manhattan and Greenwich Village and now reached all the way to Midtown Manhattan.

Dumbass ugly stupid bird.

Miguel digs his claws into the exterior of the limestone and granite of the Empire State Building to steady himself, using the momentum to leap forward.

The Vulture crashes into a skyscraper 50 feet ahead of Miguel, and in the mad dash, he can see a man tumble out of the building head first to the ground from the 30th floor.

Swinging forward, Miguel slings out a web from his palm, catching the screaming and sobbing office worker in midair and lands briefly against the windowpane. He ensures the man is secured to the building in a cocoon of webbing until the fire department can get him to safer grounds.

Miguel doesn't even get a second to catch his breath. From afar, he can pick up the sound of another window being crashed into by the unwieldy metal bird.

Crap.

It's impossible for Miguel to both chase the Vulture and keep everyone else in his path of destruction safe. One superhero can't be in two places at once (none that he has encountered).

Gritting his teeth, Miguel leaps off the building swinging freely into the air to make up on the lost ground between him and the metallic cuckoo bird.

He needs backup, and the backup is unfortunately running late.

Where is he? Why is he always late?

Does that man not understand that when someone calls for backup because of an emergency, the emergency part indicates that there's some urgency to it?

Flying through the air 100 feet above the ground, from the corner of his eyes, Miguel catches the familiar garish red flowing cape that billows from the cowl of the grand cloak and suit.

Miguel would know that weird wizard get-up anywhere.

"Strange!" Miguel calls out, and he can feel irritation rattle in his chest. "You're late! Where the shock were you?"

"The word you're looking for is 'fuck.' Where the fuck was I," the man responds with a sarcastic drawl.

Strange levitates through the air, effortlessly without expending any energy at all as he catches up with Miguel. "You gave me no notice. Be happy I showed up at all."

From a distance he sees the dumb bird soar high up into the sky and towards the all too familiar crowned roof of the Chrysler building.

No. nononono.

Why is he there? What is he doing there? Anywhere but there.

His back flashes cold then burning hot as the Vulture makes a straight beeline for the familiar building.

It’s fine. Maybe he’s not going to fly in there. Maybe he’s just going to fly past it.

Miguel watches as the metallic bird soars up and up and up, past the midpoint of the building, past the 40th floor of your office and up to the 50th floor. The tight squeeze in his chest eases.

Then the vulture stops, mid-flight and looks down below, as if he changed his mind, before he descends again.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

He dives into one of the windows between the 40th and 50th floor. The sound of broken glass and shrill screams can be heard even from where Miguel is.

Blood freezes in his veins and nausea overtakes him. Calm down. Breathe.. Maybe you’re not in. After all, Lyla’s security protocols would’ve been activated by now if you were. He would’ve been alerted.

Soaring through the skies, Miguel reaches over to his wrist to punch in the dial for Lyla to check in and reassure himself you're safe. But his tracker blinks back in an alarming red, and he darts down his head towards the display.

Error.

His heart stops.

The flying silhouette reappears through the shattered windows and the metallic harness strapped onto the vulture gleams bright against the sun.

It’s only then it hits him. Lyla's been deactivated by the madman's stupid Electro-Magnetic Harness.

Why hadn't he foreseen that as a technical flaw?

Against the reflective glass panes, Miguel sees you, caught in the Vulture talons like a mouse captured by a large predatory bird. Every hair on his neck stands on end. His vision bleeds into red, blood roaring at the sight of it.

Kill him.

Miguel's gonna murder that freak for touching you. Crush his windpipe so he can't ever squawk again, then rip his throat out with his claws and feed it to the street pigeons for good measure.

Launching himself through the air, Miguel tears up the side of the building. The tempered glass beneath his claws and feet, shatters into sharp jagged pieces as he closes the distance.

He is almost within reach. Only some 30 feet that still separates you from him. Leaping the final distance he slams hard into the side of the Vulture until metal crunches beneath his feet.

Miguel roars until his throat burns with it. Palms gripping at the man’s jaw and prying it back to get at his bare throat. His fangs are ready to sink into the jugular. He can see the dark pupil of Vulture's eyes dilate with fear.

Good. Miguel's anger will be the last thing this freak sees.

"Miguel calm down," Strange shouts at him from behind. "You're gonna knock her off."

Miguel freezes at the warning, forcing himself to hold still as he looks down to where you are dangling precariously from the Vulture's claws.

"Be ready," Strange shouts, and Miguel looks to him, not understanding what the hell he means.

Strange rests his hand over the shiny blue gem hanging around a chain from his neck.

What does he mean by be ready? What is Strange going to do?

"What'd you mea–"

Miguel doesn't have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. An unnatural force vibrates through him. A pulsating wave that pervades his senses, punching through his lungs and knocks him back.

In an instance, you're propelled away from Strange and the Vulture, and you are freefalling towards the ground below.

Miguel leaps mid-air, arms outstretched to catch you as you plummet towards the ground below. His fingers clasps around your wrists, your warm skin against his fingertips.

He's got you!

Taking hold of you by the arm, Miguel pulls you into his chest as he wraps one arm securely around your waist.

Immediate relief fills him from the inside out as the adrenaline and the searing anger is already starting to fade now that he knows you're safe.

"You okay, nena?" he asks.

You nod, arms finding purchase around the back of his neck, and squeeze down tight. He swings you both to the safety of a nearby rooftop.

There's barely time for him to touch the surface, he hears the nearby explosion and sees Vulture crash into the concrete wall of the nearest building.

Strange is levitating nearby, hands making wild gestures, presumably to perform some hocus pocus ritual. There’s a magical glow as strobes of light manifest out of thin air surrounding the Vulture from all sides and wrapping around him in a restraining bind.

Miguel sets you down. You're a little bit wobbly on your feet, and seeing you stumble the way you do has that protective streak spark anew in his chest.

Stupid Strange. He can't just do shit like that.

What if Miguel hadn't reacted in time? What if you had fallen?

This is why Miguel hates working with the guy, even if they’re friends. Always on his moral high horse about Miguel being reckless, then he pulls shit like this.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asks as he levitates through the sky to set feet close to you both on the rooftop.

Miguel grits his teeth with annoyance at the man’s casual demeanor when he nearly threw you out of the sky.

"Shock you, Strange," he spits out.

"Miggy..." you sigh in a reprimanding tone next to him.

Stephen shakes his head at him. "I told you. It's fuck"

"Fuck you, Strange."

Sanctum Sanctorum is closer than home and Strange has, comfortable sofas in his ridiculously big mansion. Big enough sofas that Miguel can actually lounge in them comfortably without it feeling cramped. It's why, given the choice, he always prefer to regroup there, over your tiny apartment.

Besides, while the man's control over his magical powers can be suspect at times, he used to be a doctor. Supposedly one of the leading brain surgeons in the world, and Miguel is a lot more comfortable at the prospect of Strange giving you a checkover to make sure you don't need further medical attention than trying your luck at one of the local ERs.

"Follow my finger," Strange says as he shines a little flashlight into your eyes and moves his index from side to side.

Your eyes follow him dutifully, and Strange proceeds with the rest of his medical check, asking you the boring standard questions. "Any symptoms of dizziness, lightheadedness, or a sense of vertigo?"

He fires them out in rapid succession, and a bit too perfunctory for Miguel's liking.

"Noticed any changes in your vision, blurriness or double vision, etcetera etcetera?"

Miguel's jaw tic in irritation at how Strange is putting in minimal effort and just going through the motions.

"Yeah, you're fine." Strange pats your knees, then whisks the flashlight away into nothingness with his cape.

That medical check wasn't anything close to thorough. Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Her feet were wobbly before, I wanted to make sure she didn't sprain her ankle."

"A little bit overprotective as always aren't we?" Strange says.

Miguel shoots the man a glare and Stephen sighs, "Her reflexes are fine, I don't think anything's sprained."

"Check again, you seemed sloppy," Miguel accuses.

"You know, I'm doing this as a favor because you’re a friend. Do you have any idea how much a medical examination by one of the leading neurological surgeons in the world would cost you normally?"

"I'll have Lyla transfer the money."

“No, it’s not actually about money just–" Stephen shakes his head, then sighs. "Nevermind.”

He gestures for you to drape your leg across his lap, then he reaches over to gently assess your ankle as requested.

"What is this necklace?" You ask. You lean closer to Strange, inspecting the blue gem where it rests against his chest.

Strange swats at your hand, the way an adult scolds a child with sticky chocolate smeared hands trying to touch the fine china.

"It's a protection amulet. When activated it forms a protective barrier that forcibly repels everything within ten feet of you."

"Huh," you reach back for the amulet undaunted by the earlier reprimand, fascinated and clearly enamored by it. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it."

Strange looks offended. "It's not for sale, and if it was it would certainly be worth a lot more than fifty dollars. It's a genuine magical artifact, not fake costume jewelry from the theater department."

You purse your lips, considering the amulet.

"Forty," you offer.

Miguel has to choke back a snorting laughter in his throat at the way Stephen's eyes goes wide in confused outrage.

"Wait, why is the price going down?"

“We’re in the middle of an economic crisis, Stephen,” you counter.

Strange's head darts over to where Miguel sits, presumably for backup, but he's knocked on the wrong door. The man must be mad if he thinks that there is ever a world where Miguel would side against you.

"Strange, we both know it’s easier if you just give her the amulet." Miguel says.

The man sighs, shaking his head in defeat.

"Be careful with it," he says as he drags the chain over his head to place it in your awaiting palms. "And don't lose it like the invisibility amulet with Mysterio. Had to spend a whole month clearing up your mess when that creep used it to get into the women's locker rooms at every local gym in Greenwich!"

"That wasn’t my mess! Miggy lost that one during an aerial fight. You can't blame that on me."

"You married him, so you're responsible for him. I consider you two jointly to blame."

"Now you're just lashing out," you shoot back.

Miguel watches the two of you in patient boredom, his head propped up by an elbow on the arm of the sofa. He expended way too much energy during the fight, and now he needs to refuel.

If Miguel leaves you two to it, you'll spend an eternity bantering, the way you do. His stomach growls. He wants food. Wants wantons and beef ho fun and a dozen custard salted egg buns for dessert. And the longer you two are at it, the longer it's going to take for him to get it.

"Nena," he calls out, "I'm hungry. Are you two done? I want to go for dinner."

You shoot Miguel a quick smile, pulling out your wallet and take out a wad of green bills then fold it into Strange's hand with a happy grin.

Strange looks down at the crumpled up money in his hand. "Wait, you're only giving me thirty? I thought we said forty."

"You still owe me like ten bucks from mini golf last week."

Strange pockets the money with a grumble. "Unbelievable."

“C’mon,” Miguel says as he stands up and gestures to the both of you with a curt nod of his head towards the door. “Let’s go. I’ll pay for dinner this time,” Miguel says, and that seems to abate Strange’s outrage somewhat as the man grabs your coat from the sofa cushions and offers it to you.

Life on Earth 383-D is strange.

Life here is borderline primitive. The technology is something out of the stone ages.

Social media is a wasteland. Reality TV is a dystopian concept. And he doesn't understand who Kardashian is or why everyone is obsessed with her and her family.

He does like fax machines though. They are basically teleportation machines and it boggles him that the people of your dimension do not seem to understand its potential.

The one thing he will give this version of earth credit for is that the food here is nice. Everyone in his home dimension is too health conscious, and fried food has long been banned by the government for the long term damage it does to the cardiovascular system.

He also likes the life that the two of you have built together here. You have a home in that tiny shoebox apartment. You have friends. Strange friends. Like the Doctor who flies around with the help of a magic cape and now practices the mystic arts after a gap year in Asia. A young girl whose main superpower is the ability to communicate with squirrels. Then there’s that ugly red-masked wise-cracking, katana-wielding maniac who never dies.

Sadly, your friends are not the only thing that is strange about your surroundings.

Miguel perches himself on top of the Chrysler building sitting hunched over on the ledge of the roof. He’s drained and bone-tired, chasing down a helicopter that had gone haywire and was hurtling towards your office building.

Luckily Strange was able to assist and sent it through a magic portal to crash into the Atlantic without putting any lives at stake.

"Just had to do some cleaning up," Strange says as he sets his boots back down on the ground.

Miguel doesn't answer him, staring out at the city view and the setting sun as he takes a well earned breather for a moment or two. New York is a bit of a shit hole, but it does look pretty from a high viewpoint, especially when the sun is setting, Miguel has to give this city that.

