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weixuldo · 6 months

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Like a Drug

Toxic!Anakin x Reader

a/n: hihihi, this one is a pretty long one shot ahh sorry! its based on this ask from @hanasnx ! (Though I did change the promp a little) I just wanted to also update that It is officially finals week- so I'll be slower than i alr am SORRY!! but i have been working on the next xhapters of allow me and enigma when i get breaks!! I hope u enjoy! ALSO! Please don't stay w someone if they act the way anakin does in this fic- this is purely a scenario for fictional purposes, never let anyone do anything he does, to you.

Anakin has a very peculiar way of showing his love; well you call it love other people call it an unhealthy obsession... you finally realize how fucked up the situation is and leave- but the real question is how long can you stay away?

warnings: cursing, toxic bf ani, smex, cumplay, agressive behavior, mention of blood, fights, alluded sexual harassment, anakin is obsessive and posessive. (he's does some fucked up shit)

_____________________

“Get up” Anakin’s stern voice rang as he gripped your upper arm.

You jumped at the unexpected contact- why was Anakin here?

“Ani! You scared m-” you started to laugh before he tightened his grip.

“Now.” he growled.

You looked back at your friends sitting across the table from you; their eyes were wide. Before you could say anything, Anakin started to pull you up.

“Let go of her!” one of your friends demanded.

He snapped his head towards her and only loosened his grip on you to stomp to the other side of the table. His tall frame towered as he glared daggers at her.

“The fuck did you just say?” he spat.

She went pale and looked down at her lap.

“That’s what I thought. Anyone else have any smart comments?” he huffed, before promptly pulling you out of the restaurant.

Before you made it all the way out the door you mouthed an “its ok” to your friends before following your boyfriend outside.

“Anakin, what the fuck?” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air.

He continued towards his sleek black camaro (he loved to drive through the city at night, music blaring and his hand on his property, your thigh).

“Don’t fucking ignore me Anakin!” you shouted, gaining the attention of an older couple who were heading inside the restaurant.

Your cheeks burned as you caught their stares, but honestly you were used to this shit, it wasn’t the first time you and Ani had made a scene in public. Anakin always did this- he would get pissy over some irrelevant thing and you would get into an argument.

He stopped and turned with such anger.

“You really wanna know? You shouldnt have to fuckin’ ask why I’m upset! If you ever thought of anyone but yourself you’d see how fucked up it is of you to get dinner with those bitches who want to break us up” he screamed; his beautiful blue eyes dark with rage.

You knew Anakin hated your friends. And you knew they hated him.

“You know they don’t like me and always try to get you to leave- Meanwhile those sluts cant keep their legs shut; they’re probably just jealous cause I’m the only guy who gets to fuck you and they have to find a new one every night!” he spat.

Most of your friends were in stable relationships, but of course Anakin didn’t bother to remember that.

“How am I selfish Anakin? I just wanted to grab dinner with the girls and you didn’t even come up. I told them not to bring you up after the last fight” you sighed, exhausted from Anakin's irrational moods.

His sculpted jaw clenched and his right eye twitched.

“It's the fact that you still even allow their company, it’s disrespectful.”

You shook your head and huffed in disbelief.

“Anakin, you are absolutely unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable… Do you even hear yourself right now?!” you screamed.

“And not that it should even fucking matter, but how did you even know I was with them?”

“I have your location- you know that” he stated as if you asked if the sky was blue.

“I know that, but how about them?”

He knew where they were because he made several alternative snapchat accounts and pretended to be someone from school who was just looking for new friends.

He spent nights pretending to be an excited freshman who was wondering where the science building was. He used remix to send your friends snaps that made it look like he was on campus or hanging out downtown with other students. And eventually he gained their trust enough for them to turn on their snap map for him so he could “make sure they were safe” if they went somewhere, since it's “dangerous for us college girls down here”.

“Intuition.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “No way, you probably chipped their phones or some psycho shit cause you’re fucking crazy Anakin!”

“Well if you just goddamn did what I told you we wouldn’t have to have these conversations or be in these situations” he replied dryly.

“How many fucking “rules” are there for me to follow?! Everytime I go out or do anything, you find something to nit pick! It's exhausting! I don’t even know why I’m still with you?!”

“Get in the car.” he demanded.

“You’re insane if you think-”

His whole demeanor shifted and he sighed, “baby, please… I’m sorry, let’s talk about this”.

“No, Anakin- i’m done with your bullshit” you said, heading back towards the building.

He felt his scarred eye twitch, but he needed to subdue his temper (just until he could take it out on your pretty pussy).

See, Anakin Skywalker was a master manipulator. He knew that no matter how much you fought or how insane he acted- you would always come back.

This was clockwork for him. You’d fight, he’d act vulnerable, you would fuck, and then you’d be good for a while. A perfect system. Never failed.

He called your name with a desperate plea- he had no problem acting needy if it got him to where he needed to be, plus this gave you the illusion of having power in this familiar situation.

You hesitantly turned around to meets his gaze; his beautiful blue eyes glassy with his brilliant manipulation.

“Baby, I’m sorry- I just worry about you..” he spoke softly as you subconsciously came closer.

Soon his strong arms were wrapped around your waist and his scent flooded your senses.

“You know I can't control my feelings sometimes- I just love you too much- I can’t lose you too…” he whispered into your hair.

You knew exactly what he was referring to with the “too”- his mother. He was very close with her, growing up she was all he had. A few years back she passed away and it took a big toll on your lover.

You never wanted to admit it, but you knew he used that to guilt trip you into staying or to get you to feel bad for him.

You hated him.

But you couldn’t stop…

You held him tighter and grabbed his shirt fabric, “I know Ani… I know”.

You were now crying too- You knew this was unhealthy- toxic even; but you just couldn’t quit him.

You felt his strong arms lift you up and he carried you towards his camaro; you knew what came next… He’d comfort you, fuck you, then you would act as if no argument ever happened.

A cycle you had gotten all too familiar with.

__________________________________

“F-fuck” Anakin stuttered as he slammed his cock into you; intensive sounds of your bodies colliding, ricochet off the bedroom walls.

“You feel s-so good Baby- doin’ so good for me” he praised as he thrusted in and out of your plush walls. You were lying on your back as he held one of your legs over his shoulder so he could hit even deeper.

The glorious feeling of his calloused hands along your smooth stomach made you shiver. When you first started dating Anakin he told you that he would please you so well that no other men would be able to compare.

he was right…

No man could navigate your body the way he does, read your tells like he could, no man could make you cum as well as Anakin could.

He slowed his hips for a moment making you whine at the lack of movement from his thick cock.

“Look at me baby”.

You blinked your doe eyes open, tears falling from the corners. He observed your features before his eyes softened.

“My girl, my pretty girl… always so lovely” she smiled before tenderly kissing you.

“I love you more than anything” he whispered against your plump lips.

This.

Moments like this were why you stayed: he could be kind- he was sweet- he did care.

You were about to reciprocate his statement but were cut off by his hand tightly gripping around your throat as he continued snapping his hips into yours.

You squealed with each powerful thrust- it was ok, you’d tell him later.

His swollen member was blushing red and as hard as could be. He absolutely adored having you below him, taking his dick like a champ- he remembered how proud he was when you were finally able to take all of him.

A particularly hefty thrust sent his neurons firing and he knew he was almost at his end. He sloppily bucked his hips into your pelvis as his breathing became more erratic.

“I’m gonna cum- w-where do you want it sweet girl?” he half stuttered, half moaned.

You patted your chest and gave Anakin a knowing look.

With that he was gone, his brows knitted together in ecstasy and his hips lurched forward. A string of obscenities left his mouth as he quickly slid his dick out of you to aim for your chest.

Barely one pump in, his warm seed coated your chest. You watched as his abs and thighs contracted with each wave of pleasure. Some of his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he had a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks were flushed.

What a beautiful sight.

_________________________________________

Anakin’s fingers tucked some wild strands of hair behind your ear as you slept peacefully beside him.

Last night cut it a little closer than he normally would have, but it all worked out because here you were, still with him- fast asleep in his bed.

He grabbed your phone and began to go through your messages (an unhealthy habit he picked up a few months back), his fingers immediately moved to the new notifications from your friends.

He opened the pinned group chat and read the messages from last night.

Where r u? Where’d he take u?

Are you alright?

WTF was that?!

Anakin rolled his eyes; your friends were always so dramatic. But he smiled when he saw your response.

“Guys i'm good, ani took me home and we talked things out- he’s just been really stressed out lately, it's nothing to worry about!”

You were his good girl and he’d spoil you today for your loyalty.

He continued to scroll passively until he got to the newer unread messages.

y/n, can we all please talk when you get back- we’re worried about you

Yea, anakin doesn’t seem like he has the best intentions

We hate to see you in this situation

Babe, he’s toxic- u need to dump him

“...u need to dump him”

Anakin almost threw the phone across the room- no way these bitches were telling you to dump him?!

He was the only one who took care of you, he was the only one who knew what was best for you- who did these girls think they were?!

Before he could stop himself he took out his own phone and copied all of their numbers down so he could send several nasty message to the girls basically telling them to back the fuck off and being unnecessarily hateful.

After he blocked their numbers, he decided it was time for a shower, so he left you with a kiss and headed to the bathroom.

The emptiness of the bed made you wake. For a moment, you began to search for Anakin but the shower in the other room indicated where he was.

You smiled and cuddled further into his sheets. The warmth of the blankets began to pull you back into slumber but your phone interrupted the notion.

It was one of the girls you had gotten dinner with last night, what would she be calling this early for?

“Hello?”

y/n, I’m sorry but you need to come back now, I don’t think it's the best idea for you to be with anakin-

“Wait, slow down… why?”

She sent you screenshots of the messages he sent and you almost dropped your phone.

“What the fuck?! Anakin sent this?”

Yes, this morning- I really think you should get out of that relationship y/n- I’ve been telling you this! He’s trying to make you dependent on only him- it's not healthy!

You took a moment to regain your thoughts and quickly said a goodbye when you heard the water stop running.

Why would he be so cruel? You knew he had his issues but he’d never been so explicitly viscous before. Maybe your friends were right, you had been manipulated so much that you were defending his toxic behavior. This had to stop.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to face him for long (he would just pull you back in). So you quickly began to gather your things so that it would be easier to leave after you talked with him.

You almost had everything packed when the doorknob turned to reveal a fresh Anakin; his hair was still damp from the shower and his skin had a glistening shine from the residual steam. He had such a big smile… you hated this, but it needed to be done.

“What’s going on princess?” he frowned when he saw your bag was already packed.

“Anakin… I have to go” you said hurriedly.

He moved in front of you and held up a hand, “Woah, can we talk about what’s going on? Why are you leaving in such a hurry?” he asked (genuinely worried).

With a sigh, you looked him in the eye, “Anakin- we can’t keep doing this- we aren’t good for eachother”.

He felt his chest tighten.

“Was it your friends? Did they put those thoughts in your head?! I told you they weren’t-”

“Anakin! Please, enough! I saw what you said to them- Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not acting like the man I fell in love with… You’ve changed so much” you said with watery eyes.

For a moment he looked as if he were going to punch something but eventually he let out a breath and defeatedly stood to the side. Your words seemed to really hit him.

“Angel, I do what I do because I love you- you know that. I know I’m messed up- but I’ve been working on it, Truly” he promised.

Tears fell as you shook your head, “I know Ani, but it's not fair to me- I can’t keep doing this! We always end up fighting and you always get upset”

“I DON'T!” Anakin unintentionally shouted, making you shrink away from him.

“This is what I'm talking about Ani, I don’t wanna do this- no, i’m not doing this anymore. I’m leaving” you said, grabbing your things and heading for the door.

He called your name but you ignored him, you almost got to his front door when he grabbed your upper arm.

“Let go!” you shouted, snatching your arm from his hold.

“Please, just leave me alone” you cried as you walked out of the house and headed for the uber you sneakily called while he was still in the shower.

As the uber drove away, you saw a confused and hurt Anakin standing in his driveway.

You put your head in your hands and cried…

It needed to be done.

It had to.

_________________________________________

A few months later

The early autumn air nipped at your skin as you haistilly exited the rowdy club. You shivered and crossed your arms after checking the time.

10:34 pm

You had only gotten to the damn club 30 minutes ago and you already wanted to leave. You and some friends had gone out to reward yourselves for a hard week (and to hopefully get your mind off of your ex).

Some guy in the club had gotten a little too handsy fior your comfort- he attempted to put his hand up your dress and grope your breasts while you were just leaning over the bar to order another drink. You slapped him across the face and made your way outside to get some air.

You wanted to leave; as you stood by the curb you felt the familiar sting of tears pricking at your eyes.

Fuck.

The sensation of alcohol warmed your tummy and clouded your thoughts. Warm, strong hands protecting you from any other man who dared to look at you. Fierce blue eyes warding off any unwanted attention-

No.

You physically shook your head and opened your phone to distract yourself. There was no fucking way you were thinking about him right now. You scrolled to your uber app and looked up rates for a ride back to your apartment.

$40, $35, $47, $32, $43

The rates were through the roof, no way you were going to pay that just to get a few blocks home.

Almost instinctively, your hands moved so that your thumb was shivering over Anakin’s number.

What were you doing?!

You were about to swipe off when you realized: you weren’t willing to take an expensive uber, but you also didn’t want to walk that far in heels and at night. Maybe you should call him… at least you know him and he does owe you a favor anyways.

Fuck it.

You unblock and dial his number.

Ring…

Ring…….

Ring………..

Voicemail.

You groaned. You knew very well what he was doing- he was making you call several times so that you would look desperate. He loved doing that shit. You dialed again.

Ring…

Rin-

“Hey sweet thing, finally came to your senses?” he said, smugness dripping off his every word.

“Anakin- please come pick me up” you sniffed.

“And why would I do that? Why would I do you a favor after you’ve been such a bra-”

“Ani- someone tried to touch me- I wanna go home” you cried.

The other end of the phone went silent. Anakin’s eye began to twitch and his grip on the phone tightened.

“Where?” he gritted out.

“What? I’m on fourth street, over by the old mill-”

“Where did he touch you?” he interrupted.

You took a breath- maybe you shouldn’t have called Anakin, you knew he was going to cause a scene- but at the same time a dark part of you wanted him to become violent with his passion for you.

“He put his hand up my skirt and started groping my breas-”

“I’m on my way” is all he said before finally adding-

“That fucker is dead.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, Ani was coming.

___________

Anakin’s knuckles were a fiery red as he dealt several blows to the man who had dared to touch his girl. His vision clouded by rage and hatred; how dare someone try to touch what was his.

Sure, you were broken up (or so you thought); but anakin saw it as just a small break- You were getting back together- he knew it.

All he was waiting on was your call.

Once he was satisfied, he stood up and shook the blood off of his hand. He looked over his work; the man’s face wa bloodied and his lip was cracked (there was also possibly a tooth missing but Anakin didn’t really give a fuck).

He leaned over and spat, “Don’t ever touch someone who isn’t yours again”.

He made his way through the crowd of stunned onlookers who all began to back away from him as he headed towards the bathroom. Once he got there, everyone stepped out and allowed him to walk in with no hesitation (They didn’t want to get on his bad side in any shape or form).

He leaned on the sink and examined the cut on his cheekbone.

Whatever.

He turned on the faucet and washed the blood from his hands; no need for his beautiful girl to see the blood of a fucking perv.

He dried his hands and exited the building to collect you from outside the building.

You stood there, arms crossed, his jacket draped over your shoulders: his Angel.

“Hey, sweetheart” he called in a soft voice as he put his arm around you.

You looked at him with big eyes.

“Are you alright?” He kissed your forehead.

You nodded and hugged him closer to you.

“It's all taken care of, let's get you home”

______

“I knew you’d come back” he broke the silence in the car (well, the radio was on- but you hadn’t spoken since he left the club).

“Anakin, can we please not talk about this right now? '' you said quietly.

He glanced at you and put a tender hand on your thigh.

“Angel, these past few weeks without you have been hell… I’m sorry for how I acted- I love you”.

You knew this was just another way he was trying to manipulate you- he definitely don’t attempt to better himself, but you couldn’t help but indulge him- after all… you missed him too. You placed one of your hands on top of his and met his eye.

“Ani- will you take me to your’s?” you asked shyly, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights in his bed.

He smiled and rubbed his hand along your leg, “Of course darling”.

“Maybe I can help relieve some of your stress too,” he added with a deeper tone.

You mentally sighed- of course he wanted that; but you also wouldn’t mind having him near you again, so you politely nodded with a smile.

He squeezed your thigh, “That’s my girl, I knew you couldn’t quit me that easy”

You turned your head to look out the window at the bright city once more… He was right- you just couldn’t quit him.

***

Once again anakin is completely fucked up in this fic- pls dont romantiscice this behavior in real life... other than that- I hope you enjoyed the fic lmfaooo. I haven't really written ani as an actually problamatic character before, its mostly just like rude or grumpy ani lmfao. but ty for stopping by!!

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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I Never Missed You 2/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.3 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Smutty smut ahead in this chapter. Brace yourselves for impact.

Part 1

You have to admit that you look dashing tonight.

And not because you want to turn people's heads at the party… But because you want him to look at you like you're the most forbidden snack he will never have.

It's selfish and petty, and you're just seeking attention. But at least you have the balls to admit it: you want Simon Riley to drool after you. You want this man on his knees. And nothing else has worked except that bra.

So you turn to the world's oldest weapon. A woman's weapon. Seduction.

"I'd suggest you keep a low profile until we're done."

