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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

baby shoes

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, best friend!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, pretty fluffy :), p in v sex, unprotected smut, breeding!, pregnancy kink?, no actual sex while pregnant but lots of like. bump descriptions?

rafe rolls his eyes as you let out a squeal, already knowing what is happening.

“oh. my. god.” you pick up the baby shoes off the shelf, a pair of sparkly flats with the cutest flower straps you've ever seen. “rafe, they're so tiny!”

you hold them up for him to look at as if he's never seen baby shoes before, despite you pointing them out to him every time you're out shopping together.

“yeah, real cute.” he says, keeping his voice completely monotone.

“rafe, don't be so sour.” you pout at him. your friendship is an unexpected one. started in kindergarten and has only grown closer since, your sweet nature in contrast to rafes hard exterior.

“y/n.” rafe sighs, taking the baby shoes from your hands as he sets them back on the shelf. “we look at baby shoes and onesies every time we go to target. i brought you here to buy you a pair of boots, let's go.”

rafe tries to usher you down the aisle. despite you also being a kook he refuses to let you (or, really, your parents credit card) pay for anything.

you nod and continue to the women's section when you cross by a pair of ugg boots made for toddlers and stop in your tracks. “raaaafe!” you coo.

look how cute this baby is rafey

“are you serious?” rafe questions reading your text message. “im laying right next to you.”

“too much work to roll over and show you.” you shrug, both scrolling on your phones, having just gotten back from a long day. so long rafe insisted you slept at his because it was closer. only one block closer, but you didn't argue. rafes bed is also yours, and yours his. you've always shared, no need to change now just because you're older.

“that baby isn't even that cute.” rafe huffs out.

you turn over now, rolling onto your stomach to glare at him. “rafe cameron, you are such a dick!”

“oh, so you'll roll over to yell at me?” rafe questions, a smile on his face. usually he wouldn't take shit from anyone, but you're not just anyone to him.

“yes because you deserve it asshole. that baby is adorable.”

“yours would be way cuter.” rafe grins, knowing how flustered you get talking about having a child of your own.

“okay, true.”

“what the fuck is going on?” rafe questions, his mouth literally dropping as he walks in.

“oh my god!” you squeal. “you told me you were coming over at 2, you idiot!”

rafe looks at the time on your alarm clock. 1:55. rafe may have not knocked before letting himself in, but he figured it was fine.

“what are you wearing?”

“it's… it's a fake pregnancy belly. my friend carly who works with the school plays said they were getting rid of it bc it was getting old… and i asked to have it.” you shrug, your embarrassment melting away the longer you talk about it.

“why would you want that?” rafe questions.

“i just wanted to see what id look like.” you shrug, turning again to look at yourself in the mirror, running your hands over the tshirt stretching around the plastic material. “i think i look cute.”

rafes eyes are on the round swell of your belly. he thinks you look more than cute, he thinks you look so ravishing he wants to make that belly real right this second.

“gonna take a shower.” rafe makes a turn towards your bathroom before you can argue, saving himself by locking the door behind him.

“why are you in a mood?” rafe just entered your house but he can already tell from the look on your face that something has upset you.

“freaking kelsey is pregnant.” you spit her name out like it's an insult. she's been your sworn moral enemy ever since she “dated” rafe in the fourth grade and told him he had to choose between staying friends with you or dating her. he chose staying friends of course, but you've despised her anyways since.

“okay…” rafe waits for more reasoning to you being so upset.

“that should be me.” you whine, not ashamed as you throw a little tantrum, stomping your feet on the ground.

“it can be.” rafe shrugs.

“huh?” you question, plopping back on the couch behind you, waiting for rafe to join you for movie night.

“you're not a kid anymore, y/n. you're 21. have a baby if you want.” rafe simply states.

“i- who would i even have a baby with? im single.” you've been single a majority of your life. there were flings in high school, but no one that lasted.

what you don't know if rafe contributed heavily to those relationships ending. he had staked his claim on you, and no guy was worthy in his eyes.

“id help you raise a baby.” rafe says without really thinking, sitting down on the couch next to you, not flinching as you turn to place your feet on his lap, always wanting to stretch out and get comfortable.

“you would?”

“im with you all the time anyways.” rafe nods. “if you had a baby id basically be their dad anyways.”

“id want that.” you admit. “you're the only guy out there i trust enough to get me pregnant.” you're not really thinking about your words themselves as you press your fingers to your stomach, imagining it filled up with a baby, with rafes baby.

“alright, we gotta talk about something else.” rafe shifts on the couch, pushing your feet off his lap to turn himself slightly away from you.

“wait why?” you question, sitting forward.

“just… change the subject.” rafe takes a deep breath, trying to calm down the boner that is growing in his pants.

“no, tell me!” you move closer, which only makes rafe turn away more. “tell me, rafey!”

he's never kept anything from you, and shockingly you can't figure out why he's behaving like this now.

“jesus, stop!” rafe scooches away when you grab onto his arm, trying to get him to face you, to look at you.

“tell me!” you complain again.

“because im fucking hard okay!” rafe shouts, standing up from the couch. “it's getting me fucking hard thinking about getting you pregnant so change the fucking subject!”

you sit on the couch in shock, eyes wide open. you know you shouldn't, he's your best friend after all, but you find your eyes moving lower, and sure enough, the front of rafes pants and tented, cock pushing away from his body.

“i-i-” you stammer.

“you nothing. okay? we forget this happened. just stop talking about getting fucking pregnant and stop talking about me being the one to do it.”

“but i want it to be you.” you blink up at rafe, head suddenly clearing. you do want it or be rafe. he's the only one who should be waking up in the middle of the night with you when your baby cries. he's the one you want to experience every milestone with. he's the one you want filling you up over and over until your tummy starts to swell.

“we can't go back.” rafe says, his tone suddenly serious. “we can't go back to just friends.”

“i know.” it's all you need to say for rafe to surge forward, dropping his knees to the floor as he kisses you, mouth easily dominating yours. you let out a soft moan as his hands cup your jaw, keeping you close even though you press yourself into him, hands fisted in his shirt.

“let me have you.” rafe pants against your mouth. “i need you. let me fill you up.”

“yes.” you nod. “yes, please. take your clothes off.”

you don't care that you're in the middle of your living room, you immediately tug your shirt off over your head, bearing your breasts to him. rafe knew you never wore a bra when in your own home, but seeing your bare tits is still a shock.

he doesn't even take his shirt off despite you tugging at it, cupping your chest as he leans in, mouth wrapping around your nipple.

“oh my god!” you squeal, fisting your hands in rafes hair, holding him close to your body as his tongue flicks over your nipple, hardening it quickly.

“i… im sorry baby i need to get inside of you.” rafe feels crude, tugging at your shorts to pull them down your legs, tossing them away.

“i need you too.” there will be plenty of time now that you've admitted feelings for each other to take your time, to go slow and learn each other's bodies.

rafe stands up, looking down at you in just your underwear, eyes glassy with lust as he pulls his shirt off, followed by him tugging his pants down, finally getting your eyes off his face as your eyes move down. you reach forward, hand rubbing over rafes length, annoyed that the fabric of his underwear is not allowing you to see him properly.

“fuck, stop.” rafe takes a step back. “im supposed to cum in you. get you pregnant. you're gonna make me bust.”

you smile, flattered that your simple touch can cause him to almost lose it.

“where do you want me.” you whisper. you aren't a virgin but you certainly aren't as experienced as rafe. while you know he partakes in hookups at parties you don't attend, you were never interested in sleeping around just for the sake of sleeping around.

“just lay back, baby.” rafe let's out a huff as you turn from sitting on the couch to laying down, your breasts falling beautifully as you wait for him to make the next move. “let's get these off.” rafe pulls your underwear down, but you keep your legs together to hide yourself for a little longer.

rafe shucks his underwear off next, praying his throbbing erection doesn't cause him to cum the second he gets inside of you.

you let out a low moan just from the both of you being naked. “gonna kneel down. wrap your leg around me.” rafe helps position you, spreading your legs as his eyes take in your wet cunt, pretty and perfect as he wraps your knee around his hips as he sinks himself down, moving to drape his body over yours.

“ill go slow.” rafe says, hoping he can stay true to his word as he reaches down, running his cock briefly through your folds, obsessed with the way your expression changed into one of pure pleasure.

“okay, just at first.” you nod. you need slow to open you up, to stretch your walls to allow rafes size, but you dont want it to stay slow, needing to feel him pound into you, make a mess of your cunt.

rafe sinks in with a gasp as your tightness and warmth envelops him. “fuck.” he mutters out, eyes squeezing closed as he inserts himself until he’s fully buried inside you pussy.

“feels real good rafey.” you pout. “cant believe we didn’t do this sooner. could already have a baby by now.” “oh, im gonna give you plenty.” rafe bends down to kiss you, letting himself get lost in the kiss, focusing on your mouth against his to distract from his throbbing cock.

“move.” you gasp, starting to grind your hips. “move.”

its all rafe needs to start smashing his hips back and forth, rocking into you in a steady but fast motion, aiming every time to get his cock as deep inside of you as possible.

“yes, yes!” you squeal, hands gripping his shoulders. as good as rafe thrusting into you feels, you want his cum more than anything. you begin to squeeze your pussy around him every time he pulls out before thrusting back in, and you can tell from the way rafes mouth hangs open that he likes it.

“fuck, im already close, sorry.” rafe has never had a problem cumming too early with anyone else, but hes never been with you, his best friend who he’s been head over heels for since kindergarten, who is begging to have him put a baby in your womb.

“cum in me. please.” you don’t even care about your own orgasm. you don’t even want it, already feeling so overwhelmed from the way rafes cock swells inside of you.

your eyebrows raise when you realize what the warmth spreading inside of you is, never having let a man take you without a condom. you let out a moan to match rafes as he cums, flooding your insides as he grinds into you.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto you, not caring about the weight as you squeeze your cunt, milking any last drops out of him.

“oh my god, i’m gonna cry its so cute.” tears brim in your eyes as you look at your finished nursery, rafe having done the last of the decorations when you were napping, putting the final touches on.

“you're so cute.” he hums, wrapping his arms around you as he stands behind you, also looking over the room.

“thank you. its perfect.” you sniffle.

“you’re perfect.” rafe has been overwhelming you with compliments lately, wanting to make sure that you know he is still very much attracted to you with your pregnant belly. “and beautiful. and hot. and sexy.” “oh, stop it.” you roll your eyes with a giggle, turning to face rafe.

“it would be inappropriate to have sex in our babies nursery, wouldn’t it?” despite the baby not even being here yet, rafe looks around the former guest bedroom and realizes that it simply wouldn’t be right.

“you’re not getting me on the floor anyways.” you press your hands to your stomach. seven months along with rafes baby.

“probably for the best.” rafe places his hand on your back, leading you out of the nursery and towards your bed. “wanna eat you out on our bed anyways, mamas.”

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imwetforyourmom · 15 days

Text

not her

pt1

warnings: swearing, suggestive, kissing/making out, established relationship, slight grinding

a/n: to the anon that requested, i’m actually so fucking sorry that I forgot. I will be splitting this request into a few parts, so I hope that it makes up for my forgetfulness 🙏🙏

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ~~ NEXT CHAPTER

matt pressed y/ns body against the wall, his lips furiously attacking hers. his hands glued to her hips, holding them against the wall. y/ns hands cupping his cheeks as she kissed him passionately. his hips pressed against hers, grinding his clothed boner against her stomach, seeking any sort of friction to release at least a little bit of the ache in his pants.

their kisses and hips began moving with more need, until, the bell ringing interrupted them. pulling away, y/n whispered against matts lips, “we have to attend class, baby.”

matt pulled off her with a groan, reaching into his pants to adjust his cock in his boxers, attempting to hide it without actually do anything about it, he’d just have to deal with it till class was over.

“yeah, okay” he mumbled, grabbing y/ns arm and pressing a quick kiss onto her forehead, then pulling both her and matt out of the janitors closet. glancing around the hall—only to see not a soul present. he then began walking towards his and y/ns classroom, stopping infront of the door and mumbling “okay, you go first, then ill go after, a few minutes after you. k?”

to which, y/n agreed and walked into the classroom, taking a seat in any available desk she could find.

not too long later, as matt had said he walked into the classroom aswell, taking a seat but not next to y/n, to her surprise he took a seat across the room from her.

the teacher, Mrs. Frayers took a glance at each of them, examining their appearance, both flushed and hair a slight mess, more so matts than y/ns. Mrs. Frayers scoffed and turned back around to the board, pointing to different chalked words and explaining the meaning.

a loud knock on the door was heard, a girl coming in shortly after the knock. she had long, red hair, a slim but slightly tall figure and green eyes that were dark, but had lighter green streaks. she nervously fidgeted with her backpack strap, she took in a breath before saying a meek “i’m the new student.” to the teacher, she was so nervous, yet she looked so confident. her chin held high and her posture was perfect.

Mrs. Frayers smiled at the girl, replying to her. “ah, yes! come here.” the redheaded girl moved quickly, walking to the front of the classroom, awkwardly shifting on her feet. she glanced over at the teacher, whom just looked at her, “are you going to introduce yourself?” Mrs. Frayers asked, her eyebrows raised.

the girl nodded her head, clearing her throat and looking at the students, “i’m amelia and i’m 17.” she spoke, her voice no longer quiet, but now quite loud and speaking with an assertive tone, yet she had no reason to. amelia’s eyes looked through the desks, looking for an empty one, her eyes landing on the one right next to matt, as her eyes examined matt, a sly smirk growing on her face as well as a pink blush on her cheeks. she wants him, and she was going to get him, no matter what. “well, amelia, you may go sit down now.” Mrs. Frayers said, urging her to take a seat so she could continue teaching.

amelia did as said, taking a seat next to matt, matt turned, watching amelia situate herself in the desk. slinging her backpack on the back of her chair and grabbing her books, laying them out before fixing her posture and looking ahead of her, listening intently to the teachers words. she acted as if she was goody miss two shoes, trying to peek matt’s attention by acting all innocent. she knew it would work, it always does.

y/n watched as well, specifically looking at how her boyfriend was staring so hard into some other girl, his eyes trained on her body.

during lunch, where matt had sat with y/n, nick, chris and madi all eating their lunches and chatting together, weirdly enough talking about monkeys, as chris had brought them up, talking about how funny they were. Amelia saw the group and made her way over, if she was going to get matt, she’d need to build a bond with both him and his friends first. she knew what she was doing, this wasn’t amelia’s first time and it sure as hell wouldn’t be her last.

“hi guys!” amelia’s voice interrupted the group’s conversation. “can I sit with you all?” she asked, inching closer to the table, the seat directly next to matt. the chairs weren’t too spaced, and so if she was going to sit next to him, their arms would have to touch each other, whether they liked it or not. “yeah, sure!” chris answered, his eyes glancing at the seat next to matt, then back at amelia, silently wandering why she didn’t just sit with y/n and madi, speaking of how all three were girls and they could talk about girl things together.

amelia took her seat next to matt, grabbing her bottle of water and fake struggling to open it, with a huff, she looked at matt. with puppy dog eyes she tapped his shoulder, he turned around, looking at her with a confused face “yeah?” he asked, his eyes looking at the distressed look on her face and the bottle in her hands. the skin on her finger pinker than usual and slightly rough, showing the evidence of her struggle with the bottle cap.

“can you open this for me, please?” she asked, scooting the bottle towards matt, popping her bottom lip out in a pouty way, in a convincing manner. matt took the bottle from her opening it with ease and placing it back on the table. “woah! you’re so strong” she complimented, her eyes trailing to matt’s bicep in a flirty way. “yeah, thanks.” matt smiled warmly at her, his cheeks going a slight pink from her compliment.

meanwhile, y/n sat on the other side of matt, completely given up on trying to get her boyfriends attention, his entire interaction with amelia she had been tapping his shoulder, whispering his name and even going as far as placing her hand on his thigh trying to get his attention, yet she had been ignored each time. so now, she was slumped in her chair, arms crossed over her chest as she didn’t bother to look at amelia and matt, but was forced to listen to their conversation. amelia’s voice being high-pitched and so annoying to the point y/n so badly wanted to rip her ears off and leave it at that.

1159 words.

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#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo imagine #mollys requests

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matchavellichor · 10 months

Note

i’m not sure if your requests are open (if they’re closed just ignore this lmao!!) but hear me out: the yule ball’s coming up and mc has been receiving several gifts from people trying to woo her. meanwhile, sebastian is jealous and pouty and building up the courage to ask her to the ball……… until one of the gifts she had been given is doused with amortentia and she suddenly starts acting all lovey dovey towards some other guy. and sebastian realizes this, and ominis has to pretty much hold him by the neck of his shirt to prevent him from throttling someone

A.N: ty for the request! i adore jealous protective sebastian Aaaa <3

A Worrisome Box of Chocolates

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - Fluff - 2.6k Words

Tags: Banter, Pining, "Un"requited Love, Inappropriate Use of Amortentia, Jealous Sebastian, Protective Sebastian, Friends to Lovers

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Sebastian scowled, gaze trained on Amit as he crossed the courtyard to approach her, a bouquet of prissy, yellow flowers in hand. “Is there a single person in this school who isn’t going to try to ask her?”

“You, apparently,” Ominis murmured, licking a finger to turn the page of his paperback.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Ominis feigned innocence.

“Gods, I’m going mad,” Sebastian looked ready to pull out chunks of hair. “Okay, you know what, tonight will be the night. Yes, tonight. I’ll wait up for her after dinner and— actually, she’ll probably be too tired, right? We have double potions today. Alright, tomorrow then. Perfect, yes, tomorrow morning. Damn it, no, that won’t work, there’s that—”

Ominis looked ready to pull out chunks of hair himself. He sighed. “How about now, Sebastian? She’s right there, for heaven's sake, just walk up to her.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ominis, that’s a terrible idea.”

Ominis hit his forehead against the cover of his book in a desperate measure to cling to sanity. He turned his head towards the entrance of the courtyard.

“Suit yourself. However, I see Leander making his way over to ask her now.”

Sebastian’s head whipped around at neck-breaking speeds. “What? Where?”

Ominis quickly capitalized on this narrow window for escape, slipping from the bench they were on.

“He’s not—” Sebastian turned back perplexed to an empty seat. “Oh, you git —you can’t even see!”

When Sebastian finally made his way back to the common room after an entire day of watching other students fawn over her in their shared classes, she was already there, curled up near the fireplace chatting with Ominis.

He attempted to exude nothing but platonic indifference as he plopped down on the couch beside his two friends with a sigh.

“Long day?” She looked concerned. Ominis looked aggravatingly amused.

“You have no idea,” He muttered, intentionally omitting the reasons for his sour disposition. He glanced at the package in her hand. “Where on earth did you get so much chocolate?”

She flushed. “One of the older Ravenclaw boys gave it to me.” She outstretched the box towards him. “Want some?”

Sebastian tried his very best to suppress his look of revulsion, he truly did. Unfortunately, he was only able to school his expression into a mild sense of loathing. “I’m alright.”

She shrugged and popped a square into her mouth. She hummed at the gratifying taste of sugar melting on her tongue, ignoring the strange aftertaste in her mouth. She ate another.

Sebastian watched perplexed when after a few bites in, she suddenly shot up from her seat, box of chocolates forgotten and scattered onto the emerald carpet.

“Uh, where are you going?”

“I have to go see him,” Her voice was soft, almost wistful.

Ominis looked equally as confused. “See who?”

She paused, contemplating. “Oh, I’m actually not sure of his name…” Her brows furrowed. “None the matter, what’s important is just how strongly I feel for him — oh, my heart just might burst.”

She attempted her departure once again but Sebastian quickly grabbed her by the back of her robes, sitting her back down on the couch. She looked deeply unpleased with this hindrance.

“It’s past curfew, are you mad?” He looked at her bewildered. “You’ll have to wait to see your lover tomorrow.” He didn’t even bother to conceal his jealous sneer as he said the word.

“Lover?” She mumbled, almost trance-like. “Oh my, do you think he loves me, too?” She gasped and tried to stand from her seat again. “Well I just have to see him now! Maybe he’ll ask for my hand in marriage.”

Sebastian sat her back down yet another time and glanced over his shoulder to Ominis as if to ask a little help here, but quickly found the blonde preoccupied with burying his nose in her discarded box of chocolates.

He held the box in front of Sebastian’s face, who was still struggling to detain a very eager witch who was much stronger than her size let on. “Smell this.”

“What? Why—”

“Just smell it— tell me what you smell.”

Sebastian obliged with a sigh and picked up nothing but the rich notes of chocolate at first, until it hit him.

Lavender, crushed dittany leaves, and the slightest hint of mallowsweet. He recognized it immediately, the scent derived from the very witch beside him, the same scent that’s been wafting from his Amortentia brews in Professor Sharp’s classes for months.

Sebastian turned back to her immediately, grabbing her face in his hands. He tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes to find her pupils blown abnormally large, almost glazed-over with artificial infatuation. His suspicions were confirmed.

He saw red.

“I’m going to strangle him.” He gritted, teeth clenched as he stepped away from her.

Ominis rose from his seat to place a placating hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “Hold on a second, Sebastian, we have to help her first—”

“No, I’m going to torture him first, and then I’m going to strangle him.” Sebastian amended, pacing the room in his rage, Ominis’ pleas falling on deaf ears.