It's silent between the two of them. Or at least it is until Strange decides to break it with a harkle of his throat. When Miguel doesn't react the man does it again, coughing discreetly in a clear attempt to get his attention.

Miguel doesn't say anything about the man's sore throat. He ran out of the lemon drops you bought him as snacks hours ago, but he does tilt his head up at the man.

"She's been getting into a lot of these incidents lately. More than usual, more than any normal human for it to be a coincidence" Strange says.

The whole of Miguel's back stiffens.

"Have you noticed the abnormal uptick in strange unexplainable supernatural occurrences lately? Indoor tornadoes. The rain of poisonous frogs outside of whole foods. A sinkhole appearing right next to the cafe your wife frequents."

Miguel doesn't love the insinuations. Even with his lips pressed tightly together, Miguel can feel the small muscle in his jaw flex like a nervous tic at the mention of it. Because yeah, he's noticed, kind of hard to miss when your wife's life is in constant peril at all hours of the day.

Ice storms in July that hit right outside your workplace. An inexplicable solar flare causing a blackout that had every single vehicle within a 5 miles radius go haywire in the dark near your apartment. A swarm of mutated mosquitoes with a venomous bite that chased you down Central Park.

The incidents are occurring more frequently. They are also getting increasingly bizarre and dangerous.

No one can say it’s just bad luck when the daily occurrences around you are defying the very laws of nature itself. Something isn't right with the universe, and he's not sure what else there is to do except pretend that everything is still ok.

"What are you implying?" Miguel asks through gritted teeth.

But for the first time in the years that Miguel has known him, Strange's talkativeness is nowhere to be found. He doesn't answer Miguel. He's smart that way, the clever bastard. Knows that if he says one wrong word, Miguel is going to unhinge his jaws like a feral alligator and snap at him.

Strange has said what he needed for Miguel to know exactly what he's getting at. The man just meets his eyes with an intentional stare, not shying away from Miguel's glare.

It's not like the thought hasn't crossed Miguel's mind. Not like it hasn't been keeping him up at night, every night.

Even though you've always been accident prone and suffered from bad luck, at this point it's a mathematical impossibility that anyone would run into as many near death incidents as you have.

This isn't by chance. It's by design. Miguel's suspected as much for a while now. He just doesn't know whose design and why.

"It's not her fault," Miguel spits out.

"I never said it was."

"Even if what you are saying is true..." Miguel stops, and stares down at his fisted palms with a sinking feeling in his guts. "There's nothing she can do about it to stop it. You can't put that on her."

"Whether she knows about it or not, if it's true, none of this is going to go away.

Strange walks over to where Miguel is, sitting down next to him.

"It’s been escalating in severity," he continues. "There are strange universal energies attached to her. There’s warping of the universal order and space around her. We don't know how bad this can get, if we don’t do anything about this, it could unravel the fabric of reality itself."

Despite the calamity of what Strange is implying, his voice is even and calm as he says it as if he might as well be discussing the weather. That trait has always annoyed the shit out of Miguel.

"What are you planning to do if this continues?" Strange asks.

It's such a silly question. Strange says it as if this is a multiple choice question. But for Miguel there's only one correct answer.

"Protect her. I have to. She's everything to me."

Miguel is staring into the sunset bu all he sees before him is your face even though you aren’t here. The happy smile that he wants to preserve forever. He tries to fight the ache that's building in him at the thought that it would go away.

"Strange, don't tell her. Please. She doesn't need that burden."

He fists his palms into his side.

Miguel never liked asking for help, but even he knows that if what Strange is saying is true. That if the universe for some unfathomable reason wants you dead, then he's going to need all the help he can get.

If Strange has figured it out. Then it's only a matter of time before others do as well.

Soon enough, you won't just have the universe coming after you but every superhero and villain combined in a united front to take out the common threat that you pose to this entire universe.

Even Miguel knows he can't do this alone and as much as that helplessness tastes like failure and bile in his throat, he can swallow his pride if it helps keep you safe.

"Stephen, you have to help me save her."

From behind, Strange rests one hand on the corner of his shoulder. The weight of it feels like a promise being made. For the first time in a long time, Miguel feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

"I will do what I can, my friend."

Weeks go by. There are more incidents. Runaway vehicles that go haywire. Electrical storm fires. Rain of poisonous locusts.

Somehow he manages to protect you from it all.

It just means that he has to be more vigilant, that's all. The universe doesn't rest and neither does Miguel now. Lyla has been set on constant alert to wake him up whenever he's napping at any small signs of abnormal occurrences happening near you, with an electric shock to make sure he wakes. Something the A.I. is taking a worryingly amount of glee in (which probably means he needs to retune her programming when he has time).

And today, today Miguel was meant to have a Sunday lie in. Universe be willing, his goal was to sleep all the way into the late afternoon and then you had promised to take him to IHOP and get him all the pancakes he could eat for late breakfast.

But right now he's not asleep. He's trying to. But there are hushed words and whispered murmurs, buzzing in his ear that keeps trying to drag him away from sleep.

It's you and Strange.

Judging from the distance of the noises, you're both standing outside in the hall. The fact that you two are trying to be quiet makes it worse. If you'd spoken in normal volume he could tune it out as white noise, but the conspiratorial quietness of it all makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle with alertness.

Fuck's sake. He swears to god if you two are gossiping and making fun of Hercules’ costume (or the lack of it) again.

It's too early for this crap. Don't you two know that people are trying to sleep? He was up all night chasing crazy Kraven worshippers releasing animals from the Brooklyn zoo. Miguel had to gather wild zebras and crocodiles all the way down East Village til 4am.

With a groan, he drags himself halfway up along the mattress, about to go and growl at you both to be quiet, when the cluttered noises register as words and the fuzziness of sleep clears momentarily.

"He'd destroy this world for you."

Huh? What are you two talking about?

Miguel's too groggy to make sense of the context of what's being said. Even with his super hearing he has to focus to make out the words.

"You can't let him."

Irritated, he gets out of bed and walks to the front door to swing it open. The first thing he sees is you standing with Strange in the hallway. You jump at the suddenness and look up at him with wide eyes.

You have the worst poker face of anyone he's ever seen in his life.

"What are you two jabbering on about this damn early?" he asks.

He'd expected the two of you to act coy, maybe a clever 'wouldn't you like to know' retort back from the Mystic. Instead, Strange's face is entirely inscrutable, tone serious as he responds.

"We were just catching up. Nothing important. I need to head back," Strange says, then he turns to you with a meaningful tilt to his head. "Think about what I said."

"What was that about?" Miguel asks you as he watches Strange step through a portal and disappear.

You don't say anything. There's a worried frown etched between your eyebrows as you bite down on your lip.

Something crawls under Miguel's skin at the whole interaction.

You're oddly quiet the whole afternoon. Deep in thought and walking around as if in a daze, which unsettles him.

It's not difficult for him to guess what's wrong. He might have been half asleep when you and Strange were whispering in the corridors, but Miguel can put one and one together. Having two PHDs and a lifetime's experience of working in theoretical physics gives you that leg up.

In a last ditch effort to get you out of the uncharacteristic blues, he orders a dozen of your favorite cupcakes from that tiny shop in New Jersey. It costs an arm and a leg to have it couriered, but it'll be worth it if it makes you smile.

Then he sits down next to you on the bed and places the pink pastry box down on the mattress. It's your favorite place to eat cakes and it’s why you two always end up with crumbs and frosting all over the sheets.

You happily cram half a cupcake into your mouth in one bite as you eat, and he watches you contently. If there was any fairness in the world, this quiet idyllic moment could last forever. In a good world, Miguel wouldn’t have to burst this perfect bubble.

Sadly, this world is neither fair nor good sometimes.

"Strange said something to you right?" Miguel asks.

You still next to him, clearly torn between whether or not to share what was said to you, probably in secret with the very intention of being kept away from him.

“Nena,” Miguel tries again, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath, caving into his prodding.

"Strange thinks that my incidents might be correlated with the strange natural occurrences lately."

That fucking asshole. He knew it. Irritation pings across his jaw, and Miguel bites it down. He tries to reel it, forcing back the rant that wants to surface. Instead he tries to focus on you instead of his own anger.

"We don't know that. It could just be a series of coincidences," Miguel tells you.

You nod, but Miguel's not an idiot and neither are you. He can see the worry creasing your eyes as you look down to your lap.

Putting down the cupcake, he reaches over and links his right hand with yours.

"Nena, don't worry.” He cups his free hand over your cheek to drag you up to meet his eyes.

“I'll fight the whole universe to keep you safe if I have to. Nothing's ever going to harm you so long as I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You're the most important thing to me."

You smile at him at the words, but there's a wistfulness to it that embeds a dull ache in his chest that he wants to physically rub away to make it stop.

You lean into his touch, until your forehead presses up against his and the physical touch blunts the ache in him for a moment, putting it on pause.

"You’re the most important to me too," you say.

The sky itself cracks open not long after.

It doesn’t take the combined forces and intellect of the entire world too long to hone in on you being the root cause. Soon enough every superhero, mutant, villain and alien starts coming after you. Because hero or villain alike, no one truly wants their world to end, not if it’s not on their terms.

Mysterio tries to kidnap you by the elevator in your apartment building. The Human Torch even tries to burn the whole building down. The Punisher tries to murder you point blank outside your office.

Miguel can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s running on fumes. Day after day, he feels like he’s getting by on borrowed time.

The friends and allies you have thin out fast as the threats to the world increase in severity. Miguel never imagined having Deadpool standing outside his door stating that the life of one single person cannot outweigh the universe itself.

It’s all so stupid. None of them know what they’re talking about. A lynching mob with their torches and pitchforks. Never stopping to think whether harming you could trigger something much worse.

If Strange is right and you are the knot at the center of the fabric of reality that is coming apart, then ripping that out leaves a hole. Miguel gave up on explaining that fairly quickly because he realized that theoretical consequences doesn’t matter to an angry mob scared of facing the reality of extinction.

It all becomes a blur.

Exhaustion eats into his bones, until he can no longer tell the days apart. No matter how many times he saves you, disaster is always waiting just around the corner.

And now he’s chasing down the Green Goblin to the top of the Chrysler building from the 61st floor, where the green freak has cornered you to the edge of the rooftop.

Miguel is already out of breath, running away from the coalition of superheroes and villains that are hot on his heels, trying to stop him from saving you.

Adrenaline beats fast in his veins as he keeps running. Miguel is only able to make out those in pursuit in brief glimpses. The bright blue spandex suit of Reed Richards as his freakishly long elastic limbs stretch towards him. The blocks of metal hurtling towards Miguel, missing by inches and crashes into the side of a building as Magneto’s form hovers nearby.

He ignores them all, not sparing a glance behind him. He just has to keep moving. It doesn't matter that his muscles scream and burn in exhaustion. Doesn't matter that his head dulls with a heavy ache from lack of sleep. He has to keep going for you. Has to save you.

He's so close, he's almost there.

From the corner of his eyes, he makes out the familiar garish red flowing cape fluttering against the blue sky.

Strange.

Miguel marginally relaxes, at the sight of the sole ally he has left in this universe. He leaps across the rooftop, into the temporary safety of the observatory deck.

His feet doesn't even reach the ground. Something restrains him from behind. Bright lights materialize out of thin air. It wraps around Miguel's limb with the strength of unbreakable manacles, hugging him so tight it restricts the flow of blood to his fingers. Then he’s brought down to his knees.

Miguel whips his head back and Strange stands there, hands formed in a holding gesture.

“What are you–”

"I'm sorry," Strange says.

Miguel snarls at his restraints, wrenching and twisting in every direction he is able to even with the limited range of motion, but it's to no avail. The harder he struggles the more forceful the restraints seem to close in on him, mirroring his strength.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. I really hoped there was another way but every life in the whole of the universe is at stake, Miguel."

Hot burning anger spears through him, and if he could he would raze it all to the ground with it. This place, this world and this fucking traitor standing there can all fucking burn. Miguel is gonna kill him. He's gonna kill this fucking bastard. He can't believe he trusted him.

“Strange, fucking let me… Stephen!”

He hears your pained shout and snaps his head towards the sound.

Miguel is only ten feet away from you. Ten measly feet from where the Green Goblin is holding you by the ledge of the rooftop. He can still reach you, if he can get free he can still save you.