He looks at you through the mirror while you finish your hair. Uses the word we instead of I. It makes your heart ache… And you take even that lecturing comment as a compliment. So he does think you look nice, or at least nice enough to stand out. You read into every look, every little tone of voice he gives you.

"I thought we were supposed to lure him in," you say while you neaten your necklace. Of course you look nice. You have done everything you can to look ravishing tonight: a deep-cut, thigh-revealing dress, cat eye makeup, red lipstick...

"Yeah but not like this."

"I'm not locking myself inside the house because of this," you announce pointedly. "I'm not afraid to live my life."

You turn and look him up and down, give him a little tilt of the head. "Don't you have anything else to wear?"

He doesn't shrink, doesn't bat an eyelash. Just looks down on you from that ivory tower of masculine prowess and makes you feel like a fool for being so dolled up.

"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness," he states, not falling for your attempts to make him feel small in your world. You suspect there is so much more to this man, but you don't care to know about the circumstances he grew up in, the situations that gave him that broken nose and lip. You don't want to know about his broken soul.

Or perhaps you do...

"I suppose you know everything about that," you say while looking straight at the uneven scar on his jugular.

"I do."

"Tragic past?"

"You could say that."

You feel even more silly, standing before him in all your glory, pearls in your ears and silver around your neck. You pay this man for his services; he's supposed to protect you. But something in his eyes told you from the start that there lies an abyss inside this man. And you didn't pay for that: a peek inside his heart. But a door is open a creak now, and what's inside is pure darkness.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Your cultured attempt to dance around his chasm makes those brown pools melt. Finally, he melts. But not to compassion, or mercy, or anything that would make you believe that you two understand each other.

He looks at you like you're a stranger from another planet. He's intrigued but doesn't quite understand how a creature like yourself has come to be. You're not only a child in his eyes but a coward as well for not daring to open that door to hell.

"What do you think," you hurry to change the subject. "Will I do tonight?"

He’s always so hyper-vigilant, his stare fixed on everything else but you. It feels childish, to be jealous of his attention when all he’s trying to do is protect you.

But now… Now that alert darkness bores straight into you.

"You look good in everything, ma'am."

A breeze of arctic wind goes through your scalp, and a fainting warmth settles in your belly.

You tiptoed your way to the fridge yesterday morning, before official breakfast, in your knickers and an old band merch from your youth - the one you still slept in sometimes because it was far more comfier than your silk pajamas. He walked in fully dressed and mighty while you were sneaking back upstairs with a glass of apple juice. The humiliation was overwhelming, especially when he dared to look you up and down in your state of underdress.

"Goodness… Sorry."

It should’ve been he who was supposed to say those words. But you felt like an intruder in your own house. It was a dangerous slip: to look so homely, with no brush stroke gone through your hair, with no toner on your skin. With no makeup and standing there before him in all your…you.

"No harm done."

He had never looked at you like that, and you swore right then and there that you would only descend those stairs with your full battledress from now on.

"Even in an old t-shirt…?" You ask with a tight voice. Desperate. Longing…

"Especially then."

Simon Riley strips you from your weapons and charades in a second. Your tight, seductive smile slowly falls off your face, and from behind it, a fragile, naked hope arises to gape at him. He clears his throat as if he just offered you an entire bowl full of ice cream when he was supposed to give you only a little scoop.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, calm and adamant, like a statue you would go to see at a gallery.

"I'm afraid we should be going already."

"Takes 5 minutes."

You purse your lips, and he's on his way to the bathroom before you can even give him your nod. The guy is used to military showers, then, and perhaps it's for the better that he puts on at least some effort.

When he comes out, you're sitting in the hallway, and he's only wearing a towel. It's the one you gave him when he arrived, the softest you could find from your closets. You remember how the first odd thought you had upon seeing this man is that he probably isn't used to softness.

And now you see why.

You can see the prominent veins and the sketchy forearm ink, his muscles are magnificent to the point of unholy, he has a delicious, thin layer of fat on top of his belly, and the eyelashes aren't the only breath of hair that's pale on this man… But he looks like he has gone through an inferno.

His back is full of scars, and half of his shoulder looks like it has been dipped into a deep fryer. You catch a hollow dent between his ribs, and there's more, but he walks to his room before you see the rest of it.

The taxi drive to the party is filled with silence as you try to digest what you just saw. You want to call your lawyer and demand him to tell you where the hell did he find this man and who Simon Riley truly is. Who exactly does he work for when he's not taking bodyguard jobs?

But the first thing you do when you arrive at the large party held in a small palace is to go to the punch bowl and down a glassful in one go.

He's on your heels the whole night, eyes everyone with a hawk stare, and does his job perfectly. He grabs your arm occasionally and whispers in your ear if someone seems suspicious. After one and a half hours, he comes to you and practically demands that you two leave. Normally, you would start an argument, but not tonight.

You kind of want to go back home, too. The people at the party seem tedious, and his scars have reminded you that even if you live in a world where violence is not the norm, it doesn't mean that other worlds don't exist. Otherworlds - where people get shot, stabbed, and blown apart. Whipped and cut and deep-fried. You're in danger, and it took his suffering to see that.

You have been so stupid that you just about wish someone would slap you.

Simon has been so patient with you that you nearly apologize on the ride back home. You want to beg his forgiveness and confess you have been a spoiled little idiot.

But again, that's not an easy thing to do. You turn to look at your forbearing bodyguard, ever silent in the taxi, and turn your voice to silk.

"You really should smile more," you suggest. He doesn't answer, just looks out your window as if there were perils there too. You suddenly realize anyone could shoot through the glass or the door at any given time. With a proper caliber, a bullet could pierce that window and coat his black shirt with the insides of your skull.

No. No. I'm not ducking my head.

There's no one there.

"Have you ever tried?"

You turn to humor and flirt to drive those intrusive thoughts from your head. He doesn't yet know that you're afraid, that you have been afraid this whole time. You should have bought that armored car.

"Am I your most annoying client ever…?" There's a smile on your lips, a little pardon for being so infuriating. His eyes drop there, then lift back up to your eyes with surprising seriousness.

"You're my first client ever."

Well… This was news.

"Oh. Why did you accept this job?"

His stare sails away from you and back to the London night. You stifle the urge to grab his hand, a fistful of his shirt, to draw his attention back to you. Every time he's around, you feel safe; every time he looks at you, everything else ceases to exist.

You want him so badly you could cry.

"They don't teach you manners at the SAS…?"

"No. They teach us how to kill."

You scoff and turn to look through the window, too.

"Brute."

"You're entitled to your opinion, ma'am."

When you reach your house, he uses that term again. You're 110 % sure he's only trying to annoy you.

"Good night, ma'am."

"Stop it," you nearly slam your purse on the table in the hallway.

"What?"

"The ma'am thing…!"

You sound like a wife who's looking for an argument after putting on a charade all evening. When the door to your home closes, volcanoes erupt, and bombs drop, your husband-like bodyguard gets the blunt of your fear and frustration.

But how do you argue with someone who never argues back? He's calm like the Pacific during a stormless season, always, always gets calmer when you're going berserk. He walks to the armchair in your living room like he owns the whole goddamn place and sits down with a sigh.

And there is a smile playing on his lips.

"What should I call you then?"

You look at him, dumbstruck, on that chair, spreading his legs like there's no tomorrow, arms comfortably on the armrests, and mouth drawn into a genuine, peaceful, thoroughly naughty smile.

"Oh, now you're smiling," you huff. The unbelievable audacity of this man… "Some ideas on what to call me popped into your head?"

"Verily."

"Go on then."

"Nah. You should go to sleep."

"I'm not going until you tell me."

You cross your arms over your chest to underline that ruling. His smile only widens. He looks wickedly delicious in that seat with his legs spread, and the chair doesn't swallow him like it swallows you. Actually, his shoulders are wider than the back panel of this enormous chair.

"Well," he begins, "’princess' came up first."

You try to catch what he just said through the stupor of wanting to climb on that wide lap.

"Truly? How original."

"Or spoiled brat."

You stop breathing for a second, then reel straight toward a spiral of–

"How dare you?"

You notice his eyes dropping to your heaving breasts again. This man is so different from a dinner-offering, cunning man in a suit. He has no pretenses whatsoever. He looks at you with that little smile, eyes burning, legs drifting apart even more, probably his cock stirring from how you are trying to chastise him. If you had pearls around your neck, you would clutch them. Or throw them at him.

"You son of a–"

"Pretty."

His next choice renders you speechless; it cuts through your insult before it even flees your mouth. You gape at him, jaw open, breathing and cheeks burning, pussy throbbing - soaked so thoroughly now that you feel a tiny droplet cascade down your thigh.

"Yeah. That's better," the man says as if he's also blessed with a Superman stare, knowing you're seconds away from drenched. "Better than brat or princess, anyway."

The darkness conceals most of him as he settles inside that massive chair he dwarfs. You are falling, or at least that's what it feels like. A tumble, a slip inside his Styx. But there's no bottom, and the water is warm ink, despite the fact that he's so blanched.

"Pretty…?" You whisper into that water, breathe onto the surface of his depths. The darkness answers immediately.

"Very."

Your swallow is a wet, nervous roll inside your throat when you sink into that river of lust and smoke.

You take your jewels off first, because you know he doesn't care for them. Money's not his chief interest, even if he's being paid. And fat, at that. But he's not here for riches, he’s not here for the jewels – or that's what you desperately wish.

The necklace and pearls are gone soon, tucked away on the table with your trembling digits, and he's sitting there like a statue.

You have no trouble with this dress: the zipper seems to cascade down on its own as you reach behind your back. He's motionless as you slip out of the straps that keep the dark velvet up. You feel like you're the Styx: but the darkness of the river pools at your feet as you let go of the gown, let go of everything and continue your freefall.

He doesn't move, doesn't give evidence that he's even breathing; he just sits there like a long-forgotten king.

The panic snares you with a drool-wet throat: you salivate not because of him but because of your nerves.

Are you… harassing him?

Does he want this…?

At least he thinks you're pretty – and you could laugh out loud; your thoughts are vain and petty, even when you're baring yourself before him in more ways than just one. Your breaths are audible distress inside that darkness, and he's still: everything's still.

But he moves when you reach for your bra.

It's just a hand that soars through the darkness, an involuntary reach for support and gathering of composure as his fingers find his jaw. They swipe across imagined stubble before he leans his head on that hand, just an ounce's worth of weight placed on his thumb and pointer as if he's simply in his thoughts. But the hawk stare is fixed on the lace covering your breasts as it falls on the floor too.

You hear his breaths now. Quicker on the inhale, heavy on the exhale. Your thumbs slide under the hem of the last piece of your veil, something you got from the store when you were feeling down. Now the underwear makes you feel better than ever - who would’ve guessed it's the moment you slither it off? Slowly, too: you’re being a tease, hip bones giving a two-second dance for him as he continues to watch you strip before him like the queen of the night.

You breathe in sync now, and your nipples perk up – he hasn't even touched you yet and you're more aroused than ever with a man.

Not a word spoken, and you fear you’re being delusional – if you've just imagined the heat between you two, but then those legs flare a hair's breadth more. His voice is the softest whip as it crackles through the void.

"Yeah... You're pretty. Now what?"

You breathe in gusts now. It's exhilaration, damnation.

"Jesus Christ, Simon."

The chair gives a creak as he rises, like an ancient shadow. Intimidating – intense, always, always, and you've been trying to coat him with soft towels and feed him toast. You wonder if he prefers black tea simply because it tastes more bitter than coffee rounded with milk.

Does he want this? Silly softness and toast and–

You get all your answers as he bends just enough to match your height, just enough to sweep you off your feet. Your hands go around his neck on instinct as he lifts you up from your rich, opulent Styx and into his sea.

You're quiet all the way upstairs – he can't fuck you downstairs, then, has to intrude on your luxury and privacy. You don't mind, especially when the steps give a desperate wail under your combined weight. He lets it sing its music to the night: your ruining already makes so much noise.

He reaches for his gun right after he’s placed you on the mattress. The sound of it is heavy when he sets it on the nightstand that has only seen glasses of water and apple juice and perhaps a few books.

He undresses with soldierly sharpness, no seduction there. But he doesn't have to seduce you: his stare and heavy-cold demeanor have already done that.

He's so, so different from the others… Looks at you on the bed like you're both a piece of tender sirloin and something akin to garbage. That's an accurate depiction of a princess, perhaps. You know wasps gather around both honey and bloodied meat.

He looks at you like that because you know nothing. And he's not here to ruin you… he's here to insert himself inside you like you're a foe that needs to be infiltrated, plundered and burned until you understand.

He's big. Daunting. A brute while you’re the princess, could be the sleeping beauty, the way you stay immobile and try to take in this man's sheer power. You saw him half naked already when he came from the shower, but it's nothing compared to seeing all that taut, scarred flesh up close, soon about to fall upon you like a broken mountain.

And what's between his legs is wholly proportional to the rest of him. That thing is a menace, and it's not even fully erect - hanging thick between thick thighs, foreskin revealing a fat, sloping tip, and he's veined all over…

Finally, your mouth goes dry.

His gaze sweeps your beauty, and that cock gives a throb – a good, hard pull that stretches out into the open air, and your eyes go wide. Then he prowls, like the king of the jungle, moving with a fluidity that must be scary to those who meet their end by this big brute’s violence.

You are able to take in air only when his hand falls next to your head. The other claims you by the middle as if to soothe you - but the truth is you're caged in like a tiny, quivering animal.

The hand is heavy as it slopes across your stomach and scales your mound. It doesn't cup or probe, only rests there over your most sacred place, like an enemy surrounding a city. Your thighs part slowly, hoping he would just sweep right in.

"This wasn't in the deal," he rasps as he looks down at you: heavy iron judging a diamond.

"Oh shut up," you breathe, thoroughly thrilled and shy. If you weren't lying down, his intensity would buckle your knees.

"Nor do I take orders from you, ma'am."

"I'm not- Don't call me a-"

His eyes spark as the hand dips down like a deep diver into the blue. You gasp a stunned whiff when he's met with a mortifying amount of slickness. Your arousal sings a pretty song as he draws a finger over your slit, the moist sounds followed by another stuttering sigh.

"Look at you all wet," he remarks, and you grit your teeth.

“Shut…up…”

"You know why I accepted this job?"

He wrecks you with one thick finger, rough skin lathering you with your own juice like he's trying to make a point here. And he is making a point: it comes across perfectly. The princess is a filthy mess for brutes…

And of course he was given a file on you too. With more than just one photo.

"Yeah," he rasps when you only look back at him with your felled deer helplessness. You could swear that he just heard your thoughts. "I think you know."

"You're–ah– a brute," you whisper, eyes shining. Your thighs part even more, feel yourself leaking over his fingers that stroke you agonizingly slow. You swallow with hunger, the need pangs on your cheeks. Your whole body is throbbing for him.

“Sticks and stones, love.”

He's so infuriating that you could slap him. Claw him, rip him apart. But you nearly laugh instead… It's far better an option to let him claw and rip you apart. He's tearing you apart right now, with those eyes and his hand, exploring you like you're the first course and he's here for the whole dinner. How can he be so calm?

"Could you…" You start, then realize you've never begged for this man.

"Hm? Talk to me," he commands. "Whatever ya want."

You whimper – from bliss or relief, you can't tell. The frantic need to serve is fully fleshed out in his tone. It surprises you. You thought he was here for his own pleasure.

You try to think through the bliss of his fingers. You've had all kinds of things... All you could ever want, most would say. But that's not entirely true. No man has ever promised to please you however you want.

"Could you go…"

"Go down on you?" He places a thumb, broad and hard, on your clit. Teases it with the slightest pressure and a circle. "Lick your cunt?"

Fuck…

He has no trouble saying it as it is, and you nod, still helpless.

"Sure. 'N after that I'll fuck you nice and good."

He's never, ever sounded like that before. Dark, and rich, the baritone reaching a level that speaks of hunger – no, need.

A brute, a pussy-drunk brute, the blood in your veins sing as he goes down. Nothing can prepare you for the way with which he manhandles his way between your thighs like they're only a petty distraction in the way. They're forced wide apart with a tight grip that speaks of urgency, but he takes his time to admire the sight bared before him. He’s drinking you in like ambrosia, towering above you while you’re being held open for him to just observe you like you’re a center-spread girl in a filthy magazine.

"You're fucking pretty down here, did ya know that?"

You don't even know what to say - his tone, his observation is base, and still, they're the most beautiful words anyone has ever said to you.

"No…?"

"Well now ya know."

He steals a final glance at you, and the fire in his eyes already makes your legs feel weak. He dives between your parted legs, right into your leaking, glistening folds, and you're suddenly glad that you've done all that yoga… Those shoulders are so broad they force your thighs even further apart as he makes himself home there between your legs.

A hot mouth presses against you like this man has been starving, even if you've fed him the best delicacies for days. An even, fat stroke is the first thing you feel before your toes curl and your head falls back.

"Goodness, Simon..." You try to keep yourself from stuttering as his mouth opens you like a flower. You should be quiet, for once, and let him do the job. He seems like an expert, even and especially there between your legs. "Do you-ah, always shag your clients?"

"Told you you're my first," he rasps a husky sigh on your folds. He could ruin you with that voice alone.... He gives you another sweep of his tongue, full and ample, and your fingers curl around the sheets, your hips buck; your ass drives up on instinct, trying to both escape his mouth and rub your pussy against those thin but eager lips.

"Don't worry," he tells your pussy with a warm chuckle. "This is free of charge."

You sigh, the first laugh of many up into the air. You're supposed to get angry, but you can't. You can't.

"Have… no words for you."

"Good. It's about time you stopped talking, love."