Ominis quickly took his place in trying to restrain her attempts at escaping the common room. “Are you even listening to me?”

“How fast do you think Garreth could brew me a love potion for a blast-ended skrewt if I asked? I should give this prick a taste of his own medicine.” His fists tensed at his sides as he rambled, self-consumed. “Make him walk around with third-degree burns for the rest of the semester.”

“Sebastian, will you snap out of it?” Ominis hissed. “I promise to be an accomplice to his murder, but after we get her an antidote!”

She suddenly darted for the door and the blonde had to catch her with an arm around her waist, dragging her away.

“Ominis, let me go! He’s the love of my life, please!” She thrashed frantically.

“Hold on, stop struggl— ow!” Ominis gasped, incredulous, flailing his hand in pain. “She just bit me! Sebastian, stop planning his demise and help me, before she realizes she has a wand!”

Ominis immediately regretted his words as she proceeded to wrench her arm out of his grip, dipping her hand into her pocket. Finally catching Sebastian’s attention, both boys dove for her, yanking the wand out of her hand despite her frustrated shrieks.

Out of breath, Ominis attempted to calm her. “We’ll go take you to the love of your life now, how does that sound? He’s very excited to see you, but you have to calm down.”

She finally stilled, a lovesick smile pulling across her lips. “Is he really?” she sighed, dreamy. “Of course he is, we’re meant to be…Oh, what do you think our children will look like, Sebastian? Maybe they’ll have his eyes and my lips—”

Sebastian looked on the brink of bursting a blood vessel. “Please, let’s get her to Garreth before I find this vermin and do something violent.”

Sebastian and Garreth huddled over his personal potioneering kit in the Gryffindor common room, meanwhile Ominis tried to calm her restlessness on one of the couches.

“Is he almost here? What’s taking him so long?” She pouted, arms crossed around her middle.

“What’s taking you so long?” Sebastian hissed in a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed at Garreth. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of expert at this?”

“Antidotes take time! Whoever did this to her used something strong.” Garreth stirred the murky liquid in the cauldron before them, unpleasant fumes bubbling from the surface. “Who did do this to her anyways?”

“Some Ravenclaw prick. Go fucking figure,” Sebastian seethed. “Speaking of which, do you have any potions that inflict painful, long-lasting boils? Preferably one that leaves permanent damages?”

Ominis piped up from the couch like an owner scolding an unruly dog. “Sebastian, no.”

“Sebastian, yes.” Garreth grinned, looking just as intrigued and vengeful. “I actually have just the thing, I’ve been wanting to test it out for a while now.”

Ominis went to chastise the both of them, but a petulant whine beside him pulled his attention. “Ominiiiis. Where is he? I miss him so much, I can’t bear it. Will you take me to him?”

Ominis sighed, and told himself that the fact he survived this day without casting a bombarda to his own skull yet was a testament to his great mental fortitude.

He patted her shoulder. “He’s on his way, be patient, yes? He’s just getting some uh…flowers for you.”

Her face lit up with a gasp. “Is he? Oh, how can someone be so romantic? Isn’t he just so perfect?”

Sebastian looked ready to hurl on the tacky, red and gold carpet he was crouched on.

“Aha!” Garreth flicked off the flames underneath his cauldron with a wave of his wand, procuring a ladle to scoop the viscous substance into a vial. “All done. Here, give this to her and I’ll get started on the Boils Brew.”

“No Boils Brew!” Ominis shot up to object.

Sebastian kneeled by her on the couch, uncorking the glass and holding it to her mouth. “Here, drink this.”

She wrinkled her nose at the smell, twisting her lips shut.

He sighed. “It’s a present from your…beloved,” Sebastian choked on the word. “He really wanted me to give it to you.”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth in consideration before she finally let him pour the bitter-tasting liquid in her mouth, swallowing with a grimace.

Sebastian waited with bated breath as her pupils slowly shrank back to normal size, pulling her out of her trance-like state. Confusion quickly crossed over her face.

“Why the hell are we in the Gryffindor common room?”

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief, immediately tugging her into a bear-hug that compressed all the oxygen out of her lungs.

“Sebastian, you’re strangling me,” she choked, voice strained.

“Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, pulling back. “You’re actually not the one I want to strangle.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me we’re here because you’re trying to murder Leander again. It was one time, I don’t think he even meant for that swarm of vampyr mosps to find your dorm specifically.”

Garreth winced from behind them. “He definitely did.”

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” Sebastian looked prepared to commit double homicide. “But no, I actually have to head to the Ravenclaw tower.” He glanced over his shoulder as he stood up. “You coming, Garreth?”

Garreth scoffed as he packed up his equipment. “Obviously.”

She watched, utterly bewildered, as the two made their departure together as if they were the best of friends, any past grievances forgotten in favor of some mutual vengeance. She was half-convinced she was experiencing visual hallucinations as a side-effect to whatever toxic sludge Garreth had brewed for her to drink.

Sebastian pushed open the portrait door of the common room. “You share a dorm with Leander, don’t you?”

Garreth nodded.

He gave the ginger a friendly clap on the shoulders. “Heads up, sleep in the common room tomorrow night.”

Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long-suffering sigh, the state of this new, unlikely truce making that self-inflicted bombarda seem exponentially more tempting.

Slipping back into the Slytherin common room in the wee hours of the night after his escapade to the Ravenclaw tower, Sebastian was thoroughly exhausted and fully prepared to sink into bed and never get up again.

His plans changed as soon as he caught sight of the witch curled up on the wingback chair in front of the fireplace, nearly dozing off. She shot up as soon as she heard his footsteps, rising to her feet.

“You should be in bed,” he scolded lightly. “You’ve been through enough tonight.”

“I was waiting for you,” she shifted nervously in place. “I wanted to thank you. Ominis, uh…filled me in about what happened. Said you were pretty upset.”

Pink tinged the freckled tops of his cheeks. “I was just a bit worried is all,” he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “He’s exaggerating.”

She laughed. “It’s just,” she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t expect you to care as much as you did. You’ve never really…” she shook her head, dismissing the thought. “Nevermind. Thank you, really.”

“It’s what any friend would do.” Sebastian tried to suppress a wince as he said the word, hating the taste of it in his mouth.

“Right, yeah,” she bobbed her head. “Friends.”

He didn’t miss the way she almost looked disappointed as she nodded. Something warm and hopeful bloomed in his chest. He crossed the small space between them, breaching the gap before he could talk himself out of what he wanted to do, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

“I care about you dearly, you understand that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice timid.

She nodded. “Of course, you and Ominis are both very—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Not like that. I mean, yes, Ominis cares for you, of course, but…” he sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that I care for you…differently. I have for quite a while now.”

Her brows knit together. “I’m not sure I follow, Sebastian.”

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

Her eyes widened, followed by her entire expression falling. “Well, geez — rude, but if that’s what—”

“No, wait — shit, that’s not— I do want to be your friend, of course,” he shook his head, amending, “Or well, no, I actually don’t, I—” he groaned. “I want to be more than friends.”

It finally all clicked for her, like the pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly in place. She smiled then, a delighted laugh escaping her lips. Sebastian grinned just as brightly, taking her hands in his, elation bursting in his chest at her finally understanding.

“You want to be best friends.”

His smile faded and his head dropped to her shoulder. “Merlin help me.”

She burst out laughing then, nearly doubling over.

“I’m messing with you, oh my gods, come here,” she took her face in his hands. “I understand.”

“Oh, thank Circe,” he breathed a sigh of relief.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “For quite a while, huh?”

He nodded, a bit embarrassed. “It’s terrible. I’ve been head over heels for you pretty much ever since you kicked my ass in Hecat’s class.”

She crossed her arms. “Well, in that case, I’m very upset with you.”

Sebasian blanched. “Oh gods, what have I done this time?”

“Made me wait around like a fool for weeks for you to ask me to the dance,” she batted his chest. “Just out of spite, I think I’ll go with Leander.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, then just out of spite, I think Leander might find himself bedridden in the nurse’s ward for the next few weeks.”

She bit back a smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

He shrugged. “I simply protect what’s mine.”

She scoffed. “Oh, is that what I am now?”

He nodded, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Well, I’ve been yours for the longest time now, I think it’s only fair.”

She laughed. “Have you now? I suppose it is fair then, huh?”

Something flickered behind his eyes. “Well, there’s only one way to make it truly fair.”

She raised a brow. “Oh? And how’s that?”

With one hand to the small of her back, he pulled her flush to him, and curled the other in the nape of her neck to bring her lips down to his.

He kissed her until he was sure there were no doubts about exactly who she belonged to, and who he belonged to just as devotedly.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #garreth weasley #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy mc

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halucynator · 9 months

Note

HI! I LOVE UR WORK SO SO MUCH!! can I ask for a Mattheo Riddle x fem! reader and they’re best friends but they’ve been in love forever but haven’t admitted it and it’s a slowburn and whenever the reader picks her hangnails bc she needs to fidget he always holds her hands and she gets really really overwhelmed on the first week back to Hogwarts and is really stressed and helps her calm down and handle her feelings and anxiety? (Preferably a swifite Reader?) I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!

Jealous

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warning: kissing, angst, fluff

A/n: Thank you so much for requesting and for the compliment!! Hope you like it~ Some of the like speech in this is kinda not funny (but the characters find it funny sooo) and more cringe but I was trying my best to make the reader swiftie. I'm not a huge fan but I hope you like it xx

Hearing Mattheo's name did not give you butterflies. Seeing Mattheo did not give you butterflies. Hugging Mattheo did not give you butte-.

"Hey." Mattheo said.

"Huh? Oh uh h-hi!" You said flustered.

Ok, maybe you lied. You recently came to the realisation that Mattheo made you flustered. And

...gave you butterflies.

But you couldn't admit it to anyone. Mattheo was your best friend. You couldn't talk to him about your crush on him! So you couldn't tell anyone. That and you just didn't want anyone to know. So you decided not to tell anyone.

"Pansy I think I'm in love with Mattheo." You said to your dorm mate as you burst into your dorm. Okay, that was a lie as well. You just NEEDED to tell someone. The weight was too much. But no one else would know.

Except Theo. You couldn't NOT tell Theo. He was one of your best friends.

Okay so what if you lied to yourself 3 times? You'd been lying to everyone saying you didn't like Mattheo.

You started falling two months ago but convinced yourself you didn't.

You and him would hold hands all the time because you felt comfortable enough to since you'd known each other for so long.

But when he accidentally brushed his hand against yours, the chills that enveloped your body shocked you. You didn't know you could feel that way about your best friend.

The only reason you hadn't told him yet was because you weren't sure about your feelings and you didn't know how he'd react.

What if he didn't like you back? How embarrassing would that be?

So you just waited and waited hoping for a clear answer for your feelings and for Mattheo to admit his feelings. If he had them of course.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊*•̩̩͙

You were growing tired waiting. You needed to stop waiting. You needed to confess.

With those thoughts, you entered the common room. As you entered, you saw your usual spot next to Mattheo taken up by a brunette girl who you recognised as Astoria Greengrass. What you saw next confirmed your fears.

Mattheo did not, indeed, like you. He and Astoria were laughing together. Mattheo never laughed around anyone but you. The gods definitely answered your prayers and left you with a clear answer. Mattheo Riddle only thought of you as a friend. Ouch.

"Who's your girlfriend?" You didn't mean to sound as bitter as you did, but in your defense, you had just woken up.

"Very funny. She's not my girlfriend. Yet." He said winking as he kissed her cheek.

You pretended to throw up at the PDA which you recalled Mattheo hated and only made an exception for you: one of the many reasons that made you think your feelings were returned.

If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her. But if you're single that's honestly worse. 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts. Those Taylor Swift lyrics clouded your mind as you saw Mattheo with Astoria.

Your sight faltered onto Theo and Pansy, the only two people aware of your feelings and realised they both gave you an apologetic look.

You glared at a nearby wall as you felt tears well up in your eyes.

That's when you also realised that you did indeed have feelings for Mattheo.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊*•̩̩͙

The summer holidays seemed to fly by and as the end neared, so did multiple mixed emotions about how to feel about what you had witnessed 3 months ago. Astoria and Mattheo. They were together till the end of the term and even sat together on the Hogwarts Express.

You felt betrayed that your best friend of 6 years was willing to replace you with a girl he'd known for 5 seconds. You sat with Pansy and Theo as you blasted Taylor Swift in your earphones. Music always calmed you down. Especially Taylor Swift songs.

As you and your friends: Theo, Pansy, Draco and Blaise walked out of the express you saw Mattheo was alone. What happened with Astoria, you wondered. That girl was practically on top of him 24/7 so seeing him alone gave you some hope.

"Where's your girlfriend?" You asked as you elbowed him teasingly trying to hide your true intentions.

"We were never dating. I just realised I like someone else." Mattheo said. "That and she was a bit of a slut." He stated.

"Ooh whoo???" You asked, part of you hoping he'd say your name.

"Now that I cannot tell you." He replied.

"oh come on! Yes you can. I'm so trustworthy." You said.

"Promise you won't be... jealous." Mattheo said.

"Pfft me jealous? Never!" You said, not even believing yourself. See when you said you lied to people all the time? This is what you meant.

"Now, love, even you don't believe that." He said.

If he was talking about you, why would you be jealous. Unless-

"I'll tell you later. In the astronomy tower." Mattheo said.

"Damn someone's trying to be discreet. Are you sure you're not planning to murder me?" You asked, half joking.

"No, if I was planning on murdering you, I would've done it a long time ago."

You glared at him unamused.

"When?" You asked him

"What?" He said bewildered.

"when are we meeting in the astronomy tower?"

"Oh, midnight." Mattheo said

"3am Edition?" You joked.

"What? Ohh" Mattheo said laughing slightly at the joke.

"Uh I don't get it." Lorenzo said, scaring you a bit as you weren't aware of his presence.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊*•̩̩͙

It was midnight and you were nervous about going to the astronomy tower. As you entered, you couldn't see Mattheo anywhere so you unconciously started picking on your hangnails.

You hear footsteps which startles you.

"Huh? Oh uh hi." You said realising Mattheo was there

"hey! didn't know you were going to be here." he said jokingly. He saw you pick on your hangnails and gently grabbed your hand.

"Very funny." You said. You had to admit you were slightly chuckling when saying that.

"I think it's strange that you think I'm funny because she never did." he quoted a Taylor Swift lyric.

"Aww you listened to Taylor Swift to flirt with me. You know me so well." You said, pretending to be touched by his gesture.

"That dress looks nice on you." He said smiling.

"Only bought this dress so you could take it off." You winked at him.

He chuckled slightly.

"Soooo who do you like?" You asked.

"what? Oh uh I thought it was pretty obvious. You."

"Oh thank god, it would have been really embarrassing for me otherwise." You stated sighing with relief.

"So uh, tomorrow 5?" He asked.

"In the morning? Damn someone can't wait." You joked.

"No uh evening. Wait of course you know." He replied almost as if he realised that while saying the sentence.

"I'm actually going to Hogsmeade with Pansy tomorrow." You said looking guilty.

He looked disappointed. "Could you cancel? Wait no that's selfish of me. When are you coming back?" He asked.

"Nah don't worry it's not selfish, I can cancel."

"Awww you like me more than Pansy." He stated, looking proud.

"No, I like you more than Hogsmeade."

"So tomorrow 5?" He confirmed.

"Wreck my plans, that's my man." You said having wanted to use that before.

He smiled before he slammed his lips against yours. The kiss was better than you expected. And this time you weren't lying to yourself.

#taylor swift #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoriddlexreader #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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mydearesthrry · 9 months

Text

debriefing - h.s.

a/n: hey lol this is really shit honestly and i dont like the end but i wanted 2 get smth out. enjoy, love you

wc: 851

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

warnings: none, a couple f bombs

summary: a small debrief with your boyfriend, harry.

“Harry!” Y/N called to her boyfriend, her legs tucked underneath her as she scrolled on her phone with a shocked look on her face. “Baby, come down here right now, holy fuck!”

Harry’s loud footsteps were heard as he bounced down the stairs, clad in nothing but a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and fuzzy socks on his feet. “Wha’ happened, lovie?”

“Debrief.” Was the only thing she said before Harry widened his eyes, running over to the kitchen and grabbing two wine glasses and a bottle of Prosecco they’d gotten the last time they were in Italy. She hopped up from her spot on the couch as well, skipping over to the pantry to grab their big bag of popcorn and the smaller bag of peanut m&ms. They got back to the living room at the same time, placing everything down on their glass coffee table, trying to be careful as to not knock down the picture frames that housed pictures of them over the years.

Harry sat down first, his long legs splayed out on the couch, one falling down over the edge to plant his foot up on the floor, leaving a gap of space for Y/N to slide between. She took the message and sat right between his legs, both of hers hiking on his left thigh. Harry’s hand rested on the full of her thighs, his thumb tracing tiny patterns onto the soft skin. She leaned forward to fill their glasses, handing one to Harry and grabbing hers to nurse on her lap.

“Okay, you’ll never fucking believe what I just saw,” Pulling out her phone from her waistband, she pulled up the Instagram post that had been the reasoning for the debrief in the first place. “Andrew and Ivy are together.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What?! Didn’t Ivy jus’ get a divorce, like, 3 months ago?”

She nodded. “Yes! That’s why this is so fucking weird! I know they had a weird fling back in 2019, but I didn’t think that it was that serious!”

“Tha’ is s’weird… D’you… Do y’think that they…” He approached the subject carefully, not wanting to seem dickish.

“Do I think they fucked while she was with Isaiah? Yes, yes I do,” She giggled, turning a bit more to face her boyfriend fully. “Wasn't Andrew also with that girl Leah? I think I remember you telling me about that.”

Harry nods, taking a sip of his wine. “Yeah, he told me ‘bout her last time we went back to London. Didn’t seem too serious about her, if ‘M honest… He described her like she was jus’ a quick fuck to him.”

They sighed, disappointed looks on their face. “That sucks.”

He hummed. “Yeah… But— wait, did I ever tell y’about those two crew members who got caught having sex in the porta potties back at the Forum?”

“What the fuck? No?!” Y/N gasped, reaching forward to grab the bag of popcorn to put on her lap.

“Yeah, yeah! Apparently, there were these two workers, honestly don’t have a clue what they did, but I think their supervisor had come t’check if they were doing okay since they hadn’t been answering the radios, and when the supervisor passed by, the guy came out the loo with his pants down!” He explained, handing her his glass so he could gesticulate with his hands as he talked (something he loved to do which Y/N found so cute— then again, she thought everything he did was cute so this wasn’t entirely a surprise).

“No fucking way,” She gasps, placing her wine glass on the floor next to his sock covered foot to hold a hand over her mouth in shock. “Did they get fired?”

Harry nods. “Oh, instantly. I actually didn’t even know about it until we had a crew dinner and a roadie mentioned it to his friend.”

“That’s so crazy. I wonder what they’re doing now.”

A beat passes, both of them thinking in silence.

Another beat.

As if they were telepathically connected, they cock their heads to each other at the same time. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Harry’s eyes are wide. “We find their social media accounts?”

“Yes!” She screams, moving to place the wine glasses onto the coffee table, swiveling in her place to lay against Harry’s chest. Harry budges up a little, moving the both of them forward and leaning back to lay them down in a relaxed position. He winds his arms around her waist, hands resting on her stomach.

After scrolling through the accounts for a little bit, Y/N’s breath began to even out slightly, her arms falling down toward her stomach. The second her hands made contact with her stomach, she startled awake, moving a bit with the way Harry’s chest bellowed as he breathed a laugh. “Okay, time f’a nap, m’baby.”

She hums, twisting in place to lay her chest on Harry’s, her head resting on his shoulder. She weaved one hand up into his hair and twisted his chestnut waves in her fingers. “I love you, baby.”

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles blurbs #harry styles x fem!reader

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angelltheninth · 9 months

Note

Hi I have a request PLEASE what about the morning after (sex) with Miguel O'Hara? How would it go

Love writing a soft morning after

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, very suggestive but not explicit, morning after, bite marks, scratches, pheromones, size difference, kind of friends with benefits, teasing, flirting, sharing clothes, being asked out on a date, boss!Miguel, secretary!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Ao3

A/N: I heard that the sequel got delayed until god knows when. But don't worry, no matter how long the wait I'll be supplying you with fics. And at the end, the important thing is that the cast and crew get treated fairly.

He isn't that tired honestly, he could have gone all night and still be as ready to get up in the morning. The only thing that's making it difficult is the pretty naked lady in his bed, hugging the pillow with one hand and holding onto him with the other. "Wake up, we can't stay in bed all day, sweet stuff." There's a noticeable shift in bed when Miguel leaves it, as well as a lack of warmth.

Sitting up you pull the covers over your chest, "What did you do to me last night, Miguel? I'm so tired." You mumble, trying your best not to look at him below the waist, but it's very hard, as is he.

He catches you looking, a playful smile crossing his lips, "Close that mouth cariño, or I'll think you're offering it."

"You're the one who just told me we can't stay in bed all day." Warmth spread all over your body, gathering between your legs in that familiar tight, burning feeling.