Tearing through the magical binds, there’s a bone-cracking sound in his shoulder. Searing pain spreads through his arm. For all his struggles, he doesn't know if he’s even an inch closer towards you.

He watches you drop from the ledge.

It's a pin drop moment where everything stops. His heart is no longer beating.

No. This can't be how it ends.

He's moving forward, even as the sharp restraints digs into his limbs and flesh and burrows in with an excruciating ache. But the pain doesn't matter. All that matters is you.

It claws into him, and digs and tears, until he is sure that his entire limbs are going to be torn off, but he doesn't stop, keeps pulling against the resisting strength that surrounds him, rips against the hindrance embracing every ounce of the pain until finally, the pressure gives.

There's a cacophony of sound that's left behind him as he leaps through the air. He slingshots downwards, cutting through air as he tries to reach you.

Miguel catches your hand and relief fills his chest.

"I got you. I got you," he murmurs. He's not sure if those words are to calm you or himself.

Pulling you up in defiance of the pull of gravity, he tries to haul you up towards him. Your hand squirms in his, and if you keep going you're going to slip out of his grasp.

"Nena, don't move," he shouts in alarm, but you don't stop, twisting in all directions, making it harder for him to get a better grip.

What're you– You're resisting against his strength, why would you...

It hits him with a sickening realization.

You don' want him to save you.

"Stop!" he shouts. “Stop!”

You shake your head, tears filling the corner of your eyes that flow upwards and everything is upside down to him.

"We’re out of time. You have to let me go,” you say.

His fingers squeeze down even harder at your words, refusing to hear it.

“There's still time. There are still other options. I can still save you!”

Your hand reaches for the amulet pressed against your collarbone. Dread floods every nerve in his body as he sees your fingers squeeze around it.

"No!" He shouts. Screams it so loud it burns in his lungs. But deep down he knows it's not going to make any difference. "Nena, don't!"

The wind whips too loudly against his face. The sound of your heart pounding so painfully hard in his ear that it's deafening and he knows that sound will haunt him forever.

You're scared.

He sees your lips move, but he can't hear what you're saying.

But he's heard these words so many times before from your lips that he knows them by heart.

''I love you.''

An invisible force blasts away at him, it shatters through him through his limbs and torso into the very soft tissue of his stomach and makes his teeth shake. He's propelled upwards, unable to control his movements or defy the gravity that he's learned to navigate after all these years mid-air.

He holds on as hard as he can to your hand, but it doesn't matter. His fingers slip, his grip is lost.

You're falling through the sky.

Miguel doesn't remember much after that.

Somehow he makes it back onto the ground.

Somehow he finds you amongst the cracked dirty concrete.

Somehow, despite falling from over a 100 feet your body is still intact where it lies lifeless on the ground.

Your bones are broken though. Body limp and soft in his arms in a way that has never felt more wrong to him. His only consolation is that you're still warm in his arms, and he thinks that maybe if he just doesn't let go, if he holds you tightly pressed to him the way he is doing now, it'll remain that way forever.

The sky has cleared above. There are no cracks in the azure blue canvas.

This world is saved.

His world has ended.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To @thirstworldproblemss who has been with me on this journey since chapter one without her enthusiasm and her companionship and friendship and listening to my wild ramblings about this story, I would never have set out to write this thing. She gave me so much joy in the process, she also gave me her time and her skills and brainy talent to help me process and brainstorm this into a shape that I was excited to share with you all! You also have her to thank for that devastating last line.

@guruan who has been a constant well of inspiration with her amazing art, her bright sense of humor and her sharing of theories of what's going to happen! You've made writing this story so much fun!

Author's note: Here we go guys, we've officially entered the final arc now. With only three chapters to go! I am so excited to share the remaining puzzle pieces with you all!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel mcu #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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shinynewboots · 1 month

Text

Just a Taste: Part 2 Adam x afab!reader

AN: Hello friends! Here is my long-awaited sequel to Just a Taste! This took me a second to write due to writer's block and just being unsure of what direction I wanted to take so I hope y'all enjoy! Only like the third time I've ever written smut so let me know your thoughts!

2.2k words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, dub-con if you squint, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), Adam is bad at talking about his emotions, porn without plot

Tags: @kaces-mind @jiyuukaze @lousypotatoes

Adam did not return for 3 days.

Worried was an understatement. You had scoured your neighborhood for hours trying to find the fallen angel who had left you hot and bothered. Truthfully, he had hurt your feelings. You couldn't tell if it was the sting of rejection or the humiliation of the state you were left in that bothered you more.

Though you would never admit to Adam, you did finish what he started. You rubbed circles around your clit slowly at first but faster and faster with half-lidded eyes, imagining Adam's fingers between your folds. You imagined his self-satisfied smirk as you spent yourself on your fingers. That fucking asshole.

You came with his name on your lips (or rather you came cursing his name, more appropriately).

You tried to distract yourself. He was a grown man and if he wanted to be an idiot so be it. Who were you to stop him? He had a key, if he wanted to come back he could.

You settled for bed, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and pink panties. Sleep didn't come quickly for you, as your mind drifted to Adam, just as it did almost every night since he left.

You couldn't necessarily figure out what you had done wrong. You weren't particularly religious or spiritual when you were alive so this odd guilt he seemed to feel confused you. And for him to have the audacity to blame whatever indiscretions of his on you? Fucking asshole.

A piece of you hoped he was safe. Another piece of you hoped he had gotten the shit beat out of him, at least a little bit.

You finally drifted to sleep, your body snuggled around your pillow. Your apartment was hot, as were most nights in hell, so you slept with the fan on, over the covers, with your shirt bunched up around your stomach.

Just as sleep was about to take you, your mind hazy and slow, you heard the noise of the front door knob twisting and the door opening.

Adam?

You rolled in bed, contemplating meeting him to express your worry and relief. The petty side of you, which won out in the end, decided to stay in bed and greet him in the morning. He did not deserve your concern or relief.

You settled back down and tried to turn your mind off. The sound of footprints pacing the apartment played like white noise in your mind. He could suffer a little longer. You began to drift softly with the footsteps until you noticed them getting closer to your bedroom door.

You heard the door open and the footsteps enter your room. You tried to regulate your breathing. You did not want to have this conversation right now. You couldn't. You closed your eyes tighter and hoped he would get the hint.

The footsteps got closer until they stopped beside your bed and you felt a dip in the mattress where Adam had sat at the edge of your bed. His breathing was deep and you could smell the fruity aromatic scent of one of his favorite wines. Still, you chose to feign sleep.

A large hand touched your thigh, thumb making soft motions against your skin. Despite the heat of the room, you could feel goosebumps form beneath his touch.

"This place fucks with my head," Adam whispered, putting a firmer grip on your thigh. Your pulse quickened. "The longer I'm here, the farther away from heaven I get."

His hand traveled farther up your thigh and you felt your breathing stop. He was so close to your core. So close to discovering how wet you were even from the small morsel of touch he gave you. "And then you sit there like a temptress pulling me further into hell. Fucking despicable."

He laughed without humor.

You shot up from your faked slumber and glared at him. "You fucking left me. Do you know embarrassing that is?"

He gave you a crooked grin. "No, Y/N, you want to know what's fucking embarrassing? How much I just wanted to taste you and figure out if you really were as fucking delectable as that first apple I bit into."

His hand traveled to the edge of your panties and played with the elastic, his touch just barely there. You could do nothing but watch his finger in morbid fascination. Your clit ached to be touched. A heat was rising in your belly at his soft touches.

"Do it then, bastard." You bit out, bitterness striking at him from your tongue. "Or just leave already."

Adam's eyes darkened and suddenly a finger had plunged between your panties and skin and had found your wet folds. You moaned involuntarily, frustrated that you were folding for him once again so easily.

"Already so wet for me, Y/N?" He asked, running lazy circles around your clitoris. You felt your back arch at his touch, the t-shirt you were wearing coming up over your breasts to reveal them completely. That caught his attention, as his hand free reached out and pinched one of your nipples. You bit back a moan, feeling the coppery taste of blood pooling in your mouth.

His finger moved from your clit to the introitus, running even circles along the edge before pushing his finger completely into you. A moan escaped as you felt yourself become completely vulnerable under his touch. He studied you with his golden eyes full of curiosity and hunger.

He pulled his finger from your core, the entire digit coated in your desire. He removed his hand from your breast and used it to pull your chin towards him so that your gaze was focused completely on his face.

He licked his finger slowly, starting at the base near the palm and up towards the tip. His face was contorted into pleasure, like a starving man might savor a last meal.

"So fucking sweet, Y/N. Just like I thought."

You lay there, heart pounding at the sight of this fallen angel tasting you. Adam still sat of the edge of the bed and looked at you with a mischievous grin. In one quick motion, he pulled the panties from your body, leaving you almost completely bare aside from your bunched-up t-shirt. He brought your panties to his nose and inhaled deeply.

"So fucking tempting, Y/N." He whispered his golden eyes wild with desire. He adjusted himself so that he was completely on the bed, still fully clothed and threw your panties to the ground. He lay on his stomach, his head dangerously close to your cunt. Both hands moved so that they each gripped your thighs tightly.

He leaned his head closer to you, his tongue popping out of his mouth to taste you again. He licked up from your entrance, your desire flowing freely, towards your clit where he lapped at your bud.

Goosebumps spread across your body as you arched your back in ecstasy. You couldn't suppress the moan that shook your entire body. Your hands found their way into Adam's hair, gripping at the soft locks hard.

This must have pleased him because he began to suck on your clitoris, slowly at first and then faster and faster, building a constant tempo that your body reacted strongly to.

"Fuck," You groaned. Adam continued on until you felt as though would burst.

"Adam," You moaned, so close to the edge. And then he removed his mouth from your aching clitoris. Your cunt pulsated with desire and heat, begging to be touched. Pleading.

"Adam please, don't leave me again," You pleaded, aware of how desperate you sounded. You were so close. Your body burned with desire and was hyperaware of his touches and heat.

He looked up at you, mouth glistening with a mixture of your juices and his saliva. "How could I leave when I know just how good you taste?"

Adam began to lick up your body, tongue moving slowly from your core to your belly to your chest. He now hovered over you as he licked up your neck, paying special attention to the pulse point at the base of your neck.

"Adam please touch me," You plead once more. Adam chuckled into your ear.

"Desperate little bitch, huh?" His words sent shivers down your spine as he sucked on your earlobe. He was so close and yet you needed him closer. Growing bold, you decided to try something.

Using all your weight, you moved your leg so that it caught him off balance, rolling him on his back into the center of the bed. You followed suit and found yourself straddling him, your hands pressing into his chest. You threw your shirt off, leaving yourself bare before him. A look of shock crossed his features followed by a smirk.

You began to grind against him, vaguely aware that you were leaving wet stains on his pants. Adam recovered from the shock and gripped your waist with his hands. You could feel your orgasm begin to build back up again as your clitoris made contact with the bulge of his penis. You moaned at the contact, the friction pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You arched back, your breast pointed towards the ceiling, and your hands now finding themselves gripping onto Adam's thighs as you used his penis as your own personal sex toy. He moaned at the contact, the bulge in his pants growing even larger. You were so close. Almost over the edge.

"Come for me, Y/N." He asked, his voice low as he watched you use him for your own desire. Fucking shit, he had never seen a more beautiful sight.

That was all it took for your body to begin to shake as you hit your peak. You felt your body try and go limp as the explosions began to wane. Your breathing began to slow and you felt a wave of tiredness come over you. You tried to move off of Adam and tried to formulate a lame excuse for your actions in your head. Yet, he still had not released your hips. You tried to pull yourself free, but he gripped your sides tighter.

"I think you can cum at least one more time." He said, looking up at you with shining golden eyes. You shoot him a wry grin, already feeling more energized.

You pulled at his pants until he lifted his core to remove them from his body. He grabbed at his shirt and pulled it from behind his head to reveal his soft body. A trail of dark hair started at this belly button down to the dark curls of his pubic region. Multiple scars marred his abdomen, where he was stabbed by the one-eyed gremlin.

His cock was hard beneath you, rubbing against your clit most temptingly. You rubbed your already swollen vulva against his shaft, feeling it engorge with every move of your body.

"Fucking tease," He moaned out, gripping your hips to push you down harder against his body. Precum dripped from his tip, mixing with your juices. You rocked harder against him, already feeling another orgasm trying to form in your body.