He grabs your hips to punctuate it that you should indeed shut up. Fingers sink into your flesh like you're a whole goddamn feast - no more fucking toast and teasing. His hands look so huge as they dig into your skin - so different from the hands of men who work in offices or wait for people to serve them. You upvoted those hands to be the best part of this man long ago.

And that bulk of muscle… Some of those men in suits might go to the gym, but they couldn't forge a body like his in a million years: that breathtaking mass built to work and endure harsh conditions. It's not a flex or a sculptured piece of art: it's simply survival - ancient and primal.

He's got darkness, and you got diamonds, but something tells you his depths are infinitely more valuable. You couldn't buy his intensity even if they sold it in the streets. The skull mask was self-made, everything in this man is self-made, and he's sampling what diamonds taste like, and you wonder… Does he think you're cheap, some fake piece of worthless junk? Does he laugh at how easy you are? That under your manners, you're only a spoiled brat and a promiscuous maneater…? Or that he couldn't care less, as long as he can push his cock inside you?

He gives you his best, that's for sure. A working man, with you as his assigned mission, and the feeling of being a spoiled little princess only increases. And how are you supposed to stay still if he's slow and attentive like that? You might be his first client, but you're not his first shag…

His lips seal tightly around your nub, suck it, lap it, sigh on it - he's already breathless from the need to make you moan and cum. A purpose-driven, ravenous man, and when he dips his tongue inside your cunt, your mind finally goes blessedly blank. Your legs shake and stretch, and you can’t prevent your hand from skimming down to grab his hair when he gives you deep, unhurried plunges with his tongue, huffing against you from the mad want to make you feel good.

You would never have guessed that Simon Riley would get such pleasure from licking a woman.

One hand disappears from around your thigh, and you guess it's one of his fingers that arrives, wide and thick, to tease your entrance. You can feel the smile on your folds as he slips it in, making you nearly jolt on the sheets. Your fingers instantly curl to tug that pale hair, to grab hold of something, and it makes him rumble inside you.

He doesn’t even wait for you to catch your breath as he adds another finger. Goes shallow at first, then pushes those fingers in to the knuckle. The feeling of being filled - and not being filled enough - is going to drive you crazy any second now.

"Simon…"

"Yeah?"

“I want you to… want you to…" you hear yourself choking on your beg as he works those fingers in and out of you while his lips are tight around your clit. He knows exactly what you're trying to ask.

And suddenly, it's he who breaks…

"Right. 'M gonna fuck you now, yeah?"

The spread is gone, and you're being moved - on your belly, and you briefly think whether it's because he can't bear to look into your eyes when he takes you. You don’t even have time to whimper from the loss of his fingers and mouth before heavy thighs force your legs aside. You’re being spread again, crudely, obscenely, like it’s just a procedure that has to be done. He’s both methodical and impatient, and you wonder - has he wanted to rail you like this ever since he saw you? Force you to lie down on your belly while he takes you from behind like a helpless damsel?

His hands come to your hips as if to make sure that you won’t run away from under him. As if you ever wanted to…

Something far fatter forces its way between your folds and straight onto your opening. He glides over your folds a few times, spreads your wetness all over his tip. Methodical still, but it makes you moan and swallow.

"Jesus…"

The lathering stops, the jutting cock settles right where your depths lie, and he chuckles. "Not quite, love."

Fuck…

Fuck this man's cheek and audacity. Fuck his size and pride, the way he knows what he's doing all the fucking time.

“Desperate for it?”

That stupidly fat cock just resides there, teasing your aching, leaking hole without going in. But it’s like he answers his own question because you feel the thick of him give a notch against your folds. So impatient. Thoroughly needy. It sends you further down the whirpool of desire, a searing white, fathomless deep..

“Yes..”

When he goes in with a leaden grunt, your muscles go into a spasm - he's too big, he hasn't prepared you right, and still, you force yourself to relax.

"Not what you expected?"

"It's… too much," you admit. He stops, realizing that for once in his life, he might've been an impatient man. Then he crawls forward, and you feel like you're about to be buried under a boulder as his weight bears down on you. Hands sink into the mattress on both sides of you, forcing you further up against him - you're floating, almost, to where you belong.

"Yeah? C'mon… You can take it."

You shudder. It's not even fully in yet?

He speaks too softly for it to be a demand, even when he's hovering on the brink of wanting to simply ram himself into your cunt. It's an encouragement. He’s cheering you on, like a coach. Or a leader... It’s leadership.

When you don't object, he starts to feed more of himself in. You try to remember how to breathe because you were wrong, you were so, so wrong - it was barely just the tip, and now you're stretched wide and tight. He's endless, and sinking in deeper, deeper….

And you want it so much - all of him- you want to grip him and never let go. One hand comes to sweep over your hip again, it caresses the swell of your ass, and you know he's looking down at how well you can take him after all.

"How are we doin'?"

Your lips are swollen, and your brows are creased tight. It's still not in…?

You’re fucked. Literally. But you can take him... You must.

You whimper when he slows down almost to a halt.

"Love. Tell me to stop 'n I'll stop."

"Just–gently," you whisper, brittle and shivering from joy.

"Don't worry. I got you."

Slowly, he arrives to the end of him and you. Hips flesh against yours, he’s out of breath before he even starts the thrusts. His length caresses places unfathomable in this position, and his weight is crushing you, even when he's supporting himself. It only feels like the safest place to be. Trapped there between your safe, soft bed and his safe, hard body.

The first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not uncomfortable; it’s just too much to take. You’ve never been so filled.

"Fuck…" He swears, somewhere between the third or fourth thrust. "You're…"

"Good…?" You offer him when he doesn't continue. You know he was possibly going to say tight or something crude like that and corrected himself before it spilled. He merely grunts as an answer - a barbarian through and through, you decree. And then the brute speaks…

"The best."

God. You feel like a diamond after all, but you've never been under so much pressure, fearing you might break.

"You-too…" It's a sad little mewl. You sound like a child trying to make friends. Latching a hook on him, no matter how tiny it is. One shake, one ripple from the behemoth, and it will fall loose.

"Don't go lying with that pretty little mouth," he warns.

"I'm not lying."

"Yeah…? Keep squeezing me like that and perhaps I'll believe you."

It's a strange feeling, to meet your mistrust and jealousy on him. He has no pretenses, but he has secrets, camouflage, and flash grenades that blind you from the truth. But even he can't hide it all when he's moving inside you, so close, so terribly close.

You melt into a pool of heat and want, trying to meet him midway by offering your cunt, arching your spine, driving yourself up to give him better access. What was possibly meant as a desperate fuck turns into a sweet, weightless rocking, a rhythm of him and you. The hands on your hip start to gain weight as he holds you still for him, at times even pulls you against his cock.

"C'mon… wanna hear you," he huffs, then slides one hand to your butt and gives it a fond squeeze when you won't instantly make noise. "You're always givin' me that cheek and now you're silent?"

It's a warm question, a thick baritone that settles into your stomach, then shoots downwards and makes you clench.

"Wh-what do you want me to say?"

"Want you to sing."

Of course the man who never talks won't shut up in bed. But he's not bullying you into submission, nor is he being mean. If anything, he sounds like he's finally on his knees.

And you don't want to be mean either. Not anymore. But you just can't help yourself from having a little fun now that he's finally desperate and inside you.

"Make me," you whisper, delivering your cheek with a wicked little smile.

The response is immediate: he dares to land a flat palm on your ass. Like you're a broodmare, a sirloin steak for him to feast on. And it does the job: you almost shriek, or at least that's how it sounds like when a parched little whine pushes through your vocal chords with violence.

"That's better," he barks, pleased with his work.

"You're horrible," you gasp. You're glad he put you face down on a pillow: you can only hope he doesn't see how happy you are in the darkness of his night.

"Yeah? And you're sweet."

It's said with gravel wrapped in silk. It hits you and ignites, starts a flame inside you without permission.

You want him in ways you shouldn't. You want… more breakfasts, him carrying you up the stairs, taking in the way you tip-toe around the house in an old t-shirt. You want to serve him back rubs and tea and see who he is when he's not being paid. You don't want a lap dog or a guard dog, you simply want...

Simon.

"I'm– I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch," you whisper. He sinks back on top of you until his nose nuzzles the back of your ear. He leans on his elbows, trying not to break you into too many little pieces, but the feeling of being confined couldn't be more blissful.

"Cock's that good?" He drags the following thrust, sparking your nerves aflame as he hits your core. But it's not brutal; if it is, it's the sweetest wrecking you could ever have imagined.

"Don't make me take my words back," your lips pull to a smile and a silent, inner laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He's smiling too. Inwardly, perhaps, but you can hear the mirth. His weight on top of you while you're lying under him on your belly, unable to move, unable to do anything other than take the full brunt of his cock as it spreads you open, is pure heaven.

"Want you to cum when I'm inside you," he rasps in your ear, lips brushing the underside of your jaw. "Think you can do that, princess?"

Being told to cum on command is a bit ridiculous, you think. But not when it comes from that Cockney mouth. Not when he asks so nicely. Your cunt pulls, claws at him.

"... I'll show you princess," you sigh, but it's only a second away from laughter. His fingers dig into your skin, the flush flesh of your ass. It feels possessive… Fond.

"Yeah. Show me. C'mon."

The camouflage gets slightly torn off by a wind of a smile. You can hear it on his lips. Sex should be fun, one of your friends always says. You had never thought about it like that. Bed is not the place for laughter and humor, you had thought. But now you are both on the brink of bursting with it.

"You're a fucking pretty one…" He grunts: a breathless, silent joy. "Know you want this as much as I do. Ain't that right?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought. So cum for me. Wanna hear the sounds you make."

You dance on the precipice already, and his voice causes your hand to shoot out to his. You drag that heated palm across your hips and your ribs, curl it next to you as if you were drawing a blanket over youself. It's a lover's caress, and his fingers slip between yours as he wraps around you like the protector that he is.

Your walls flutter, the thickness inside you makes you swell with every thrust. His hips are relentless as he buries himself into you with blunt force, his flesh clapping against yours and making your cunt clamp down on him. Sweet, sweet, sweet, your blood sings as your lids drift closed. The wave is coming, the final tsunami that will sweep you with it, and you will only succumb with joy.

"Don't-stop," you hear yourself beg through the heavy pants he's grunting on your neck.

"'M not gonna stop," he grunts into your ear, serious now.

"Fuh–Fuck me good and… hard," you're hiccuping through dry tears. It feels like there's a hammer and an anvil placed between your ribs. "I need you hard-"

"Shit…"

You barely grasp that he's about to lose his precious control before the midnight sea takes you under. The world fades into a tight know of blue and white and black, electric, ambient, something soft and hot at the same time. You're choking on your tears, moaning into the pillow like a poor, broken, tortured cat.

"That's fucking pretty," he swears on your neck as you cum. All humor is gone now, but he's not mocking you. He's just… emotional. The bulk of him rides you through the wave, but the rhythm of his hips becomes erratic.

"That's it, pretty… I'm gonna…Fuck," he huffs on your skin, a mist of want, and the cockhead rubs something profound inside you and makes you jolt in the middle of your molten euphoria. He grunts, swears, and does it again - bludgeons so deep it forces out a sob, just before he breaks too with a choked, wet swallow and a groan. A trembling colossus, you think, as he thickens and bursts inside you.

You're an aching mess when he comes, his thighs pressing over yours and forcing them far and wide as he buries himself into you to the hilt. He's a behemoth, spasming and crumbling right above you. The broad abs bunch against your back while his hips pin you down and spread you open. The cock pulses inside you, and you are barely able to think how it's a miracle that both his thick flesh and the pool of cum, all of it, just somehow fits there inside you…

A gentle brute until the end, he swallows again, thick and breathless, before giving a few tight rolls of his hips, emptying himself to the last drop. Slowly, you both still inside your bubble of warm, dark blue, something akin to a sea between a tropical storm and a calm sunrise, a drowsy reef shifting with the waves.

He's broken into a light sweat from the toil when he finally untangles your fingers. Your hips are kept in place with one hand as he slowly pulls out. You feel like you're left emptier than before, even if you feel the cum welling up inside, about to spill over.

Your bodyguard - your late-night fuck - collapses beside you, then reaches to pull you close again. Still back against his chest, still unable to look into your eyes when you're both vulnerable.

"I'm gonna get you a towel," his fingers tremble as he caresses your arm with the most delicate touch.

"No–don't, don't go," you whisper, then grab his hand and bring it back over you. You almost squeeze yourself with it. "Please?"

The tension behind your back decreases as he slowly falls back into bed.

"Alright love. I'll stay right here."

It's so peculiar how he reminds you of large water masses. A night sea under a pale moonlight. Not a stormy, roiling one, just a vast depth in an ever-swelling motion.

"I want… I need you to keep me safe," you whisper inside that swelling sea. You never want to come to the surface. You want to learn to breathe underwater. The heavy arm is draped over you; it covers nearly half of your chest as he sighs.

"Then let me do that."

His plea is not humble - nothing in this man is. He's not on one knee, swearing his allegiance and vowing to always protect you. He's not your Lancelot.

But in a way, his plea comes far too close to a beg. You feel a sting near your heart. It's electric, pure pain - the sweet kind, though, as you realize he doesn't only want to do his job… He wants to protect you. He has already tried his best to protect you while you run around like nothing is wrong.

"Simon… I'm sorry."

"I already forgave you," he hums on your skin, evidently glad that you two finally understand each other. It should send you laughing, the thought that you needed his scars and his…treatment to find common ground. And free of charge, no less.

"Do you still wish you were somewhere warmer…?"

He bows his head against the nape of your neck, and the gush of air from his nose is warm and jovial. "No."

It's hours till dawn, but you wish it would never come. The beauty of the night is only now unfolding before you. It feels far more safe than the violent dawn. You wonder how he would react if you moaned his name as you cum. If he would shudder. You wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you didn't already do it...

"Simon…?"

"Mm..?"

"What happens now?"

There's a pause, but he doesn't shift for more comfort. Still, the bullet vests and battle gears are back on; you just sense it.

"We're gonna get some sleep."

"No, I meant… What does this mean for us?"

"What do you think it means?"

Now he shifts, but only to draw you closer. You feel like jello as he pulls your scent deep into his lungs, then exhales the grace on your skin like you're the only tobacco he needs after a good round of sex.

"Don't worry about it, princess," he murmurs on your skin. So delicately that you could claim this man has never even seen the army, never barked and shouted and smoked his throat dry. "We'll talk in the morning."

You settle into his sea, an embrace full of gentle, heavy safety. It's the sweetest oblivion to slip in as you begin a dreamless sleep, soft and snug. But it's not merciful enough to make you forget that you two…

You never even kissed.

............................................

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xhopelesslyromanticx · 11 months

Text

Selfish - Lando Norris x Reader (ft. Oscar Piastri)

Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1 is here. You‘ll have to read it for it to make sense.

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, alcohol, s*xual indications

summary: Oscar is trying to come to terms with Lando and your past. Well, in Landos opinion he is trying to cut him out so you can move on with your realitionship. But what happens when old things get stirred up and secrets get revealed? Will Lando really give up?

Oscar wasn’t a guy that dealed with his problems with violence. It just wasn’t his character. He didn’t think it was cool. He didn’t think it was manly. He mostly found it embarrassing. He rarely ever got angry. He was composed and that’s what you liked about him. So it embarrassed him to lose control. Especially in front of you. The young driver didn’t want to come of like the bad guy.

Of course you had expected some sort of reaction when he walked into Lando kissing you. Well it wasn’t just a kiss, the Brit was basically feeling you up. Anyone would have been mad. Anyone would have possibly yelled or screamed. You hadn’t expected an outcome to that extent though.

„So that’s everything?“ the Aussie asked, biting the inside of his mouth so hard he felt like he was starting to taste blood. Your response came slow. You only stared at your hands in your lap as you played with the hem of your dress. Nervously fidgeting with the material. It was short. Lando probably wouldn’t have liked it. Oscar was different, he told you you looked great. Maybe even though he was younger, he was more mature than the Brit. Or maybe Oscar was just not as insecure. But you shouldn’t compare the two. You were scared of who‘d end up loosing. He was a good guy, Oscar truly was. He was sitting here after all. Hearing you out after you kissed another guy. Kissed Lando.

„Yes.“ you whispered. You had told him. Everything. That you had kissed Lando or he had kissed you. You didn’t remember or you didn’t wanna remember. Either way you hadn’t stopped the kiss.

„You only kissed this one time since you‘ve been going out with me? Right?“ he wanted to reassure himself. He knew it probably wasn’t easy for you to tell him this. He could tell by the way you avoided his gaze. But Oscar also knew he had a right to ask. He wasn’t being overly jealous. He had seen it with his own eyes. There was no denying anything anymore.

You had avoided him all weekend. He had called you a couple of times. Apologizing for reacting the way he had. But you choose to stay away till the race was over. You didn’t wanna come inbetween the two guys. But that was possibly already to late. Rumors of bad blood on the team already circulated after the internet was plastered videos of Oscar purposely bumping into Lando and the Brit cussing him out in return. The Mclaren drivers still finishing 9th and 10th. Which was an accomplishment comparing the start of the season.

You nodded, looking up at him. Allthough it had only been one time it was still dissapointing. He looked gutted. His eyes couldn’t hide it.

„I’m sorry Oscar. I didnt wanna ruin your night or your weekend.“ you swallowed, god you sounded like a bitch „But I don’t wanna lie to you“

„You still wanna be with me?“ he interrupted you. He wanted to understand why you even came here with him in the first place. You had finally called him back after the race, asking if you could celebrate with him. Wanting to talk mostly and explain what had happened between Lando and you. But Oscar didn’t wanna know. The past was done. He didn’t care, all he knew was that your brother apparently couldn’t know and it was over. He wanted to know for certain it was done.