"It won't take all day." Miguel's lustful eyes sent shivers down your spine as he crawled back up on the bed, to you, his lips inches away from you, causing you to feel small underneath him. You were actually, very much shorter then him, "It's a miracle you're still in one piece after last night"

His pulled the covers away and started to push you down. You could almost taste him again. "Don't hate to interrupt." You both jumped apart, an amused Lyla hovering next to Miguel's shoulder, "You told me to remind you, there's a meeting in two hours. So if you're gonna be gross, make it fast."

"Lyla." Miguel growled and shifted his body to cover yours from his friends watchful eyes, "Can you not be here right now? We were... getting ready."

"Not for work." The joke slipped out past your lips and you got more flustered when you realized they both heard you. "I mean yes, work! We need privacy to get ready."

Lyla looked between you and Miguel, getting more amused by the second, "If you're gonna go at it like rabbits I can cancel your-"

"Goodbye, Lyla!" Miguel waived his hand through the hologram, yellow particles dispersing into the air accompanied by the echo of Lyla's laughter. "Sorry about her, she really likes to get on people's nerves, mostly mine."

"It's okay." You looked around the bed, locating your clothes all over his bedroom, most of your clothes anyway.

"Feel free to get dressed and take a shower if you need one. I'll prepare us some breakfast before we go." He wasn't in any rush to make this moment end, he went around the room, picking out his clothes for the day. "Whenever you're ready sweetheart." He blew you a kiss and left you alone in the bedroom.

You sighed, "A shower sounds good." Your legs throbbed as you walked, each step heavy. The warmth of the shower called to you like never before. When you stepped in front of that mirror you almost shrieked. "What the fuck Miguel?" Your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders, your thighs, your breasts, even your stomach, they were pained with scratch marks and little kiss marks. "I look like I've been mauled by a cat."

Well you did hear him purr last night but that was no excuse for whatever this was. Was it a Spider-man thing or a Miguel O'Hara thing? You'll have to ask him.

The shower was a welcome gift to your sore body for sure.

For some reason you didn't feel like putting on your clothes just yet, instead you raided Miguel's closet and pulled one of his sleeveless tops. It even smelled vaguely like him.

You found him in the kitchen, serving up bowls of fruit and cereal, plates of eggs, neatly slices vegetables and sausages. "I didn't know what you ate in the morning so I... put..." Miguel stopped mid-thought, his mouth falling open at the sight of you, "...a bit of everything."

"Close your mouth, boss. Or I'll think you're offering." God, throwing his line back at him and watching him process it was priceless. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not on the menu this morning." That didn't stop Miguel from looking at you like you were. He was all but drooling at the sight of you in his clothes. "Last night was fun."

"Ah, yes, it really was. I'm glad you think so too." Miguel composed himself and sat at the table, on the opposite side of you. "Since you didn't sneak out I assume you want to repeat it."

"I... would like to, but we should establish some rules first."

"Fair enough. Do you want me to pay you extra for it?" Money was no object to Miguel.

"With all due respect, I'm your secretary, not your whore." His smile made you remember being called exactly that last night and how much it turned you on. You cleared your throat, "I'd like for us to have a professional relationship while working, what we do behind closed doors is a different story." His office had a door too, in fact all of this started because you couldn't be professional in his office, there was too much flirting, too much sexual tension.

Tension that you finally released last night.

"I can try but it's going to be hard resisting you when you walk into my office smelling like that." He rolled his tongue over a strawberry before biting into it, the juices dripping from his sharp fangs.

"I just took a shower!" The only thing you smelled of right now was him, literally, you used his shampoo!

Miguel laughed and slammed his and on the table, "No, no, hermosa, I mean the pheromones. When you're horny, I can smell it. It's a Spider-man thing." That didn't make you feel any better actually. He could smell you? Right now too? And... all those times before... he knew, he fucking knew that his secretary had the hots for him this whole time! "Don't worry, I love your scent, it's very enticing. But maybe we could get it all out of our system before going to work. Sound like a plan?"

You swallowed a bite of your food before putting your hands in your lap, "Yes, sir." Oh, fuck, just calling him that again had an effect on you both now. You had to change the subject or you really will end up as his breakfast, "Is marking up my body also a Spider-man thing?"

"I've always liked doing that to my lovers. But there is a more... primal urge to do it now. Do they hurt? You should have told me last night and I would have stopped."

"I'm sore but I think it's fine, I was just surprised. I barely registered it last night. I mean I knew what you were doing, but it felt so good, I didn't think it would look this bad in the morning." Claws digging into your thighs, a hand pressing against your stomach, him marking up your sweet, pretty, little body... Your eyes met his across the table, the tension was high, "Can I come over after work?"

"Can you? I don't know what I'll do with myself if you don't." He was ready to jump across this table right now. "In fact, why not make a night out of it. I'll take you to your favorite restaurant."

"Are you asking me out on a date, sir?" What the hell happened to being professional? Was that already out the window now? Probably.

"Only if you want it to be one. I was thinking more in the lines of that I have to make sure you have your energy for tonight." Usually when people say stuff like that it means they plan to go for a long time. Miguel was already beating you stamina wise, him insinuating that he wanted to keep going all night was as scary as it was exciting.

He bit his lip, starting to feel your sweet scent filling his nose again, "We better get dressed and go. I'll have a car waiting for us." Once again you tried not to look at how excited he was while he quickly put the dishes away. He waited for you to get dressed in proper work clothes. Those heels that made your curves stand out against your pencil skirt and suit jacket were gonna be a bit of a distraction from here on. "Ready to go?" He smiled down at you, offering you his arm.

"Ready to go, Miguel, sir." God, you were gonna have to find a different title to refer to him as if either of you were gonna make it through the day.

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tonowarii · 1 year

Note

can i request a tsu'tey x dreamwalker!reader where he just indulge them in their rambles about earth?? reader is just talking about the most random things like cats and he's just there sitting next to her, listening. could be fem or gn reader, up to u!

(im a sucker for tsu'tey lmao)

and you shall receive!! ❤️ i'm sorry this took too long omg

tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan x gn! dreamwalker! reader

Tsu'tey would rather feed himself to a thanator than to admit that one of his most awaited (and favorite) past times is where he's sat beside you, hearing you ramble on about anything and everything about your home town, which was earth. A planet away.

Now, his eyes carefully watched you as you made all these gestures from your hands as every expression you made enchanced your story.

Then something sparked in your head as you pointed a finger.

"Now, I don't know if this is a coincidence but have you noticed that we- or the na'vi look like cats!" You turned to Tsu'tey.

Tsu'tey's brows furrowed. What in Eywa was a "cat" and why does it look like them?

"What is a cat?" Tsu'tey asked, hoping that it further indulged you in your rambling.

You gasp out loud like what he said was something blasphemous. It had him confused.

"Okay, cats! Where do I start?" You think for a moment before you used your hands to show him an approximate size of cats back on earth. "They're this small... Wait is this correct... That reminds me I haven't seen a cat in a long time.." You battled with yourself as Tsu'tey chuckled.

Knowing someone was listening to you, you went back on explaining. "They're this small, at least I think so," You think again. "And they have ears like us." You said, pointing at his ears. "They have noses like us too." Then pointing at his nose.

"And don't forget about the tails, they have that too." You say, motioning to Tsu'tey's tail who was curled next to yours as you sat beside each other.

Tsu'tey nods, following your words.

"But they can be quite mean sometimes... And annoying, but we, humans, love them nonetheless." You added.

"Ah, can they.. Speak?" Tsu'tey asked.

"No, not really they just.. Meow." You answered.

Tsu'tey chuckled at the sound you made. Truly this 'cat' sounds something he'd like to see up close due to your impressive storytelling.

"Then why do you find them annoying?" He continued to ask more questions, getting to hear your voice being filled with wonder as you reminisced truly had an effect on him.

There was indeed no one like you.

"As far as I can remember, they tend to whine at me begging for more food when I just fed them!" You laugh. "I had a cat once and gods," You sighed.

"He always knocks things off of my table back in my house."

Tsu'tey seems amused. "Like- he would just look at me and let's say there was a pen on the table, he'd look at me-" You say, looking at Tsu'tey to demonstrate how he'd look.

"And he's using his little paw and his audacity to flick it off the table!"

Even though Tsu'tey couldn't understand parts of your sentence he truly felt that it annoyed you, but your smile said otherwise.

"Am I... like cat?" Tsu'tey asked.

Your eyes widened and you laughed. "I mean, yes.. Well yea actually now that I think about it-"

"You find me annoying?" He tilts his head, smirk now forming his mouth.

You quickly shake your head. "No! No! You are far from annoying." You defensively state.

"But you are like a cat." You smile up at him.

"How so?"

You laugh as you think of the reasons, holding a finger up for each one.

"One, you like to climb, don't you? Second, you have this habit of staring at people like you're judging them-"

"I do not do that-"

"Yes you do. Third, you like to be clingy when no one's around and when you're faced with other people you're suddenly this big intimidating creature." You laugh as Tsu'tey scrunches his face.

"I do not like this anymore."

You laugh further, leaning onto him as his arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

"See, you are a cat, Tsu'tey, ma yawne."

He shakes his head with a small smile on his face.

"Oh! And fourth, you purr." You giggle, nuzzling yourself on his chest, indeed hearing a faint purring from him as you lay close.

Tsu'tey shakes his head, rubbing your arm as you thought about another topic you could talk his ear off of.

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yenalogyy · 3 months

Text

All’s Fair In Love

A student was found groaning on the ground, having just fallen victim to a prank pulled by one of his peers. He collapsed after dodging what appeared to be a baseball hurled down the hall, which struck him in the face.

His friend, who was beside him, approached and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing," he replied as he slowly rose from his fall. Meanwhile, the individual responsible for his mishap was seen laughing, peering from near the stairs.

"Rei-ah, don't you think you're taking your pranks too far on him?"

"He deserves it. I suggest you also keep your distance from him, Kazuha, for your own good."

She then left, as Kazuha scoffed at the bully's behavior towards her friend.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Kazuha asked, concern evident in her voice as she took a good look at him.

"I'm alright, Kazuha. But are you okay? She just threatened you," Y/N replied, feeling apologetic for the trouble caused.

“She didn’t mean anything by that threat. We’ve been friends since we were children, so I’m sure she’s just saying things. But I don’t understand why she’s acting like this towards you…”

“I guess I did something earlier for her to pull this prank on me.”

“Aren’t you mad? I can tell her off for you if you want me to.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want your long friendship with her to be ruined just because of me.”

“But doesn’t it- oh no.” Kazuha took his right hand after noticing blood dripping, possibly from a scar due to the fall.

“Let’s get you to the nurse’s office,” she said, holding his hand firmly and leading him towards the infirmary. Other students couldn’t help but stare in envy, with some even gritting their teeth or biting their thumbs. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a small grin, feeling as if he was the luckiest student, forgetting the whole ordeal that had occurred.

“Excuse me,” Kazuha called out, but there was no answer.

“Looks like the nurse isn’t here. Sit down, let me stitch you up.”

He sat in the chair in the middle of the room, as Kazuha rummaged through the cabinet.

“Zuha-ya, you know you don’t have to do this, right? I can do it on my own.”

“It’s my fault that you ended up like this, Y/N. If only I were more straightforward in telling her to stop.”

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Kazuha. Really.”

Kazuha had her head hung low, while dripping a small amount of alcohol onto a piece of cotton.

“Zuha-ya. Are you-“ He looked at her with teary eyes before wiping her tears away.

“Ya, don’t be like this, Zuha-ya.” He helped her wipe her eyes.

“Let’s talk about something else. Oh, Valentine’s is coming up.”

“That’s right,” she said as she applied pressure to the bleeding area to stop the bleeding.

“And I’ve been taking classes.”

“Classes? What do you mean?”

“A chocolate making class. The local bakery near my place opened up a short class specifically on making chocolates.”

“Does that mean-“

“Yup. I won’t say who though,” she giggled. He let out a small chuckle, feeling a bit down that she might have someone she was interested in.

“I hope he’ll like the chocolate I make. I’m gonna put my heart into it.”

“I’ll be cheering for you then,” he replied, as Kazuha put the finishing touches on his bandage.

“Thank you, Kazuha. Tell you the truth, I've actually known her longer than I have known you.”

Her eyes widened, shocked at the fact.

“Really?”

__________

"Ain’t this nice. Greeted by a fellow rival on my way home," Rei muttered to herself.

Caught up in a conflict with students from a rival school, Rei found herself outnumbered and outmatched. The altercation escalated quickly, and as tension mounted, Y/N happened to pass by the area and noticed the brewing confrontation.

“I’m fine. Just leave,” Rei snapped, her pride initially resisting Y/N's intervention.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” He replied calmly, refusing to back down.

Grateful yet prideful, Rei hesitated but eventually accepted his assistance as a means to escape the confrontation unscathed.

After reasoning with the confronting students, they eventually dispersed without further trouble. The presence of a nearby police station and the outnumbered situation worked in their favor, discouraging any further aggression.

As Rei prepared to leave, he noticed the injuries left by the altercation and took her by the hand, leading her to a nearby convenience store. Rei attempted to break free from his hold but found herself unable to resist. She watched him closely, intrigued by his unexpected kindness.

“Stay still,” he instructed gently, applying band-aids to her hand and cheek.

“Thanks… I guess. I’ll be on my way then,” Rei mumbled, feeling a mix of gratitude and confusion.

"Are you sure? What if they come back for more?" He asked, genuine concern evident in his voice.

“My place is just around the corner. I’ll be fine,” Rei assured him, grateful for his concern.

Despite their brief interaction, Rei never learned his name or much about him. However, the encounter left a lasting impression on her, sparking a curiosity and admiration for the mysterious student who came to her aid.

__________

“That’s the whole story. I haven’t talked to her since then, and once I did, well… you know how it is from that point on. Would’ve never guessed that she’d be the violent type. But I suppose I might’ve done something for her to be like this.”

She stood still, looking far out of the window, pondering to herself.

“What is it, Zuha-ya?”

“It’s nothing.” She chuckled. “Your story just reminded me of how we first talked to each other before.

“Yeah… can we not talk about that, please?”

“Oh, so you’re saying it was an unpleasant first meeting?” She scoffed.

“No no no, it’s not like that, it was just embarrassing for me, you know?”

“I’m joking~. Besides, I find it cute actually. I remembered you asking me whether I mind sharing a book with you or not, but as it turns out…”

“But you’re actually happy, right? The fact that I was trying to make a move on you?”

“Wha-? Oh, trying to get back at me for teasing you is it? Let me take off the bandages I put on you.”

He immediately pulled his hand away from her reach, as the two giggled at their first interaction.

“Looks like you’re all good to go. If you’ll excuse me, I will go and have a word with Rei first.”

“Wait, Zuha. Promise me you won’t be so hard on her?”

“I wouldn’t.” She let out a weak smile, before going out the door.

And in a flash, Valentine’s day had arrived.

_________

A/N: Which ending do you guys prefer? Kazuha’s, or Rei’s ending?

#kpopfanfic #kpopimagines #malereader #oneshot #fluff #le sserafim #nakamura kazuha #ive #naoi rei #ive rei

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abbyromanoff · 11 months

Note

Natasha x avenger!reader where Nat has always been the “man” in relationships with all the women she’s dated but reader comes in, who’s displayed more masc and wishes to be the gentlewoman that Nat had lacked and Nat feels more comfortable with it and feels she’s hit the jackpot with reader?

Jackpot

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 1637

Warnings: fluff, small angst, talks about break ups and cheating, kissing, that’s all!

I forgot to add the avengers!reader part so I’m sorry!! I hope this is okay

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

You walked towards the front door of the crappy apartment, your fist colliding with the door as you waited for a response. You held the flowers tightly, your nerves growing more the longer your date took to answer. Finally, she opened the door, letting you release a relieved sigh and move in to hug her gently.

“Hi, uh, Y/N, is it?” You chuckled, nodding and handing her the flowers. She looked surprised as if she’d never gotten a gift handed to her like this.

“And you are Natasha, if I’m correct. Otherwise, I might need to ask for those flowers back.” She smiled a genuine smile. You had only met through mutual friends and, while you convinced yourself that you were done with dating, you decided to give it one last shot. There was something about her that just drew you in, even if you had only just seen her picture.

“That’s me. But, please, call me Nat.” You both walked out after she had placed the flowers in a vase, arm in arm.

“So, I hope it’s okay but, I did drive here on my motorcycle. If you don’t want to drive on that I completely understand-” Nat paused in her step, you soon following her as you worried about what would come next.

“You drive a motorcycle?”

“Yeah, is that okay with you?” You meddled about with your fingers and raised a brow at her now smiley, joyful face.

“Are you kidding? I fucking love motorcycles! I actually drive one myself, it’s my baby.” You laughed at her words as you continued to walk, both with a slight pep in your step. You continued listening to her rambles about her pride and joy, her bike. It had been nearly ten minutes and she already had never felt so comfortable with a date, with anyone really.

“So, would you like to ride on the back or walk? It’s only a fifteen-minute walk but, well, I know how much you love your bikes.” She speed-walked over to your ride and led you to follow, it made you laugh knowing she could already guess which one was yours.

“Just hold onto me, Nat.” She gripped your sides softly and rested her head on your shoulder, the cold from the night immediately being replaced by her warmth.

When you both had gotten to the restaurant, you opened the door for her and spoke to the hostess while looking at her for any clarity you might need. She seemed content, and you hoped that meant there was another date in sight. When you both sat down, you pulled the chair out for her and she thanked you.

“So, I want to know,” She said after nearly an hour into your date. It wasn’t boring no matter how long you spoke, even in the silence, it didn’t feel like it needed to be filled.

“Yes?”

“Why is it that you came on this date with me? I mean, Tony told me how you kept saying no to everyone until he showed you a picture of me, why?” You sighed, chugging down the small amount left of your wine before giving a tight-lipped smile.

“Well, I guess you were just very attractive, and the way Tony described you just made me want to get to know you better.” She laughed, eying you with suspicion before you followed suit to her noise.

“It’s true!”

“You are so holding back! C’mon, I want to know the real reason.” You hadn’t told many people, but for some reason, you felt comfortable with her. You felt like you could tell her the truth and she wouldn’t judge you or block you afterward.

“I guess I just, I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t want to date anyone for a while at the time. I had recently gotten out of a five-year relationship and Tony knew that, of course, he did.” She cut you off with a quick, ‘I’m so sorry’. You could tell she felt bad for asking now hearing only part of your story, but you didn’t blame her one bit.

“Don’t be. We, uh, we got engaged three and a half years in and I thought she was the one, I really did. That was until I found out she was screwing around with her boss behind my back. Then we broke up and I just felt like I was nothing without her. I wasn’t able to sleep for months because I was so used to having my arms around her, and I isolated myself to the point I lost most of my friends. But Tony didn’t give up on me, he can be annoying at times but he truly is the greatest friend you’ll ever have. And that was about a year ago so he would try and set me up with people he knew, but none of them really stood out to me, and then I saw you. You looked absolutely stunning, you really did. And even tonight you look, like, astonishing, it’s crazy. But it wasn’t just the looks that drew me in, it was your smile. I could tell you were a total sweetheart with the kindest soul and, while Tony didn’t describe you all that well, I just knew I couldn’t miss this opportunity. God, you should’ve seen the look on his face when I agreed, I think he was finally starting to run out of women in his phone.” Her eyes were glossy with tears as she looked down at her drink, thanking all the Lords that she didn’t bail on you. You weren’t like the others who were just looking for sex, you truly wanted to know her for her.

“I…I’m truly at loss for words, Y/N. No one’s ever said those things to me.” You looked at her like she had just told you she murdered someone. And while she didn’t say that, she’d have to save that conversation for another time.

“Are you kidding? Jesus, what assholes. How could someone not fall in love with you the second they meet you?”

“Are you insisting that you’re in love with me already?” She remarked playfully and reached her hand across the table to grasp yours.

“Hm, I don’t know, am I?”

“Maybe that’s something we’ll have to discuss on a second date?” She asked with a small sense of hopefulness in her voice. She really did want to see you again, she felt like she was already drawn to you after one night.

“Maybe it will be.”

You two were both walking to the bike, hand in hand, grins covering both of your faces. Your cheeks had been hurting with how often she’d pull a smile from you, but you weren’t complaining and neither was she.

“You know, you said you thought my smile was beautiful, but I really think yours is so captivating.” She said once both of you had taken place on the motorcycle. You looked back at her over your shoulder and shook your head happily.

“Well, thank you, Nat, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near as precious as yours.”

“Just take the damn compliment!” The two of you drove home in peace. There wasn’t much talking, but it wasn’t exactly easy to do with the loud engine. Nat clung onto you, hoping she wouldn’t have to let go. But, as always, the time came quickly and the next thing she knew you were walking her up the stairs to her apartment. Your arm wrapped around hers as your hands were interlaced with one another.

“You didn’t have to walk me all the way up here, you know.”

“But what if I wanted to?”

“Well, then I guess I can’t really argue with that, now can I?” Her door was right in front of you now and you two stood across from one another with barely any distance between you. Your eyes couldn’t strain away from her plump lips as you imagined what it’d be like to feel them against yours. She was no better, admiring your body up and down as she stopped at your lips.

“Kiss me, baby.” You did as asked and brought your mouth forward, feeling her hands come to your chest to rest on you. She sighed happily into the kiss, it had been so long since a kiss held more than just a quick fuck.