Adam bucked up his hips, his face contorting into pleasure. He lifted you up from his body with all of his strength and pulled you back down so that you were impaled by his cock.

"Fuck," You cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being filled to the brim by the fallen angel. He fits you perfectly, his cock pulsating against your walls. He begins to buck his hips into you as your ride him as though your life depended upon it. He moved a hand so that his thumb made contact with your clit, rubbing hard circles against it.

The sensation was too much and yet not enough. You could feel that ball in core grow tighter and tighter. Winding against itself until—

"Adam, I'm about to —"

"Cum for me, Y/N," He groaned out. Thrusting faster into your body. All at once that ball in your core unraveled and you screamed out in pleasure as waves overcame your every sensation. Adam gave one last thrust and came inside you, his seed shooting into your core.

You sat there for a few minutes, the waves of pleasure slowly tapering off as the scene before you became clear. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized what you had just done. You felt Adam grow softer inside you and so you dismounted his hips and sat beside him, feeling his seed leak from your cunt.

Adam breathed heavily, his eyes half-lidded. A yawn escaped his mouth.

"Um so we have to talk about this, " You started timidly. Adam yawned again and pulled your waist so that you lay beside him. He snuggled against you, your ass matching perfectly with his softening cock.

"Adam," You tried again. His arm snaked around you and grabbed onto one of your breasts.

"Nah, fuck that Y/N. We could talk or we could go to sleep and wake up tomorrow with morning sex and breakfast." He said sleepily. You weren't in the mood to argue and you couldn't deny that being held as you slept, especially by Adam, sounded like the closest thing to heaven you could get in this godforsaken place.

You made an affirmative noise and snuggled in closer to his warm body, all too aware of the cum leaking from between your legs. Yeah, maybe you could just talk in the morning.

#hazbin hotel reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam imagine #adam imagine

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trumanbluee · 2 months

Text

the only time i feel i might get better - matty healy

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

content: you get sick at matty's and he takes good care of you <3

word count: 4610

warnings: mention of vomit, oc is on her period :( , a bad ending, and matty being very very darling.

a/n: hi!! i know i said i wasn't going to post again for a bit but i think this is so cute and its just sitting in my drafts!! enjoy ( and pls reblog if you do! ) :)

She groaned in her sleep, stirring slightly as she felt another cramp tear through her stomach, the ache travelling down into her legs as she tucked them to her chest, brows furrowing at the sudden pain. She hadn’t slept well all night, spending an hour of it with her head in the toilet, Matty holding her hair back and rubbing her back softly, bless his heart.

Her heart dropped at the thought of him having to see her in that position, retching what little food was in her stomach, up. They were a relatively new couple, having been dating for almost 6 months, and, of course, she’d had her period around him, but she’d never gotten it at his place, and never felt as sick as she did right now around him either. She felt horrible, half from the pain in her slightly puffy, bloated, lower belly, and half from the embarrassment of him seeing her like this.

Fluttering her eyes open, she saw that Matty’s side of the bed was empty and, upon further inspection with her outstretched hand, he’d been up for a while, the sheets a crisp cold feeling compared to the warmth of her blanket cocoon. She sighed, wondering if he’d been able to go back to sleep at all after the nights events, before her thoughts of uncertainty were interrupted when he tiptoed into the room, obviously under the impression she was asleep, holding a tray of pancakes, orange juice, a cup of coffee, and a vase of fresh flowers.

He stopped when he turned towards the bed, noticing her eyes peeking out from behind the fluffy duvet, and smiled softly, head tilting to the left as her asked her sweetly, “Morning, baby. Feelin’ any better today?”

This earned him a firm shake of her head as she sat up in the bed, lip pouted slightly to show him her discontent. He cooed, placing the tray of food in front of her on the bed, ensuring the legs of the miniature table were stable before he sat down on the other side of the bed, planting a soft kiss to her temple.

“Don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want, honey, I just wanted to wake you up with something nice after you had such a horrible night.” He said, sitting cross-legged next to her on the bed. He pointed to two little white tablets that lay next to her orange juice. “Brought you some Panadol too, baby. Make sure you eat at least a little before you take it, don’t want you getting sick again, yeah?”

She nodded, “Thank you so much Matty,” She croaked, throat still sensitive from the acidic bile she’d thrown up in the night, “I’m sorry about last night.”

His eyebrows raised, face scrunching in disbelief as he tried to process what she’d just said. He moved closer to her on the bed, hand coming to rest on her knee above the blanket she’d wrapped herself in.

“Sorry?” He tutted, shaking his head, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about baby, what'd you mean ‘sorry’?” His lips turned into a slight frown, disheartened at the fact that she felt the need to be sorry about being sick.

“Ju-Just, you havin’ to stay up with me… I just feel a bit bad that I ruined our night, I guess,” She spoke sheepishly, noticing the disappointed look on his face as she spoke.

“Oh sweetheart,” He cooed, moving to place the breakfast tray on the floor, before scooting close to her on the bed, pulling her into his chest, one hand rubbing her back in a light rhythm, the other combing through her hair. “You don’t have to say sorry, ‘kay? It’s my job to look after you. Don’t ever apologise for being sick, baby. It happens to everyone.”

He felt her nod against his chest, and he stopped his fingers carding through her hair as she looked up at him, thinking twice about leaning up to kiss him as she realised she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet this morning.

Almost as if he was reading her mind, he shook his head, laughing to himself softly.

“Baby, really?” He chuckled, brushing a little bit of sleep from her left eye with the soft pad of his thumb as he did so, “ You wanna kiss me, you can. I think we’re way beyond worrying about morning breath, don’t ya’ think, darlin’?”

She blushed, surprised that he could read her so well, shoving her face into the soft fabric of his white shirt, earning another chuckle from Matty, the sound rumbling in her mind and warming her insides, affecting her probably more than it should have given her in her ill state.

She detached from his chest, fishing the tray of food up off of the floor beside her, and placed it on the bed, before leaning into Matty again, his right arm wrapped around her as she picked at the sweet blueberries that decorated her pancakes.

She sighed contentedly, sipping on her orange juice as she lay, listening to Matty’s steady heartbeat as he sat beside her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger lazily. She’d be lying if she said that this side of Matty didn’t turn her on, his need to comfort and protect her rising to the surface in a similar way as it did after he’d been particularly rough with her in bed. The idea of him taking care of her a particularly good one in her mind.

She felt a familiar heat pooling between her thighs as she sat beside him, glancing up at him occasionally as he typed on his phone one-handed, most likely making note of lyrics he’d thought of, his brain constantly moving 100km an hour. She watched as his slender thumb glid smoothly across his screen, pressing the keyboard expertly.

‘This shouldn’t turn me on so much.’ She thought, biting her lip lightly as she shamelessly observed him, now sitting up further in the bed to gain a better view.

She blamed it on her period. Sure, Matty was hot, and, God, she’d fuck him 10 times a day if she had the stamina, lord knows he probably did, but getting turned on by typing? That’s pathetic.

Finally, he saw her out of the corner of his eye, lower lip between her teeth and cheeks a light red as she watched him. He raised an eyebrow, turned his head to face her quizzically.

“What are you looking at?” He smiled at her and she blushed, quickly averting her eyes to the half-eaten pancake in front of her, picking at it delicately.

He laughed softly, “Going shy on me, baby?” he asked, bringing the arm that was wrapped around her shoulder up to her hair, ruffling it playfully, before leaning down to press a firm kiss to her cheek.

She tucked herself deeper into his side, having once again discarded the tray of food onto Matty’s bedroom floor. He wrapped his arm around her once more, giving her a tight squeeze.

“You okay, honey?” He asked softly, looking down at her as she lay on his chest, tracing her finger softly on the front of his t-shirt, “Feelin’ a bit clingy today? Is that it, huh?”

She nodded, moving impossibly closer to him, wrapping both her legs around his left, her arms wrapping around his bicep, clinging to him like a koala.

He chuckled softly at her, peering at her from the corner of his eye as he watched her cling to him desperately. His attention turned completely towards her however, when he heard a small whimper sound from next to him, at the same time as she’d fidgeted in her spot, causing her sensitive clit to lightly brush the side seam of his sweatpants through her thin sleep-shorts.

His eyes shot down to her, fearing that she was having the same horrible cramps she experienced in the night.

“You okay, baby? Tummy hurting again?” He asked, concern evident in his tone.

She was embarrassed, not wanting to admit that the sound was out of pleasure, not pain. So, she nodded, eyebrows creasing together as she looked up at him.

It was insane how well he could read her. From the second they met, a couple of months before they’d started going out, it was like he could see into her mind and knew almost everything she thought and could anticipate what she was going to say next.

That’s why looking up at him was a huge mistake on her part. He knew as soon as he looked at her he knew that she was lying, and he thought he knew why.

“We’re not lying now, are we sweetheart?” He asked earnestly, looking into her eyes as he spoke.

“W-what? Why would I lie?” She said, not expecting to be caught out so soon.

He raised his eyebrow at her, expecting her to have admitted her lie, “Oh, okay… so just now, when you wriggled around for a second, and I felt your cunt on my leg, it was just a coincidence that you made that little sound at the same time? Is that right?”

She flushed red, face turning to dig into his arm to hide, embarrassed at being read so easily, once again. She let out a muffled whine, annoyed both his teasing, and her horniness.

He sat up from the bed, unlatching his arm from her grasp to face her.

“Baby,” He cooed, “want you to use your words when you feel like this, ‘kay? Want you to tell me what you want.”

She nodded, still covering her flushed face, now with the duvet in place of his bicep.

“I just wanna make sure you’re feeling better after last night, honey. Don’t wanna hurt you or anything, y’know?”

He looked torn. Torn between his restraint and not wanting to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state, and his wanting to give her everything she wants on a whim.

An idea popped into his head, and he stood from the bed, reaching down to peck a quick kiss to her forehead, muttering a ‘be right back’ before exiting the room.

She sat in his bed, awaiting his return as she sipped on the now lukewarm coffee he’d brought her. But it wasn’t very long before he came back, having discarded his shirt and sweats for reasons unbeknownst to her - though she wasn’t complaining, she could spend hours tracing the outlines of his tattoos - especially his ‘We Are Kings tattoo - whether that be with her eyes, fingertips, or tongue.

He walked over to her, boxer shorts hanging low on his hips, and flipped the duvet off her, reaching his hand out for her to take.

“C’mon baby,” He pulled her up, “ran us a bath.” He patted her on the bum softly as he walked past her and out into the hall. She followed dumbly, brain foggy from the tooth-rotting sweetness of their morning in bed together.

Stepping into the bathroom, she saw that not only had he drawn them both a bath, with bubbles in it, which she knew he didn’t like, but had meticulously placed candles around the edge of the bath.

She could’ve cried at the gesture, and she almost did, eyes growing blurry before she blinked the tears away quickly.

Matty stepped into the bathroom behind her, kissing her on the side of her cheek, then neck, as he reached for the bottom of her (his) shirt, pulling it over her head softly, before tugging her pyjama shorts down. He helped her step into the warm bath, holding his hand out for her to balance on. Once she was in, and he’d made sure the water wasn’t too hot, he tugged his boxers down his legs before stepping into the bath himself, setting himself behind her so her back rested against his chest.

She sighed in content as he brought his large hands up to her shoulders, massaging her upper back soothingly. She leant her head back against his shoulder, Matty retracting his hands from her shoulders to wrap them around her, rubbing her arms up and down soothingly.

He lent down to kiss her on the cheek, instead meeting her lips as she quickly tilted her head to meet him. Meaning for it to be a quick peck, he was surprised when she deepened it, running her tongue along his bottom lip teasingly.

He pulled back, hand resting on her jaw as he guided her lips away.

He sighed, “Baby… don’t make me be the bad guy,” he frowned, not wanting to tell her a strict no, but also not wanting to hurt her whilst she was in her particularly vulnerable state.

“Please,” she pleaded, un-slotting her legs from between his beneath the bubbles to squeeze her thighs together desperately.

He shook his head, shooting her a pleading look, “Honey, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself or to be sick again… I promise, once your period’s done I’ll do whatever you want me to, baby.”