You looked at the Aussie. Your heart was screaming to tell him no. To call Lando and tell him you loved him still. Lando who you had also completely ignored all weekend. But you couldn’t listen to your heart. It had told you to wait for Lando all these years. You didn’t want to anymore. You were tired. Drained.

„Yes I do.“ you responded, looking at him with teary eyes. Oscar nodded as he looked you in the eyes. He knew you were being truthful. You wanted to be with him. So he planted a kiss on your forehead, not saying anything before getting out the car. You watched him walk around the Mclaren. Fans already snapping pictures from the sidewalk. Your car door opened, his hand reached for yours, you grabbed it. You stepped out as Oscar immediately grabbed you by your waist pulling you into his body before he kissed you, knowing damn well people were taking pictures. Only thing Oscar wasnt aware of. That just hours later Lando would see the pictures. And wonder. Wonder if Oscar knew. Knew everything and yet still forgave you? Did he know you had texted him hours earlier asking if he was okay and telling him you didn’t know what to do. Lando was certain; you didn’t love the Aussie. You liked him but you didn’t love him. You couldn’t. How would you?

„You never told me how you got that blue eye.“ Max enters the hallway as Lando leans against the marble wall of the dim lit alley. Dressed and ready to go out as he scrolls through the endless pictures of you and Oscar on his timeline. His thumb swiping past each them stopping, whenever the angles change. His stomach twisting at the sight. The young guy looks up at his longtime best friend. He had completely forgotten about the eye. It had been talk of the paddock all weekend.

„I bumped into a shelf.“ he had told the countless interviewers that seemingly had nothing better to ask. A fake smile plastered on his lips. The internet already changing his nickname to „Mr. Bumps into shelfs“. Little did they know Lando didn’t actually find it funny. Not when he actually wanted to tell the world the truth but knew he never could.

„Did you see?“ Lando now asksed, his voice low. Monotone. Pretending to not care. He had to know how his best friend felt about it. Max put on his jacket, furrowing his brows as he lookses at the younger guy „See what?“

Landos phone is shoved into his face. The screen so close to his eyes, he has to blink a couple times to see it. A picture. His sister and Oscar. Kissing and looking all loved dovey. It had seemingly been posted just minutes prior with the caption; new couple alert. Max raised his brows, shrugging his shoulder as he turned away and checks himself in the mirror. He had come to terms with your new realitionship. He‘d never be Oscars best friend. But he also didn’t really mind him. It could be worse, right?

„So you‘re not bothered?“ Lando asked not understanding why Max wasn’t fuming.

„Of course it‘s digusting seeing my sister making iut with some guy.“ Max stated, grabbing the housekeys. He opened the front door, stepping out into the already dark night before turning back to Lando. It could be worse. Oscar had a job and manners. He was well raised and respected you. „But he‘s alright I guess. Plus she seems happy.“

Happy? Lando watched you from afar all night long. His heart beating faster every time he saw you. His hands gripping the non-alcoholic beverage in his hand. Lando knew he was being egotistical but he couldn’t handle seeing you with him. But he also knew better than to approach you as he and his friends hung out in their own lounge at the same place you attended. Well, basically everyone was here. Some of the fellow drivers even congratulating Oscar and you. Most of them knowing you, as you had basically attended most races with your brother and Lando.

„She could at least say hello.“ Lando muttered, leaning back on the lounge couch as he took a sip of his drink. Ria next to him, who was touching up her makeup, just shrugging her shoulders in response. It was funny hearing Lando talk like this. In Rias opinion, he had his chance and he blew it. She even encouraged you to be with Oscar „She did say hello to me.“

„He‘s never gonna let me hang out with her-“ Lando stated his fear but was quickly interrupted.

„Well, you’re kind of to blame for that?“ Ria now sighed looking at her friend. Side eyeing Landos blue eye. You had told her everything. She felt kinda sorry for Lando but he had provoked Oscar. He made some poor choices yea but he never intended to lose you as a friend. And with Oscar now in the picture that was bound to happen. At least in Landos mind.

„I didn’t kiss her!“ Lando defended himself, crossing his arms as Rias just let’s out a chuckle. The loud music blasting through the speakers forcing him to basically yell. Lando may have acted all hard and no feelings but Ria knew exactly he couldn’t resist you. He never had been able to. That’s why you two ended up in eachothers arms time after time. It was a toxic cycle. Neither one of you was benefiting from it.

„She begs to differ.“ Ria stated, looking at you standing next to Oscar who’s arm hadn’t left your waist all night. The Aussie looked at you so mesmerized it made Rias heart flutter. Lando just felt nauseous and told himself you eventually get the ick from the guy clearly being head over heels for you. Oscar also made sure to send a glance Landos way every so often. As if to tell him, he better stay back.

„She kissed me back.“ Lando now argues, completely throwing his first statement over the hill. He knew he had initiated it. But you had clearly wanted it, plus you had gladly returned it. Which spoke on it’s own. Lando wasn’t scared if Oscar. His stares didn’t intimidate him. He just knew better than to cause a scene. Especially in front of Max.

„Of course.“ Ria rolled her eyes, done arguing with the stubborn Brit.

„Then why is she here with him?“ Lando asked, smashing his drink onto the table in front of him resulting in a loud thud causing his friends to look at him weirdly. He awkwardly laughed it off, not wanting anyone to know what was going on. Lando could fool most of them. But not Max. Max knew something was wrong when he saw that bruise. He knew something was wrong when Lando spent the last hour, still wearing his jacket and sitting in the corner of this club looking rather bitter.

„Lando.“ Ria sighed, placing her hands on her friends shoulder as she saw his gutted face while he watched you kiss Oscar„Maybe he‘s just what she needs right now. Okay?“

What you needed? How could you need that?

Lando watched you and Oscar basically all night. The Aussie hanging onto you like a trained puppy, kissing your cheek and shoving his tounge down your throat at any given chance. It was disgusting and totally inappropriate. Not even his parents acted like that. Lando also felt like that level of clinginess wasn’t your style at all. It was clear to Lando that Oscar was insecure. Insecure that Lando was there.

Lando ended up making out with some blonde girl, who he wouldn’t even remember the name of the next day. It was more to show Max that he was fine as the Brit had tried to ask him whats wrong all night long. The Mclaren driver couldn’t tell him that he was losing his mind. Losing his mind watching you with Oscar. The dj suddenly started playing slow songs for the couples on the dance floor. Wasn’t this supposed to be a party? When Lando heard the lyrics of Glimpse of us he knew he had to get out of there.

„I‘ll get the car.“

Lando waited outside of the already emptying nightclub. It was late and there where mostly just blackout drunk people which meant no one recognized him and he was fine to stand there and wait for his car to arrive as people strolled past him. He paced up and down, checking his phone to see he had already gotten a text from that girl he had made out with. He cursed himself for having given her his number. He didn’t even notice you at first, stumbling out the night club just holding your phone in your hand as you frantically texted someone. Eyes glued on the screen, completely ignoring the outside world.

Lando watched you from afar, no Oscar in sight. He knew better than to walk up to you. You’d just yell at him and be rude. He didn’t want any of that now. His patience close to zero. Plus he was tiree. That’s when he noticed some douchebag guys next to you, clearly checking you out. Lando shifted on his feet as they stared you up and down, making stupid comments. Lando rolled his eyes as he saw you didn’t notice to focused on your phone. God you had to be a little more careful the guy thought. But he tried to keep his cool. It worked until he heard one of them drop an absolutely disgusting comment about you.

Lando couldn’t help himself, he walked over to you. Taking off his jacket and putting it over your shoulders, trying to cover at least some part of your body. You looked up, thinking it was Oscar only to see Lando stand there. You open your mouth, wanting to take the piece of clothing off but Landos hand stops your movements.

„Shh. Dont say anything.“ he gestured to the group of men behind you „I‘m just trying to protect you.“

You swallowed now fully aware of the stares you were getting as you stared the guys down. It made you uncomfortable or even scared. You never admit but you were happy Lando was here right now.

„Thanks.“ you mumbled, crossing your arms as you took a step back to ensure some space between the two of you. Lando noticed, he knew you never did that before. Things were already changing. Your eyes checking the entrance, probably looking for Oscar.

He wished he could tell the Aussie that he had to be more careful. He couldn’t let you out here alone. Especially not dressed like this. It wasn’t that Lando felt like the dress was to blame for the occasion. Some men just had no respect no matter what a woman wore. But he was aware that it caught the attention of most guys. Including the bad ones. That’s why he‘d sometimes tell you he didn’t like certain clothes. Not to be a se*ist prick. He was just looking out for you and he always would. No matter if Oscar liked it.

The Aussie walked out the club, finally having gotten both your jackets. The line had been so long, seemingly everyone leaving the club at the same time. He was also carrying your handbag, his hands full when he spotted you stand there. Oscars expression stern when he saw Lando just next to you. You weren‘ talking though. Lando was just looking at you. But the sheer fact he even was talking to you plus the brits jacket being wrappe around your shoulder, it was enough to drive Oscar mad.

„Wanna tell me what this is?“ Oscar approached you, gesturing to the jackt around your shoulder. You were surprised, looking at him opening your mouth wanting to explain Lando was just helping you. But you couldn’t, Lando concluding he had to help you.

„I was looking out for her.“ Lando responded, crossing his arms. He knew he wasn’t in the wrong for looking out dor you. He wouldn’t ever apologize for it. He hated that tone of Oscars. He shouldn’t talk to you like this. Lando didn’t even notice how patient Oscar had been. He was to blind to see that the younger guy wasn’t the problem between the two of you. He was a good guy. He never got angry at you and always gave you a chance to explain.

„You shouldn’t let her go out like that and then leave her alone at some curb.“

Oscar couldn’t believe what Lando was saying. He was painting him once again to be some douchebag. Just like when he accused him of picking up drunk girls. Now the Aussie just knew the reasoning behind the empt and honestly laughable accusations. Lando was bloody jealous and you could see it. Also Oscar had looked out for you. l He had basically stuck to your side all night. But Oscar didn’t say anything. He had learned to stay silent when he needed to. He took the jacket of your shoulder throwing it towards Lando. He then wrapped his own one around your shoulder actually undesrtanding the point of it. You mumbling a small thanks, avoiding Landos stares.

Just as you and Oscar were about to get into his car, the Aussie opened the door for you and closed it behind you once you stepped in. He got to the drivers side but before getting in he made sure to look at Lando one last time „Just let it go Lando. Honestly.“

„Absoluetly not!“ you entered the room nervously. In your hand a paper bag filled with the most scandalous lingere you had ever seen. Ria was laying on you bed, scrolling through her phone while you walk in. She looked up at you standing there in a set of bright red lace underwear that you would have sworn off ever wearing in the past. Oh, how things change.

„Oh my god!“ Ria squealed, sitting up with her mouth hanging wide open. The brown haired woman looked you up and down, not believing the sight. She knew you were stunning but right now she saw you in a totally different light. Like if she was a guy, she‘d get onto her knees begging for that.

„Woman! You look absolutely smoking hot!“ she yelled, not caring the door was basically wide open as you just had gotten back from your bathroom. Trying on the endless option of underwear Ria had brought you from some store in London. You did have underwear but more of the simple kind. Or as Ria had called it; conservative.

Ria was helping you. You had come to your friend with a problem. It was almost so embarrassing, you couldn’t get it out „We haven’t done it yet.“

Ria hadn’t react badly. That’s what you loved about her. She never judged. Even when you had cried in her arms for Lando a million times. She always acted like ut was the first time. So you weren’t suprised that she was super understanding, telling you that it was okay and actually quite a good sign. Oscar seemingly was serious about you if he didn’t mind not having s*x right away. Ria also didn‘t ask for a reason, but she knew it was probably more you than the Aussie. Knowing men usually weren’t as complicated. So your friend tried to encourage you. Getting you new lingere in hopes to boost your confidence. To remember who you were.

„I don’t know.“ you looked at your reflection in your full body mirror „This isn’t me.“

„What do you mean?“ she jumped up standing behind you „You look like a goddess. The boy‘s gonna stutter.“

You chuckled, knowing there was some truth to that. That would actually be such an Oscar thing to do. Maybe it was difficult to be with him as he wasn’t exactly dominant himself. Oscar always wanted to make sure you were comfortable and never went further if he felt like you weren’t. It was cute in a way, but you also needed someone to lead you. That’s what you were used to.

„I just think Oscar could get the wrong picture.“ you sighed looking back at Ria „Like I‘m much more experienced.“

„Well?“ Ria furrowed her brows „You do have some experience right?“

You chewed the inside of your mouth. This was embarrassing.

„Yes.“ you stated, knowing that sounded like a lie „But like not… Not a lot.“

Ria smiled, unsure of what you were hinting at „Meaning?“

„I only ever slept with Lando.“

„What!“ Ria yelled, and you immediately covered her mouth not wanting the whole house to hear. Well only Lando was home but he was the last person that should know it. You had kept your distance from him. It was hard when you live in the same house. But you had managed by keeping yourself as busy as possible. You look at Ria as her eyes were wide open. You giggle as she mumbles against your hand „You only slept with Noriss?“

„I know it’s embarrassing.“ you sighed, crossing your arms. But the girl immediately grabbed your shoulders in a comforting manner.

„No!“ she stated, shaking her head. She actually couldn’t believe how much Lando must have meant to you. It mad her mad to know he broke your heart. He was still somehow doing it „I‘m just mad he has hold that much power over you. Like every guy would want you Y/n.“

„Maybe.“ you sighed, looking at your reflection „But I don’t want every guy.“

You tip toed your way to the bathroom, right next to your room. Just as Landos bedroom door that was right opposite yours bursts open. He was in there? You try to cover yourself up with your hand but it doesn’t work.

„F*ck.“ you mutter trying to open the bathroom door, but its to late. Lando stands there. Looking at you surprised. He looks you up and down as you stand there frozen. He can’t help but smirk. Had he heard? God you had to be bright red.

„Wow.“ Lando nodded, running his finger through his hair thats out in every direction. The brit isn’t even sure what to say. He had never seen you like this. You had always been more cute in a away. Not that daring. „You look-“

„Don’t say anything!“ you interrupted him, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren’t gonna be able to handle any immature and inappropriate comment from him right now. Lando pressed his lips together. He wouldn’t have said anything bad. But he knew he shouldn’t compliment you. He had to control himself from looking you up and down once again. So the brit just nodded taking a deep breath „I won‘t“

„Okay.“ you stated, finally turning the knob of the bathroomdoor, your back facing Lando now. A glance behind. His eyes were clearly not were they were supposed to be.

„Lando!“ you scolded the guy whos eyes had landed on your ass as soon as you turned around. Typical.

„Well, it‘s-“His eyes mer yours as he held up his hands in defense. A big grin creeping on his face. „Sorry?“

The smell of fresh pizza had filled the whole house. You had walked down the stairs, a bag of your belongings in your hand. Checking your phone, to see you still had some time before Oscar was expecting you. You had literally spent hours in the shower since Ria left. Shaving every part of your body, exfoliating and doing the most to feel fresh. Which worked. You felt beautiful that night. Like something big was gonna happen. Following the absoluetly delicious smell, you walked into the living room where there was a big kitchen. No one ever cooked in this house so you were surprised at the sight.

Lando was standing behind the kitchen counter. Wearing nothing but grey sweatpants as he was preparing what looked like some chocolate covered strawberries. A closed bottle of wine on the countertop. Two glasses?

„Expecting company?“ you asked, furrowing your brows as you leaned against the door frame. The brit looked at you. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle. His hair was white from what looked like flour and his once white shirt, splattered in tomato sauce as it was layed over the kitchen sink. Was it the girl he had made out in the night club with? God you shouldn’t care.

„No. Well, yes but she just cancelled.“ Lando shrugged his shoulders, turning up the volume of his jazz music playing in the background. He seemed happy. Happier than you had seen him in a while.He had even set the table with candles outside as the sun began to set over the ocean view.

„Wow.“ you entered the kitchen, placing your huge bag on the marble counter. You looked at Lando with a questioning look. Something was surely up. You hadn’t ever seen Lando so- So grown up? “ You re really trying to impress this girl, huh?“

Lando nodded as he licked his lips. He couldn’t see past it. The curled hair. The lipstick. The perfume. The lace of your bra peeking through your white dress.

„So are you.“

You blushed, tugging your hair behind your ear as you looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact. It’s embarassing when someone knows you’re trying hard. And Lando knew. He saw you at your worst. He knew how you looked with no makeup. He knew how you looked when you woke up. He knew how you looked when you were violently sick after partying and he was holding up your hair for you. Lando knew you were trying.

„Don’t- Not that it matters.“ Lando added wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. He hesitated before deciding he had nothing to lose anyways „I like this one better.“

You knew what he meant. The white lace of your bra, slightly peeking through your dress. You knew it was inappropriate for him to tell you this. You couldn’t react. Remembering you had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who said he respected yours and Landos friendship as long as it was just a friendshipy. You mumbled a small thanks, thanking god as you were saved by the sound of the oven beeping.

„You wanna eat? I made plenty?“ Lando asked, opening the oven door as he took out to perfectly baked pizzas. Maybe it was that you absolutely loved pizza or that you had aome spare time left anyways. Maybe it was you felt sorry for Lando as he clearly had taken time and got stood up but something inside you made you nod „Yes, why not.“

Your small hand covered the rim of your glass as a drop of wine lands on the white table cloth. Lando laughed as you shook your head in protest „No Lando! I still need to drive.“

It was already dark out. It had gotten a little cold so you were cuddled up in your blanket as you sat opposite Lando. Some pizza still left on your plate, you were absoluetly stuffed. You had had a decent amount of wine though. Lando and you spent the las hour talking. It was like it used to be. Just easy and lighthearted conversations. No force or awkwardness. He never mentioned Oscar. Never mentioned your problems. It was nice. So nice you had even told the Aussie you would be a little late. Not telling him that you were having dinner with Lando of course.