“You think I’ll be able to see you again?” She asked with uncertainty.

“Of course, you will. Besides, it wouldn’t be long until I needed to see you again as well.” She had started to open her door until something stopped her, how could she have forgotten?

“Uh, one more thing. I’m…I’m an avenger. And, well, that comes with many risks and many hours spent dedicated to my work. If we’re going to make this work I want you to know that I won’t always be free.” She thought this might’ve been the deal breaker like it usually was with anyone else, but no, you didn’t give her a weird glace or walk away, you stayed.

“And I wouldn’t expect you to be. I’ve seen how committed Tony is to being Iron Man so, trust me, I wouldn’t expect you to stop working just for me.” And with a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek, you left. She watched out the window as you drove away, hearts nearly bubbling in her eyes.

“Well, Liho, I hope you had as fun of a night as I did with your turkey bowl.” Were cats even allowed to have turkey? She didn’t know, but what she did know was that you’d receive a text from her very soon and that Liho might have another parent in the future besides Nat, who could already tell Liho was sick of her.

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jaehymrk · 2 months

Text

reporting live

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff. Trent who was rather interested in the reporter than the actual report he had to give.

Time was ticking on a thin thread for you as your supervisor might call you within five minutes if you do not interview, at least, one player of liverpool. You have been in the reporting field for at least seven months and you now also have juniors yet for you to move like an amateur was hurting your pride.

You are social issues reporter, going around different cities, and write an interesting jaw-dropping report then, call it a day. Sport reporting was not your forte, it is almost like . . fork found in your backpack. Simply out of place. The million dollar question ringing in your head was why were you here in Anfield Stadium at the first place but you face-palmed yourself on accepting to cover for your senior who was in her maternity leave. You had always hated whenever you had to cover for a reporter doing sports. No particular reasoning, just childhood trauma.

You saw all the liverpool footballer players walking out from the dressing room after a hot win. You crossed path with the tall, charismatic dutch leader of liverpool to the small growing liverpool superstar Endo but you had your goal set on the biggest prize, the player with a fresh trim, and his headphone on as every reporter tried catching his attention.

Trent Alexander Arnold, the star of Anfield and liverpool. Your supervisor might as well, move you to the Sports section if you got to interview Trent; you were not looking forward to that but a lady has bills to pay. You sighed as you had to save your job before it slipped away from your grip.

Just one interview, anyway. What is the harm? You held the sleeve of his tracker suit lightly, you needed this, you needed a bang.

"Great win in Anfield, innit? Please let us know about how are you feeling about the win?" You asked reaching your microphone out to the man. His gaze froze, so did his feet in front of you. It could be the audacity to block his way toward the team bus or the glitch of mischievousness in his eyes that flickered on your red hue cheeks.

Trent chuckled as he moved slightly forward removing his headphone, your eyes set on the man completely compelled from the bridge of his nose, deep doe eyes to his captivating smile. Everything about the man was setting you up for a failure, realizing how much of a bad idea this was.

"Yeah, yeah it is great team win but to become the last scorer for the win is a different achievement, so I am proud and happy." Trent answered, his eyes never leaving yours for a minute. His heavy scouser accent oozed out every word as Trent kept his smile intact.

His eyes glanced at you, noting the rose hue on your cheeks, one hand slightly shaking to hold onto the microphone and the other holding onto the notebook. "Come here, love. Let me hold that for you." He mumbled gripping on the microphone as your fingers brushed on his and you were secretly praying to every god that was staring upon you to not show your slight jump after the touch.

"Okay so-" You paused, clearly out of the atmosphere as you were in no place to check out players nor drool out your delusional ideas when you have a very angry supervisor waiting on the clock and an impatient cameraman behind you. "Yeah, I cannot lie, you . . you were great in the field." You complimented him quickly but you were not lying about it. With the long passes, and all the chances Trent created for the team; anyone can tell he was born to become a football player who succeeds with legacy.

"You were watching?" Trent asked raising his eyebrows in question. Utterly confused, you paused to flip your notebook to look at the man in front of you. With the silent eye contact, your neck burnt hot. You nodded sternly, a thin smile on your face. "Of course, I was watching, I mean, I am a reporter, can't be missing out on the main point of the whole show."

Trent kissed his teeth, he smirked, "So, tell me more. How was I on the field? Did you like what you see?" He winked at your direction. Your mind went blank, in what position does he have to be to flirt openly with a camera panning on his face? The burning hot sensation on your back came straight up and your heart beating fast was not helping to form words, "Like . . like I said, you were great. You are the star of liverpool after all." You sweetly smiled.

Trent had the cheeky smile on his face, his eyes lingering on your lips before glancing upward to your eyes. He knew what he was doing to you moving closer to the barrier between the reporters and the players.

You cleared your throat. "You are also the player of the match." You trailed off; Trent leaned closer. Call it the stadium being loud for him to not hear you clearly or he simply wanted to be close to you, to mesmerize the small moles on your face, to engulf himself on your warm scent.

"Are you excited for your next big game against Manchester City?" You inquired. All the back and forth staring and silence with Trent will not colour your supervisor impressed at all. You need to interview someone else that will not . . leave you speechless in minutes.

"Well it depends, to be very honest with you. Will you be in the next game?" Trent further pestered.

You furrowed your eyebrows in slight annoyance at the player for making everything about you while the whole fanbase would want to know more about him.

The cameraman behind you almost dropped his equipment taken back by the question. You did not know . . how to respond to the player who was attacking you with his doe eyes. Nervously, you laughed, "I cannot be certain about that. Are you and your team ready? It is one of the anticipated game of the season." You diverted his topic back to what you needed at the first place.

Trent stared at you without responding to your question, you quickly started shaking your leg anxiously as your eyes lingered at almost all the players leaving to go back to the training ground from the stadium. Your chances were blowing every second Trent silent in front of you.

During this period, you started considering finding other jobs, as you started making mental notes. With thoughts looming around your head, you did not come to realize Trent walked a few steps toward you, nibbling on his bottom teeth. He removed the microphone away from his lips, coming forward for a conversation that is sealed between you and the liverpool player.

You flinched at his hot breathe hitting your skin, as he gently held onto your forearm to keep you in position knowing you will move away from his contact.

You coughed away from his grip. "Have a great day then. We cannot wait till what magic liverpool can bring to Anfield once again."

"And you too, have a great day but i did not quite catch your name." He inquired with his wicked smirk playing on his face. He wants me gone, jobless. Clearly, with zero intention to support my penniless lifestyle.

You smiled, "If you do goal against Manchester City, I will let you know."

"Should we seal the deal with a kiss then, perhaps?"

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold scenarios #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold x you #jaehymrkwrites #trent alexander arnold fluff

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vannyaftonlova · 6 months

Text

Jealousy Isn't a Good Look | Pt. 1

warnings: angst, verbal fighting, jealousy

You started working at Freddy's not too long ago. Vanessa knew what the job entailed, so as your "friend" she tried to get you as far away from it as possible, but you needed money, so she reluctantly gave up. She knew you and Mike would become acquainted, but she didn't expect to walk in and see the two of you cracking up over some inside joke she didn't know.

Nothing was every actually established between the two of you. Multiple kisses have almost happened, you're both always very touchy with each other, but it seemed to not be going anywhere.

You hand landed on Mike's arm as you laughed. He had his eyes glued onto you and was laughing along. Unknowingly to you, his hand started to gravitate towards your thigh, and Vanessa had seen enough.

She cleared her throat and put on a fake smile. You quickly turned around and stood up. You rushed over to Vanessa with a smile on your face.

"Hey, Vanny." You wrapped your arms around her and pressed your body against hers.

She put her arms around you and pushed down her jealousy over mike. "Hey, you." Her voice sounded a tad irritated, but you just assumed it was from a bad shift.

You leaned back and looked at her. "You okay?" Your face was filled with concern.

She shook her head. "Yeah! Yeah, totally." You gave her a questioning look.

"I really don't believe you, Ness." You took a step back and crossed your arms. She rolled her eyes and shrugged. You sighed and turned around to look at Mike. "Hold down the fort, we'll be right back." You quickly turned back around, grabbed Vanessa's arm, and started dragging her to the nearest supply closet.

"Hey-" She said, but was cut off by you shoving her in the closet, shutting and locking the door behind you.

"What's wrong with you tonight, Vanny?" You crossed your arms and stared at her.

She scoffed. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She looked everywhere but at you.

"You definitely do. You won't even look at me." You took a step towards her, but she shuffled backwards.

"Why do you care? You clearly don't care about me." She spat. Her voice was filled with malice.

Confusion washes over your face. "What the hell are you even talking about?" You start getting snippy with her.

"Don't play dumb. I'm talking about you and Mike!"

You took a second before laughing with sarcasm. "Oh my god." You shook your head. "You're fucking jealous."

That word, jealous. You could see the look behind her eyes change. You would think she would have shrunk, but she became ten times more pissed off at you. "Sure. Yeah. I'm jealous. Rub it in. Tell me how much this humors you, how pathetic you think I am."

"Why the hell would I ever think that? You know damn well-"

She cuts you off. "You're always so busy with Mike. Your stupid inside jokes. The way you touched his arm. Hell- the way you were going to let him touch you!"

"Don't act so high and mighty, Vanessa." You spat. You stepped forward and poked her in the chest with your finger. "We aren't even together! You haven't made a single move to give me a reason to not let someone else be all over me."

She stepped closer to you. She loomed over you with a look of pain and anger in her eyes. Your heart hammered in your chest, from both anger, and now excitement at your close proximity. "Do you think I haven't wanted to do something?"

"You haven't made it seem like it. I've been waiting for-" Vanessa cut you off by slamming her lips onto yours. It took a second for you to realize what was happening, and by the time you did, you felt her undoing her tie.

#vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader smut #fnaf #fnaf movie #wlw

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januaryembrs · 1 year

Text

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant x Reader [1]

description: Steven finds his life slowly turning upside down when the man in the mirror starts talking back, he's sleepwalking all the way to the Alps, and the woman he's besotted with from work finds herself more caught up in all of it than he'd ever wanted. [Last Night in Soho inspired]

word count: 11.1k

trigger warnings: gore, blood, swearing, reader has a dark past that will be explored more read at discretion, third person & no use of Y/N, death, reader will become an avatar eventually,

main masterlist | series masterlist

Authors note: I have been in love with this show since I watched it and have finally started the fic I’ve been wanting to since it came out! The chapters are going to be long and readers backstory is dark but this is a piece very personal to me and I hope you enjoy!!!

She felt someone picking up her limp body. The museum lights had long since been shut off, but through the darkness of the exhibition she caught a tall figure standing over her. Her lids were heavy, vision bleary, yet she blinked a few times to try and straighten her mind that still felt like it was pulsing stiffly in her tight skull. Her voice was no better, the only sound she could let out was a guttural whine as the stranger pressed hard on the three deep lacerations on her abdomen that were now gushing blood like a scene from a 90s slasher movie.

They were broad, blocking out the minimal slither of light as they crouched over her and seemed to be yelling something. Probably scolding her for getting copious amounts of thick blood over the freshly mopped floors, she thought numbly. The sound came to her in something akin to static, a muffled string of nonsense. All she knew was they were talking loud and fast. Or maybe she had a concussion too? That thing had thrown her through that glass wall pretty hard.

She couldn’t see a mouth moving, nor could she actually see their face, just two beams of white blinking down at her.

This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening for real. She thought maybe someone had slipped something in her drink when she was at the club, but that was two days ago. There would be no reason for her to be feeling the effects only just now. And when she had been jumped on by one of those things she’d sure as hell felt it. She'd seen it with her own two eyes the way her clothes had been ripped as something plunged its claws deep into her, heard the air whoosh out her lungs as it hurled her through the partition wall.

She’d felt, still felt, the open wound seeping so harshly that she knew it was going to be fatal.

There was no coming back from whatever fever dream this was.

She blinked again up at the mystery guy who seemed to be holding her heavy head gently, but the hot, red wetness on his hands that smeared on her cheek said he also knew how fucked she was. He was muttering something, was there someone else here? Oh god, where was Steven?

“Stev-” Came her broken murmur, but the metallic taste crawling its way up her throat cut her off as a blob of viscid blood rolled down her chin.

“He’s here, he’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Said the voice back to her, his grasp on her hair tightening as she garbled. The breath, life, was leaving her now. Every time she tried to get air into her lungs, she was met with more of the thick liquid spraying into her mouth, her chest retching for oxygen.

She didn’t have long left, she realised numbly.

The room was blackening round the edges even more now, sped up by the way she felt her hands grabbing his arm in a panic. She’d thought she would welcome the cold hands of Death, it wasn’t a stranger in her home. Death rooted himself in her very soul, and yet as it dragged her under consciousness, she couldn’t help but feel like a scared little girl and she tried to cling onto the mystery figure as if he could keep her from Death’s greedy clutches.

It was sweet poetry, knowing she was drowning from the inside out. She had always known her biggest monster lay within her, in her every cell, festering and rotting her, since the moment she was born. There was really no other perfect way to sum up her whole life than it ending this way, choking on her own body. Grabbing onto a stranger, trying to plead for help as a few precious tears wet her face and she realised she was crying. Scared, vulnerable to her own demise like she had always known she would be.

How do you fight off a monster coming from within? You don't. You can’t. So she didn’t.

No amount of soft words or desperate touches on the figure helped her, it only made the departure messier, a bigger pool of blood for them to find her in.

The world felt surprisingly calm the moment she was snatched ruthlessly into Death’s open arms.

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“Come the fuck on, Steven” Cursing under her breath, she cradled the two disposable cups of coffee tightly, her rosewood coloured lipstick surrounding only one of the lids. The London air whipped her coat around her shins, frigid and unwelcoming as it was even on a good day.

As per usual, Steven was late for work. The two of them had an agreement to meet each other outside the museum every Wednesday and Thursday, which meant his lateness slid in her own time. She could of course just meet the undoubtedly dishevelled man inside, but what kind of a friend would she be then? Leave him to face Donna’s wrath on his own? No, if he was in for a bollocking then so were she.

Friends didn’t exactly come easy to her nowadays, either. So if waiting in the bitterness for another five minutes meant she could keep this one, then so be it.

She had even taken the time on her commute to work to grab him a drink, the thin, black ink on the sticker reading: LATTE, + CARAMEL, -XTRA ESPRESSO SHOT, -XTRA HOT. she had banked on him being late despite the fact she had left him three messages this morning asking if he was awake (he wasn’t) and called him last night before bed to remind him not to sleep in.

A minute or so before she would have figured he was just calling in sick today, she caught sight of a slouched figure dashing off the bus, the grey knitted cardigan belonging to only one person his age in London. His thatch of messy black curls were a next dead give away, as well as the bags under his eyes that never seemed to budge even if he were to sleep two days in a row. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed to apologise to a flock of pigeons he nearly trampled on in his haste up the many steps leading to their workplace.

“Donna’s going to serve our heads on sticks to scare away rude customers, you know that right?” She said, handing him his drink, now lukewarm, as he nearly crashed into her own body.

“Thanks, Dove,” He said absently as the two of them headed quickly to the entrance, “Yep, I’m aware I’ve buggered us. Bloody weird dreams again,” Steven shook his head as if to rid himself of the odd thoughts. “Sorry though, love. You must be freezing,”

She was freezing, but the way he was quick to worry over her warmed her insides more than she’d care to admit. The nickname crafted just for her, the bird symbolising ‘Quiet innocence’ in Ancient Egypt, as Steven had once told her. Sure enough, the endearing term had stuck quickly, and it warmed her to know she had a special enough place in his life to have a pet name.

It was plain to see just by looking at the twenty-five year old she was smitten with her co-worker. No sane person stands outside in Brittain’s April winds for just a friend. But Steven was different, which she knew was what every naive young girl said about their work crush, but he truly was. Steven had a kindness she had never known someone to offer without wanting anything in return, which he didn’t. He was so sweet to her she understood why he loved the sugary caramel syrup in his coffee so much, she thought often it glazed his every word with a honeyed tone. His face was a blend of a greek god and a lost puppy, a combination she never would have banked on being so damn attractive until she met him.

Even his smell alone of a quiet library, a rain soaked meadow and freshly brewed coffee had her inebriated.

“It’s fine,” The woman reassured as she cut through the main lobby where it was already lively with school kids. A few queued up at the gift shop to pay for their treasures; she smiled when she saw a girl with an Anubis plushie tucked under her arm. “I’m sure she would have found a reason to snap today anyway,”

She adored her job, she really did. Graduating university with a degree in Ancient Languages, working in London’s heart of archeological texts had been a linguist’s version of Broadway. Sure, her talents were beyond soured working in the gift shop, but anything was better than the life she’d fled to get here.

No amount of sneers and dry remarks from Donna could ever drag her kicking and screaming back to that time before she left for Soho.

“What did you dream about this time?” She asked, her black, kitten heels clicking against the freshly polished marble floor.

A ghost of a smile spread across his face, and her eyes couldn’t help but linger on the way his brows lifted, giving away his amusement at his own head. “It was the weirdest thing. I felt like I was flying over London, but not, like, in an aeroplane or anything, like I was flying. Like, me. No wings or anything. Like I’m bloody superman or something.” Steven shook his head again and she gave a small laugh.

“Certainly beats getting the underground. You know, I saw a rat the size of a dachshund this morning, swear on my life. I thought it was about to ask me for spare change,” Steven smiled at his colleague as they entered the Ancient Egypt area. She took a sip of her own hot latte, sweet cinnamon with whipped cream that had long since melted, the liquid already half devoured when she was waiting for him to show up.

“Don’t you ever have dreams like that, then? That feel so ridiculous. It's like, how can my head even come up with it?” Steven asked, and her smile wobbled a little as she saw her manager set her predatory gaze on the two of them. The people pleaser in her wanted to cower at Donna’s furious expression.

In all honesty, she wished for dreams as ludicrous as flying over Piccadilly like a Mary Poppins wannabe. She wished she had Steven’s innocent look on life, that the world around her didn’t terrify her, that it could be as gentle with her as he was.

But that was not real life.

Her dreams were not filled with silly fantasies of flying like heroes. They were filled with dark monsters that looked too much like men to be supernatural, that managed to catch her no matter how many times she ran, begged, screamed. They always caught up to her. Always. Leaving her clawing at the duvet, drenched in sweat and a pulse that could challenge a hummingbird’s.

“Brace yourself,” She ignored his question, muttering the words to him as the blonde came strutting over to them with a daggers look. Ah, Donna. The woman that made her job so joyful, so easy, a delight to be around.

Donna hated her almost as much as she made it clear Steven was on a metaphorical hit list the moment he stepped foot into the museum.

“You pair better have a good explanation,” Donna snapped, dumping a tower of boxes in Steven’s arms.

“Bus times-” Steven said at the same time she came out with:

“Road works-”

They both stopped, hesitating a glance to one another. The blonde looked between them, shaking her head with a furrowed brow and a scornful sigh.

“It’s like tweedledum and tweedledee having you two together,” She muttered, nudging the younger girl towards the stands in the middle of the gift shop, “Dum, you’re stock shelves today, love,” The term didn’t sound nearly as friendly coming from her mouth, nor did it make her chest flutter like it did when Steven said it. It was condescending, rude. Made to make her feel inferior, which it did. She pointed at the man then, shoving a basket of insect themed sweets to him behind the till, “Dee, you’re selling these.”

Donna looked between the two of them one last time, her steely blue glare never wavering, as if checking they could be left alone together without wasting company time, before going to set her unforgiving jaws on some other poor creature.

The girl set her bag behind the counter and got to work organising the merchandise, twisting the ceramic scarabs to all be facing the front.

It was a menial job at best, being stuck stacking shelves as mothers and fathers reached over to inspect the new stock, most of the time messing up the meticulous order she’d put them out in. Kids got their grubby mits all over the glass pyramid paperweights, making her eye twitch since she knew she’d need to polish them up again, only to flash them a smile and ask them kindly if they had the pocket money to pay for it.

They didn’t, kids just liked to fiddle with priceless things and their parents were too busy on their phones to notice.

She was half way through showing two young girls to the sarcophagus themed pencil cases when she caught sight of Dylan at the front counter, leaning in to talk to Steven.

Dylan was a nice woman to work with. She was one of the only people who’d tried to coax conversation out of the greenie the first week she started there, which had been painful for both of them since she had never been known to be sociable. Companionship did not come easy to her and it was only by sheer luck that Steven seemed so similarly awkward in a charming way that she was able to feel comfortable around him.

It was childish really, a silly work crush that she had no intention of ever letting slip. He was too good for her anyway. He was sweet and kind, gentle, innocent. Everything she was not.

Steven Grant deserved someone who could give him the world. Which is why it shouldn’t have come to too much of a stab to the chest when she heard what the two of them were talking about.

“We still on for seven tomorrow?” Dylan asked, her hair falling in those beautiful, tight curls over her shoulder. Dylan was the type who showed up to work every day looking effortlessly gorgeous which clawed at the younger girl more than she cared to acknowledge. She liked Dylan, she really did. She was friendly in a way that was genuine, didn’t have her second guessing whether she meant the compliments she gave to anyone.