She furrowed her brows in frustration, annoyed at his refusal. Of course, she couldn’t be that annoyed, he was only trying to ensure her comfort and safety, but this didn’t matter in her mind, not when she was this horny. What was she gonna do if he didn’t give in to her? Finger herself to no avail? They both knew that wouldn’t work, and she knew that Matty was the only one who could satiate the need in the pit of her belly.

She spun around in the bath, being careful not to spill any water out of the bath, before pushing away from him slightly to see him better. She huffed, whining “It’s not gonna hurt, promise.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, only now beginning to grasp just how desperate she was, watching as she crossed her legs, heeling digging against her clit harshly, causing her to hiss, wincing slightly at the sensitivity.

She sighed in frustration, pouting slightly as she looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

“What if– what if I said it would make me feel better? I swear, baby, if it doesn’t feel good I’ll tell you to stop.” She pleaded, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

He eyed her carefully, thinking about it carefully. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

He sighed, lips tugging into a smirk as he finally nodded, ushering for her to resume her previous position, between his legs, back pressed against him.

He leant down to whisper in her ear, brushing some hair away from her face as he spoke, “Make sure you tell me the second it hurts even a little, okay darlin’?”

She nodded, leaning her head back against his chest, lingering a soft kiss onto his chin.

He traced his hands up and down her thighs beneath the water, her legs automatically widening like muscle memory. He laughed breathily in her ear at her eagerness, before sliding his right hand to her core, pressing light circles to her clit as he planted soft kisses along her neck, her having tilted it to the side to grant him further access.

She moaned softly, bringing a hand up to play with the chocolate curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly as he began to tease a finger around her entrance, keeping his slow rhythm on her clit.

“Feel good, honey?” He spoke softly into her ear, not slowing his teasing motions, but not speeding up either.

She nodded, brows furrowed as he slipped the tip of his index finger inside her.

“Use your words, baby. Need to hear you say it, ‘kay?”

“F-feels good, Matty, promise.” She stuttered out, his fingers speeding up slightly on her clit for a millisecond, before it returned to its original speed.

“Good girl,” he murmured in her ear, pushing his index finger into her cunt completely, her head slamming back to meet his chest as he curled it expertly.

Her hand that wasn’t occupied with Matty’s hair emerged from the water, where it had been gripping her thigh, and she placed it on her left boob, swiping her thumb over her nipple delicately and squeezing the soft, meaty flesh around it.

She arched her back as Matty prodded a second finger into her, curling it as he had the first. As she arched further into his chest, she felt Matty’s hard cock against her back, and teasingly wriggled against it.

He groaned, fingers speeding up as they fucked in and out of her, his hand that was rubbing her clit now came up to brush her hair out of her face, before he flicked her right nipple playfully, ripping a guttural sound from the back of her throat as he returned his hand to her clit, rubbing fast circles over it with his middle and ring finger.

He felt her cunt tighten around his fingers, thighs slamming together to stop his hands from retracting.

He pressed his plush, pink, lips to her ear, pressing airy kisses along it as he breathed, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Yeah?” He felt her become impossibly right around his fingers, and she moaned loudly as he said, “Gonna feel so much better afterwards, baby. C’mon, give it to me.”

Matty fingers stilled inside her as she came, eyes squeezing closed and toes curling as the water in the bath sloshed around them, her loud moan echoing around the bathroom. He waited for her breathing to settle slightly before slowly pulling his fingers out, the water in the bath cleaning them off.

She flipped herself over carefully, legs wobbling slightly as she straddled his right leg, her boobs planted flat against his chest. She reached up, planting a soft kiss to his lips, whining softly against them as her clit grazed his leg when she pushed herself up.

Pulling away from her lips, Matty tutted in faux annoyance, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Still not done, baby?” He asked, smoothing his hand over her hair and then resting it on her cheek as she looked up at him,

“No,” she confirmed, half-mooned, lidded eyes peering up at him.

He sighed, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” He asked playfully, “Too horny for your own good.”

She whined as she shifted herself further up his body, his rock hard cock laying flat against her slit as it rested on his stomach. He lay back against the steeper end of the bath, hands on both hips, thumbs drawing shapes on her delicate skin.

She wriggled her hips slightly, his cock bumping over her clit multiple times before she rose to her knees, almost slipping on the slippery bottom of the bath, luckily being caught by Matty’s large hands on her hips again.

She laughed softly, looking up at him as she did so, seeing him biting his lip softly to keep in his laugh, the rumbling of his chest betraying him. She slapped his stomach playfully.

“Hey!” She scolded, “Don’t laugh at me,” She said with a fake pout on her face.

Matty cooed, laughter still rumbling in his chest as he spoke, “Aw, sorry honey, it's just, when I said I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn’t mean slipping over in the bath and dying.” He giggled as he spoke, and she couldn’t help but grin at him, pouncing onto him to plant a sweet kiss to his lips, before pulling away.

Her brows furrowed and index finger pointed at him as she reprimanded him, trying her best to keep her face straight as she spoke, “Okay! No more laughing,” Her eyes narrowed at him accusingly, “back to sex.”

He nodded stiffly, hand coming up to his head as he saluted her militarily, firmly repeating her previous statement.

She giggled softly, lifting her leg up with help from Matty, before shifting herself on top of him completely, his hard cock trapped between her sticky cunt and his firm belly. She groaned as she rocked back and forth slowly, before pushing herself up slightly, grabbing the base of his cock, tapping it on her clit a few times before she pushed it into herself, sighing in content as she sunk down, the full feeling in her tummy satiating the desire she’d been holding there all day.

He groaned softly, brows knitting together as she sunk all the way down onto his cock, her clit brushing against the groomed pubic hair at the base. His hands rested on her hips, rubbing shapes softly as he helped guide her up and down on his length. She was so tight around him, clamping down hard when he moved a hand from her hip down to rub her tender, puffy clit.

She moaned breathily, back arched and head thrown back as she bounced on his cock rapidly, water splashing around the bath and onto the floor. Her right hand rested on Matty’s ‘We are Kings’ tattoo, providing her with leverage to move quicker, and her left hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, nails digging into his Mortal Kombat tattoo as her orgasm approached her.

Matty felt her hips faltering slightly, and her thighs began to shake, causing him to tighten his grip on her hips, holding her still as he slammed his hips up to meet hers. She whined loudly, his thick cock filling her completely, slamming against her cervix with every unyielding thrust.

“Feelin’ good, baby? He asked breathily, panting slightly, his curls falling in his face, sticking to his slightly damp forehead.

She responded the only way she could through her foggy, fucked-out brain, squeezing his forearm impossibly tight and keening loudly, before her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

He continued his relentless pace, bringing them both closer and closer to cumming. His brows knitted together in concentration as he tried to keep his pace consistent, but he was struggling. She was so fucking tight, squeezing him like she was afraid that if she didn’t, he’d somehow disappear.

Thankfully, he could tell she was close, her lower lip pulled between her teeth and cheeks rosy, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had to hold his orgasm since the second he’d slipped into her. Something about his cock and her cunt fit so right, he could probably cum just at the thought of it.

Matty looked up at her through the mess of wet curls in front of his eyes, “Need you to rub your clit for me now, ‘kay honey?”.

She immediately obeyed, bringing the hand that was wrapped around his wrist to rub her clit at a harsh pace. She cried out, hand faltering slightly at the intense pressure building in her lower belly.

She was so close, she just needed something, anything, to push her over the edge, and almost as though Matty read her mind, he leaned forward, attaching his mouth to her left breast, swirling his tongue around and biting lightly at her perked up nipple.

The hand rubbing her clit and rapid hip movements halted as she felt Matty, whose head now rested on her shoulder, still inside her, groaning loudly as he came inside her, rope after rope of his sticky cum coating her walls. She wailed, eyes rolling back into her head as the tightness in her stomach finally released. She leaned forward to bite Matty’s shoulder softly, tears streaming down her cheeks at the intensity of both her orgasms.

She slipped her arms out from between their chests, wrapping them tightly around Matty’s neck before pressing her head into his neck, sighing contently.

Matty smiled softly against her, lifting the hand that still rested on her left hip to rub her back gently.

“Water’s gone all cold, sweetheart,” He said, slightly muffled by the delicate skin of her shoulder.

She shrugged lazily in his arms, murmuring back a sweet, “M’cozy.”

“Y’cosy?” He bit back a soft laugh at her lovely voice, “Not gonna be so ‘cosy’ when you get a cold, honey.” He continued rubbing her back, cooing inwardly when he heart a soft sniffle beneath him.

“How ‘bout this, baby, let me get out, and I’ll go get your clothes, get you nice and dry, and then we can go back to this exact position in my bed… That sound good?”

She nodded weakly against his chest, and that's exactly what they did. Quickly pulling on a new pair of sweats, he remembered he’d laid out some boxers and an old sweatshirt of his on the bed before he’d gotten in the bath, and he was particularly grateful for it now, grabbing the pile off the bed, and a towel warmed from the dryer, before speed-walking back to the bathroom. He knocked softly before walking in, wanting to be safer than sorry, and heard a soft hum from behind the door. A sign to enter, he assumed.

Walking in, he saw that she was still in the exact position he’d left her in, knees tucked to her chest, with her chin rested against her knees. He cooed, putting her new clothes on the basin before helping her stand in the bath, opening the warm towel and wrapping it around her body, her hands poking out to keep it wrapped around herself as he scooped her up, setting her down to sit on the lid of the toilet.

Grabbing the clothes off the basin, he slipped the soft grey sweater over her head, and pulled his boxers up her legs, pressing a kiss to her forehead once she was dressed.

She murmured a ‘thank you’, to which he responded by kissing her again, this time on her lips, before picking her up again, placing a hand on her left knee, pushing it to wrap around his waist, before doing the same to her right.

Keeping her steady with a hand on her bum, he walked the few steps to his bed as quickly as possible. He held her up with one hand as he used the other to pull back the covers, before carefully crawling into the bed, being sure not to disturbed her comfort in his arms as he did so.

Wrapping the soft duvet around the both of them, he looked down at her to see her smiling up at him. He beamed back at her, dimples visible in his cheeks, before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her puffy lips.

She sighed in content, pulling away from the kiss and resting her head on his shoulder again, nose nuzzling against the soft skin of his neck. He smiled to himself, before picking up his phone from the bedside table, checking his notifications quickly before he opened Instagram, scrolling aimlessly through his reels. He swiped upon a particularly funny minions meme, pushing air out of his nostrils in a half-laugh, before angling his phone down to show her. He looked down to watch her reaction, his favourite thing in the world being to see her laugh - it was automatically a great day for him whenever he was the one to coax a giggle from her - but instead saw she was asleep, lips parted slightly, and eyebrows relaxed.

He smiled fondly down at her, using the arm she was laying on to rub soothingly up and down her arm. He clicked ‘Save’ on the meme, telling himself to remember to show her later, before he opened Safari, logging into Twitter, or ‘X’ now, - ‘so fucking stupid’ he thought - looking to see what fans had to say about their new show, ‘Still… at their very best.’

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drysdalesworld · 3 months

Note

Hi! I saw that you write for pjo! Could you write some hcs of the main three kids catching the reader (adoptive older sibling! Child of hephastus!) Sneaking out of camp to see their lover. (I was thinking its sort of like- a forbbiden love situation for reasons) and low key keeping that information as possible blackmail (in a lighthearted way,Like siblings often do to bribe eachother into doing stuff the other doesnt want to like chores n stuff).

The reader is afab but uses they/them pronouns and is around 19/20.

Thanks in advance!

“why are you hanging half way out your window?”

pairing: platonic!thalia grace x nb!child of hephaestus!reader, platonic!nico di angelo x nb!child of hephaestus!reader, platonic!percy jackson x nb!child of hephaestus!reader

it’s a bit short but i hope you like it!

— reader honestly had snuck out to see their partner so many times that they may have been too cocky the night they gotten caught by percy/thalia/nico

— let’s say readers lover is a mortal & knows that they “work” at a camp during the summers (they met at college!) & always offers to see them after camp hours when appropriate

— reader has never been caught so why would that night be an exception?? (they all use it to their advantage)

— they all catch reader on the same night but at different times!

___

— PERCY had been out on a walk when he heard a window harshly open, halting him in his tracks as he whipped his head towards the hephaestus cabin, seeing a black backpack be quickly thrown out the window before approaching

— dude didn’t know what to expect but he def didn’t expect reader of all people to be crawling out of their window in the middle of the night

— “uh, why are you hanging halfway out your window (y/n)?” he asked, both arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the reader weirdly

— poor reader froze mid crawl & literally felt their heart drop to their stomach. out of all people, it had to be percy that caught them sneaking out.