„Oh, you’re not gonna be able to drive anyway!“ he furrowed his brows, signaling the nearly empty bottle of expensive wine. You had drank too much already, it would be hours before you sobered up.

You sighed removing your hand from your glass in defeat as Lando filled your glass a pleased smirk on his face „See that‘s what im talking about.“

„I‘ll take a taxi I guess.“ you mumbled taking another sip of the beverage.

It felt good to leave your worries to the side for a moment. Especially now that it was just you and Lando. It felt like it was fine. Like you‘d never had fought. It was a good moment. When something hit you. It had been like this before. You had felt so special. Lando treated you like you were the only girl in the world and yet, tonight he would have done this all for someone else. Like none of it ever mattered. It was all fake. It wasn’t for you. It never had been. You were not special.

„Can I ask you something?“ you asked, listening to the quiet music coming from inside. Somehow you felt angry at the thought of him having done this for some twat when you never got treated right. You bit your lips, looking at Landos face through the candle light.

„Yes?“

„Do you regret it?“ you blurted out It was probably the wine talking. But you couldn’t even bother your impulsive thoughts taking over.

„Regret what?“

„Me.“

It was silent. The sound of the wind, hitting the pool water along with the piano playing inside all you could hear.

Lando placed his glass on the white table cloth. He looked at you, disappointed as he got up. The Brit grabbed his plate as he walked inside, not saying a single word.You were stunned. Offended, unwinding from your blanket as you stumbled inside your glass in your hand. God you shouldn’t drink so much.

„Why the f*ck wont you answ-“

„Why do you have to f*cking ruin it?“ he yelled back throwing his plate into the kitchen sink. You looked taken aback. How were you ruining it? He was the one that treated you like you didn’t matter.

„Ruin what Lando? You acted like I meant nothing-“

„Would I do all of this if you didn’t matter! Do you really think I do all of- F*ck!“ he yelled, his hand hitting the marble counter in anger without looking. A crushing sound. Glass splattered everywhere. He had just smashed his hand into a wine glass.

You looked stunned. Not just about what had happened. Also what Lando had just revealed.He had done this for you? Your mind was filled with endless questions. You wanted to open your mouth when you start noticing the sheer amout of blood running down his hand. Your ears ringing at the sight of it.

Without hesitation you saw a towel on the counter as you stumbled around the counter. Grabbing it you even spilled wine over your white dress before you grabbed Landos hand, pressing the cloth against the cuts in hopes to stop the bleeding. Lando took a sharp breath clearly in pain as he slightly pulled back „You’re gonna ruin it.“

„God It’s a towel Lando!“

„No! The dress!“ he argued as blood had already landed on the white material along with the splatters of wine. It looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

„Doesn’t matter. Not gonna leave you now.“ you look into his eyes. He looks, relieved? You let it go. thinking he just is in pain. It‘ quiet. The music stopped. You swear you could feel Landos pulse. His hand pressed against your stomach.

Oscar. Will have to cancel for tonight. Call you tomorrow. Sorry.

Recieved at 9:35 PM

1K notes · View notes

criesinliess · 1 year

Text

━APRIL 2023; susan's recs

FATE: THE WINX SAGA

━━RIVEN

i’m jealous of the way @imkylotrash

hold my girl @↑

call me back @randomimaginesforrandompeople

scared to death @↑

little sister @↑

one-on-one @novawrts

HARRY POTTER

━━GEORGE WEASLEY

it takes two @ickle-ronniekins

━━ DRACO MALFOY

just friends — masterlist @bwbatta

━━FRED WEASLEY

selfish @george-fabian-weasley

━━OLIVER WOOD

blind to it @heloisedaphnebrightmore

MARAUDERS ERA

━━SIRIUS BLACK

all your fault @heloisedaphnebrightmore

absurd ideas @↑

crimes of jealousy @↑

gentle seduction @↑

cause i don't want you like a best friend @evermoreal

━━JAMES POTTER

five times james wanted to kiss you and the one time he did @moonlitmeeks

hey, james! @heloisedaphnebrightmore

LOCKWOOD & CO

━━ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

knight in shining armour @givemea-dam-break

the poltergeist @↑

jealousy @↑

how to dance @↑

hidden by the new stars @↑

stunning @vi-trying-to-survive

you can hear it in the silence @tangledinlove

just another love song @↑

pretty boy @maraschinomerry

GRISHAVERSE

━━KAZ BREKKER

he just sounds like that @amsgrey

of antidotes @honeyfict

dense @↑

love language @genyakosstyk

dive into the waves below @↑

of kings @yelenasbraid

everything @theowritesstuff

deathly fever @webslinger-holland

another dream @↑

take it slow @amsgrey

━━NIKOLAI LANTSOV

yours no more @theowritesstuff

wanting was enough @genyakosstyk

OUTER BANKS

━━RAFE CAMERON

dating john b's sister @a-aexotic

midsummers @butgilinsky

blueberry pancakes @↑

tension @↑

and isn't it just so pretty to think? @folkloreslovechild

heartbroke bitch; guess you really did it this time; kiss for kiss, heart for heart; a crack in the glass @fandomxpreferences

dirty litte secret @↑

passenger princess @sunraies

cupcakes and rainstorms @↑

fair play @laiiaaa

dancing with our hands tied @forevermoreharrington

━━JJ MAYBANK

hot for a pogue @butgilinsky

the last year @↑

the part where you kiss me @laiiaaa

THE BEAR

━━CARMY BERZATTO

sink in @nymphlamp

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

━━BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

delirium @kyber-crystal

head in the clouds @↑

MARVEL

━━BUCKY BARNES

the last first kiss @witchywithwhiskey

almost believing @intrepidacious

insomnia @↑

first date, last night @↑

not even a little @↑

heal me, baby @↑

━━STEVE ROGERS

moving on @intrepidacious

━━LOKI LAUFEYSON

clouded judgement @heloisedaphnebrightmore

silly misgardian @↑

SCHOOL SPIRITS

━━WALLY CLARK

hopes and fears @general-fanfiction

i want to help @anthemabby

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

love her too @divine17

1K notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

How would the yans react if their darling is already dating someone else

Warnings: killing, kidnapping

Silas:

He hates to see you laugh and smile with someone who isn’t him. He knows he shouldn’t approach you. You’re so … pure, so normal … and he’s a beast lurking in the darkness. He knows that the second he approaches you, you’ll be sucked into his world and there won’t be a way out. But he cannot bare himself to watch you cling onto someone that isn’t him. Silas sighs. He could actually keep you safe if he really tried. If he doesn’t take you to be his, he will regret it for all eternity. He turns to his second in command.

“See that person over there? The one leaning onto the one in gray? I want them. And I want the one in gray gone. Why? Personal reasons. Make sure that cute, little thing is in my basement by the end of the night, got it? Thank you.”

Dr Kry:

His heart breaks when someone else tries to visit you at the hospital. It’s always the same person. He doesn’t dare to ask you about who it is, scared to hear the truth. Of course, he knows that it’s your significant other, but he doesn’t want to have it confirmed. A small part of him still hopes that it’s just a family member. Nonetheless, he has to get rid of them before you start to ask about them. Dr Kry pulls the threat into a supply closed, pressing a drenched cloth against the persons face.

“Don’t take it personal, this is just for selfish reasons. It actually doesn’t have anything to do with you, just who you’re with. Y/N isn’t yours anymore and I’ve given you more than second chances to make you realize that … but here we are. Just go to sleep, breathe in. It’ll all be over soon.”

King Edmund:

He isn’t worried. He’s the king! Who can’t decline a king a favor? He doesn’t have to be worried about whoever has stolen your heart. Worst case scenario, he’ll rip you open and give you a new heart that only belongs to him. It can’t be so difficult, there are hundreds — if not thousands — of women who want him. If only you got to have one of their hearts …

“My good sir, I want to make a deal with you. You stay away from Y/N and I send you a portion of money every month to make sure you and your family can live comfortably. I know how hard you have it on your farm. All you need to do is to give me Y/N. Not hard, right? You’re winning. I’m taking her off your hands. You could never provide for her. If you refuse? How funny that you asked that … if you refuse, your entire bloodline will die.”

Jerry:

Jerry hates being jealous, hates that someone can make her that insane. She hates the power you have over her, especially when you’re not doing anything. The person who leans on your shoulder makes her sick. She can’t watch any longer. She has to have you. Now. She storms over with her men behind her. They grab your partner, pulling them away and Jerry traps you in a corner. You trembling in front of her sends tingles down her body. She reaches out her hand, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Don’t tremble, my love. You’re mine now. You’re with the wrong person. You might not understand it now, but I can assure you that you’re meant to be with me — be my little accessory. Don’t cry, I’m not going to hurt you for this. You had no idea. My pretty, little pet, you have no idea what kind of trouble you're pretty face has got you in …”

Hedwig:

She has been the best friend you could ever have. She has been by your side from the day you transferred … why didn’t you choose her to be your girlfriend? Hasn’t she been everything to you? Hedwig can feel a gaping hole in her heart when she sees you eating with someone else at lunch. She has to stay home. She can’t watch you be with someone else. All she does is cry in her bed. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t move, doesn’t bathe. A living zombie is what she’s become. One day, you come over to check up on her and she knows she has to take the chance.

“Y/N, you can’t do this to me! You have to break up with that … that bitch! P-Please! You have to be mine! I have to have you! I’m so lost without you! I can’t function without you! If … if you’re not going to leave them … I have to keep you here with me. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere doctor #female yandere #yandere rich girl #yandere reactions #yandere asks #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #male yandere #king yandere

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fuckmyskywalker · 3 months

Note

also i just thought of what if you had a gangbang w all of hayden’s characters…

🫧

This is elaborated, disgusting, obviously 18+, selfish (because I imagined me), too long to be real and... maybe tmi.

Up first, Anakin would the jealous one. He wants to go first and he claims he has the right. He wants to be the first one to fuck my pussy and I'm not even mad about it. Going all the way just to give a very unnecessary show about how good and how hard he can fuck. He isn't thrilled about the whole thing but if he has to do it, he needs to show everyone (and by everyone I mean men who have his literal fucking face...) and makes sure to come inside. What a fucking brat he can be.

We all know I have a soft spot for Clay Beresford. He isn't exactly happy about the whole sharing thing but if I'm happy, he's happy ;) Most likely to fuck my face while Anakin fucks me. Maybe I'm being too disgusting but oh well, who cares. He is sweeter and definitely the ultimate soft dom. That doesn't mean he's not going to fuck my face until I almost pass out and make a mess of spit and tears on his thighs. He's the type to come on my face.

Sam Monroe... well, he is the impatient one. Always bitching and whining "when's my turn?", until Anakin snaps and smacks him. He'll get hard as fuck from just watching— he is the voyeurist type and you can't change my mind— and will ask to fuck my face or my tits. He could go down on me but I can totally see him saying that if he does it, he's going to taste Anakin's cock and that would be a little gay. He wants me to swallow (secretly wants me to spit it in his mouth, which is a little gay, Sam).

James Kelly... uh, well he gives me the vibes of being into anal, I'm not particularly interested in it but if he wants to, then I want to. I just can't say no to that man. He'd be gentle at first, then gradually fuck faster and harder and he looks like he gives slaps so fucking hard I wouldn't mind a sore ass tomorrow morning. Also the type to come inside.

Scott Barringer— definitely the shy one. Jerking off just by watching and he needs to be guided. I personally think he wouldn't feel prepared for 'fucking' so he's happy with a handjob and maybe a little blowjob <3. He is the whiny one too and he also wants me to swallow... and a little appreciation kiss after he comes.

Lorenzo, okay, okay. He wouldn't mind at all to eat me out after Anakin fucked me because he is just that hot. He looks like he knows how to eat pussy and he is the handsy type, touching, groping, slapping and pinching every inch of skin available as he makes sure to clean Anakin's mess and make me even messier. Maybe, just maybe he's the one who offers 69 because he is just that guy (also not a big fan of it but for him... anything).

A.J. and fuck, he can do whatever he wants. I think he'd pick blowjob and then cowgirl. He likes to see me do the work, and he is a tits man so expect tit slapping...

Which brings me to Billy Quinn who will most certainly use the opportunity to fuck my ass while A.J. fucks my pussy— bonus points for this combo because Billy looks like he'd pinch nipples while he fucks from behind and A.J. is fucking amazing at dirty talk (plus he's the only one I could talk Spanish with so... that thought alone makes me die). Both would come inside.

This is biased but David Rice would fuck my pussy (at this point how am I not dead) while I'd totally suck Stephen Glass' ass (not the fucking rhyme). I'd even stroke his cock while I do that, multitask queen. David gives me the vibes to come on my back, I don't know why, and Stephen wouldn't last long because he loves to have his ass eaten... we all know that. He would probably cry if I start fingering him too, pretty boy.

Obviously everything is raw and nasty, they all took multiple STDs tests (Lorenzo took like 6) and there isn't a particular order after Anakin but he just wants to make clear that he owns me and blah blah— also most likely to fuck me again after it's done just to make his statement clear.

Or they can all get me on my knees and jerk off on my face and shower me with cum 👍🏻🥳 party!!!

I can't believe I wrote this. I hope it's not too nasty... and if it is, then you are in the right place.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#🫧 anon #anya's confessional #anya's first gangbang!!!

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 10 months

Text

I was just thinking about how I apparently have the same taste in women as my dad. Can you imagine Steve finding out his parents have a lavender marriage? Also, imagine him flipping his lid when he realizes his dad's taste in men kind of looks like Eddie and his mom's taste in women kind of look like Nancy. Robin, who found out at the same time, was there too. He turns to her.

"Robin!" He squeaked. "I have the same taste in people as my parents!"

Meanwhile, Robin is on the floor laughing her ass off. She sat up for a moment, gasping for breath as tears came, and pointed at him. She collapsed back on the floor, still pointing.

"Robin! This isn't funny!" Steve squawked.

"It's a little funny," Eddie said, snickering.

Oh, yeah, Eddie was there too.

"Eddie, if my dad was younger, he would go for you!" He yelped.

"And I would be very flattered, but baby, you're the only Harrington I want," Eddie replied. "There's nothing to be jealous of."

"I'm not jealous! I'm freaking out!" Steve said. "We. Have. The. Same. Taste."

John Harrington came waltzing into the living room, whistling.

"You want a scotch, son?" John said. "A nice glass of scotch always calms me down."

"No, I do not want a scotch, dad," Steve bitched at him. "I hate scotch."

"See, now, there's something," John said. "Your mother and I both love scotch. We don't have exactly the same tastes. Now, if you want to, you can have the house to yourself. There's a nice bar in Indie your mother and I like to go to."

"Is it the one with all the goofy shit on the walls?" Eddie asked.

"Yes!"

"Robin and Steve like to go there too!" Eddie said, and Steve slapped a hand to his face.

"Well, we're just going to get out of your hair. Edward, don't get my son pregnant. His mother isn't ready to be a grandmother yet," John said and walked out of the room, waving at them.

"I LOVE your dad," Eddie cackled.

"I thought you said that I had nothing to worry about," Steve scowled and threw a pillow at him.

"You know, your mother kind of looks like Robin," Eddie said, scrunching up his nose.

"Does this mean that we're destined to have a lavender marriage of our own and have a turkey baster baby too?!" Robin exclaimed with a gasp. "Because I'm telling you right now I am not pushing your big headed baby out of my vagina!"

"Well, if you give me your gender, Buckley, I would gladly do it myself!" Eddie exclaimed. "It's really very selfish of you."

Robin glared mockingly at him before hitting him with a pillow, which resulted in a pillow fight. Steve rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington's parents #they're decent in this scenario #steve has good parents au #robin buckley #steve & robin #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates #stranger things ficlet

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harrysdaydream-tpwk · 11 months

Text

“I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch- H.S”

summary: Harry and you argue after his show at Wembley and he gets jealous and pissy. Angst ensues

warnings: arguments, swearing, angst with a happy ending

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The door slammed shut behind him, his footsteps heavy, even on the carpeted floor. You sighed, tired and weary. It had been a long night and by the looks of it, it was about to get even longer.

Harry huffed, taking off his shoes with more force than necessary, throwing them in the general direction of his open suitcase. He wasn’t wearing the colourful outfit anymore, looking much more like yours in the black nike shorts and worn-out t-shirt you’ve seen far too many times on him. You stood in the doorway between the ensuite bathroom and the bedroom, watching him quietly as he ran his fingers through his brown hair repeatedly-noting it had get even longer since the last time you saw him.

He looked up at you finally, his eyes stormy and half-lidded. He was mad, furious even and you weren’t totally sure why. You hadn’t seen him for three weeks, the tour taking a toll on your relationship and you had hoped this night would’ve at least be a change to your boring office life, a moment with the man you loved so dearly.

“What is your problem?”, you said demanding, sounding harsher than intended. Your arms were crossed in front of your chest, you yourself still dressed in the outfit you had chosen for tonight’s show. A pink, puffy dress, matching cowboy boots and hat. Hell, you had even put on a boa, going all out.

“My-“, he breathed out, before getting louder, “My problem? What the hell is your problem? We haven’t seen each other in almost a month and you already go around flirting with other guys? At my own damn show nonetheless?” He stood up from where he was sat on the king sized bed, taking a step closer to you.