Some days she wondered if Dylan pitied her. A plain Jane girl with no family to lean on, trying to make ends meet in a city as extortionate as London and chin deep in university loans. It was enough for any attractive, confident adult woman to kiss their teeth and “Awww”.

The girl watched the two of them, waiting for the teenagers to decide which stationary sets they wanted. They were looking for ‘different but matching’ they had said, not that she was paying much attention to them. Steven’s face was the picture of lost as he stared at the grown woman, seemingly entranced with her face. And she couldn’t blame him. Dylan flashed him a teasing smile, brilliant white teeth poking out from behind her luscious dark lips.

“Seven tomorrow?” He asked, despite nodding happily as if he understood what she was talking about. But his friend didn’t miss the confusion blaring on his face, his eyes as brown as the coffee she’d bought him scrunched up slightly in bewilderment.

“Best steak in town?” Dylan prompted, her smile not faltering though she seemed to also be slightly thrown off that had forgotten.

Their unknowing audience kept her head down, not wanting to watch for a second more of their conversation. She didn’t need a degree to see the way Dylan had leaned in, her body language turned completely towards him as if to tease him with what could come if their date were to go well, her own almond eyes trailing over him with the air of confidence her younger counterpart lacked.

“Oh right, yeah. Yeah,” Steven replied. She could tell he still had no clue what Dylan was talking about.

“Yeah? Okay,” Dylan replied, oblivious to his dilemma, and stepped away from the desk to go tour the new group of school kids waiting in the hallway.

Steven followed her trail hotly before she could leave, “Sorry but,” He stepped towards her to talk a little quieter, almost embarrassed about how forward he was being, “Are you asking me out?”

Dylan stopped, reeling slightly in shock before she wagged a finger to him and chuckled. “You’re funny. I’ll see you then.” She seemed unbothered by his ‘joke’ though she could hear in his own voice he was muddled. The woman walked away with a sultry looking smile, her eyes flicking to her where her other coworker silently arranged the pencil sarcophaguses. “Morning, babe,” She gave the girl a friendly squeeze on the upper arm as she passed. It only made it more difficult to writhe in jealousy knowing the woman he was seeing was downright lovely.

“Morning, Dylan,” She returned the smile, though the bitterness festered inside her. She had no claim over him, and she really couldn’t blame the two of them for gravitating towards one another. Not only was she merely twenty-five, a decade under Steven and Dylan’s thirty-five years, but Dylan was sexy, confident, flirty. Knew what she wanted. She was incredibly smart too, not an airhead like some other people trying to live the big dream in London. Dylan was a tour guide at the British Museum, and what was she? A graduate with a dead degree, pun intended, and a job that could be done by any wannabe walking in here.

Taking a moment to rearrange her feelings, shoving down the way her heart wriggled in her chest as the little green monster worked its way through her veins, pumping disappointment around her body like a drug.

The two young girls seemed to only then decide which pencil boxes they wanted, unbeknownst to her inner turmoil, and she remained silent as she led them over to the till to talk to Steven, more for her own benefit than theirs.

“I didn’t know you’d asked her out,” She said finally, though it came out as a croak, which she cleared from her throat quickly. Steven scanned their items as the girls both fiddled with ten pound notes, the great Queen Elizabeth staring at the woman from their hands as if she even knew how childish she sounded.

“Neither did I,” Steven replied honestly, printing off the receipts for them, “And you would think for a woman like her there’d be no chance I’d forget a date, you know what I mean?”

Ouch. She smiled tightly, waving the younger girls off as they caught up with Dylan’s tour group. The woman of the hour. Of course he’d be elated at the sound of that, what man with eyes wouldn’t? Anyone would count their stars lucky to be given a chance by a temptress like her.

“Must have needed that coffee today after all,” She joked, though she couldn’t bring herself to smile properly, instead finding a middle ground between a grimace and a simper.

Steven chuckled at her, shaking his head. “Must have. What would I ever do without you?” She grinned painfully at him, looking away to try and hide the way her face grew hot at his thoughtless words. “Am I still walking you home tonight?”

Another of their routines. She lived closer to Islington than the lovely apartment Steven had in Whitechapel. Despite paying a lot per month to live so close to the city centre, some areas of London like the borough she lived in was still ridden with some of the highest crime rate in the county. Steven was more thoughtful than anyone she had ever met, a rarity in this place, and on the days they were at work together he would ride the underground home with her before detouring around to his own apartment even further away.

“Uh, no,” She replied, busying herself with unloading one of the boxes Donna had dumped in Steven’s hands earlier. She loved spending time with Steven, loved it so much that she felt guilty of lusting over him without his knowledge, but she couldn’t bear to hear any more about this date that he would no doubt want to pick her brain apart over. He’d want to ask what to wear, how to style his hair, if he should buy her chocolates and flowers even though she already knew he would. And the whole time she’d be hoarse in the throat from holding back the urge to say Date me instead, I’m begging you. “No, I have a date of my own tonight,”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

It was like their monarch Elizabeth was still glaring at her, judging her through her inky lashes and driving the dagger in further at the fact that this kind of behaviour was exactly what made her too immature to be considered for a real date with Steven.

He raised his brows, surprised. It wasn’t uncommon for her to have an occasional fling with a guy every now and then. But none of them really progressed to a date, just a single night of passion to groan over in embarrassment when Steven asked how her weekend went.

“Oh, who’s the lucky guy?” Steven asked, nudging her shoulder in a tone that was nothing but teasing.

“No one, just someone I met on tinder,” She brushed off, the lack of excitement making the man stop trying to pry a smile out of her.

“What’s the matter?” She shrugged at him, not coming up with a response in time. What he took as nerves was in fact guilt and disgust feasting on her insides at the fact she was lying to him. Lying. There was no mystery man, no one coming to save her from this awkward display of what pure jealousy can do to a reasonable person. “You can always cancel if you don’t want to go.”

“I just…” she trailed off, stuck for what to say. He was looking at her with those puppy eyes no grown man should be able to perfect. And yet he was patiently waiting for her to stumble on the right set of words, his entire focus on whatever it was troubling her. That was another thing, for as chatty as a person as Steven was, he was just as good a listener, and she could tell he gave her everything every single time they would talk. “I just don’t know what to wear, is all,”

He seemed content with her answer as his eyes trailed down her body. She squirmed under his gaze but hid it well (not at all) by pulling her cardigan sleeves over her hands and balling her fists to fidget with, “Wear what you’re wearing now,” He said simply, as if it were obvious.

She looked down. A large top and casual jeans did not exactly say date worthy, though she wasn’t sure if there were actual rules to hypothetical dating, seeing as her man was fucking imaginary.

She giggled at him nonetheless, shaking her head, “These are my work clothes, Steven. I can’t go like this.”

“Why not? I think you look lovely,” Steven’s comment was passing, tiny in the scale of things. Yet it sent her heart scrambling for a grip on reality. He was just her friend, complimenting her on her perfectly ordinary clothes. Nothing more.

It wasn’t until she found herself smiling at a set of metal Pharaohs that she realised she needed to get a date for this evening fast. If Dylan and Steven could find someone in this wide city, surely it couldn’t be too hard for her to.

Sound was the first thing that came back to her. The crappy animated kids show she had been watching out of pure boredom last night was still playing after being left on all night. No doubt running up her already high electric bills. The exaggerated, slapstick bangs blared through the speaker. That caught her attention, drawing her into the awake like a fog horn from shore. The midday sun slipped through the open curtains, flicking over her lids and coaxing her to open them. She did so gently, lashes batting over her cheeks as she tried to make sense of where she was.

Her sofa.

The two empty mugs glared back at her from the coffee table, making her eyes wince in confusion. Why was she making tea so late last night?

Then the stench hit her. The smokey yet overwhelmingly powerful smell of a gentleman caller named Jack Daniels wafted up her nose and brought back a panorama of memories flicking through her head; The date. A real date that had been scheduled since Thursday. A completely ordinary blonde named James. The restaurant. Him being almost too charming. Fake laughing at his jokes she had already seen on Twitter weeks ago. Him touching her thigh every chance he could get. Suggesting they go to a club. Dancing. Shots. More dancing. Sharing a beer she pretended not to think was the most horrendous thing she’d ever tasted. More shots. More dancing. Him grabbing her hips. Her waist. Him kissing her neck, cheek, lips. Him grabbing her more, something she would find sleazy if she wasn’t desperate to force Steven out of her intoxicated brain.

Which led to her apartment. The sofa, as classy as it sounded, was seemingly a better option than her bed. She had been quick to shut him down when he suggested moving it to her room; that was too intimate. That was her space, which would only be tainted by this stranger wanting to bend her over. So the sofa it was.

Whiskey served in old mugs she got from the gift shop being chugged for Dutch courage. The same mugs she had bought with Steven as part of a set. They had taken two each, promising that they would be used whenever the other visited.

She had given him Steven’s mug out of spite, even in her vodka riddled brain she was burying her feelings six feet under.

Her hand shot out when she heard her phone buzzing, not wanting it to wake up her actual gentleman caller.

The phone was clumsily brought to her ear, not even bothering to check who was calling before she swiped the green icon.

“Hullo?” It came out a horrible croaky mess and had her coughing the second she’d asked.

“Hi, Dove! Just called to see how your date went.” Steven’s voice blared through the speaker, which only served to have her pulling it away and groaning. “And also to tell you about my dream, I think it was the weirdest one to date!”

“Woah, slow down, Steve-” She tried to say, but the man had clearly a mouthful to tell her and continued on regardless.

“I was in the alps, but it was all so real. There was this group of people taking it in turn to hold hands with this weird American guy, and then I got into a high speed cupcake-van chase with the lot of them because they started saying I’d stolen this little scarab thing from them, I don’t know where I get this stuff from-” Her eyes scrunched together in pain, though she lay in the quiet and tried to gather her bearings. She sat up from the sofa, shivering when she saw it was around midday outside and she had forgotten to close the window.

“Sounds intense,” She mused to keep him talking, pulling a blanket over her still nude body as she stood to close it and preserve the heating. Her head spun as she stood, a rush of bile rising to her throat dangerously, which she choked back down and looked around the room. Quickly realising she was alone in her flat, she shuffled over to the kitchen in her blanket cocoon to find her purse to see how bad the damage her little excursion had done to her limited stash as any responsible youth did after a night out in London.

“It was! I swear it was like I could feel the cars smashing into me- Oh right! How was your date?”

She blanched, head still pounding, “Uh. Yeah it was great.” It was average at best. “He was super funny,” For a Twitter fraud. “So romantic,” If romantic was the new word for ten minutes of missionary and not even making her cum. “He took me wine tasting,” She was sure she’d be tasting the wine she’d bought at the club any second now judging by the way her head spun, “Yeah, he was great,” He wasn’t you, Steven.

“I’m so pleased for you, love!” Her best friend cheered, a part of her writhing in repulsion that she had lied to him again. Though maybe that was the wine begging to make an appearance. She stuck the lever down on the kettle to get the water boiling, sure that a fresh cup of strong tea would be the only thing to pull her through this hangover.

Part of her, the dark, twisted part, wanted him to be jealous. Wanted to make him as frustrated and envious as he had unknowingly made her. But he would never, could never. Steven was tender and good. He was too sweet to ever think a single bitter thought towards her, towards Donna even. Which only served to make her feel even more rotten inside.

“How was your date with Dylan?” She forced herself to ask. It was selfish for her to think, but she wished more than anything for him to tell her that it went horribly. She hated the part of her inside that sang with glee at the idea of him hating his date. She truly was wicked inside, and the idea only reminded her more of why she would never be asked on a date by him. Maybe he could see it too, how sick she was for wanting the world to suffer if she couldn’t have the one man she’d ever truly wanted.

“That’s not until tonight, love, remember?” He said casually, as she fumbled around her kitchen for her handbag. She locked eyes on the little black clutch sitting on top of the counter. Her brows furrowed in confusion, she could have sworn Dylan said they were meeting Friday, two full nights ago. Her heart plummeted, maybe it was a second date.

Ofcourse it was. Ofcourse they hit it off, who wouldn’t. He was as smitten as anything and Dylan wasn’t that kind of woman that was too afraid to tell him exactly what she wanted. If she wanted to see him again, then Steven would give her exactly what she asked for.

“Tonight?” She asked, squeezing the phone between her shoulder and her head as she popped open the clasps to her bag.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t forget a woman like her twice in a row,” Steven joked. But what should have made her gut curdle in pain only fell on deaf ears.

Her purse was gone. Her purse that never left her damn bag, that she had stuffed her rent money in as soon as she’d gotten it was missing.

“I-I’m gonna have to call you back, Steven,” She uttered through the heart sized lump in her throat. Her palms were already clammy with sweat, both from the drink and from her sheer panic, “Good luck on your date,”

“Alright, gators!”

She barely got a chance to murmur their goodbye back before she had thrown her phone down on the plain, white counter and dumped out the contents of her bag.

Hair ties, the odd two pence, a pen she stole from the bank. But no purse.

She turned her coat pockets inside out, the blanket falling down her waist and exposing her round breasts to the cold air. But she couldn’t care less. The goosebumps slithering up her arms did nothing to fight the hot panic as the sofa cushions were thrown off their frame, the young girl still turning up empty handed.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

This could not be happening. She hadn’t opened her bag all night, even when she got out of the taxi she had her phone readily in her hand and the bag tightly closed. Someone could have taken it in the club, sure, but that made no sense seeing as her bag was definitely still heavy with the wallet when she had gotten home, not near empty like it was now.

Which only meant…

Her date had fucking stolen from her.

“FUCK!” She yelled, throwing her vacant bag across the room with tears brimming her eyes.

It seemed life had been digging a trench underneath Rock Bottom reserved for her at a time like this. And she was left clutching at the muddy walls, trying to drag herself to safety and anywhere that wasn’t her shitty situation where she pined over a man she could never have, where she was still walking the line between sane and whatever else was brewing inside her, fighting against tendrils of hatred and chaos, malignance, that wrapped around her organs and reminded her where she came from, what she was. A life where she got mugged by the men she fucked at her expensive pity parties.

She just hoped Donna wasn’t too hard on her tomorrow after this shit show of a weekend.

“Late, again,” Came the chiding voice the moment she stepped in the building.

Sweat dripped down her back from her long trek through London to get to work. 48 minutes of power walking is what she had been reduced to, unable to get the bus or underground for lack of money.

And she was still late. She was expecting a nice, fat kick to the teeth any time now.

“It’s five minutes, Donna,” You pleaded, yanking an earphone out. Music was the only thing that could block out the thrum of anger and agony she was in from the weekends chaotics.

“Even Stevie-”

“Steven,”

“-Was on time today and he’s the worst for it,” Donna snapped, and the young girl could do nothing but slump in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Donna. It won’t happen again.” She promised. She wasn’t sure if she meant it yet with her lack of transport, but she couldn’t lose this job. She didn’t even know how she was going to pay for this month’s rent let alone catch the bus, breakfast itself had been skipped in an attempt to conserve food. Her stomach ached from the exercise, crying out for anything to fill its distressed cavern. “I got robbed yesterday so I walked,” She murmured, avoiding the blue eyes that had narrowed in on her. She hated feeling pitied, feeling as though people were sorry for her. But it was the truth, and the truth sucked sometimes.

She wasn’t sure what beam of light had shone out of Donna’s ass this morning, or whether she really did look just that pathetic, but the blonde woman just sighed and nudged her towards the gift shop.

In perhaps the nicest tone she’d ever spoken to her, Donna quietly said “Last warning, girl, alright?” The younger woman thanked her quickly, her small voice sheepish. Her boss looked down at her in discontent, “Alright, get going. And you’re on inventory with Steven tonight so best behaviour, I mean it,”

She nodded, turning on her heel to speed towards the gift shop.

Turning from the main lobby to enter the Ancient Egypt exhibits, she’d not gotten halfway there when she’d caught up to Steven seemingly helping a customer. Odd considering the fact he wasn’t even in the shop yet, but knowing Steven he’d probably stopped to chat the guy’s ear off about something he knew too much about to be just a giftshoppist.

She went to wave when he looked up and met her gaze, but the forlorn, scared expression she found there had her already negligent smile drop completely. Steven seemed relieved to see her, too nervous to say anything to the man himself as he stood too close for his comfort.

Her eyes fell to where the stranger held Steven’s hands tightly, murmuring something to him that seemed to have her friend freaked out. The whole sight threw her for a loop, and she called his name on instinct, the new man’s head shooting up to stare at her blankly.

Speeding up her pace, she met the two as Steven pulled away from the stranger’s strong grasp. “Steven, are you okay?” She asked gently, looking from her friend to the lithe figure of the man. He wasn’t tall by any means, but his presence, the way he dressed and held an intricately woven cane seemed meant to make himself superior. His hair was long and greying, still young enough to be attractive but probably a bit older than Steven. A neat sort of scruff sat on his chin, and old blue orbs took her in head to toe where she stood. Not out of lust, but out of intrigue.

“We were just talking, weren’t we, Steven?” The man said calmly, seemingly sizing her up himself. She looked over her shaken friend quickly, the alarm written over his face that had near brought him to tears telling her all she needed to know.

This man was no friend.

“Sorry, I don’t remember asking you,” She snipped in the cold politeness English people all knew how to enact, bringing her friend’s hand into her soft one for reassurance. Steven had never seen her so infuriated. And perhaps it was the weekend she’d had or the way the man so gentle he refused to kill insects seemed to be trembling beneath her hand, she wasn’t sure, but a fierce frown was deep set into her face that dropped into concern the moment she looked back to him, “Are you alright?”

“Can we go, please?” His round, nut brown eyes were soft and welled up as he quietly spoke, as if asking for her permission to be away from here despite being the older of the two. Her heart dropped at his sad expression, and she felt him squeeze her hand as if needing to reassure himself someone was there to save him.

She had no time to note the way the butterflies swelled in her stomach as he did so, focused on getting him away from the strange man.

“Ofcourse,” She said softly, turning to direct him to their little corner of the museum, hoping that the stranger would get the hint and just leave them be.

That seemed short lived when a cold hand wrapped itself around her lower arm, a gasp drawing its way from her lungs. She could feel the panic of being grabbed by the unfamiliar man crawling up her spine, her limbs going numb, her hearing dipping in and out of static at the adrenaline flushing through her system.

She heard Steven say her name as her head snapped to where the man’s strong grip tightened around her wrist. He seemed to stare at her with something calculating, and she wished she hadn’t run her mouth despite the fact she did so to protect the same person who was now behind her, a deeper sense of panic blaring in his eye than before.

“Let go-” Taking a deep breath to overcome the bubbling fear rising in her chest, her only words were cut off by a much clearer voice.

“There is a darkness in you,” The stranger said, as if he knew it for a fact.

Her heart plummeted.

Was it so obvious? No one had ever been able to see it, she buried it so deep in the hopes no one would ever get a glimpse beneath her kind shell. But it was a facade, and even he knew it. The shock must have read clear on her face as he pushed on, as if to reopen scar tissue with his bare hands.

“And chaos, oh there is chaos.” Her lips quirked between her teeth as she tried to stop them from trembling, “A shadow looms over you, little dove.” She felt Steven pull her closer to him, but this man had her every morsel of attention. How did he know, if he knew then surely Steven knew too. Knew she was born so dead she felt she was living a lie by being here. The man laughed to himself, just a small breath but it was enough to break her spirit, “What is it those witches say about Macbeth? Something wicked this way comes.” He asked though he already knew the answer, as if to entrance her with his own spell, “And I see you are truly something wicked.”

Her breath left her chest. The voice escaped her throat. Every intention of protecting Steven had practically evaporated out of her body as her co worker tugged her arm hard enough that the stranger let go of her.

“Leave us alone or I’ll call the police, alright?” Steven murmured with a new sense of courage, “I don’t care if you’re friends with the security here, you leave us alone,”

But the man’s eyes hadn’t left her, as if he knew just how deep his words had struck with her. He wormed his way into her brain even as Steven led her away with a kind hand on her back, his own words of reassurance coming to her as if she were underwater. As if she were being dragged under a current.

“He has no clue what he’s talking about, love. He was trying to get into my head too,” Steven said, but he could tell by the lost look in her eyes it was barely being registered.

“Who the hell was that?” She asked after a moment, the feeling in her fingertips just about awakening once they were far enough away to be considered safe.

“You won’t believe me if I told you-”

“Steven, please,” She begged, looking up at him with a desperation he had never known from her. That man, Harrow, one of the women in the alps had called him, had truly shaken her up with the near omen he had given her.

Steven couldn’t understand why, she was possibly the loveliest girl he had ever met. There was no one who so much as held a torch to her light in Steven’s eyes. She was kind. Gentle. Good. This Harrow had no idea what he was talking about saying she was wicked. She was anything but.

Steven sighed, looking at her gravely. “Remember yesterday when I said I had that dream the other night. When I was in the alps, and those men were chasing me for some scarab I’d stolen,”

She blinked at him emptily. In her defence, her brain had still been riddled with alcohol when he’d been rambling, and she had gotten caught up in her own personal issues since then to take much notice. But the scenario sounded familiar as she wracked her brain for the information, some light sparking in her eyes when it clicked to their phone conversation the day before.