— “getting fresh air?” they replied, finally out of their window & landing on their feet

— the blonde only hummed as he narrowed his eyes at the reader, totally not believing what the just said. “uh huh. well, whatever it is you are doing, i will be remembering this entire interaction & will use it accordingly”

— his words did not make reader feel better about the situation, trying to plead with him to not tell anyone else. he reassured them that he wouldn’t, but he’d definitely use it as blackmail & bring it up whenever he needed something.

— perhaps the next time he had a craving for blue gummy worms, he’d bring up this exact moment the next time reader was planning on sneaking out & get a reward for somehow keeping his big mouth shut about this for so long. yeah, he definitely deserves an award for not ratting reader out (at least that’s what he thinks)

___

— THALIA had just arrived back at camp for a little getaway after being & traveling with artemis’ hunters for so long

— she had nearly fallen asleep until she heard someone trip over something right outside of her cabin, cursing to themselves as they got up

— the moment she opened the door to reveal the reader, thalia wanted to laugh out loud

— “what the hell are you doing?” she asked

— “nothing” reader would reply as they fixed themselves & brushed the dirt off their pants

— “doesn’t look like nothing”

— “it’s 100% nothing, thalia”

— “where are you going anyway this late at night?”

— “what’s with the interrogations, grace?”

— thalia gave up on trying to pry the information out of you & only rolled her eyes, bidding you a good night before promptly telling you that she won’t forget about this in the morning

— she def is planning on getting the information out of her one way or another OR will always bring it up until reader cracks & spills the beans

___

— NICO is already wide awake when he sees a shadow breeze past him as he sat near the woods, having trouble falling asleep

— his eyes immediately dart up towards the figure, squinting in attempts to get a more accurate image of whoever it was walking around at midnight

— “(y/n)?” he asked

— the groan that reader let out sounded more like a growl as they became increasingly frustrated at getting caught three times trying to leave

— “yes, nico?”

— “what are you doing up this late?”

— “on a walk”

— “going for a walk at midnight with your backpack filled to the brim?”

— “yes. building endurance y’know?”

— the scoff nico made wanted you to crawl back into your window & never come back out. getting caught once was fine & something you could handle. but three times? the universe just seemed to hate you at this moment

— “hmm, sure. whatever you say”

— the minute he turned his head back towards the stars, you immediately beelined towards the woods/exit of camp half-blood, cursing yourself for being so carefree in your escape

— nico wasn’t too hellbent on using it for blackmail but once he heard about thalia & percy catching you the previous night as well, he just knew he had to join in on their teasing

— you spent so many nights doing percy’s laundry that you could literally tell what his size was from just looking at a piece of clothing. you gave the last piece of your favorite dessert to thalia too many times to count. & you took on the brunt of nico’s chores. you’d get them back later, trust!

#drysdalesworld #drysdalesworld works!#drysdalesworld asks!#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo series #pjo #percy jackson and the lightning thief #thalia grace #nico di angelo #pjo headcanons #child of hephaestus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #thalia grace x reader #nico di angelo x reader

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sbdskate · 3 months

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Laws Of Attraction (Part 9) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings : fluff and cheese, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3,866

A/N: One day I may be one of those writers who is well organized and has a preplanned schedule for posting, but unfortunately (and as my first fic), today is not that day. Thank you for your patience during this writing drought. Another chapter will be on the way after this, hopefully in a couple of weeks after another round of edits. Shout out to @cutelittlefakejourneys for your help. As always, thank you for reading and don't be a ghost reader!

Daniel Ricciardo had been in your room last night. After a long race day filled with anxiety, media, McLaren, and subsequently relief and pride, he had stolen a bottle of champagne from McLaren’s afterparty, and your heart. He had hesitantly conditioned the gift on being consumed after the signing and delicately suggested you share the bottle, evidently afraid he would tear the fragile string that connected the two of you since the beginning. But you didn’t want to wait, so you had invited him in.

“So that’s how you open a bottle without spilling half of it?”

“What can I say, I’m a woman of many talents. Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you one of my heels to drink out of?” He laughed.

“Nah, not dirty or sweaty enough.”

He looked around to see what you had made of your private space. In contrast to the crisp outward appearance you presented as you strutted through the paddock in your tailored suits, your hotel room was a mess. Laptop open, papers spread out over every surface. Your petite figure was dwarfed by the oversized, plush hotel robe. Behind closed doors he realized you were quite ordinary. Not that you were unremarkable, but in the sense that you were perfectly imperfect.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To finish lines.”

You started out at least trying to be prim and proper, using the hotel’s water glasses as vessels. But at a certain point decorum went out the window and you simply passed the bottle between you sitting cross legged on the floor. Even though it was late, the hours passed like sand through an hourglass.

“Biggest celebrity crush growing up?”

“Leonardo DiCaprio. Easy. Man has been attractive literally at all stages of my life, from the time I was six watching ‘Growing Pains’ to now. Dude aged like fine wine. Unfortunately though I’ve aged out of his dating pool.”

He observed your lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle, how small your hand looked holding it, and his imagination ventured to unclean places.

“You?”

“Josh Allen,” he said without skipping a beat.

“You were five when Josh Allen was born. I know he’s your boyfriend but that doesn’t count.”

“Fine, fine, fine. I might have had a poster of Kylie Minogue in my bedroom when I was like, twelve.”

The two of you sat side by side at the foot of the bed, your hands inched closer towards one another as the night dwelled on.

“If you could do anything in the world, if money didn’t matter, what would you do?”

“Eh. I think I’d still be a lawyer.” He snorted.

“That’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard.”

“What? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Come on. Do you actually love this? You’ve been away from your life in the States for months. And for what?”

“Well, I got to travel the world, meet cool celebrities… I got to know you. That must count for something, right?”

You tried to deliver the earnest statement as casually as possible, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into it. But the heft of your words hung in the air and blended with the little popped champagne bubbles that had evaporated. After months of Daniel tormenting you with flirty comments, it was his turn to try to ignore your flattery.

“Really. Money’s no object. Any job in the world. Go.”

“Ok ok fine. I suppose - Oh I don’t know… Maybe I’d be a food critic. I love to eat, I like to complain, and I like writing, so I feel like that’s the perfect marriage of all those things. Or… maybe I’d just drop off the grid completely. I’ve always dreamed about running off to the rolling hills of Italy and living off the land, maybe I’d open a flower shop or something. Really just live out my Under the Tuscan Sun fantasy. But it’s silly. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, I could never imagine throwing it all away.”

“It’s not silly.”

Your sideways glance met his deep pools of dark ember, filled with sincerity. You took a swig of champagne and passed the bottle back to him, wishing to wash away the palpable chemistry that swirled around you.

“What about you?”

“I guess I’d still be doing this.” You frowned, sensing his timidness.

“That’s not fair, you made me pick something.”

“Come on, it’s not like I have any transferable skills. I don’t know what else I could do.”

“You literally have two side hustles already. Wine maker and fashion mogul don’t do it for you?”

You thought you could crack a smile out of him, but instead the corners of his mouth downturned slightly.

“It’s not the same. We already decided the second time we met I could never have a desk job. I’m an adrenaline junkie, I’ve always needed to be in a car. Plus my parents worked hard to get me here, to get those opportunities for me, and seeing them happy makes me happy. I don’t know what else there is.”

“Your mother has a small heart attack every time you race.” You tried to placate his uncertainty, but the light conversation had turned heavy and there was no undoing it.

“Oh, that’s neither here nor there,” he brushed off.

“What about all the cameras constantly in your face? Don’t you miss being anonymous?”

This seemed to make him pause.

“I do… but at the same time, part of the fun was getting to make a name for myself. I’m not sure I fully knew what I was getting myself into, but I knew that fame came with the territory if I was actually good at what I was doing. Do I miss being able to walk down the street or go to a restaurant without being bombarded? Yeah for sure. But even when I had that, I don’t think I enjoyed it because I was always trying to get to the next step.” He paused, the furrow in his brow coming undone. “Do I love it right now in this very moment? No. I need a fucking break. I think you corporate people call it ‘burnout’ or whatever. But I’ve loved it up until now, and I know I’ll love it again eventually. I really can’t imagine doing anything else.”

The space between your fingers had vanished. As though your extremities had a mind of their own, you both looked down to study how they folded over one another. There was no recoiling. Your hand, that apparently had its own free will, sent signals to you to look up again. It was ironic that you had partially declined his invitation to the McLaren afterparty because you were afraid of winding up in a situation that vaguely resembled something exactly like this. Tomorrow was so close yet so far, and your wherewithal to resist the magnetic pull between the two of you was at an all time low. Over the last week leading up to the final race, flashbacks of the kiss in Brazil replayed on a loop in your mind. If you blinked you would’ve missed it when it had happened in real time. But the memory teased you and champagne was buzzing through your veins, clouding your judgment. You wanted to explore. Like a moth to a flame, you began leaning in, your eyes fluttering as his lips went in and out of focus.

Instead of being met with Daniel’s embrace, you toppled over as he got to his feet.

“Champagne’s gone, guess that’s my cue for bed.”

You propped yourself on your elbow as you looked up at him incredulously. How much champagne had you had, that you had so badly misread the situation? You averted your gaze in embarrassment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

His extended hand came into view. You slowly looked up again, his warm and inviting eyes conveying more than words ever could. You cautiously accepted his help as he got you to your feet, his strong hold steadying you.

“Do you need any help in the morning?” Yeah, just avoid Daniel until it’s over so you don’t lose your job. That would probably be a good start.

“No, I’m good, thanks though. Do you need any help?”He laughed, mostly out of astonishment that you could possibly ask such a question when you had already done so, so much.

“Yeah, if you could just sign for me too that would be great.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm. “Get some rest, yeah?”

And then he was gone. But how could you possibly just get some rest? You tossed and turned, never quite falling into a deep slumber. The scene of two friends on the floor sharing champagne and secrets played over and over. Friends? Colleagues? Business partners? Something else?

It festered as you got ready, before even the sun was up. The tried and true pink suit felt like it might burst at the seams, unable to contain the palpitations in your chest - a concoction of anticipation, nerves, anxiety, and excitement.

It was strange, having such a momentous deal take place outside the confines of a grandiose conference room with a dramatic, long, mahogany table overlooking some city skyline and perhaps a beautiful, shiny body of water. It was a status symbol of Big Law, the firm’s ability to peacock to clients how successful they were. The bigger the room and better the view, the more deserving they were of that outrageously high retainer fee they charged.

Instead, you walked into what was left of Red Bull hospitality after the big, final race weekend. Of course it was sleek and modern in its own right, but it gave an air of approachability that was lacking at the firm’s office. Nonetheless, you tried to import formality back into the space. You had printed and made matching binders of copies of the agreement for everyone present, appropriately tabbed and color coordinated. You brought blue, black, and red pens, highlighters, sharpened No. 2 pencils, and legal pads with the firm’s name emboldened at the top. You had gotten to Red Bull early to set up the space yourself, so that all materials were spaced out accordingly for each chair at the table. You took a step back to admire your handy work. Yes, this would do just fine.

Your phone went off.

DR: Where are you? We’re going to be late.

Y/N: I’m already here.

DR: 🙁

DR: You didn’t wait for me?

DR: It’s going to be weird walking there without you.

Y/N: I figured you wouldn’t want to be over an hour early and you could use the extra sleep. I’m sure you’ll manage.

It was weird for Daniel walking to the paddock without you. The whole morning had been weird. It had been too quiet. There was no offkey musical number through his bathroom wall. He missed the sprightly knock at his door that came about ten minutes too early. He missed guessing which of your faces he’d get when you realized he wasn’t ready. He was amazed at how quickly he had gotten used to you. Had they really only been at this hotel for four days? Five?

His memory taunted him as he walked to Red Bull. He recalled himself holding his breath in anticipation as you closed in on him last night. He felt his heartbeat all the way up to his throat, his pulse points throbbed. It was an out of body experience, watching in slow motion as he pulled himself away from you. He finally learned it was for the best, even though the dejected look on your face pained him.