“What?”, you sputtered unbelievingly. “What the fuck are you even talking about? All I did was talk to your mum and your sister, I haven’t seen either of them since Christmas and you just accuse me of things that didn’t even happen? Fuck you.” Tears gathered in your eyes and he noticed, faltering slightly.

“I saw you”, he started, pointing his finger at you,” Talking to him. I don’t know who he was, I don’t even care. I just know you were laughing pretty hard at his jokes or whatever he was telling you. A little too much to just be friendly.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Ryan-“

He interrupted you before you could even finish. “Oh, Ryan”, he mocked, “Is that his name? Gotta be careful you don’t start moaning his name the next time we fuck.”

He was getting really worked up now, the vain on his forehead popping and you were getting angrier by the minute too. He had always been jealous, even a little possessive, and it was getting on your nerves.

“Ryan is an old friend from school, you asshole. You know him, I invited him to my birthday party two years ago. He’s gay, Harry, so he’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in him. It’s just a coincidence, he told me you were really nice to him when he met you and that he wanted to support you. Although, I don’t expect him to think so highly of you if he knew what you’re throwing at me right now.” You took a deep breath in, the tears finally breaching free. You couldn’t keep them in any longer.

You were exhausted, travelling from home to see him at Wembley, his concert of two hours and then this argument on top of it. The weak and selfish part of you just wanted him to hold you, while the bigger part just wanted to yell at him some more. You missed him and he was treating you so unfairly.

“I missed you”, you whispered, “I just wanted to spend the night with you peacefully, you’re my home, Harry. Why don’t you ever make me feel like I’m yours too?” You let out a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth defeated.

“Oh. Oh, Y/N.” His eyes were soft now, staring at you unnervingly. “Here, sit down, my love. You look like you’ll fall over any minute.” He guided you to a chair nearby, pushing you down gently.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered, kneeling before you. His face was illuminated by the lights of London outside the big hotel window. “This tour has taken a toll on me, I missed you so much more, Y/N, you have to believe me. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just got so upset over the thought of you with someone else. I’m so selfish, I wish I could have you by my side everyday, you know? I love you and I never want to hurt you, not like this. Not over something I have so obviously perceived wrongly.”

You laughed wetly, your make-up probably smudged, making you look like a hot mess. “You know, I’m starting to think that you were right when you sang that you were just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit that he’s sorry.” He chuckled quietly, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“I forgive you”, you said, kissing his palm, which was still holding your face gently, “But never say something like this to me again. I’d never cheat on you, not in a million chances. You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine. We’ve got to figure out a way to see each other more, even when I’m touring and you’re working. I can’t go a day without you, without missing your beautiful face.”

You smiled softly, leaning down and he took the invitation to press a gentle, closed- mouthed kiss to your lips, a promise you understood, you accepted.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

lmk what you think<3 haven’t written in a while so i’m a bit rusty! i’m also working on a larger project that should hopefully be up in a few weeks. until then i’ll try my luck with smaller blurbs and one shots. enjoy!<3

#harry styles fanfictio #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction rec #harry styles wembley #harry styles concert #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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rainbow-wolf120 · 1 month

Text

It's about time I show y'all my stinky CLH oc that I hate (love)

Meet Viveo! The voice of Eden and main antagonist of S2 in my dreams!

He is a podcast host, co-owner of the "Just Dance" Club, and controls all the radio stations in Eden.

(So, Rayman, but in radio form)

Viveo is arrogant and views himself higher than his peers. He may be a selfish bitch at times, but he is an entertaining guy to talk to. He knows how to keep a conversation running for as long as he pleases. He’s rather competitive however, always wanting to be the best of the best. He views Rayman more as a rival than a friend, but from the outside it doesn’t look like that. He owns his own podcast, all of the stations of Eden, and a club so he’s super successful. His TV screen works as a camera and can play back past memories of his, he could also use it to impersonate voices, which helps to make a podcast episode on a whim. Some say that his screen could hypnotize people, but no one has been able to prove it. He’s also pretty manipulative and will do anything to be the best (He maybe was the one who sent Rayman the message idkkk)

Now, no one really knows about Viveo’s past, and he’s pretty hush hush about it. He went to the same college as Rayman and the two became good friends for being different and wanting to entertain people. They graduated together and became the poster boys for Eden, with Viveo being every narrator's voice people hear on shows. The two had a pretty good bond, but Viveo found himself jealous of Rayman’s fame at times, unhappy with the lack of credit he gets. He’s a valuable aspect in the Eden machine, being able to easily persuade people. Viveo actually knows about the wrongdoings of Eden, but he doesn’t care. He’s not in poverty or scraping to survive so why bother. He knows if he speaks out against it, he’ll be fired instantly, removing everything he worked for. So, if you can’t beat them, join them.

(So, Rayman, but he's a bitch)

Viveo teams up with Red and Fakeman in S2 (who are a duo in my silly little heart). They're so of a trio, but Viveo's the leader because he's the most experienced (joining Eden around the same time as Rayman)

I love this stinky TV man with all my heart as you can tell by the millions of drawings. He wasn't my first CLH oc, but he is my dearest. Dunno, maybe I'm biased.

For funsies, y'all get an edit of him <3

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florencemtrash · 8 months

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Seven

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: angst and some suggestive content

Peter plugged Mayday’s ears with his fingers before saying, “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

He stared daggers into Miguel’s back as he typed away at the computer, the sunglasses you’d given him resting on his broad nose.

Miguel ignored him, but Peter was anything if not persistent - Mayday got all her charm from him… sorta.

He flicked out a web, launching him and May up onto the platform that Miguel had isolated himself on for the last three days, only leaving when he absolutely needed to or when a multiversal problem came to light.

“Did you hear me, Miguel?”

Peter went to jab Miguel’s side, but the grouchy Spider-Man wasn’t in the mood, catching Peter's wiry wrists with ease and chucking him over and off the edge of the platform.

Peter rebounded quickly.

“That was rude.” He said, first dusting off his sweater and then Mayday’s. She giggled in her carrier.

“Again! Again!” She cooed.

“Go away, Peter.” Miguel’s voice was rougher than sandpaper.

“Bet you wouldn’t use that tone of voice with Y/n.”

Miguel practically growled, shooting Peter a warning glance. He looked like he was going to say something, but one glance into Mayday’s pure blue eyes and he hesitated.

“I’m not in the mood, Pete.”

“I know you’re not. You’re never in the mood to talk about your feelings.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. He had wanted to talk about his feelings with you the night he fired you from Spider Society. He had wanted to explain so many things - what his life had been like before he met you and before Gabriella; how sorry he was for letting you get hurt; how he just couldn’t seem to get past the wall of voices in his head that told him something terrible would happen if he let himself be happy.

The words hadn’t come out that night. He’d just stood there like an idiot until you finally gave up on an answer and left.

Maybe it was better this way.

“Miguel, do you remember what I was like when you first met me?”

The question surprised him and Miguel snorted without thinking.

Peter had just started to pull himself together when Miguel popped into his universe and asked him to join Spider Society. Miguel had helped him get his act together - helped him lose the bags under his eyes and the five o’clock shadow and the beer belly. Hell, he even helped Peter pick out the flowers to bring to MJ’s house. Granted, Peter had gained all that back - the eye bags, the facial hair, and the extra weight - but for a good reason this time. Mayday was living proof of that.

Peter smiled at the memory. Miguel had been a happier person then. Still sarcastic and dry, but with a lightness that hadn’t been seen in years… at least not until you’d showed up.

“Yeah... I remember.” Miguel said quietly.

“Would you believe me if I said we’ve switched places since then?”

Miguel frowned, disliking the comparison.

It wasn’t that he thought less of his friend - on the contrary, Miguel had always been jealous of how easily Peter could step into his role as a father and husband - but he just hadn’t seen it like that.

He looked forward, bits and pieces of his face staring back from the dark corners of the screen. His hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot and burning after hours of looking at screens, and dark bags dragged down the skin beneath his eyes.

“Fuck.” Miguel groaned, dropping his face into his hands.

When was the last time he’d slept? Actually sat down to eat a meal? He missed you more than anything. He wanted to see you again, to make you smile, and to have you in his arms. Maybe it was selfish - it was definitely selfish - to want to have you around him, but…

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Language!” Peter once again covered Mayday’s curious ears, “There’s a child here, you son of a bitch.” He whispered aggressively.

“What do I do, Peter?” Miguel murmured softly, “I don’t know what to do.”

Peter sighed, pulling out headphones and plopping them on Mayday’s head of bright red curls. This was a conversation for the adults and she seemed to understand, settling down against her father's chest and widening her eyes to comical proportions.

“I think you know exactly what to do.”

“I literally just said I don’t know.”

“Aggghh,” Peter shook his hands in frustration, “How can you be so smart and so dumb! Do what I did! Win her back! Go to her apartment. Apologize. Tell her how you feel. Be better.”

“It’s not that simple!” Miguel threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t belong in her world and she doesn’t belong in mine. To even be around her - to love her - is to risk everything I've built. Everything we protect. I can’t-I can’t make that mistake again. I can’t…” Miguel swallowed thickly, “It was my fault Peter. It was all my fault. I lost my daughter. I can’t lose Y/n too.” He finished, eyes angled to the floor and shoulders shaking with each shuddering breath.

Peter's shadow fell over his feet, but what he wasn’t expecting was for a pair of small, chubby hands to grip his cheeks and smear away the tears that had fallen there.

Little Mayday Parker, as wild and mischievous as her father, crawled out of her carrier and hugged him with a strength no normal two year old should be capable of.

“Don’t cry. No crying.” She commanded, rubbing her hands against his face again.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“I told you she makes everyone feel better.” Peter said. A proud smile warmed his cheeks.

“She does.” Miguel said.

The precocious toddler leaned back to inspect her work and nodded in approval.

Peter clapped a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “Y/n is different from the rest of us, Miguel. And I think she just about breaks all the rules you know about the multiverse. If things are going to work out with anyone, they’ll work out with her.”

Miguel felt that inextinguishable bit of hope inside him grow a little stronger. Then he flinched, thinking back on how he’d ended things with you.

“I messed up, Peter.”

“I know.”

“No, I majorly messed up.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” He said, picking Mayday up and twirling her around, “But! I have an idea about how you can fix things.” He winked, “I learned from the best.”

>>>

Washed, clothed, and feeling worse than ever - that was the tagline of the evening as you sank into your couch, turned on the TV, and started drawing circles on a notepad. You pushed through the cramping in the palms of your hands, willing the feeling to extend up to the tips of your fingers which had remained numb and stiff ever since being electrocuted.

Someone knocked at the door and your heart gave a little leap as you blinked over to the front hallway and peered through the peephole.

“Y/n?” Mrs. Fleming’s muffled voice asked. “It’s Mrs. Fleming. Are you in there?”

You tried to mask your disappointment before flinging open the door.

Mrs. Fleming folded her fingers together, laying them on her plump stomach as she calmed herself. “Good heavens, dear!”

You flinched, “Sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Fleming.” You said apologetically.

“I hardly heard you make your way to the door. Might be time for me to get those hearing aids." She made a noise of disapproval with her tongue, diving into the folds of her thick sweater that emphasized her plump figure and pulling out a small container of lasagna. She gave it a light shake.

“I made extra and thought I’d check in. Didn't know if you had time for a proper grocery run since coming home. It’s funny though. I could have sworn I heard someone moving around up here two weeks ago before you got back.”

“It was probably Miguel.” You said, and almost winced as the name left your lips, “He took care of some things while I was away.”

“Hmmmph.” The old woman hummed in thought before nodding, handing you the tupperware, and bustling back down the hallway.

Well at least now I have dinner. You thought to yourself, shutting the door and shuffling over to the kitchen. You watched the plate turn and turn in the microwave as thoughts turned in your mind.

Maybe you should have told someone you were officially leaving (or rather that you’d been officially kicked off the team) and said your goodbyes, but it hadn’t been your intention to teleport back to your dimension. Now that you were here, you knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park trying to get back to Earth-928 on your own. You’d seen what kinds of worlds the multiverse held and didn’t want to risk ending up stuck somewhere strange if things went awry. You’d stick to this world with its quirky landlords and quality cooking shows - a world without Miguel.

Damn it. You frowned, setting the plate down on the coffee table with a clatter. You were thinking about him again. You were missing him again.

There came another knock at the door, and you were convinced you heard the click of the silly knitting needles Mrs. Fleming always carried around with her. It was why you didn’t bother to look through the peephole before swinging the door wide open again.

“Hey Mrs. Fle-”

You froze. Mrs. Fleming was nearing 80 years old and barely came up to your shoulder. You were eye level with this person's chest.

You already knew whose russet-colored eyes you were going to see before you looked into them.

Miguel was almost unrecognizable in civilian clothes, a bouquet of white and yellow daisies clutched in his hand - your favorite.

“Hey,” He breathed out, lips lifted in a nervous, half-smile. “Y/n, I-”

You slammed the door shut in his face. It was more out of surprise than anything else. Yes, you’d hoped that he would seek you out. Yes, you had imagined what you’d say if he decided to find you in your universe with flowers and an apology. But it was very different seeing him stand in front of you like a lost puppy with those beautiful red-brown eyes and tousled head of curls.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. ¿Qué hago?

You paced in front of the door, gnawing on a fingernail as you tried to think of what to do.

What you wanted to do was drag him inside by the font of his shirt and slam your lips against his, but your pride wouldn’t let you do that with reckless abandon.

“Y/n… I can hear you pacing.” Miguel said from the other side. He was sweating bullets and gripping the daisy stems so hard in his hand he worried they might snap. “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now. Maybe you don’t want to ever see me again, but… I just want to apologize. For everything. I never should have said those things to you. I was wrong and I'm sorry.”

Your heart clenched painfully. You pressed your ear up against the door to hear him better, not caring that he could probably tell exactly what you were doing.

“I never should have kicked you off the team. You are cut out for this and you’re one of the most talented, most competent people I know.”

You watched as Miguel waited seriously, holding onto the bouquet of daisies like they were in danger of being ripped away from him.

You opened with some hesitation, but you were already a goner. His eyes lit up even while the rest of him remained silent and serious.

“You brought flowers.” You said dumbly, pointing to them. He thrust them out towards you, cellophane crinkling.

“I know it’s not much but-”

“I like them.” You said quietly, rubbing one of the velvet petals between your fingers. The anger you'd held towards him before was all gone. Now, you just missed him. “Come on.”

You led him inside your apartment. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen your space. He knew to take off his shoes and to watch out for the coat hook that jutted out in the narrow hallway.

You moved around the kitchen with ease, Miguel standing close by and watching as you made some tea for the both of you. Neither of you had spoken since he’d stepped through the doorway.

“Y/n.” Miguel said, one hand brushing against your waist as you turned around and leaned against the counter.

Miguel filled up the tiny space of your kitchen, literally and figuratively, enveloping you in his presence.

“I’m sorry.” He dipped his head down towards yours, looking into your eyes.

“I know.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Then explain it to me. Talk to me.” You begged, reaching up to take his face in between your hands.

He leaned into your palms, sighing and planting two quick kisses on your wrists before he could stop himself.

“Tell me.” You whispered again, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. You wanted to know. You wanted him to trust you enough with the stories he hadn’t told anyone else.

His hands floated down, squeezing your waist gently like he needed a reminder that you were truly in front of him.

“When I first met the other version of you - when I took my variant’s place - she knew something was different. She never said it to my face but I could tell I was hurting her. She was confused and upset because I wouldn’t remember dates or memories from the past. Because I was different. Because I was wrong.”

You winced when you heard the pain in his words.

“And Gabriella… She was too young to know. She was just happy to have her father but…” He swallowed thickly, tears beginning to collect in his eyes, “I wasn’t him. I was never him. I never knew them like I should have. I was holding onto things that weren’t mine. I was... I was just this poison that came into their lives and destroyed their universe and I lost them both.”

You shushed him, pulling him against your chest as he began to cry. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, engulfing you in a hug that brought the both of you to your knees. He never let go, holding you against him as he shook with sobs.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m here.” You whispered into his hair, feeling his breath coming out in short bursts against your skin. You blinked back tears, feeling your throat tighten. “I’m here.”

“I put them in danger and I can’t-” He shuddered, “I can’t lose someone else like that. I can’t. I can’t.” He repeated over and over and over again. “I thought I lost you that day when Miles and Gwen brought you back covered in burns. Your heart-” He stilled, “Your heart stopped for three minutes before you came back to us. And I realized that this time... this time I had something that was actually mine to lose.”

You held him there on the cold kitchen tiles until the bubbling kettle finally gave up and shut itself off and Miguel stopped trembling.

“I love you, Y/n.” He whispered the secret he’d been keeping for months on end.

He loved you. He loved you. He loved you.

Your heart nearly burst from the feeling.

“I thought I could ignore it - that it would just be some passing feeling - but I can’t.”

You laughed. It was a quiet, desperate sound, more like a sharp and wet exhale that made him pull back, worried that you didn’t believe him. It was his turn to hold your face in his hands. His hands slid up your sides, caressing your jaw as he tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes. Even with his tear-stained cheeks and mussed up hair he was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your entire life.

“I love you and I know you and it’s been the most terrifying thing in the world.”

“...but?” You said, trying to tease him. You wanted to hear him say that he wanted you. Fuck the world. Fuck the multiverse. You wanted to hear him say that you’d give yourselves a chance to be happy.