She stayed silent, eyebrows furrowing, “You said that was a dream, Steven. That man is very much real,”

“I know, I thought it was a dream,” Steven explained, “But now they’re here, and they keep saying I’ve got this scarab and what not. I don’t understand any of this, love. I’m sorry. I just know he’s dangerous and we need to stay far away from him,”

The younger woman looked at him sadly. He was clearly in distress himself, and she felt a flash of sympathy run through her at his lost expression, yet his eyes were full of concern for her well being.

She knew what it was like to struggle to know what was real and what was not. What it was like to feel as though you're barely keeping your head above the waters of reality. Yet she trusted Steven would tell her if he knew what was happening.

She knew he was more honest than anyone she’d ever known, so she didn’t push.

“Alright,” She said with a heavy sigh, rubbing her eyes to relieve the pressure building in her frontal lobes, “Alright, let’s just steer clear of him, okay? And if he comes back, we go to the police together.”

Steven seemed relieved, which wasn’t a surprise since he knew it was a big ask to have someone trust such a ludicrous story. Yet he didn’t know why he doubted her. She was loyal and would never dream of ridiculing him like other people might. She just took his word as gospel.

She was too good to him.

“Okay, yeah. Good plan,” He said, nodding and checking behind him to see if the guy was still after them when a smaller body pressed its way into his chest.

She didn’t know why she did it, whether it was for his benefit or hers, but she hugged him. Tightly too, as if she had been holding back for a while (she had). They hugged all the time, when saying goodbye at her train stop, when they saw each other on a morning given they weren’t running late. But it never felt like this, so intimate. So much like she needed him so desperately.

Perhaps it was childish, but the way he drew her closer, resting a head on top of hers as if he needed the contact as much as she did made her heart flutter even with the strange circumstances. For a moment, they both felt safe, like Harrow couldn’t get in their heads entirely because they had each other to ground them, reassure the other that they were not alone in the web his ominous words had spun them into, and that was enough for now.

Yet the two of them barely spoke all day.

Whether it was they were too busy with their actual work, or they were both in their heads thinking just what Harrow had meant by his prophesying.

It wasn’t until inventory was nearly done that she spoke first.

“We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?” She asked, his head cutting to hers from where he was scanning some Beefeater Rubber ducks. He seemed to notice the slight glint of fear in her tone, “As in, they don’t know where you live do they? Or me?”

“No love, of course not,” At least he hoped they didn’t. Steven realistically couldn’t promise anything, he had no idea how far this Harrow’s network of followers ran. But he knew for certain he couldn’t stand to see her so scared. It ran a streak of anger in him that was unusual. Steven never found himself particularly angry, but it had run red hot when he saw the way Harrow had grabbed her and knocked the soul out of her with his words alone. “If you want, you can stay at mine tonight? I’ll take the sofa, you can take my bed,” After he’d swept away the giant ring of sand of course.

She smiled at him finally, maybe the first proper one she’d shown him all day. And he couldn’t help but feel his chest grow lighter that he had done that. Gods be good, she was pretty when she smiled, he thought.

“Thanks, Steven,” She said quietly. He was confident the two of them could figure this out together, and if he was sure of her, then how wicked could she truly be?

She knew it was a cop out, that she hid so much from him that he didn’t know the real her; that if he did he would turn tail and run as far as he could from the monster in front of him. That he would curse himself once he realised Harrow was right; she was polluted down to her marrow.

“I’ve only got this box left to do, love, then we can get out of here,” Steven promised, his eyes flicking over where she collected two half full crates of merchandise and headed out of the gift shop to the stockroom.

“I’ll take these out and meet you in the lobby?” She called over her shoulder, hearing him agree as she walked away to the area meant for employees only.

Sighing deeply, she put the crates down gently, sliding them into a bottom shelf out the way of clumsy feet (most likely her own). A thought jumped in her tired brain, and she was quick to turn out her pockets for any spare change she could use for the train fare back to Steven’s apartment.

Just as she suspected: empty. Because why would she be so lucky as to have anything good happen to her. She could always try and persuade Steven to walk home and save the embarrassment of revealing what actually happened to her Saturday night, but she knew the pitiful look he would give her if she told him the truth of her date. The sad eyes that would flash that neither of them needed after a morning of such anguish.

They didn’t need another of her pity parties today, and she grimaced at the thought of how horrendously the last one ended. Though she knew Steven was different, that he would never do anything so cruel to a stranger let alone herself.

It only made her heart yearn for him more.

Sighing, she thought on her feet as to what to tell him as she left the stockroom, locking the door behind her with the key Donna gave them all a copy of. Her heels rhythmically clicked on the freshly polished floor that reflected her frowning face back at her as if to remind her to stop looking so tormented.

She saw the light of the main exhibit at the end of the darkened hallway, heading towards it at no rush since she figured Steven would likely just about be done himself. Lost in her own head as to what excuse to give the man she called her only friend, she almost missed the deep sound snarling in the shadows behind her.

Whipping her head around with a wide eyed expression, her eyes flicked around the hallway for any glimpse of what made that sound.

But she saw nothing. Not in the way shadows were nothing, dark patches of nothing, as in she saw nothing there. Had anything been lingering behind her, she would have at least caught or heard any movement.

She paused for a second to take another look, only to still come up empty. Her foot warily continued its original path, figuring the sound must have been the cleaners dragging something against the floor.

“Hey, Steven,” She called upon approaching the lobby where he’d be waiting, “Do you reckon I could owe you a coffee for my train fare? It’s just-”

Her voice cut out when she heard the low growl again, much louder this time. Loud enough to have her wince and stop in her tracks in the centre of the room.

She caught sight of the navy blue jacket she knew too well walking backwards slowly, his eyes trained on something in the adjacent corridor.

“Steven-” She whisper yelled, his panicked eyes snapping to hers, “What the hell is that-”

His arm raised out to point at the shadow illuminating the wall. Her gaze fixed on the shadow of a wild dog of sorts, its snout long and open in a fierce grin. She could practically see the outline of the drool dripping from its sharp teeth, at least she hoped it was saliva she thought gravely.

Her breath left her instantly. What the fuck was that? Her knees felt as if they were about to buckle underneath her, calves going numb as the adrenaline flushed over her body in tidal waves. She was always a dog lover, she’d had two as a kid, but something told her whatever kind of beast this was, it was not nearly as friendly as a tamed canine would be.

And it seemed Steven realised it too as he was quick to cower behind a display of an ancient relic clutching his bag to his chest tightly.

His frantic eyes pleaded for her to move, but she seemed frozen to the spot.

The overhead tannoy rang melodically, as if God was preparing to make the announcement that they were truly fucked, something she didn’t need a bulletin to know.

“Steven Grant of the gift shop.” The sound of that familiar voice had her heart plummeting into her gut that twisted painfully. Did this guy have attack dogs or something? How had he gotten them past security? They looked huge. “Give me the scarab and the two of you won’t be torn apart,”

The scarab? Everything Steven had said about his dream was true. And if that was true then that meant this guy was a nut job capable of having his entire team hunt her down for so much as associating with poor Steven who looked as lost as she felt.

The shadow moved, shifting around the corner of the hall to enter the open lobby. A scratch-like sound found her ears, as if someone were running knives over a cold slab, and she realised with a shiver this thing must have claws.

And they were approaching.

An open mouthed growl echoed through the room, which only served to confuse her even more. From the volume alone she knew the thing was big, and in the very same room as her. Which meant she surely should be able to see it as she could see the entire length of the room it had to be walking down.

But that was the thing. There was nothing there.

“Steven,” She whimpered quietly. It was stupid, making that noise and attracting attention to herself. But she was scared. She wanted to know what to do. Wanted comfort that she wasn't going insane, that maybe this was all a practical joke and there really was nothing there.

A second set of razor sharp nails entered the room from the same direction, yet again she could only decipher that on sound alone. The chorus of snarls that only got closer did nothing but have her step back on instinct.

“Steven-” She said again, only to see him standing in a rush.

“RUN!” He yelled, taking off towards the exit.

She didn’t need to see the dogs to know they were in the way of her and the same route Steven had taken, so she settled for scrambling back the way she came. The black heels she wore for work to seem professional only proved to be useless when running from wild animals, it seemed. Who’d have thought it?

Her feet pounded down the maze of exhibits, trying to make it to the exit where Steven had headed towards. But for every one step she took, two paws advanced on her like an apex predator heading for its kill.

Which she no doubt would be.

Turning past the Anubis exhibit her stomach dropped when she heard a strong body colliding with the same wall she had practically skidded past. Her lungs burnt with effort, her breaths coming out in wheezes. She had one last turn and before she would be seconds away from the fire exit that she could barricade from the outside.

The feeling of the dog’s hot breath on the back of her ankles had her pushing herself harder, too scared to look over her shoulder. She was coming up to where the hallway split into two and she headed for the right where she was sure the back exit was. She couldn’t help but wish Steven was able to outrun the mutt on his own heels, having not heard from him since she had taken off in separate directions.

Taking the turning past a remaining chunk of what was once a Cleopatra statue, her eyes adjusted to the dark corridor. Where were the slab paintings of the sphinx? Where were the memorials to King Tut? They should be here, they’re always next to this exit-

Her chest constricted when she realised her mistake. Her grave mistake.

In the panic of escaping the creature, she had taken the wrong turning. She should have gone left.

Yet judging by the way the animal grunted with the effort of the chase, she had no option but forward.

Forward to a dead end. To the Setekh exhibit room.

The walls were alive with paintings recovered from ancient tombs. The god of Storms, among other things, was feared through all of Egypt in the later dynasty. He was associated with all things evil, mysterious and disordered. The huge altar that held the statue of Set, his long face foreboding and as cold as the stone it was preserved in, looked down at her in almost malice as her feet took her into the one place she had left to go.

It wasn’t until she felt the walls surrounding her, the penny dropped how fucked she was. There was no way out, no cutting back the way she came as the creature ran into the vast room with her. Dodging one of the plinths containing statues of the demon god, she had barely a second where her pace slowed down as she considered how she was going to turn back before she felt it.

A force stronger than a freight train hit her from behind. She heard every molecule of air get pushed from her lungs at the sheer weight of it, her throat audibly yelping. Its body collided with hers with a weight that she was sure must be pure muscle, and she was thrown to the hard floor with less effort than a child tossing a ragdoll.

The impact had her ribs rattling in her chest, brain bouncing against her now bleeding forehead. The cold floor was harsh against her raw skin. Her nose made a loud pop as it smashed against the marble, a hot sting erupting over her entire face.

But the worst was yet to come.

There was a moment when she was collecting her thoughts, head spinning from the collision. She was sure she’d damaged something in her skull as it pounded, harder than it ever had with any hangover.

She’d give anything to be back on her sofa feeling sorry for herself.

She hadn’t the time to pick herself back up when she felt something large do it for her. It must have been eight feet tall with how big its behemoth paws were as the one grabbed her leg and dragged her on her stomach towards itself. Like a cat playing with a mouse. Not ready to devour, not yet. Just playing. Torturing. Tormenting.

Then came the claws. Her eyes looked down at her ribs, the thin air surrounding them making her cry out in horror - there still wasn’t a fucking soul in sight. No dog, or animal. Or human even. Nothing. Yet her shirt ripped almost too easily as it let out a deep hiss of what she would call a near laugh and sunk its talons into her side.

That was when she started screaming.

Her throat hurt from the volume alone, a banshee shriek akin to a horror movie. It reverberated through the museum halls, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Vision started slipping then. Whether it was panic or her mind protecting her from what was coming next she didn’t know, but all she knew was everything felt weightless for a moment.

She thought maybe she was dying and ascending at that moment there and then. But she wasn't so lucky. She was still being made this creature's bitch as the God of chaos watched. What beautifully horrible irony.

It was then that it clicked in her stress-addled brain that she was not in fact weightless. That the reason she felt so was because she was now being suspended midair by the thing that had her in its vicious grasp.

It took shockingly little effort for the creature to throw her through the wall-sized fortified glass surrounding the monolith and for her whole body to crumple to the floor.

Steven slammed the bathroom door shut with a panting “Oh God”, his coffee brown eyes never leaving the thick metal that shook with the weight of the monster throwing itself at it violently.

What the fuck was his next move? What even was that thing? He retreated further into the bathroom with a lost expression, clutching his arms for a semblance of comfort.

“Steven,” The man in the mirror spoke in the same American accent he’d been hearing in his own home.

Looking at his reflection, he was agog to find the man identical to him moving on his own, as if independent from Steven himself. That was not his reflection, he knew that much, no matter how much it looked like it. “Steven, I can save us,” He said darkly, his eyes and frown much meaner than any expression Steven would ever wear.

The way he stood was entirely different too, as if he were bigger in stature despite being encased in the exact same body as Steven was.

“W-What?” Steven whispered, backing away from the door that weakened by the second.

He thought of Dove. Had she been able to get away, run out the front door and get help from anyone who would believe her? He hated the thought of those adorable little heels she wore clattering against the floor, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d slowed her down. He always heard women complaining about walking in heels let alone running from fucking monsters in them.

Where was she?

“But I can’t have you fightin’ me this time,” He had felt like he’d been playing tug-of-war with his body for some time. But against what, he hadn’t known. His own reflection? This man staring back at him in the mirror with a scowl he knew wasn’t plastered on his own expression? “You need to give me control. You understand?”

He swivelled on his heel to see the man in the full length looking glass behind him, who seemed to tower over him in frame.

“No, what? Control of what? What are you talking about?” Steven bumbled, his eyes looking over the stranger’s shoulder to see the door shaking on its hinges now. Dents were appearing now where the monster was caving its way into the bathroom, and one look at the length of its claws told Steven all he needed to know. He stood no chance against this thing alone.

“That thing’s about to break through the door. We’re out of time.” The man said, realising their predicament as much as he did. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream, the lot of it. The entire day. From that Harrow guy to the idea that he could possibly lose her to some ancient wild dog.

“No! No!” Steven cried, flinching as the door clattered one more time, the frame whining with the effort at which it held the assailant at bay.

“All right, hey. Listen to me,” The mirror man tried to reason, but Steven was panicking too much to hear him.

“Dammit, no! Stop it!” Steven slapped himself around the face a few times, begging with anything listening to wake him up from the worst nightmare he’d had yet. The image of her being chased by that thing wouldn’t leave his welled up eyes. He wanted to run to her, god knows he would have if that thing hadn’t been stood in between the two of them, blocking his way to her. “This is not real! You’re not real!”

“This is real. I’m real.” The man spoke calmly, as if a diametrical opposite to his own mood. He seemed to know more about what was happening, what that thing was, what it could do. Perhaps that was why Harrow had been chasing him in the first place.

Either way, Steven didn’t care. Not now at least. When the only person outside of his parents that he had ever held affection for was in danger. Imminent danger.

“No! You’re not,” Steven yelled back at his reflection through tears.

It was then he heard the screaming. A howl of visceral pain enough to rattle his bones at the familiar feminine tone to the voice.

It was her.

It was like nothing he’d ever heard, like an animal in a slaughterhouse. He trembled in his place at the thought. She was in danger. Oh god it had her.

“I’m gonna die- She’s gonna die-” Steven whimpered, the tears rolling down his olive cheeks at the thought. He really was useless.

“Steven, look at me.” He finally listened to his reflection with a pitied sniff, “You’re not gonna die, I can save us. But she is if you don’t give me control right now. Let me save her, okay?”

That was the straw that broke Steven’s resolve, the idea of her dying. He had never found it so easy to concede.

He just hoped the man using his body got to her in time.

She couldn’t see a mouth moving, nor could she actually see their face, just two beams of white blinking down at her.

She’d felt, still felt, the open wound seeping so harshly that she knew it was going to be fatal.

There was no coming back from whatever fever dream this was.

“Steve-” Came her broken murmur, but the metallic taste crawling its way up her throat cut her off as a blob of viscid blood rolled down her chin.

She didn’t have long left, she realised numbly.

How do you fight off a monster coming from within? You don't. You can’t. So she didn’t.

No amount of soft words or desperate touches on the figure helped her, it only made the departure messier, a bigger pool of blood for them to find her in.

The world felt surprisingly calm the moment she was snatched ruthlessly into Death’s open arms.

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Childhood trauma with 141 + König.

!CW! Abuse, trauma, neglect, lasting issues from a bad childhood, (sorry if I miss any.)

König:

König didn’t realize your behavior was out of the ordinary until the military forced him to go to behavioral classes. They went over all kinds of topics. The childhood trauma topic is what really made him perk up. König noticed this small thing with you pretty much immediately after you’d begun dating. While you were awake, you were normal. Casual, hugs and small kisses when nobody was looking, but when you were sleepy, or asleep. You cling to him. Like your life depends on it. You’re a bit of a crazy sleeper, so sometimes you’ll have a hold of some random part of his body. Like his foot, or his leg. But it’s usually his arm. Sometimes you’ll even hold his hand while you’re asleep. He always thought it was really sweet until he seen that video.

The first thing he did upon returning was cornering you to ask you. “Liebling, can I talk to you?” He mumbles. You nod your head with a smile. He walks toward you, thankful this was able to happen while the both of you were home from the military. “They spoke about childhood trauma today.” He mumbles. You nod your head, blood running cold. You knew what he was going to ask. “And.. the way you cling to me in your sleep. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He asks. You release a defeated sigh. “It’s nothing that important.. it’s just.” You pause. “When I was a kid, my dad wasn’t all that nice and my mom slept in my room because he wouldn’t hit her when I was around. I always fell asleep holding onto her for safety and comfort, and… I fell asleep holding onto her one night and when I woke up, she was gone. That was when I was 5. I never seen her again.” You look down. König feels his heart break. Grasping your wrist and pulling you into him to hug you tightly. “Ich werde dich nie alleine lassen” he whispers it into your ear and he can feel you relaxing into him. “I love that you hold onto me. I will keep you safe.” He breathes. Feeling you tighten your grasp around him.

Ghost:

Ghost could pick up on trauma pretty easily because he had a lot of his own trauma responses. You always talked a lot about how you seemed to have a pretty good childhood for the most part, but you did something that made him wonder what actually happened during your childhood. The first fight the both of you had shared was pretty brutal. A lot of hurtful words were spoken and when Ghost came to you to apologize the following day, you wouldn’t say it back. No matter what, you wouldn’t apologize for anything. Ghost took everything you said with a grain of salt, but he secretly hated that you wouldn’t apologize when you said hurtful things. After a particular fight, he seen a certain look in your eyes. He seen the pain in them. You didn’t like saying hurtful things. But he could tell this is what you were used to. For some reason, you believe it was fight, never flight. During one particular night in with him, the both of you laying comfortably in your shared bed, he decided to bring it up.

“Why don’t you ever say sorry?” He asks. You turn to look at him. Sending him a weird look. “What?” You ask. You’re completely confused. “You know.. sometimes when we fight and I apologize, you never do.” You look confused. “Oh.. I didn’t realize I did that.” You laugh awkwardly. “I’m sorry Ghost. I just.. it’s a bad habit that my family had when I was growing up.” Your cheeks are red, and he can see that you feel bad. “It’s okay.” He slides his hand along your hip and pulls you into him. “We’re going to work on everything together so that you’re comfortable. You help me get over my identity crisis, I help you learn empathy.” He laughs. You look up at him. “I think as long as we have each other, the rest will be easy.” You laugh. “I think so too. I’m sorry that your parents never apologized to you.” He breathes. “It’s okay. I can fix that, but I can’t fix what I say to hurt you.” You breathe. He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be just fine sweetheart. We have each other now.”

Captain Price:

Before the two of you started a relationship, he caught on to something pretty quickly. You dropped a piece of paper during a meeting, and Captain Price picked it up, handing it to you. You flinched when he held it out for you. Trying to play it off and thanking him. Anytime he’d reach his hand out for something, you’d flinch away from him. He picked up on a few more signs here and there, when everyone else would go home, you’d always stay back. Saying you’ll keep an eye on the base for everyone. It was during a family gathering the task force had, a dinner to invite families to, where Captain Price seen it. He met your father, shook his hand. Through the entire night, he noticed the way you’d flinch under any slight movement he made. At the end of the night, Captain Price told him to leave, and that he wasn’t welcome anymore. You were surprised and so was your father. Captain Price had no idea about your past.

That was the night you opened up to him about everything. The abuse, how you joined the military to escape from it. Tried everything to make your father proud but it never worked. You spent the entire night laid up in bed with Captain Price, and that’s when you confessed your feelings for one another. Under the sheets, no clothing. He stared at you, perfect toned body, lower half hidden underneath silk sheets. He caressed your cheek, reassuring you. He had himself propped up as he looked at you. Hair sprawled across his pillows. “You didn’t deserve that. And I would never raise my hand at you, not ever. And I won’t let anyone else hurt you. Never again.” He mumbles, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. Tears welled in your eyes and you smiled up at him. Having to explain this is the first time a man has ever been kind to you. It broke him inside. It really did. But he’d always be there for you. For every step of the healing process. No matter what. After that night, he was different around you. Way more protective. Anytime you flinched for any reason, he pulled you into his side, or pulled you behind him during drills when you were uncomfortable. He always did his very best to make sure you were comfortable, and you couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Soap:

Soap noticed that you were able to memorize a lot of things about the others on base. It started with their tone of voice, you’d joke about your Captains tone of voice. Laughing and saying he seemed pissed about something. You could tell just by the tone of voice what kind of mood they were in, and Soap found it odd because he couldn’t tell. When the two of you started sneaking around together, during the night when you heard footsteps passing your room, he would tense up and you would reassure him. Saying “it’s just Ghost, don’t worry.” Of course he’d ask how you knew, and you’d say by the sound of the footsteps. Eventually he caught on too. He ended up coming across a video online about common trauma responses in adults from their childhood and that was a big one. He wondered what had gone on in your childhood for you to develop a response like that. Sometimes when you heard specific footsteps, you’d tense up, or scramble to get rid of whatever you’re doing.