When he got there, he was disappointed to discover he was the last to arrive, wishing he had more moments alone with you. Christian, Joe, and in-house Red Bull lawyer bros sat around you, centering you as a vibrant glow in a sea of dull blues and grays. He was relieved to discover that you had reserved the seat next to you. He felt his face involuntarily break into grin as he noticed you notice him come into frame.

Christian, who was sitting across from you with his back to the door, saw the slightest twitch of your facial muscles. He whipped around, before a smile was fully formed, knowing exactly what it meant.

“The man of the hour! So nice of you to finally join us.” Everyone stood up for another round of hand shakes and self-congratulatory pats on the back. He could hardly maintain eye contact, his gaze constantly darting back to you. You rose to your feet, but remained in place, patiently waiting your turn for him.

He finally stood in front of his reserved chair, directly facing you. He wasn’t sure what to do – he knew you so well, a handshake hardly seemed appropriate. But you were in front of professionals so a hug wouldn’t do. He knew what he wanted to do, and that certainly wasn’t an option. Fortunately you made the decision for him, instinctively sticking your hand out. He would’ve been a little sad about it, but for the knowing twinkle in your eye. Your palms firmly met, and he appreciated how soft and delicate yours were. It was like you were holding hands.

“Eh-hem.”

You cleared your throat, eyes suddenly piercing. It wasn’t until he felt you try to pry your hand away that he realized he had been shaking it about six seconds too long. He finally relinquished his grip and you both sat down.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he whispered to you. You only gave him a twitch of a smile and a curt nod in return before swiveling your chair to face the other side of the table.

“Now then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Daniel almost felt silly for pushing this whole ordeal back an extra day. Almost. He could imagine you marching out of there muttering this could have been an email under your breath. The contract was, for all intents and purposes, finished and truly just needed to be signed. It only took twenty minutes to do a walk through of the terms, which of course no one objected to after the countless back-and-forth’s of redlines, late night phone calls, and negotiations. And then, with a swift flick of his wrist, it was set in stone.

He stared at the wet blue ink on the page. He didn’t realize he was smiling until his cheeks started to hurt.

“I guess we’re engaged now. This feels familiar.” When he finally looked up Christian was beaming back at him like a proud dad.

“Welcome back, Daniel. Welcome home.”

“You do realize that could’ve been an email?” He laughed as he waited behind for you to pack up your stuff. Joe in typical fashion had exchanged quick pleasantries after the signing and was gone in a flash, off to the next client. The other Red Bull representatives followed suit not long after.

“It could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?” He watched as you stuffed the last binder into your bag, fighting with the zipper. When you finished you looked up to find him staring intently at you, causing you to nearly drop your bag.

“Can I help you?”

He leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. You stared at his tan forearms, noticing his veins bulge.

“That depends… do you like surprises?” You did your best to hide a gulp, your throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating what you thought…

But if he was, two could play at that game.

“Depends on the surprise,” you purred, leaning forward ever so slightly to show off the v of your necklace that led a trail to your hidden cleavage.

He leaned forward to meet you part way, not breaking eye contact.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he whispered. You felt goosebumps raise on your skin, giddy in suspense. Your heart was about to burst through your chest. Was he really about to take you right here in this office?

Without warning he pushed himself from the table and walked quickly towards the door, leaving you bewildered in the middle of the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at you innocently.

“What are you waiting for? Follow me!”

He proceeded to skip down the hallway, forcing you to jog to try to keep up with him.

“Daniel! Wait up! What the hell?”

He led you to the exit of Red Bull hospitality before he finally stopped.

“I may or may not have called in a favor.”

“Daniel, this isn’t funny. What –“

You stopped in your tracks as the doors opened. With your jaw on the floor, you let out a silent scream as Geraldine Estelle Halliwell Horner, aka Geri, aka Ginger Spice, aka one-fifth of the iconic girl group The Spice Girls, stood in front of you in the flesh. As a child of the 90’s, this moment felt biblical.

Apparently Christian was also there. “Oh Darling, I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

You were already barely functioning when she turned away from her husband and made direct eye contact with you. Then, as though it were a conversation about the weather, she very casually said “Oh hello. You must be y/n, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your hand gripped over your chest. Eyes wide, you looked to Daniel to confirm she was not a hologram, but he only gave you a wide grin, then back to Geri who was waiting patiently for you to act like a human which was unfortunately too big of an ask.

“I-you’re-ohmygodIcan’tbelievethisishappening-I-hi-I mean…. You know my name.” You dissolved into fits of nervous giggles. Daniel stood there very pleased with himself. He was a little insulted you weren’t this starstruck when you met him, but it was overshadowed by the immense satisfaction he felt that he initiated something that made you so happy.

Geri gave a sympathetic smile. Clearly this was not the first time a fan lost their shit at her mere presence. “I do. I hear you’ve been very busy the last few weeks.”

“What? Oh, right. Yeah I’ve spent a lot of time with Daniel and your husband.” you blabbed, quickly changing the topic. “Do you and the girls still hang out regularly? Spice World was my favorite movie growing up, and-and-and I memorized all of the choreography to Stop and Spice Up Your Life.” You continued talking a million miles a minute.

“Well that’s good to know in case we ever need a fill-in,” she joked trying to put you at ease. Your demeanor quickly sobered and you put a hand over your heart.

“Oh, Miss Halliwell. I could never replace Victoria on your next reunion tour, but if you absolutely insist I would be honored to step in to ensure the show goes on,” you swore in earnest. Geri slowly nodded, locking eyes with Daniel behind you doing her best to telecommunicate with him. What the fuck. He only shrugged as he continued beaming.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said slowly and politely. Daniel finally interjected.

“Y/n, you have to pack and I’m sure Geri and Christian have their own flights to catch…”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” you said, Daniel’s voice beginning to bring you back down to earth. You rummaged through your bag, before proudly presenting your hand to her. “Here’s my card in case you or any of the girls need any type of legal assistance, happy to go over any contracts for you or whatever else you may need.” Geri’s forced smile relaxed, appreciating your hustle and intellect.

“This is great, thank you. Girl power, right?” And just like that you were back on Saturn. You proudly held up a peace sign as though you were giving an oath.

“Girl Power. Forever,” you swore. Daniel gently put his hand on your lower back to try and herd you along, but you turned to look back as you walked. “And now that you have my number, let me know if you ever want to get your nails done together or get coffee or even a yoga class!” you called after her. Geri chuckled and waved.

“It was nice meeting you too,” she shouted back.

“Good seeing you too y/n – what am I, chopped liver?” You kept walking and waved him off.

“Oh right, sorry. Yeah yeah, nice seeing you too Christian. Pleasure doing business.”

You proceeded to gush about the encounter the entire way back to the hotel. Your hands flailed in the air as you excitedly repeated every little detail, even though Daniel had also been there to witness the whole thing. Your eyes were bright and wide, still processing the adrenaline.

“So did I do alright then?” he asked cheekily as you approached your rooms.

“Did you do alright?! That was one of the best moments of my life, I could kiss you!”

The words slipped out before you had a chance to think, stopping both of you in your tracks. They hung heavy in the air, waiting for an answer. But for the tension that had dragged on, and built, and compounded on itself for months, the statement would never be interpreted as anything other than an innocent, facetious comment for dramatic effect. But Daniel looked at you intently hoping you meant it. He turned his body to align with yours as you remained frozen, and cautiously stepped forward to remove the space between you. Your mouth parted slightly, trying to find words to explain yourself but drew a blank. He leaned in ever so slightly, his hot breath beating on the side of your face and tickling your ear.

“So do it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear him. You dared to lock eyes with him, searching for an answer. His hand finally did what it had wished to do for so long, gently pushing hair out of your face and finding a home at the nape of your neck. He left it there, but he didn’t have to use any force to bring you together as your heads naturally tilted and pulled inwards like magnets. It was dizzying having his face so close to yours, feeling his breath tickle your nose and your cheeks, stoking the flush that had your face burning.

It was only when your lips were so close that you inhaled each other’s oxygen that you suddenly remembered you were in a very public hallway. You were still in your suit, that felt like it was about suffocate you. To his disappointment, and yours, you fell into old patterns. You pried yourself out of his orbit, stumbling backwards.

“Would you look at the time? I, um, need to go pack. Long flight tomorrow,” you stammered, as you continued backwards towards your room.

“y/n…”

“Congratulations again, I’m super happy for you.”

“Can we at least talk about this?” You fumbled with your keys pretending not to hear him, your focus on the floor.

“It was great working with you. You have a bright future back at Red Bull, I’m sure everything will work out. Have a safe trip back to Perth.”

And with that final, clinical, arms-length message, you left him in the hallway.

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cobaltperun · 4 months

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Lost (13) - Easier to run

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Warning for this chapter: I don't go into details, but the ending might be a bit, uncomfortable.

Word count: 3.5k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Just washing it aside all of the helplessness inside pretending I don't feel misplaced is so much simpler than change-

Everyone who knew you and Tara for more than a day would likely say Tara was the one exception to your every rule. That all Tara had to do to get something from you would be to simply ask. There were plenty of activities that were only permitted to Tara. From stealing your clothes, in her defense they were comfy, and she felt like you were hugging her whenever she wore them, all the way to interrupting your training for valid, though admittedly silly, reasons. Well, those people had no idea what they were talking about because all the tricks in the books weren't making you give in.

"Come on, Y/N," Tara was getting desperate at this point. Puppy eyes didn't help, and she usually didn't have to resort to even that, let alone all the other options she used. She pleaded, she bargained, she tried seduction, promised things that made you smile at the mere thought of them, promised things that made you a flustered mess. "Please! I'll do anything you want," her pleading went unanswered as you got in your car.

"If you loved me, you'd do this for me," a low blow, but she was getting desperate.

You lowered your window and looked at Tara with the flattest look she had ever seen on your face. "Tara, you're not driving my car, now get in," she had no idea, but both of you had the same thought going through your heads. 'I have the most stubborn girlfriend ever.'

"You let Sam drive it," Tara grumbled when she relented and got in the passenger seat.

"I was injured! You can drive it if I'm dying or high on painkillers!" you exclaimed, clearly getting riled up over Tara's insistence on driving your precious car. Tara couldn't help herself, she grinned at your reaction. There was just something inherently appealing and maybe even a bit exciting in knowing that regardless of how much she pushed your buttons you'd only get annoyed and even then, you'd calm down after a bit of making out. So, while she really wanted to drive to Sacramento, getting you riled up would have to do.

Only... she just realized she couldn't make out with you while you were driving, and driving alone would calm you down. Tara was getting nothing out of half an hour's worth of effort.

Shit.

~X~

Ever since choosing Blackmore University as the next step in your education, you made sure you went to Sacramento to visit Susan at least once a month, and Tara made sure she was with you every single time. In a week you'd be leaving Woodsboro so it wouldn't be as easy to travel from New York to Sacramento whenever you wanted to. So, that's how you ended up in Susan's guest bedroom with Tara getting ready to go to bed.

The fact that Tara was the one sleeping closer to the doors was enough proof of how the two of you felt regarding Susan. Right now, you and Tara were sitting on the bed, just about ready to lie down and sleep.

"I'm proud of you two, and yes, I already said that, and I'm going to keep saying that," Susan smiled, it felt good to hear someone say that, especially since it was directed at Tara too.

"Thank you," you glanced at Tara, noticing a small blush dusting her cheeks.

Every time Susan did something that made Tara feel welcomed and loved you couldn't help but like the woman just a bit more than before. "Thanks, mo-" you froze, your eyes wide as you realized what word nearly slipped past your lips.

You could feel your face burning as you wished for the ground to open and swallow you. Or for a bolt of lightning to strike you. Or anything, really, that could save you from embarrassment. Unconsciously you dropped down to the bed, behind Tara, thus hiding at least your face behind her.

A soft chuckle made you reach out and pull Tara closer to you as the bed muffled your embarrassed groan. "Good night," Susan closed the doors behind her.

Tara giggled, enjoying your unfortunate slip of the tongue. "Y/N," she pulled away from you, but only so she could lie down next to you and pull your head to her chest. "It's okay," she whispered softly, gently massaging the back of your head. "It was cute," she was enjoying this a bit too much.

"I'll never recover from embarrassment," you complained, even if you felt a bit better now.

"You're adorable when you get embarrassed," Tara actually cooed, only increasing the embarrassment you felt.

"No, I'm not. I'm an MMA fighter," you were a fighter, always ready for a brawl, proven to be one of the strongest female fighters in the world without even reaching your peak. You were not going to take this.