“But I want you. I want to be with you if you’ll have me. I want the first dates and the fights and to come home to you everyday and know that you’re mine.” He said, rushing. He was a man of few words, always serious, always to the point, but if given the opportunity he would have written all the love letters in the world for you, “I want you to stay with me in Nueva York. I want you to judge my cooking and to tease me and-”

You couldn’t stop yourself. You lips crashed into his, sending the both of you toppling back onto the kitchen floor. His arms immediately wound their way around your back, molding you to him as your hands disappeared into the strands of his hair and your breath became his.

“I love you too, Miguel. I love you,” You kissed him on the lips, “I love you.” You kissed him on the temples, “I love you,” the cheeks, “I love you,” the neck, “I love you,” You whispered against his lips.

Miguel shuddered under your touch. He was all warmth and longing and heat as you grabbed at one another with eager hands. Clothes crumpled on the floor to the tune of breathless sighs.

The tiles were soothing and cool against your burning skin as you laid with Miguel, chests heaving as he peppered the area around your heart with soft kisses.

You rolled over onto your side to face him, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as you imagined what it might be like to draw him when he was at peace like this.

“Come back to Nueva York with me.” He murmured.

“Like this?” You gestured to your bare skin, wiggling your eyebrows. He grinned and kissed your fingertips.

“Depends on if you can blink us directly into my bedroom.”

“I thought you slept upside down from the ceiling rafters. Or in a coffin.”

He squeezed your hips, fingers fluttering dangerously at your sensitive sides as he captured your lips in a kiss. You squealed and squirmed away from his hands as he continued to tickle your sides until you were breathless and crying from laughter.

He loved to see you like this - smiling and laughing and happy. He wanted to see you like this everyday.

Your heart quieted in your chest and you finally allowed yourself to melt back into his protective arms.

“I mean it, Y/n."

I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to.

The pain of the argument you’d both had was still tender and sore to the touch, but a heavy weight had fallen off his shoulders after tonight. You wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with you.

"I want you to stay with me. I don’t mean you have to come this instant but…”

“I’d like that.” You finished for him, smiling against his lips as you continued stealing lazy kisses from one another.

But then you paused for a moment, looking at him carefully, “And I’d like to be put back on the team.”

Miguel’s lips flattened, his hands tightening around you.

“With great power comes great responsibility - that’s what you Spider-People always say, isn’t it?”

“Something like that, yes.” Miguel said after a pause.

“I can do this, Migs. I’m going to do this.”

“I know,” He murmured and then said hesitantly, “I still want you to take time off and heal. I don’t want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. I-”

You pressed your fingers against his lips, shushing him, “I came back to you didn’t I? I won’t leave you here alone. I promise you that. It’s you and me, Miguel.”

He let out a shaky breath, holding you closer than you thought possible.

“Me and you.” He murmured reverently.

You spent the next few hours tangled up in each other on the kitchen floor, whispering sweet nothings and basking in the heat that naturally radiated off of Miguel’s skin. But when you finally fell asleep against his chest to the steady beat of his heart, he took the cue and gently carried you to the bedroom.

He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face when your hands slid up and down the sheets, seeking out his warmth before he had had the chance to slip under the covers next to you. So when he took his rightful place in the bed, you unconsciously tangled yourself up in his arms again, humming with satisfaction when his fingers brushed through your hair.

“I love you.” Miguel whispered once more, feeling your sleepy arms tighten around him, before he finally closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________

Author's note:

I just want Miguel to be happy, you know?

Also (hot take), I think we all deserve more gentle and loving interpretations of Miguel. I know in the movie he comes across as very stern and aggressive - which is why I think a lot of fics write him as being a very dominating romantic partner - but I think if he were to find someone he loved and was in a place where he felt comfortable starting a romantic relationship, he would be a lot kinder and gentler with them. But those are just my thoughts.

There's still a little more to come in this fic as I wrap things up so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape. @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake @hyperfixationwho @corpsebridenightamare @mikeys-thighs @skulfan1 @the-falling-avenger

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter parker #peter b parker #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

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elifseasonz · 3 months

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MINORS DNI | 18+ CONTENT (AFAB) u guys get 4 (four) hcs in total after like 2 weeks of waiting i know its shit plz let me live i have a wife (seok matthew) and kids

SEOKMATTHEWPLEASEMARRYME matthew might be a mean dom but hes also a service dom, it may seem like hes just using you as a fuck toy for his own pleasure but your wants are always above his own. hes happier when hes making you scream his name until your voice breaks ^^

matthew king of foreplay whos w me?? honestly he is a little bit selfish when it comes to foreplay because he spends most of it just teasing ur needy cunt and marking you everywhere he can, sharp teeth digging into your soft skin to leave red marks that he knows you wont be able to cover up (he tells you "only patient girls get what they want" but you know he will give in not even minutes later)

matthew is needy!! he loves your attention so he gets jealous veryy easily :(( its hard to get away from his grip in the morning especially when hes hard and wants his beautiful girlfriends time and affection (in the form of a handjob, but who says that isnt affection?)

touching up on jealousy, he cannot handle seeing another man check you out. he'll grab your waist and leave light kisses on your forehead while staring at the defeated bitch guy. (he whispers something in your ear, telling you he'll fuck you so good you'll forget that guy was even staring at you, and matthew never breaks a promise)

#──★ ˙ 📎 sent from elif ̟ !!#zb1 smut #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 x reader #seok matthew x reader #seok matthew smut #zb1 hard hours #zerobaseone hard hours

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richeeduvie · 2 months

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thank you genius anon for the roman summer house ask. but also richee can you elaborate on this time that roman came out from under the table while drunk… curious to know if he did that for the reason I think he did

"That tickles. Jesus fuck-!"

"I'm not even licking anythi-"

Roman's not. He just finds the inside of your thighs quite comfortable. And your skin smells good. Like really good, it's whatever body wash you're using.

Sometimes, it doesn't feel that taboo to want to peel bits of you off. If he could put you back together without any pain, he would.

"Someone's coming. Just shh."

He rolls his eyes, but his heart feels like the way his mouth purses when he hears it's Kendall.

Roman understands his jealousy. Not very fucking well, but he knows that it's just not right whenever you talk to people. It doesn't even have to be other boys that Roman's sure they want you naked and nippled and for them, it's just...anyone. It's Kendall, but Kendall's a fucking freak. It's Shiv and every adult adult who takes time away from him. It's school and it's movies that distract you.

Maybe it's fucking pathetic? Roman doesn't it. It's not right because it makes him feel sick and small.

And Kendall just keeps yapping. You're too nice to everyone, like it's your job. It's especially peevy when you make it so Kendall's comfortable.

You won't admit it - Kendall won't even admit it, but the brotherly fucker wants you so badly. It's gross. And you should pretty much have the understanding that you don't do well with other people. Just him, even when he's mean. Sorry.

"So, I was just thinking about...you ever hear of go-karting?"

"Jesus fuck."

Roman cringes and lazily comes up from your legs. Not air, cause that would mean he wouldn't be taking in your mouth whole.

"...Roman-"

"You taste like cake. Yum. Hi, Ken." He furrows his brows, looking down. "Close your legs, you don't want to look slutty in front of my brother."

And Roman tries not to wear a stupid-born smile when Kendall just stares, all the confidence and shitty banter gone now that he's here. And his mouth was just on your crotch. That doesn't need to be said between the three of you.

"Do you - do you guys do that al-all the time? What the fuck? That's not cool, dude."

"Why are you pushing this on me? What if she wanted me down in the trenches."

"...Are you-" You hiccup. Roman fixes your hair. "Is my vagina the trench?"

"It's like - take it as a fucking compliment. Wet, narrow....I'm the only one up in there, right?"

"Don't fucking...Roman. Both of you, what if Dad saw?"

"He wouldn't have?"

Roman scratches behind his ear. He can see a purposeful, slight shake of his brother's body.

"What? Cause you wouldn't have made the fucking effort to come up?"

"Why does it bother you so much? It would've only bothered Dad cause it's just more proof that I am his disappointment baby. A vat of unprofessionalism."

Roman knows why Kendall looks so strangled by the way he came up from under the table, why he still looks tense as he throws his legs over you. You look heated. It makes Roman smile.

He knows why even if Kendall never admits it. Maybe he'll get over you like a normal fucking person. But Roman's selfish as much as he is someone that loves his brother. He deserves a bit of tense nerves, his own amount of jealousy because he's not even suppose to be jealous in the first place.

Roman burps and presses a thumb into your hand.

"Go away, Kendall. You have Stewy cock to make you feel better. About what? I don't think either of us have a clue."

He drags out the word clue and stares into your skin, a low head looking down.

Don't give her that fucking look, bitch.

He looks at your guilted face like you've vomited on his shoe.

"Don't tell me you actually feel embarrassed and bad about it."

"You should've waited."

"Oowee, let's spare Ken's feelings. What feelings am I sparing by making the effort to not remind him that I'm inside you at all times?"

When you don't respond, the casual and sickly humor turns red in Roman. He stares.

"What feelings?"

But he's weak, it never takes much and it takes nothing when he's drank a lot. Like a softy, touchy little hand holding his.

"Wanna pick a movie?"

"...It's gonna be a super dirty movie. The most visible pussy and dick you've ever witnessed."

"You had a panic attack watching the first fifteen minutes of boogie nights and we had to put on the beauty and the bea-"

Roman's heart picks up. Why would you ever bring that up?

"You didn't make that moment feel like something you were gonna fucking laugh at me for."

"I'm not laughing, I'm just saying...do you think you'd get like that if you watched us on camera?"

He blinks.

"Have you been fucking recording us?"

"No! I was just wondering."

"You're not good at that. Fucking Jesus."

"Where are you going?"

Back down. Where it's easier to breathe.

#inbox #hc's #drabble #dog and bone!au #roman roy x reader #succession fanfiction

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Hello there 🙋🏻‍♀️! I am a woman in desperate need of fresh Daemon fics, for his tags are running dry ♨️

Maybe something about her being insecure for being younger and inexperienced, him getting jealous of a guard's attention on her, a wedding night piece, I don't know, let your imagination run wild 🃏

Thanks in advance!

Why Do We Sleep Where We Want To Hide

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: He was the thorns around your heart, your lover, who made your heart bleed. They say love is blind because of those like you, who selflessly did anything for your selfish lover. Mayhap tis fitting love will be your doom.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: fem!reader, undertones of suicidal ideation, Sleeping Beauty AU, casually toxic!daemon, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: Cause im so bad at titles, i just used a line in an all time low song 'monster' (which i suggest you listen to) because besides the sleeping beauty-esque plotline, the song also inspired me. I hope you like it nyctophilic0vitnir <3 <3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

"You're to be married?" I shuddered, breath hitching, lips trembling.

Daemon, who looked up at me as I shot up from my bed where we were sat on, does not even show me a glint of remorse, "it is not out of mine own want to be married to that bronze bitch."

"Then what of me?!," I shake my head, feeling hot tears streak my face, "what of us?!" I heave, "you do not even care about what-"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?!" he cuts, raising his voice, "telling you of what will become of me!" he narrows his eyes, "does that not count for something?!"

I scoff, feeling my chest tighten as my fists do. I mutter softly, as if in disbelief, "you care only for yourself, Daemon."

Like a theatre play being acted out before my eyes, I recall all of my fondest memories with him. How we met as children and bonded over our joint agenda to steal desserts from the banquet table, how he unabashedly played with me and my dolls, though his brother made fun of him, how he would braid flowers into my hair, how he would return from his travels each time with a souvenir for me, how he held my hand, how he played with my locks, how he kissed me, how he made me moan out his name in ecstasy.

He was my Daemon, my beloved prince, not a hard, miscreant the court makes him out to be.

And yet in this moment, it was pinching me in the gut. The whispers and the warnings I gave no attentions to were all darkening my memories of him.

Perhaps in fact he had been lost to me for long, and I had only been fooling myself otherwise.

He stands before me, calling out my name.

I recoil when he reaches out to me. I mumble, "if it wasn't so, you'd fight for me."

"You want me to go against my brother?" he scoffs out a dry chuckle.

The sight of his incredulous face rips at my heart. My jaw slacks as my lips pull upward, "you've done so for less."

I shake my head where he clenches his jaw.

"Tell him about us," I urge, but mutter as though it was a horrible crime, our love, "tell him, then ask my father for my hand."

His nostrils flare. He turns away, "your father would never give you to me."

I growl, shoving him away, "and you don't even want to try!?"

Daemon looks at me, shocked by my sudden aggression.

I shove him again, harder, "you cannot even agree that you care for me! And now you scorn even the notion of asking for my hand."

He calls out my name. I all but give him time to poison me with his meaningless harks. My hand that meets his cheek is enough to silence him. I shove him away one last time before storming past him, "get out."

I head to my chamber doors as he calls out my name tightly.

He says, "I did not come here to argue."

"I do not understand why you came here at all," I snip, opening the door for him. I turn, feeling my throat tighten and my eyes water at the looks of him, "get out, Daemon."

He licks his lips in annoyance, shifting on his leg as he calls my name again. He places his hands on his hips, "your childish behavior is beginning to annoy me."

I laugh, motioning to the door, "then leave!"

He huffs, "you don't think I will?!"

"I WANT YOU TO!"

"THEN I'LL FUCKING LEAVE, CUNT!"

And so he did. He stormed out and ripped the door from my grip, banging it closed on his way out.

There was an inexplicable relief when he left, relief that I got my point across, that I did not allow myself to be folly under his duress. But of course, there was a bitter tinge at the center of it all, for yes, he was this conceited man playing me, yet I did not really believe it. I still wanted to think he was mine, my sweet lover.

So seeing him in the courts, smiling at ladies, brushing the back of his hand against their necks was a repulsive sight. Watching him drink with soldiers, talking about hunting and war like it was the most exciting thing in the world was absolute ridicule. And now, beholding him win in tourneys with favors from other women was most heart-piercing.

"Daughter!" my father mutters sharply as he nudges me back into reality.

"Yes, father?" I say under my breath, rather ditzy as I turn to my left.

"Lord Westerling has asked for your favor," my mother to my right responds quickly, pulling her lips in a forced smile.

I turn front, finding the man clad in armor, holding his lance out to me. I pull a smile, grabbing a wreath, throwing it out to him, "may the Warrior grant you victory."

"Thank you, my lady," he nods, "mayhap, if I win, you will allow me a moment of your time."

I nod, without much thought.

I idlily watch as the man goes to his place and readies for the match. I only turn to his opponent when I hear the burst of High Valyrian along with the huffs of a restless steed.

When the word is given, all at once, the two ride towards each other and the Westerling fellow shoots off his horse, falling to the ground, a swift conclusion to the match. That was, until his opponent, with his avidly flashy headpiece, jumps off his horse and marches toward the felled man, as if the emissary of The Stanger herself.

I shoot up from my seat, turning to my parents, "I will relieve myself."

I do not wait for their response as I walk off, hearing the screams of a man being butchered.

Truly, it was a shock that I was caught by a bloody handed man on my way off to the privy.

I gasp when I turn back, feeling my skin crawl at the fresh stain on my sleeve and the sight of the prince, removing the helm off his head, "I nigh killed your man."

"Am I supposed to applaud you, prince?"

"Why are you making this so difficult?!" Daemon seethes, hurling his metal headpiece to the ground.

I recoil at his show of violence, feeling tears threaten to spill from my eyes, "tis I that makes things difficult?" I scoff, "your depravity knows no bounds."

"It is your haughtiness that burns us both!" he bursts.

"MY HAUGHTINE-"

I cut myself off when Daemon reaches out to for my cheeks, hands covered in grime and blood, leaning in to kiss me. I am delivered when I dodge his assault and manage to shove him away. I heave, kicking his shin, groaning at the pain in my toe that comes after.

"DO NOT TOUCH ME, MONSTER!"

He calls out my name.

"Even now," I call, "you do all you can to disgrace me!"

"You think so little of me?"

"YES!" I step forward, "because you think even littler of me!"

"That is not true and you know it."

I turn away, ready to leave him. He calls out my name angrily.

I only stop in my thundering exit when I hear him say, "if you leave me now, I will never come to you again!"

I clench my jaw tightly, "good," then continue to walk away.

For once, he is true to his words.

It is laughable, that in stubborn pettiness and spite, he is capable of doing exactly as he says he would. Yet in the warmth of our love, all the musings of his promises to me were left in hell.

He called out to me with such desperation, but now, I am nothing, no one to him. In court events, he does not even regard me, he does not even grant me the courtesy of treating me like a stranger, and merely ignores my presence altogether.

I wish so badly I could pretend to have the heart to care for the men who could finally flocked to me, now that the prince was no longer my shadow. I wish so badly I could muster even the most counterfeit of smiles, to throw back even a speck of disrespect Daemon had been throwing at me constantly.

But I was not as cold as he, and I could not even smile amongst the ladies I could have called my friends, had I cultivated more time with them, rather than the Targaryen I wasted my youth on.

When my family received invitation to his wedding, that was when I decided enough was enough.

"It's you," she calls as I enter the small, dingy room I was directed to by the woman downstairs, "the gods' wills are surely planned and timed."

I push away the curtain separating the shaman and I, brows knitting deeper at the next words she says, "I heard whispers in my dreams that I would meet a child of the Warrior and the Maiden today, lovers that cannot be."

I freeze at her words.

"Come child," she beckons, "if you want what he wanted of me, I think there need not be a spell cast for you both."

"What are you talking about?" I shake my head rapidly.

"Your lover," she whispers, "of alabaster hair and mighty wealth," she motions to the pouches of gold before her.

Daemon was here? "What did he ask of you?"

"A binding spell," she says, "it is meant to bring doom to those not he who would fall in love with you find a miserable death."

I whine, "and have you cast it?!"

"You arrived before I could finish," she says, tilting her head, "but I must say, even if I do not properly end the incantation, remnants of it would still come to pass."