During one night when you were with Soap, he decided to ask about it. You were sitting at your desk and he was laying in your bed. “Sorry to interrupt your work lass, but I have a question.” He mumbles, sitting up on your bed. “Yeah what’s up?” You turn to him. Spinning in the chair. “Well.. you know how you memorize certain things?” He asks. You look at him confused. “Like footsteps? Or a tone of voice?” He asks. “Yeah?” He nods his head. You’re following him. “I read online that that’s a common trauma response. Were your parents mean to you when you were a kid?” He asks. You smile. “I wouldn’t say mean. Just strict. I memorized their footsteps so that if I was up to no good or needed to hide something, I knew who it was. And I could usually tell by their footsteps if they were coming to yell at me, and I could tell by their tone of voice if they were mad or not so that I could avoid them.” You explain. He nods his head. It’s almost as if it’s clicking in your own head as the realization washes over your face. He reaches out, grasping the chair and sliding you toward him. “Nothing to worry about now, I’ve got you. If anyone treats you like that, they’ll have to face me.” He pulls you into him, kissing you.

Gaz:

You and Gaz started out as really good friends. Somehow you were always paired with him on missions and you got along with him really nicely. During one mission, you and Gaz had gotten stuck somewhere for a couple days, and took turns taking watch. While you were asleep, Gaz accidentally slammed a door shut, and you jolted awake. Looking around in a panic. He reassured you that it was just him, and that it was an accident. He assumed it was just the mode you were in from being in the military. But you had this habit anywhere you were, and it was only certain noises. Doors slamming, glass breaking, heavy footsteps. Gunfire and bombs never seemed to bother you, and that’s where Gaz was confused. You slept like a rock through gunfire. You might wake up here and there from a bomb, but never like you had that night when he accidentally slammed the door. When the two of you ended up together, he noticed small signs more and more and one night as he went to fall asleep, he put two and two together.

He corners you one night on watch, and asks you. With a sigh, you confess that your parents fought a lot when you were a kid, and you could tell your dad was home because of the door slamming and heavy footsteps and when they’d fight, your mom would break dishes and throw stuff. Sometimes when they took their anger out on you, your door would open and you’d wake up immediately. Gaz comforted you and reassured you, obviously. But he knew it would take time for you to feel better. That same night, he was laying next to you. He’d snuck into your room and you had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier. The sound of a door slamming shut outside had you awake in a panic. Gaz reached a hand out, caressing your arm. “Hey, it’s just one of the others. Relax.” He mumbles. You nod your head, laying back down. He pulls you into him, running a soothing hand through your hair in an attempt to calm your racing heart. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ve got you now.” He mumbles. You relax almost immediately, falling back asleep. He needed to sneak back to his room soon, but he just can’t yet. He hates leaving you alone to worry. He hates seeing you like that. Something so small throwing you into such a panic. But he’ll always be there to calm you.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #mw2 headcanons #mw2ghost #gaz mw2 #könig mw2

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the-offside-rule · 5 months

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Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Skating Rink

Day 3 of Christmas

"I hate this." Pablo said as he put one of the skates on his foot carefully. "Oh come on. I've had this booked since October. You knew this was coming up." Y/n, his girlfriend said. "What you didn't know was that I'd be unable to skate with the reason of, I don't know? Maybe my knee needing surgery?!" Pablo retorted. "And yet you still decided to come with me. I was going to ask your sister but you insisted." Pablo rolled his eyes and stood up. "Do you need the frame again?" She asked. Pablo scoffed. "There is no way, I am going to be using a frame that is made to help kids skate."

Pablo watched as his girlfriend skated rapidly around the rink as she simply used the kiddies Skating support frame. He mumbled to himself as he gently skated around before Y/n stopped going so quickly and simply skated alongside him. "It's a shame you had surgery. I think you would've been a pro at this if you hadn't had that injury." She smiled. "If I didn't have this injury, I'd be at training as we speak." She rolled her eyes. "No you wouldn't. This is like one of the few times a year you actually get the see me because I don't have college until January now." She grinned. "That just means I have more time to spend with you I the evenings." Pablo said, shrugging his shoulders. "Come on, I'll bring you for a skate. It looks less awkward when you have your girlfriend helping you." She said. "It may even look romantic." Pablo muttered. "Exactly. Now come on." She said and held onto him to bring his for a skate.

Without the frame was very different. He felt less stable and it didn't help that he still had a knee brace on either, but Y/n supported him enough to have little to now pain there. Y/n chuckled as she found her boyfriend holding onto her hands for dear life as she led him on carefully, making sure he wouldn’t fall. “Y/n! You’re going too fast!” Pablo shrieked as Y/n slowly went around a corner. “There is a child going around this rink quicker than us, babe.”

"So?!" He shrieked. "It's okay! Look at me." She let go of him. He panicked, but then decided to hold onto the wall for support. "I can spin and go fast. I am so good at-" Just as she was spinning, she managed to slip. She felt a snap, followed by a sharp pain shooting up through her leg. Pablo laughed at first, before he heard her roaring in pain. "Y/n! Are you alright?"

Cut to an hour later, the pair were sat in the hospital. Doctors had been in and out showing her, her x-rays and offering her pain medication. She also needed ice for the swelling on her ankle. "Gracies." Pablo said as the last doctor left the room. "I can't believe I did this to myself." Y/n muttered. "Well, it can happen to anyone. I'm just happy you don't need surgery." He joked. "Well, it's not my ACL now, is it?" The pair grew quiet as the constant beeping, and people talking surrounded them.

"At least now we both can't use our legs. We have an excuse to stay home and watch movies all Christmas." Pablo mumbled. Y/n chuckled, before it turned into full on laughter. Not too long after, Pablo joined in. As the doctors came in, the laughter died down. She held onto her boyfriends hand and looked at him. "I love you." She sighed. "I love you too." He replied. I think it's safe to say the pair never went ice Skating again after that. They couldn't have a repeat ever again. And I don't think Y/n could ever live down how cocky she was.

#football #football imagines #football blurbs #fcbarcelona #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagines #pablo gavi blurb #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi x yn #gavi imagine #christmas fic #christmas imagine #christmas fanfic #christmas

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bit-dodgy-innit · 10 days

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We're Not Here to F*ck Spiders

Summary: You were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel took a special interest in you. He wanted to know if your life would correspond with his and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. After an offhanded comment about reviewing your canon with Miguel outside of headquarters, your relationship with Spider-Man 2099 is forever changed.

Set in between ITSV and ATSV.

Pairing: Marc x OC Female!Reader

For context, Reader is an alternate, grown-up version of Mayday due to personal reasons (personal reasons being I’ve been obsessed with Mayday Parker since I was baby child)! No real use of Y/N, though Miguel does refer to the reader as "May" twice and Peter Parker nicknamed her Mayhem. Peter B.'s daughter is Mayday.

Word Count: 10.2k words (see why this took me forever?!)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI!!

CW/TW: An obscene amount of world-building, parents and kids fighting, mentions of a loss of a child, everyone being hot for Miguel, rough-ish sex (both partners are superheroes, come on), our boy is HUNG, dirty talk, a bit of cocky dom!Miguel, oral f!receiving, a lil bit of both m and f!receiving nipple play, PIV sex, riding, a quick spank, creampie, felching, and perhaps most intense of all, Miguel’s fear of commitment.

A/N: hahahahahaha this movie is nearly a year old and I FINALLY got around to writing a fic for it! Trust that I've been working on this on and off for a while now, but life has been nuts and writing more and more for work (yay!) but wanted to get this out while I had a slow week for everyone to enjoy!

Also, due to more personal reasons, my HC for Reader's parents are Peter and Mary Jane from Sam Raimi's masterpiece in 2002. But no presh if that doesn't jibe with ya!

I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS FIC AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF ANYTHING

“Careful, Mayday!” you fondly called after the child who was literally bouncing off the cavernous walls of HQ. Yeesh, were you this energetic when you were her age? Probably. It never ceased to be weird, hanging out with an alternate baby version of yourself, but you could manage if you pretended she was your little niece, or sister, or something like that.

The alternate baby version of Mayday Parker in question didn’t heed your admonishment at all (which tracked), so you called again, “Oh noooo…I’m gonna have to come up there and get ya!”

Mayday squealed in delight at your “threat” and only zipped around quicker. However, you had a couple decades on her, so your reflexes were more attuned. It didn’t take long for you to capture her in your grasp and tickle her. However, little Mayday wasn’t going to give up that easily. She squirmed out of your hold and began scaling the nearby wall at a dizzying pace.

“Okay, missy, let’s settle down,” you announced, shooting a web to meet the infant on the platform she’d crawled onto. You continued to speak as you swung, “you know how Miguel is, we can’t get too carried…away.”

You nearly threw yourself back off the platform when you were met with the sight of Miguel himself standing before you holding May.

“Oh, hi,” you gestured to the squirming girl in his hands, “thanks. I was right behind her.”

“What am I like?” He asked, an inquisitive arch in his brow.

“You’re…you run a tight ship that’s all,” you wished a portal would swallow you whole. “And it’s great! We need it.”

“Are you supposed to be anywhere?” Miguel prodded further as he passed you May.

“Me? No, it's my day off.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you put Peter B. on a mission and it gives me anxiety when he takes her.”

“You and me both,” he huffed.

“That being said, anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah actually, I have new sequencing to go over with you.”

Though the multiverse was ever-expanding, you were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel had taken a special interest in you. Since you were a second generation Spider, Miguel wanted to know if your life would correspond with his, your dad’s, and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. You initially found the whole concept fascinating, yet that interest waned pretty quickly when Miguel informed you that he was going to have Lyla analyze your entire life and have you expound on your experiences so he could compare you to the other Spiders.

Not that there was anything you were particularly ashamed of, but some of this stuff was embarrassing. Unlike baby Mayday, whose powers had already emerged, yours didn’t make an appearance until puberty. Reviewing your awkward teen years wasn’t exactly your ideal way of spending time with an unfairly hot guy, let alone the head of Spider Society.

“Oh okay, yeah,” you replied. “When Peter gets ba—“

“MAYDAY! WHERE’S MY PUMPKIN?” Peter’s voice echoed across the room.

No sooner had Peter spoken did Mayday websling herself off of the platform and into her father’s arms.

Shit, there went your excuse. A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Convenient.”

“Sí. Follow me.”

You did as Miguel said and trailed behind him to his…office didn’t quite describe it. Work station? Lair? You lasted all of forty-five seconds before your gaze dropped to his sculpted backside, a new record for you.

It really was unfair that the intense, ornery leader of the Spider Society had to be so damn fine. You were a superhero and a consummate professional, but at the end of the day, you were a mostly heterosexual human woman with eyes. Miguel was stupidly sexy. His shoulder-to-waist ratio, that chiseled face, and of course, perfectly round ass had been the topic of a few hushed, giggly conversations between you and the other Spiders that liked boys.

It was only ever cheeky whispers however. All of you knew better than to catch any real feelings for Miguel. One, it was majorly inappropriate. And two, he’d built emotional walls higher than the tallest skyscrapers in Nueva York.

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander every now and then…you blamed it on your latest breakup. Spider-Girl duties had yet again claimed another potential partner. You suspected that was the reason it was more and more difficult not to fantasize about Miguel lately. Like sure, he was probably an animal in bed in the best way, but it was the prospect of not having to hide anything from him that appealed to you even more.

“Lyla, bring up the latest sequencing,” Miguel ordered.

If it weren’t for your spider-senses, you would’ve collided with his impossibly cut back, you were so deep into your thirsty thoughts.

Suddenly, you were back on Earth-982A in your childhood bedroom. Or at least, that’s where you appeared to be. The virtual surroundings would’ve been comforting if it weren’t for the particular event that Miguel had wanted to revisit.

Your father was forbidding you to use your powers. Again. You gazed at the rendering of your teenage self with compassion. Now, your father was fully supportive of you following in his footsteps, but the journey there had been rough.

“You know, most parents would be happy if their kid wanted to do something to help the world!”

Your dad scoffed. “That doesn’t matter - I’m not most parents and you’re not most kids!”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?!” Virtual you fired back. “I was born like this because of you! Dad, you’re always telling me that ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ and now when I discover I inherited that great power, I can’t use it!?”

“Pause,” Miguel’s voice spooked you back into the present. When you finally shook yourself from the memory that was playing before you, you found his eyes on yours. “Okay, there. Define ‘always’.”

“Quantitatively?”

“Preferably.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Qualitatively, then.”

“I mean, it's one of those things he said so much that I can’t remember the first time I heard it.”

“When did your dad first hear it?”

“His Uncle Ben told him during their last conversation together.”

“Checks out. And how old was he?”

“He was a senior in high school, so like seventeen, eighteen?”

Miguel nodded. Even though x-ray vision nor telepathy weren’t in your powerset, you could practically see all the comparisons and calculations he was making in his head.

“So using your powers to help people, that was your instinct when you inherited your abilities.”

“Yeah.”

Miguel nodded again.

“It’s different, isn’t it?” you asked him. He didn’t reply. “My dad told me he entered some god awful cage-match-wrestling-thing to get enough money to buy a car and impress my mom before he officially became Spider-Man.”

Miguel was seemingly too busy with entering his latest data to respond. Instead, he barked at Lyla, “Resume sequence.”

The holographic version of your dad lurched back to life to argue, “May, you are my great responsibility! So if I say no powers, no powers! I did this a lot longer than you! ”

Tears streamed down your adolescent face. Thankfully, you’d lost some of the baby fat since. “I hate you! I HATE YOU DAD!!”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t easy to live, let alone re-live. So, as a Spider, naturally you made a jaunty, off-handed comment. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Qué?”

“Nothing.” He fixed you with his signature scowl so you elaborated, “Seriously, nothing. Though, maybe if we did this in an environment where I had access to alcohol and carbs, this would be less um…less unsettling for me.”

Miguel stared at you blankly. “But the simulator is here.”

“Right, of course.” Ughhhh, why was he so damn pretty?! “Forget I said anything, Miguel.”

He dropped it, but before the simulation could start again, your gizmo beeped. Benji’s basketball game started in twenty.

“Actually, sorry, I have to go.”

“But we just got started.”

“I know, but I haven’t been able to catch one of my little brother’s games yet this season, and it’s almost the playoffs.”

“Won’t he under–”

You interrupted Miguel. “You realize spider-stuff is not a viable excuse with my family, right? Besides, it’s my day off. I’m only here out of the goodness of my own heart and my commitment to the Spider-Society.”

He rolled his eyes at your remark, but couldn’t help a little half - nay, quarter - smile from forming across the lips you had fantasized about kissing one too many times. “Things are quiet for once. We should knock this out now.”

“We should,” you conceded as you created a portal, “but trying to have some semblance of work-life balance is Spider-Girl canon.”

And with that, you hopped back into your world, before you could change your mind or say anything else stupid and/or unintentionally flirty to Miguel.

You re-appeared in your apartment with just enough time to throw on clothes and swing over to the middle school. Your mom was waiting as you hurried into the gym right as Benji and the other players were taking the court.

“Look who made it,” MJ observed wryly.

“Ha ha,” you fired back humorlessly, but pulled your mom into a hug all the same. “Where’s Dad?”

The ref’s whistle signaled tip off and the beginning of the game, momentarily distracting you two. You were thrilled to see Benji starting – he really wanted to make JV when he started high school next year, and this was a step in the right direction.

“Go Benji!!” MJ cheered before answering your question, “He hit traffic coming from the station. He’ll be here soon.”

Your collective attention was pulled to the game unfolding in front of you, then MJ asked, “What have you been up to today?”

“Me? I was at the society for a bit, helping with the baby.”

You didn’t need to see your mother to know that she tensed at the mention of the Spider-Society and Peter B.’s Mayday. It, understandably, weirded her out.

“How can it not be strange to care for–”

“It would be if we were closer in age,” you pointed out. “But it’s just like babysitting with Mayday right now. And trust me, after all the versions of Dad I’ve met, hanging out with little me is nothing.”

Despite being weirded out, your mom always tried to empathize, so she switched gears. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Ugh, just more sequencing with Miguel - today was a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Fights with Dad from years ago that I know we’ve moved past, but still suck to watch.”

Your mom took your hand in hers, a much-needed grounding gesture. “Well, you’re back in the present, in your corner of the universe now, sweetie.”

You gave her hand an appreciative squeeze and took her words to heart, focusing on the basketball game in front of you. It didn’t take too long to put the earlier events from headquarters behind you – Benji scored a couple baskets and you took it upon yourself to meticulously document the game on your phone for memories and possible future blackmail.

When your Dad did join you and MJ, you couldn’t help but hug him tightly. You buried your face into his coat, which smelled like a mix of smoke from the streets and his aftershave.

It was Peter’s mix of spider and paternal instincts that prompted him to ask, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured him, giving him some space. “I just–I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Mayhem.” Where Mayday was Peter B’s moniker for his daughter, Mayhem was your dad’s nickname for you.

The game ended in victory for Benji’s team, the Midtown Mavericks, and you three waited for the youngest member of the Parker family to emerge from the locker room.

Benji’s face when he saw you made any lingering discomfort you had leaving Miguel one thousand percent worth it. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you pulled Benji into a hug - however reluctant he was to it since he was a ~teenager~ now. “Dude, you put up points tonight!”

But Benji had gotten distracted, so instead of responding to you, he murmured “Woah, that guy is swole.”

You turned around to see who he was talking about and your jaw nearly hit the floor.

It was Miguel.

Even more incredibly, he was in civilian clothes. It wasn’t until you witnessed him in dark wash jeans, a henley, and a well-worn bomber jacket that you realized that you’d actually never seen Miguel in anything other than his spider suit.

He called your name and you acknowledged him with a wave, flabbergasted. Even more astonished that you knew this very attractive hunk of man was your brother, “Wait, you know him?!”

“We work together,” you said quietly.

“At the paper?” Benji was confused.

“No, at my other job.”

“Oh,” it clicked for him. “That makes sense. Man, I hope I get that jacked when I get my powers.”

“Shhhh, be cool Benji,” you urged him.

“Um, I’m not the one you have to worry about,” he harrumphed. “Oh shit, you like him.”

Though there was more than a decade between you and Benji, your little brother was still your little brother. “No! He’s the head of the Spider-Society and he’s–you’ll see.”

You took a step forward to greet Miguel before anyone else from your family could get to him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to finish our work today, and since it’s your day off, I decided to come to you.”

“Miguel O’Hara making a compromise? How not canon. Wonder how big of a hole that’s gonna tear in the multiverse.”

“Shut up,” he ordered you playfully.

“Miguel, good to see you!” Your dad strode over and pulled the younger spider-man into a handshake.

“You too, Dr. Parker.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how oddly deferential Miguel was with your dad. He’d met Peter first, when he was establishing the Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse. Miguel was stunned to discover that this Peter was not only retired, but had a full-grown daughter who’d taken up his crime-fighting mantle. Apparently your dad’s canon was particularly important and central to the greater Spiderverse, which meant Miguel would pester you with questions about him constantly.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, “You don’t usually make house calls.”

Before Miguel could explain, an elbow nearly sent you into careening into his broad chest. Mom.

“Miguel, this is my mom, Mary Jane.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Miguel dutifully offered his hand to her.

“The pleasure is mine,” your mom gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Benji was right. He was not the person you had to be worried about. A rip in the multiverse to swallow you whole would be rather convenient right about now.

Miguel’s brow creased. “You have?”

“She hasn’t,” you intervened. “Like two or three things in passing, max. Promise I haven’t broken my NDA or you know, the superhero code of secrecy or anything.”

Mercifully, Miguel let it slide for the time being. He turned to your brother. “And you must be Benji.”

“Yeah,” Benji confirmed, doing a terrible job of pitching his voice lower. “‘Sup, bro.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you were ready to rip the fabric of reality yourself to end this.

“Congrats on the win. Hate to do this, but I need to steal your sister for a bit.”

“No problem, I know she’s fine with it.” Perhaps Benji needed a reminder regarding which sibling had the super powers. “Also, what’s your workout–”

“Well, as fun as this all is, we should probably get back to work.”

Your family didn’t put up much of a fight – thank God – as pleasantries were exchanged and you and Miguel took off. You hoped Miguel didn’t catch when your mother mouthed “So handsome!!” to you as everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the two of you walking down East 36th Street.

“Sorry about them,” you began.

He looked at you, puzzled. “Why?”

“My family. Embarrassing.”

“They’re not embarrassing. They’re…they’re nice,” there was pain behind Miguel’s eyes. “It’s interesting. Your brother hasn’t experienced any spider-abilities, has he?”

“No,” you confirmed. “Not yet.”

You two slowed to stop on the corner. Miguel looked at you expectantly. “So, where to?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to do this in an environment where you ‘had access to alcohol and carbs’.”