Tara shifted so she was face to face with you. "I don't see how one excludes the other, you're my adorable MMA fighter," the soft kisses were definitely making you just take it.

"You're lucky I love you," you playfully warned when Tara stopped kissing you for a moment.

"Oh, I know," there was a mischievous glint in Tara's eyes. Frankly, any other time this would probably escalate further, but you were at Susan's house and the mere idea of going further than kissing and cuddling felt strange.

~X~

Leaving Woodsboro and coming to New York, was, perhaps, the best decision you could make, especially for Tara. She was happy, relaxed, it was like she was being completely free for the first time in her life. Free from her mother, her past, from everything negative related to Woodsboro.

Nothing told you Tara was feeling better as well as the way you woke up that morning. It would be an understatement to say it was a surprise to wake up in your new apartment with Tara drawing random shapes on your left forearm with the tip of her finger.

Ever since Tara was attacked when the two of you slept together the two of you either spooned or slept in the same position as you were in this morning, with Tara's head on your chest, and your arms protectively around her. Cradle position, or something like that, Tara once told you.

"Hey, Love," you rasped, still a bit sleepy.

Tara leaned up, kissing the right side of your jaw. "Good morning, Y/N," you felt her smiling. "We've got a long day ahead of us," she reminded you, though with the way she nuzzled into your neck you figured she wasn't too eager to get up.

"Let's see, we're meeting that girl who answered our ad for a roommate, Sam has a job interview, I have first MMA classes," Thomas really saved your ass with that. He paid well, maybe even too well, it wasn't a full-time job, and you could use it to stay in shape as well. Because of how well he paid Sam would only need to work one job, instead of two that she was planning on. Tara could focus on studying, besides, with her asthma job options were even more limited. If she wanted to get a job eventually neither you nor Sam would stop her, but she deserved to take it easy at least for a year.

You also retired with quite a bit of money from the deal to retire quietly and the two fights you had. You considered investing it in something but figured it would be smarter to wait for a bit and see how things worked out in New York.

"Mhm, and we have to go do some shopping, mostly for our kitchen," Tara reminded you. That would be a bit of an annoyance since Sam just had to insist on getting the top floor, no elevator, apartment.

"I still can't believe there are so many stairs in this building, or that we actually have rooms now. And a kitchen. That isn't connected to the living room and bedroom. And two damn bathrooms. And three bedrooms. We have a separate dining area, Tara," having spent almost three years in a cramped apartment made this feel surreal. Even the damn bed you were sleeping in was bigger now!

Tara laughed, tickling you slightly with her breath. "You can actually work out here," she teased you.

"That too!" you eagerly agreed. Finally, you could get rid of any nervous energy without heading to the gym.

A knock on the doors got your attention. "Are you two decent?" Sam's voice came from the other side.

"Yeah!" Tara immediately said. Which you were, clothes on, room clean, you were just still in the bed. Still, after Sam barely avoided catching the two of you in a not-quite-decent state she got into a habit of asking before entering. And you were thankful for that, because while you deeply cared about Sam, neither you nor Tara wanted her to walk in on you. And Sam was just as disturbed by the idea, so this was truly the best option.

"I was about to head to the store, do you need anything?" Sam asked, smiling when she saw Tara so happy this early in the morning.

Tara shook her head. "I'm good."

"Same here, I'll get the breakfast ready when you come back," honestly, you got used to Sam living with you and Tara really quickly. It almost made you sorry someone else, a stranger nonetheless, was about to join the three of you.

"I'll be back soon," Sam left the two of you and you stretched a bit before finally getting up.

"You two are going to spoil me," Tara sat up as well, yawning slightly.

You took the T-shirt you slept in off and went to the wardrobe to get a clean shirt. "Nothing wrong with that, Love," besides, it wasn't like Tara didn't do anything, she had her own chores, it's just that they didn't involve cooking or cleaning that could trigger her asthma.

“Mhm, how about I spoil you as well?” she came up behind you, got on her tiptoes and kissed your neck.

“What did you have in mind?” you lifted her up, smirking teasingly as she pulled back and hugged you.

“How about we watch your favorite movie, and I’ll order our favorite snacks and food so you don’t have to cook tonight?” she asked and your eyes lit up at that. She could definitely spoil you like that.

~X~

You were late. Thomas took up some of your time to talk about the first classes you taught as well as to catch up a bit. After everything he did you kind of couldn't just leave. Besides, Tara and Sam were meeting this girl, Quinn Bailey if you remembered correctly, in public, far enough from the apartment. Her dad was a cop, so that made it easier to drop your guard a bit.

As long as Tara and Sam were fine with the girl, you were sure you'd be fine with her too. If you were being completely honest, if Quinn managed to convince Sam she was harmless she was almost definitely in.

When you joined Tara, Sam, and who you assumed was Quinn, you quickly leaned down to kiss Tara's cheek, gave Sam a brief one-armed hug, and only then offered your hand to Quinn. "Y/N L/N, sorry I'm late," you said.

Quinn accepted the handshake. "Damn, and I thought Sam was jacked, but look at you," she whistled as you sat down next to Tara.

Well, it wasn't the first time someone noticed your muscles. "Right, moving on," not the best first impression, but you could brush it off. Tara, who was frowning, probably wouldn't though.

"Where's the rush? I wouldn't mind having some fun," what was this woman trying to accomplish? You really couldn't figure it out. Was she trying to piss Tara off or something?

"Well, have fun. Without me," you reached down underneath the table to rub circles into Tara's right palm. Feeling the way she squeezed your hand it was the right decision.

"Life, I have found, is about variety, Y/N," she leaned in, reaching over toward your hand.

"Mine is about one person," you pulled your hand back before she could touch it. Tara loosened her hold on your hand, but still leaned a bit closer. You could see she was glaring daggers at Quinn and Sam didn't appreciate it either.

Quinn had a bit of a frown on her face, but it quickly changed and she began laughing. "I'm just joking with you, though I really wouldn't mind taking a closer look," she openly ogled you.

Tara faked a cough. "Well, I'm not. I'm sorry we wasted your time Quinn," there was no need for Tara to finish that sentence.

Quinn had the guts to look shocked. "Are you serious right now?"

"Absolutely," Sam took Tara's side and you just shrugged, as if to tell her 'Well, what did you expect would happen?'

"Unbelievable," Quinn pretty much stormed off.

"Do we really need a roommate? The extra bedroom can be used if Chad or Mindy decide to sleep over," Tara voiced what all three of you were thinking.

"That's probably the best option," Sam agreed.

"You won't catch me complaining, that's for sure," you were definitely in favor of keeping the apartment to just the three of you. Not to mention it was the safest option.

"Speaking of the apartment, let's go back," Tara was already up and pulling you along. Sam still had her job interview, so it would just be you and Tara.

You could see she was still pissed off by the time you reached the building, so you picked her up bridal style. "Don't tell me you're jealous," you eventually asked and grinned as Tara placed her arm on your back.

"I'm not," she huffed as she unlocked your apartment.

She locked the doors behind you two and you went right to the bedroom. "What is it then?" you asked and lowered her down on the bed,

"You're mine," okay, that sounded way more possessive than you were used to from Tara. She said you were hers every now and then, this tone was different. This wasn't born of passion, or said in the heat of the moment, this was pure jealousy.

"So, you are jealous," you sighed, letting her pull you in until you were pressing against her.

"Of course I am. She, she just-" Tara huffed and let go of you, spreading her arms on the bed. You immediately recognized the mood swings from right after the attack. Your best guess was that this one was caused by Quinn attempting to take you from Tara.

"Tara," you slowly kissed her neck, gradually making your way up to her lips. "I'm yours. The only variety I want to consider is the variety of ways I can make you say my name," you grinned a bit as you heard Tara's breath hitch.

No fourth roommate. Just the three of you. With Woodsboro left behind. It felt like nothing could go wrong. You should have known better. You should have noticed Tara was too focused on ignoring Woodsboro.

You should have realized Tara was running away the moment you caught her covering the scar on her hand.

You only realized it two months after you came to New York when she first disappeared.

~X~

She may have had a bit too much to drink tonight. That might be a bit difficult to explain in the morning. Where was she anyway? She felt nauseous, but she still drank whatever alcohol was currently in her cup. Who exactly brought her here anyway? She was at one party, then somehow ended up at another one. Maybe. At this point, she was too drunk to know for sure.

How was she going to get home?

Oh well, problems for later.

She felt hands on her waist. The grip was strong. You? No, no, it was too firm, too forceful. She stumbled back, her head clearing enough to vaguely recognize a guy who was at the first party.

"What's wrong? You want this, right?"

She heard the words, but she couldn't quite understand them. The alcohol was making it very hard to stay steady on her feet. Oh, this was a mistake.

"No," she slurred, a lot like how her mother would and for a moment she felt disgusted by her behavior.

The guy laughed, clearly not believing her. "I'll take good care of you, don't worry about it."

Even as drunk as she was she felt her blood run cold. "Y/N," you weren't there, you weren't with her. She imagined your voice, telling her to breathe, angry at her, but more than anything worried about her asthma.

There was a crash and what sounded like wood cracking and then she felt safe. She felt the fresh air against her cheeks, strong arms holding her close, protecting her from anything and anyone. "I got you Tara, I got you," she heard and fell asleep in your arms.

~X~

You came back to the apartment when it was almost midnight, with Tara completely passed out due to who knows how much alcohol she drank. Sam met you at the doors, her legs too shaky to let her meet you outside. You weren't doing much better, you had hundreds of worst-case scenarios running through your head.

Sam reached out to Tara when you stopped at the front door. She shakily touched Tara's cheek, then lowered her hand to wipe a bit of drool coming out of Tara's mouth.

"Y/N...?" there was a silent question in the way Sam said your name. You saw fear in her eyes, and you were sure it was in your eyes as well.

"I think I made it in time," she nodded when you said that, leaving the unspoken question to hang in the air. The terrifying possibility that might happen if Tara doesn’t stop doing this. You didn't say it, and neither did Sam, but when you lowered Tara on the bed as gently as you possibly could Sam stepped out. So, you checked, just in case. Just in case you had to immediately get back to that damned house and murder anyone still there.

Luckily, you don't need to do that. Your hands trembled as you put your shirt on Tara and you released a muffled cry of relief when Tara just curled up, peacefully sleeping in your bed. "God damn it, Tara," you stumbled to the dining room, where Sam is expecting you. "Everything's fine," you fell apart the moment you dropped into the chair.

You pressed your hands against your eyes as you began sobbing uncontrollably. For hours you managed to hold it in, and now it all came crashing down upon you. You tried to keep it down, to be as silent as possible, but all those efforts resulted in coughs and gasps as more sobs tore through your body.

Sam was no different. shaking and crying her heart out and you just stumbled over to her and pulled her closer. And she let you, she clung to you in a way that reminded you of Tara. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, or how long it took for tears to dry up. You just feel lighter when you separate from Sam.

"We owe Anika," you finally say, your voice cracking and hoarse, you're tired from all the crying.

Sam nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.

You realized Tara was gone when, around eight p.m. you called Mindy to see why Tara wasn't answering her phone. And then all hell broke loose because Tara wasn't with Mindy or Chad, and she wasn't answering her phone. So, it turned into an all-out search. Driving from one party to another until Mindy called you an hour and a half later. Anika saw Tara at a party and before Anika could do anything Tara left with all the wrong people.

It took slamming a man into the wall to get the address. Miles away from where you were. Miles away from your apartment. So, you drove even more recklessly than you did when you were trying to catch up to Sam.

And you found Tara.

And you wouldn't be surprised if you broke more than a couple of bones at that house.

And you called Sam to tell her the moment you lowered Tara onto the backseat of your car.

And you brought Tara back home.

And she was fine.

Just so damn drunk she barely even registered you were there.

You'd deal with Tara's recklessness first thing in the morning. Right now, you just needed to go to bed and hold her.

A/N: Honestly, I think Tara was mostly fine in Woodsboro, but then New York gives her all the opportunities to pretend nothing wrong happened, and we gradually reach Scream 6 Tara from the party. Anyway, thanks for reading, if you, perhaps, have any predictions for Scream 6 part of the story, I'd love to hear them. No, I will not change it if you guess correctly. Thanks for reading, see you next time! Updated on: 30.03.2024.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

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