"Then please undo it," I say, falling to my knees in front of the woman. I drop my satchel before her feet, heavy with all the coin I could carry.

The sound of my object catches her attentions, I suppose as well the sound of strangled breathing.

She sighs, leaning towards me, "it is nary possible to undo what has been done," she sighs, "but I can transform it to something else," she reaches out for my cheek, wiping my tear away, "what is it that you want from me, my dear?"

"I..." I shudder, feeling a shiver run down my spine. What do I want?"

"I want him," I weakly admit, "I want him to love me," I sigh, "I want him so badly. I want him to love me even though did not ask for us to be together with your magic," I chew my lip roughly, "and for that I want you to take this from me."

I look up to her. She wholly pitied me. How pathetic of myself.

"You want me to destroy the love you feel for him?"

I clench my jaw, nodding once.

She sighs, "even magic is not immune to the power of love."

"Then what can you do?!" I desperately reach out to her, "please."

"I can make him come to you."

I close my mouth. I do no think I want him to.

"It is not as simple as it sounds though, child," she explains, "I would be putting you into a deep sleep, one that would make all around you concerned for your wellbeing, him, hopefully, especially. The only thing that will awaken you is a sentiment to your lover's love."

I chuckle dryly, "he would not go to me even if his life depended on it."

"I am aghast to say that there is no other way to find out than by trying, milady," she offers, "but again, I must warn you. It is truly only he that can save you."

I knit my brows, "so... I will die if I do not wake up?"

She presses her lips, nodding slowly.

"Do it then."

"Are you cert-"

"I am the most certain I have been in a while."

And so I watched her finish her spell in front of me. She bid me farewell with a kiss on the forehead.

Later than night, when I returned, I bathed, dressed myself, and kissed both my parents goodnight the way the woman did with me.

It took a week, and visits from a dozen different maesters for the news to finally reach the king. And when it reached Viserys, it took him three days to debate whether or not he should tell his little brother. When he did, all hell broke lose.

Daemon nearly destroyed the palace in his anger, in the betrayal of only knowing the information now.

And yet, in all his ire, he did not come still. He instead moped, and rioted, and wasted away in taverns, in brothels, until his feet took him to the shrine of the Seven, praying to whomever would listen, to save his love, begging on his knees like he never did, never have, never will, ever again.

Then finally, finally he caved. He could not bear the voices in his head that were murmuring the worst.

Daemon asked to see his... his love, banging on the gates, a man at the brink, distraught, disheveled. The servants that were told to allow no one in did not know what to do. When the grief struck parents finally came, they could not turn him away upon recognizing the grief on his face.

And as Daemon went into the chambers, once blooming with shared love, now left rigid, cold, and uninviting, he took one look at the shell before him, turned away, unable to stomach the sight, unwilling to believe that this was the truth, denying this memory to stain his mind.

"It has been weeks, prince Daemon," the weeping mother says, "can you not send for someone to save my beloved girl," she turns to him, "you were once friends. You should do that much."

"We were never friends!" the prince barks, cheeks wet with tears he did not want to spill, "she was-"

And yet he still could not say it.

"Even now, you do all you can to disgrace me!"

Daemon shakes his head, turning to the floor, mumbling mostly to himself, "I will not disgrace her." He turns to the bed one last time, unable to look longer than three seconds, then to the parents, nodding his head, "I will take my leave now."

When he exits the chamber, he hears an angered man scream out profanities to him. He clenches his jaw, releasing a jagged breath, "wake up soon, my love."

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #daemon x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #hotd angst #sleeping beauty au #house of the dragon angst

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ashwhowrites · 2 years

Text

Puppy love part 2

Part 1

Eddie was afraid to admit how hurt he was by Chrissy's actions. It almost felt like a personal attack. They were slightly friends and she ruined something that could have been really good for him. But why? That's where he was stuck.

Y/N wasn't doing the best either. But unlike Eddie, she knew why Chrissy got involved. She liked him in some sort of way. And she was a cheerleader. How was she supposed to compete with that? Her mind betrayed her the most. Flashing images of Eddie and Chrissy screwing each other for hours. She hated the perfect visuals her mind made. And she hates more than anything that she missed him

Eddie spent all his time in bed. Refusing to talk to Wayne. He felt bad but he didn't want his uncle to see him so weak and sad like this.

"Eddie? Someone is here for you"

Eddie raced to his door. What if it was her?

He opened it, holding his breath. Only to exhale it with an annoyed sigh.

Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

Before she could even say a word, Eddie spoke first, “You shouldn’t have come, I don’t want you here.”

And slammed his door, but her foot caught it before it slammed on her.

"come on Eddie. Don't be like that." She sighed. Opening the door and walking into his room. Shutting the door behind her.

The room was a mess.

"don't be like that? Chrissy you just fucked everything up for me" he tried to stay calm. Not wanting to scream at a woman. He wasn't going to be like his dad. But he was so fucking pissed off.

"okay what did I do?" She asked. Arms crossed over her chest

Eddie took a deep breath

"what did you do? How about you tell me what the fuck you were thinking going up to Y/N and making it seemed like we fucked? Huh? " He snapped. Getting in her face. His deep breaths were barely working. He could feel how hot his skin was. Boiling underneath.

"I didn't tell her we fucked. If she assumed that and got herself hurt then it was her fault, not mine Eddie." She scoffed. Rolling her eyes

"don't fucking roll your eyes. We both know you knew exactly what you were doing. You could have easily come to me to give me my shirt back. But you went to her! How the hell did you even know about our date? You just perfectly knew I told her I was busy. Are you spying on me?" He accused. At this point he wouldn't be surprised.

"that's ridiculous. I do not care about you two and your little crushes that much." She glared

"that much right, so you care a little bit there" he huffed, hand scratching his chin.

She realized her mistake and sighed

"fine. I cared a little bit. I was jealous okay? We were having fun and you liked me. I haven't felt adored like that, in forever. So when she came in and you immediately dropped to her feet. I just felt ignored and forgotten. I acted out of revenge. It was fucked up, I know. I overheard you two make the date plans, I hated how excited you both were. And then you forgot about our deal. I overheard you talking with Wayne at the school so I lied to her. I told her I was with you Friday night. And a part of me really liked seeing her so upset which is so fucking wrong" Her bitchy act was breaking apart. All this time she saw Eddie as a pawn for her life. He was a real person who also had feelings. Her face was falling.

"don't do that. Don’t look at me like you’re sorry. You’re not sorry. You just got caught and now it's coming back to bite you in the ass. She didn't deserve that, hell I didn't deserve that. You used me. I made you feel good? Imagine how I felt Chrissy! Imagine how a loser felt getting noticed by a cheerleader. You made me feel seen. I mean fuck, you kissed me first. I thought the small attention you gave me was all I deserved. And then I met her. And she made me realize how much more I deserved. She likes me because I'm me! She likes that I'm nerdy, that I'm funny. She took time to know who I was, but you never did. You are a selfish, cold hearted bitch and I'll never forgive you for how you hurt her. It didn’t have to be like this, but now you’ve ruined everything. I never want to be near you again. And you better not think about talking to her again."

Chrissy nodded. She deserved every word

"you're right. I'm sorry for doing that to you guys. I really hope you work it out. She does really like you. Can you tell her I'm sorry?"

"no I won't. Because she doesn't need an apology from you. She needs the truth from me. Please leave." He sighed, turning his back to her.

Once he heard her walk out the door, he went back into bed.

Feeling slightly better that Chrissy was out of his life. But now he had to figure out how to make things work with Y/N.

Wayne can't say he knows what happened with Eddie and the girl he really seemed to like. All he knew was Eddie was upset and didn't seem to care to get out of bed. Wayne has been heartbroken before and he can see the similarities in his nephew.

Wayne may have asked around to get the girls address. Once he got it, he headed over. Eddie, still no doubt, sleeping his hours of daylight away.

He knocked politely on the door. Waiting as a teenage girl opened the door.

"can I help you?" She asked. Wayne could tell she was confused but still mannered and polite. He liked that about her.

"are you Y/N?" He asked. The girl nodded hesitantly. ( Maybe it wasn't the best idea to agree until she knew who was asking for her)

"can I ask who you are?"

"I'm Wayne. Eddie's uncle"

She froze hearing Eddie's name.

"is he okay?" She asked quickly.

Wayne could see the fear filling her eyes. Realizing that maybe showing up unannounced might cause her to panic.

"shit. Yes. Well kinda. Physically he is okay. He's safe! Just at home, emotionally destroyed. He won't tell me what exactly happened but I know he's very upset. And he won't talk to me. And as a very concerned guardian, I wanted to ask you for help." He stated. Watching as the girl went through many different emotions. Wayne can easily read people, something he wished Eddie learned from him. He's watched too many people use Eddie for their own gain.

"look I'm sorry that he's upset. But we aren't really on talking terms. If he won't get out of bed to talk to you then I'm not sure what I'm needed for" She apologized. She was upset too. She was hurt. She's the one who got ditched for someone else. Having to feel the embarrassment every time she thought of him.

"I understand that completely. But I was a teenage boy once. And there were times in my life that only one person could get me to roll out of bed." He smiled gently.

Her eyes flashed with warmth. He knew he got her there

"can I ask you something?" She asked

He nodded

"how do I know you are actually Wayne? Not some guy he hired to get me to go see him? Do you have baby pictures of him ?" She asked, cleaning her arms. She doesn't actually think Eddie would pay to lie to her. But she also believed that he liked her and she was proved wrong there.

Wayne laughed, "ah she's beautiful and skeptical. I see why he likes you." The thought of Eddie telling Wayne he liked her made her blush. But she was still questioning the situation.

"I carry one in my wallet I can show. But if you come with me, maybe try to talk to him, I will show you the endless photo albums of baby Eddie all the way to who you know today. Deal?" He asked, he knew he had her wanting to see Eddie the second she heard he was upset. He appreciated the fight she put up though. Someone stubborn and worked to get their way was exactly what Eddie needed in his life.

"depends. What were you doing Friday night?" She asked

"fixing an old car but the skills needed only Eddie knew how to do so worked with him, why?" He didn't know what that had to do with anything.

"let me grab my jacket."

Eddie rolled his eyes as Wayne knocked on his door yet again

"STILL DON'T WANT TO TALK!" he yelled, throwing his face in his pillow

"I got her" he heard Wayne say calmly through the door.

Eddie sprung out of bed and threw open his bedroom door

Eyes widening as she stood behind him, a shy wave as she checked him over.

"oh shit. Come in" he said, moving over so she could pass through.

He mouthed a thank you to Wayne, in return, Wayne threw him a wink and thumbs up.

Eddie took a deep breath and sat on his bed. She stood across from him. Arms covering herself, like it was some sort of protection.

"Wayne was worried about you and asked me to come talk to you." She explained.

"you agreed, so you must still care about me?" He asked, hopeful

"still a good friend of mine Eddie but I can't tell who's telling the truth and who's lying to me" she sighed. She felt like she should trust Eddie. She knew who Eddie was, this Chrissy girl though? She just met her. But she's been too hurt in the past to ignore when her feelings get hurt. She deserved to question people's motives.

"can I explain? Maybe explain what my part of the story looks like and help paint a picture?" He asked.

She came to get answers and he would provide all the answers he has.

She nodded and gave him the floor.

"Chrissy and I used to hang out. We did deals. She paid for weed in money and sometimes with her tongue . But her and I have never once had sex or even done anything majorly sexual with each other. We weren't like that. She had my shirt because she came over for a deal and spilled water on her shirt. She asked if she could borrow a shirt and I said yes. That's why she had it. Not because of whatever lie she told you. " He explained. Praying that she would believe the truth in his words.

" do you like her Eddie?"

"I really thought I did. But I think I liked having someone's attention." He admitted. He knew now he never liked Chrissy, he liked that she saw him. Once he met Y/N, he realized what having real feelings felt like.

"is that why you like me?" She asked. She feared the cycle was repeating. She feared that a new girl would give him attention so he was occupied. What happens if another girl walks in the door?

"absolutely not. I like you because I actually adore you so much. We have a connection, we have something that makes me feel real things, and good things. The way I feel with you, I never felt with Chrissy. I can't even describe how disappointed I was in letting you drive off. Not explaining in enough time. Disappointed I sat here in bed, letting you think and ponder on the idea I slept with another girl. I just want you. And I want that date. And even more dates. I want to be with you."

"I really would like to be with you too. I should have given you time to explain before accusing you and leaving. I apologize for that." She apologized

"no need to apologize. Chrissy painted a pretty convincing picture and I'm sorry she put you through that because of her own issues. But she won't be around at all, I promise." His hand reached out to hers slowly. Still fearing rejection.

She noticed how he was hesitant to touch her so she laced their fingers together. Smiling at him as she sat next to him.

"can I please ask you on another date?" He asked, turning his head to look at her.

"absolutely Eddie"

Eddie was getting ready for his do over date. This time he wasn't going to take her to a public place. He wanted it to be private. Somewhere he only would focus on her.

Wayne and him spent time in the kitchen. Making a pasta dinner with salad and garlic bread.

"holy shit Wayne, how did I not know you were a chef?' Eddie joked. Watching as Wayne made the most amazing looking pasta.

"used to do it a lot. And look at you. Never thought I'd see the day Eddie Munson cooked a meal for a girl." Wayne smirked as Eddie blushed. Packing the food in a picnic basket.

"you do crazy shit when you like someone right?"

"like someone? No Eddie. You are falling for that girl." Eddie smiled and shook his head

"don't plan the wedding yet uncle Wayne" he joked, laughing as he snuck a few beers when Wayne turned his back

"bet after this date, you'll be planning it yourself" Wayne said back.

He hugged Eddie on his way out. Wishing him luck.

Eddie was nervous the whole way to her house. He wasn't sure if she even liked pasta or romantic gestures. But he was hopeful. He sighed and grabbed the flowers that Wayne picked out. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and knocked on her door.

Breath taken right out of his body when she opened the door. She stood there with a huge smile. She was in blue jeans, white sneakers and a band tshirt but as he looked closer he realized, it was his. It was his band

"you like?" She giggled, giving a twirl. Her ponytail swinging as she spun

Her lips stretched with pink gloss. Eyes decorated with pink glitter and black mascara. Her outfit was simple and he wanted to fall on his knees.

"you are fucking gorgeous. Where did you get that shirt?" He laughed

"I may have made it" she shrugged. Now noticing the flowers in his hands.

"are those for me?' she asked shyly. He nodded fast and passed them over. Tingles shivering through his body as his fingers touched hers.

"they are beautiful. Come inside, I'll grab a vase!" She said. He followed her in the house. Smiling at photos of her as a child.

Together they headed to Eddie's mystery location.

"what do you have planned?" She asked as he parked his van at a park

"food and hopefully a steamy make out under the stars." He threw a wink at her and he got out of his van. Running to her side of the door, opening it.

"you have high hopes I see" she giggled. Blushing at the thought of kissing him for the first time. She thanked him for opening her door. Walking very close to him as he led her to an open spot in the park.

Eddie laid down a blanket and asked her to sit. Placing down a picnic basket and sitting next to her

"Wayne and I made pasta, salad, and bread. I also snuck a few beers but also have water" she smiled at how proud he looked taking out the dishes. Her heart was so warmed at the thought of him cooking in his kitchen just for her. She hated that she doubted him.

"all of it sounds amazing. Thank you Eddie" she said and kissed his cheek. He blushed and handed her a fork and together they dug in.

Talking about random shit as they cleared out the containers of food.

After they ate, they stayed for a little longer. The night grew a tad closer and Eddie noticed her shivering.

He quickly took off his leather jacket and placed it on her shoulders

"no you'll be cold" she said, trying to take it off

"nah. I'm fine. Please keep it. You look good in my clothes" she blushed again. It was like he knew exactly how to make her want to kick her feet and scream into a pillow.

She scooted closer to him as she sipped on the can of beer. He threw his arm around her as he stared at her. Watching as she looked up at the stars.

"I could just stare at you forever” he whispered.

Her head turned to face him. Realizing just how close he was. She could see every detail on his face.

"creep" she whispered. A small smile on her lips. He chuckled at her response.

"can I kiss you?" He asked. Eyes dropping to her glossy lips.

She nodded, staring right back at his pink lips. She watched as he wetted them with his tongue. Turning his head as his finger touched underneath her chin, pushing it up slightly. She turned her head in the opposite direction. Leaning in with him.

Closing her eyes as she felt his lip touch hers. She practically whined about how soft his lips were. He took control of the kiss. A hand on her neck as he kissed her harder. Her free hand, that wasn't holding her beer, laid on top of his hand on her neck. Kissing him even harder than he was.

He licked her bottom lip, begging to taste her. She opened her mouth immediately. Loving the sound of the growl that left his throat when his tongue made contact with hers. His tongue was warm and fighting with hers. His other hand wrapped itself around her. Pushing her body against his.

He hated that he needed to pull away for air.

His lips were sticky but he liked it. Her eyes were blown out and lips red.

"that was even better than I thought it would be" he admitted

Already missing her lips, going in to kiss her again. She kissed back just as fast. She thinks kissing him might be her new favorite thing.

He stood outside her front door. Disappointed that the date had to end.

"I wish I could spend every moment with you" he admitted

"me too eds"

"I'm so lucky to know you. Thank you for making me feel things I never thought I could" he whispered, forehead leaning against hers

"shut up. I was the new girl and I am so glad I got to meet you first" she said softly, pecking his lips slightly

"I'm usually not that kind of girl, especially on a first date, but would you want to come inside? Watch a movie or something?" She asked

"definitely" he smiled. Following behind her.

Now this is the love Eddie deserved.

Tags!

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