“Oh! Right. Hmmm, where are we?” you looked up at the cross streets above you. “36th and 3rd? I know a place.”

You took Miguel to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian spot nearby. Since it was so close to Benji’s school and your old middle and high school, you had spent many a week night at their tables, either working on homework or chowing down after basketball practice.

Therefore, the staff knew you – it was a family owned spot, you’d basically grown up with the owner’s children, Maria and Chris. Though you graduated from Midtown Charter a looong time ago, they still took care of you. Maria had even let you use their first aid kit once, no questions asked, after a nasty Spider-Girl skirmish nearby. You didn’t suspect she knew anything, but even if she did, you could trust Maria to be discreet.

At least, you thought you could trust Maria, but when she showed you and Miguel to your table, and Miguel made a pit stop at the restroom, she very indiscreetly asked, “Daaaamn, girl. He your boyfriend? Because you–”

“No!”

“You getting dicked down by him?”

“No!”

“Can I get dicked down by him? He single? Does he like the ladies?”

“Maria, he’s a colleague. Actually, he’s my superior. So no…unfortunately, no.”

Maria cackled with delight. “That’s a pen worth sticking in your company ink. I’ll bring you some garlic bread.”

“And a glass of red wine,” you added. “no, a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!”

In theory, you had thought that reviewing sequencing outside of headquarters would’ve been less awkward, but in reality, it was more so. You couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Miguel in normal clothes, the intimacy of having a meal together when usually your interactions were so sterile and professional, plus there was a little voice in your head screaming that THIS WAS BASICALLY A DATE on repeat.

“So should we pick up where we left off?” Miguel asked. The question brought you back down to Earth. Despite that little persistent voice in your head oohing and ahhing at him, it was clear that Miguel didn’t think this was a date. This dinner was a means to end, nothing more.

“Let me get a little wine drunk first,” you bargained.

“Yeah, but you have sped-up metabolism, so that’ll take at least–”

“That was a joke. Miguel, when was the last time you went out to dinner?”

He seemed to truly consider the question, then, “I don’t know.”

You’d never heard Miguel say those three words in that order before.

“I promise you I will go over my cringe teen years with you, but can we eat some garlic bread and not get drunk off this very nice bottle of wine first?”

“You’re worse than Lyla,” his eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She’s always trying to get me to take breaks.”

“You should! There’s only so much self-flagellation a human can take, even if they’re a superhero.”

Miguel’s response was a very inarticulate grumble. Maria dropped off the wine, bread, and took your order. You didn’t know what was more insane – the amount of food Miguel ordered or how unabashedly Maria was ogling him.

“Let me guess, Lyla’s the one who suggested the field trip to my home dimension?”

Another grumble, this one in the affirmative.

“Classic,” you remarked with a snort before taking a gulp from your glass. “I love that your AI is smarter than you.”

“Of course she is, she can access all of the multiverse’s knowledge in a nano-second.’

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

“Can we not talk about me for a second?”

“Why?”

“Because…because, I don't know, I was hoping doing this in a more casual environment would–it’d make it feel more like a conversation.”

“We are having a conversation.”

“Jeez, Miguel,” you took another sip of wine. “It’s not easy digging through my past like this. A lot of the time it feels more like an interrogation.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I want to help you, help the Spider-Society, but the one-sidedness of this is exhausting.”

“Exhausting.” He sounded dubious.

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll take care of the bill and see you tomorrow, and we can go back to reviewing the sequencing like we normally do. I should know better than to complain to you.”

Miguel looked at you if your words had stung him. “You can complain to me.”

“No, I can’t,” you disputed. “You’re the most self-sacrificing Spider out of any of us–which is really saying something, by the way–and I feel lame talking about my feelings with you.”

“And that’s why our reviews feel like interrogations,” he was putting it together.

“Yeah. Sorry to drag you out of HQ.”

Miguel scrutinized you with a long, unreadable look before announcing, “I’m not leaving before I have my bolognese.”

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. Miguel may have lacked the traditional spidey precognitive sense, and the signature spider sense of humor, but he definitely had the stubbornness you all seemed to possess.

You shot him a sidelong glare. “Why did you come here?”

“I told you - I wanted to finish sequencing and Lyla suggested coming to you.”

“But you didn’t have to take her suggestion.”

Miguel’s large frame shifted in the chair that suddenly appeared too small for him. “Like you said, she’s smarter than me, so I did. And yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out to dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. Right before the silence became intolerable, Miguel spoke again, “You still with that gu–’

“No.” The last thing you wanted to talk about with Miguel was your failed relationship with Gene, and you’d once discussed the correlation of getting your first period could’ve had with your powers emerging with him.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, you get it.”

Miguel at last took a sip from his glass. “All too well.”

“The price of being a hero, right?” you sent him a small, sympathetic smile across the table. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.”

“Your parents seemed to have figured it out,” he pointed out.

“Well, that took like decades, and according to you, they’re canon, right? So it was meant to be. I guess that’s one of the comforts of having a canon-confirmed soulmate.”

“Yeah, if you're Peter Parker.”

Your heart sank at the implication. “So that means if a Spider isn’t Peter we’re meant to die alone?”

“I don’t know,” Miguel’s eyes were averted. “Maybe only if you’re a Miguel O’Hara.”

“Stop, you could get anyone in this restaurant to sleep with you,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Our waitress has to resist climbing on top of you whenever she passes the table.”

He swatted away the implication as if it were a pest. “That’s different.”

“You know, it might help with the stress.”

“What?”

“Letting someone climb on top of you.”

Miguel glared at you, “Don’t.”

“See? It’s not fun being on the other side of the questions,” you smirked. Your conversation was briefly suspended when Maria returned with your entrees. After thanking her, you refocused back on Miguel, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No.”

“DADA!” A child, who couldn’t have been more than three, screeched happily from a neighboring table.

Miguel froze. For the first time in the several months that you’d known him, you saw his face soften. The warmth that filled his eyes at the sight of the toddler was undeniable. The fond expression hardened back into his stoic facade within an instant, yet Miguel couldn’t fully conceal the anguish that clearly still haunted him. He never could.

“Sorry,” you said softly.

He shook off your condolences. “What’d you want to ask me?”

“Have you tried seeing anyone after…” it felt forbidden to say Gabriella’s name out loud.

“What’s the point?” Miguel shrugged. “I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to.”

“Right,” you hedged.

Eventually, you and Miguel were able to find things to talk about outside of work and your respective traumas. You compared notes on the lamest villain you’d each encountered rounding up anomalies, discussed the idea of a nursery for spider-babies, or as Miguel insisted on calling them, “second-generation Spiders” – Peter couldn’t keep taking his kid on missions, plus Jessica Drew had just learned she was expecting – you even got Miguel to open up about his teenage days some.

“Makes sense you were a rebel,” you chuckled, taking one last bite of the tiramisu Maria insisted was on the house.

“Yeah? Why?” Miguel prodded.

“Because you-re so uptigh–upstanding now.”

You were treated to another rare grin from Miguel, this time a half smile rather than a quarter. “Nice save.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you contended with put-on innocence.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t always like what I have to do, you know.”

Your gaze locked directly with his for a breath-taking second, his eyes garnets in the low light of the dining room. “We should get going, I've taken you away from headquarters for long enough.”

“You act like I’ve never left HQ before, and if anything, I took you away from your family,” Miguel parried, yet stood up nonetheless. You followed suit, only mildly disappointed he didn’t argue with you about leaving. As awkward as this dinner initially was, you’d actually ended up enjoying it. “I’ll take you home.”

Miguel’s words stopped you in your tracks, “You know I’m the protector of this city, right?”

“Obviously, I—” he huffed as you waved goodbye to Maria and exited back onto the street. “Mierda May, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Oh. Oh. Did Miguel think this was a date too? Date was too strong of a word – did Miguel think this was a not-entirely-work-related-hang too?

You struggled to keep your face blasé. “Ah, okay. We taking the subway or are we swinging?”

Miguel shot you a look as if the choice was obvious, which is how you found yourself traipsing across the city with Spider-Man 2099. You’d traveled by web plenty of times with Miguel before on missions, but there was something about it being the two of you, in your city, that made it feel just a little bit special.

And to be honest, you’d never get enough of watching Miguel’s body hurtle through the air – despite his bulk and brawn, he was agile and lithe as he swung from building to building with you. You nearly plunged into traffic on Sixth Avenue after your thoughts had wandered to what those bulging muscles looked like unencumbered by that skin-tight suit of his.

When you arrived at your apartment in Morningside Heights, you were suddenly self-conscious. You’d never brought a Spider to your residence, and Miguel was likely the hardest to impress of them all.

He studied your modest one-bedroom with the same intensity as he did his screens at the Spider-Society.

“It’s not much, I know,” you began, “and with Spider-Girl stuff, I don’t have the time to keep it as tidy as I'd like to.”

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled before catching himself. “I mean, it’s perfect for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t need much, but it gets good light during the day and was the highest floor I could afford at my price point,” you removed your mask as you babbled on.

“Makes sense,” Miguel nodded.

You had no idea where to go from there – what on Earth was the man playing at? Should you offer him water, another drink, the best spot to portal back to HQ? He was lingering in your space, seemingly fascinated by the framed prints on your walls, the photos on the coffee table and credenza.

“Um, do you need to use the restroom or something? Because it’s right through there,” you motioned to the appropriate door.

“I’m good for now.”

THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? You hollered in your head. Externally, you kept playing hostess, “Let me get you a glass of water then–”

Yet Miguel caught your wrist before you could retreat into your tiny, galley kitchen. You weren’t proud of how your heart leapt and your breath hitched at the contact.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?”

He shrugged, “I should, but–”

“But what?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…about letting someone climb on top of me.”

You gulped, “Sorry, that was so inappropriate of me–”

“It was. Inappropriate, that is, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” he tugged you closer to him. You could barely stand to meet his eyes, alight with desire, while your heart was pounding embarrassingly fast.

“Um, judging by the–uh, do you want me to climb on top of you, Miguel?” you were always so much smoother in your daydreams about him.

His lips hovered dangerously near yours. “Do you want to climb on top of me?”

The closer you got to Miguel, the faster your brain turned to scrambled eggs. His large, sure hands had settled on your hips.

“Uh huh,” was the best you could muster before he crashed your lips together.

Miguel’s kiss was searing and all-consuming – it felt as if the longer your mouths moved against each other, the more your body melted into his. He was tall, so tall, and even for a superhero like yourself, it was difficult to keep yourself perched on the balls of your feet to reach his skilled, hungry mouth.

He seemed to sense your struggle, and without breaking your liplock, he scooped you up into his arms. It was foreign but not unwelcome – you were so used to being the strongest, the person who held others, the hero. Therefore, being held so effortlessly in Miguel’s arms was nothing short of exhilarating. You weren’t the strongest person in the room anymore, you could surrender. You loved it.

Miguel pressed your back into the nearest wall, causing an emphatic moan to leave you when your hips became flush with his. You could already feel him – hot, hard, and big – between the flimsy fabric of your spider-suits. Instinctually, you canted your heat against his, delighting in the way he seemed to grow hotter, harder, not to mention unbelievably bigger, when you did.

“Bedroom?” he gasped between harsh, ardent kisses.

You managed to fling a hand in the correct direction, and next thing you knew, Miguel was depositing you onto your bed. You propped yourself up, leaning back on your palms to take in the man towering over you at the edge of your bed. In a flash of color and light, his suit disappeared from his strapping physique, and the sight of Miguel naked intoxicated you more than alcohol ever could.

His shoulders seemed even broader without the unstable particles of his suit covering them. His pecs were massive, which made a delectable ratio when his chest tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and slim hips. Slim hips that framed the biggest cock you’d seen outside of porn – hell, maybe even including porn. He was long and thick – it made a dark thrill race down your spine when you contemplated how the hell that was going to fit inside of you.

Miguel noticed you marveling at his package, misinterpreting the rapacious glint in your eye as unease, “I’ll prep you, I won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m not worried” you glanced back up at his face coquettishly.

“No?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow and advanced toward you on the bed, a jaguar stalking its prey. He nudged you onto your back and pinned your wrists to your comforter, “maybe you should be.”

You muscled out of Miguel’s grip and switched positions so you were straddling him. Only then did you lean closer and whisper into his ear, “I can take it.”

Miguel growled, and within an instant, you were on your back once again as he pawed at your suit. Unlike his costume, your spider-suit was made of plain old fabric, so there was a bit of fumbling, cursing in Spanish, nervous giggling, and a mumbled comment about ‘making you a suit like mine’ from Miguel before you were nude as well.

He splayed you out against your mattress as if you were a feast before him. Your first instinct was to try and cover yourself but Miguel’s dark gaze froze you. A pleased groan rumbled from his chest and then his large hands flew to your breasts. “Such full, perky tits.”

You moaned in response to his ministrations. How was this real? You and Miguel were touching each other – naked – and you hadn’t woken up yet.

“It’s all for you,” you mewled, relishing his hot palms on your sensitive buds.

Another growl ripped from his chest before he swooped down and sucked one of your nipples into his warm, wanting mouth. You keened, a pathetic, high-pitched sound, and you wove your fingers into his dark locks as he gorged himself on your tits.

The pull of Miguel’s mouth on your peaks was made only better when he snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger along the seam of your sex. You bucked at the touch, your reaction causing Miguel to lift his head from your bosom.

“Mmmm, you like it when I play with your pussy, cariño?”

At this point words had all but left you so you nodded and whined in the affirmative. Miguel’s digit parted your folds, tracing up and down, then found your clit and rubbed slow, tortuous circles into the nub.

“So wet for me, bebita,” he observed, maddeningly casually, while he played you like an instrument. “This is all for me, huh?”

Your head thrashed back and forth on your comforter with a sob, both from pleasure and bashfulness. Now there was no downplaying how horny Miguel made you.

“Shhh,” he cooed at you, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his groin, “feel what you do to me.”

This time your moan was unabashed as your hand circled around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

“I know,” he grunted. Normally, such braggadocio from a man would be an immediate turn off to you. But Miguel wasn’t being arrogant, not when he was referring to the thick, pulsing hardness you were currently caressing. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

He guided your hand away from his member, even despite your protests, to wrench your thighs wider and bury his head between them. The realization alone that Miguel O’Hara was about to eat you out almost made you come, yet actually feeling his tongue on your needy cunt was infinitely better. He licked a stripe from your perineum to your clit, tearing another ragged moan from you when his tongue focused in on the bundle of nerves.

Miguel chuckled against your folds at your enthusiastic praise and redoubled his efforts. Your fingers reflexively tangled in his inky locks once again as he continued his delectable assault on your pussy. The way Miguel tasted you matched with how he seemed to approach everything – he was vehement and determined to bring you pleasure like how he was when he worked. He managed to just stay on the right side of rough as he slurped at you..though perhaps that was a bit different than how he fought.

He speared his tongue into your hole, affording you the opportunity to grind your clit against his prominent nose. In your pleasure-filled haze, you briefly fretted that you were suffocating Miguel, but when you tried to scooch away and give him some air, the man grunted and pulled your hips closer to him.

You keened again when one of his thick fingers joined the fray as he prepped you. After all the sexual tension, all the self-denial, and all the excitement the night had held, it felt so good to clench around something. He was again methodical with his preparation, allowing you to adjust to one digit before adding another, and another. It couldn’t have made a starker contrast with how he was devouring your sex. Even in the bedroom, Miguel O’Hara was full of contradictions. It didn’t take long for your breaths to become more shallow, for your cries to reach a higher pitch as you climaxed around his hefty fingers. The combination of the penetration and the stimulation of your clit with his mouth was too good to resist.

You were slightly relieved that Miguel remained nestled between your legs while you rode out your peak. The orgasm he’d given you was much too good to be able to control your facial expressions.

He at last came up for air once you’d begun floating down from your peak. A primal pride surged through you at the sight of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smash your mouths together, eager to sample the combination you two made. It was all too easy to get lost in a kiss with Miguel, yet as you plundered his mouth with your tongue, your hand crept back down his groin.

This time it was Miguel who moaned into your mouth as you returned him to full mast with feather-light, teasing touches.

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped between kisses.

“Finally,” you bantered back.

A growl from Miguel and then he tackled you back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help the giggle – partly from nerves, partly from anticipation – that escaped you at his actions, despite the visage of a hulking, intimidating man hovering over you could be frightening in another context.

“Do you have protection?”

You hesitated. You kept a box of condoms in your bedside drawer, but given Miguel’s size, they’d be inadequate.

“None that would fit you,” you confessed, stealing another glance at his large erection. It was truly a sight to behold. Miguel deflated slightly, fearing penetration was off the table, and usually it would be. You were firmly a two methods of contraception girl, but there was no way you were going to pass up this chance to have sex with Miguel. “Don’t worry Spidey, I’m on the pill.”

“Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, then wasted no time situating himself between your hips. He drew yet another mewl from you when he slapped the tip of his cock a few times on your clit before lining himself up with your entrance.

He found you looking at him expectantly. And though Miguel mostly saw desire in your eyes, he could see the glimpse of unease too. He assured you, “I’ll go slow.”

You nodded, you trusted him after all, but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of when Miguel finally pushed into you. Just the tip was already splitting you apart more than Gene, or any former lover for that matter, ever had.

“Breathe,” Miguel rasped. You couldn’t tell if he was advising you or himself though. It struck you then that you’d perhaps achieved the damn-near impossible – disarming the notoriously closed-off Miguel O’Hara. He looked beautiful, biting his plush lower lip as he slowly rocked more and more of his huge cock inside of you.

Your back arched off the mattress of the sensation of being progressively speared on the monster that Miguel called a dick. It was too much and not enough all at once, and your fingers dug into your comforter below you. He tried to distract you from any potential pain, Miguel’s index finger returning to your barely-recovered clit.

“That’s it, open up for me,” he husked. Your head swam at the mix of his enormous manhood stretching you to your limit and his tender, in-control tone. The realization hit you harder than a punch from an anomaly. In that moment, fear skittered down your throat and pooled into your stomach, resting right above where you two were joined. He’s going to ruin me for other men, isn’t he?

You couldn’t think any further since not only was Miguel fully seated within you, he had asked you a question. Your eyes glassy and pupils blown, found his, and he repeated himself. “You okay? Can-can I move?”

“Yes,” you gasped. In case your breath affirmation left any room for doubt, you added, “please.”

Another grunt from your lover and Miguel at last began to thrust into you. Your arms flew from the bed to his impossibly wide shoulders, your nails digging into the caramel, taut skin there. You couldn’t tell exactly when it’d happened, lost in the deliciously lewd sounds you were making between the slap of your bodies, your labored breaths, and his determined staccato grunts while Miguel railed you, but your hips had begun to meet his.

“M-more Miguel,” you urged him as you dragged your fingertips down the expanse of his back. Each of your hands grabbed a fistful of that glorious ass and squeezed to drive home your point.

“You sure?”

You moaned. It was as if he couldn’t give it to you hard or faster enough. You used your grip on the globes of his perfect rear to try and force him to increase to the pace and force you needed him to fuck you at.

Miguel laughed. A dark and stirring sound that made you involuntarily tighten around his girthy length. “Alright bebita, but remember…you asked for this.”

His words ignited something defiant within you. You pulled Miguel’s head from where it had fallen into the crook of your neck so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I’m not some pillow princess from Nueva. I’m just as strong as you are, I can go just as hard you can, and I want you to fuck me.”

Your lover’s eyes darkened at your demand. The growl that ripped from his throat was your only warning before Miguel unleashed the full force of his strength on you. You keened in pleasure as he all but drove you through your bedframe and the wall behind it. Miguel captured your wrists once more and restrained you against the mattress as he absolutely pounded into your pussy.

His drilling drew another ecstatic cry from your mouth. Miguel glared down at you, his eyes nearly crazed, his face barely lit in the ambient light from the street. It truly was infuriating to you how beautiful this man was. You watched his brow furrowed in concentration – not on his stupid screens for once – and his dark hair shift in time with his thrusts. Your features contorted in pleasure when Miguel switched from drilling into you to swiveling his hips to stuff you with his cock. His movements were deliberate and slow, he was trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You almost went cross-eyed at the feel of his bulbous cockhead punching against your cervix.

The criminal undulations of his hips extracted a little yip from you each time he pistoned into you. He grinned down at you wolfishly. Equal parts indignation and arousal bloomed within you. Also, was the first time you'd ever seen Miguel smile? Not a little half-smirk or a humorless quirk of his lips, but an unabashed smile?

“Want me to back off?”

Oh, there was no way you were going to take that lying down. Even if Miguel’s pubic bone was perfectly grinding into your clit.

You let out a growl of your own and summoned all the power in your core muscles to wrestle Miguel back and claim the high ground. Out of breath when you found yourself seated on Miguel’s dick, his large, muscled body prone beneath you, you braced yourself on his rippled abdomen.

“Is the itsy-bitsy Spider-Girl gonna ride my cock?” he taunted you. If Miguel didn’t wear that arrogant, playful smirk so well, you would’ve wiped it from his lips.

You slid your hands up the length of his chest and leaned over, your face hovering over his. “That depends. Can 2099 handle it?”

Miguel answered you with an impatient buck of his hips up into your sex. You giggled as you straightened up again, tweaking one of Miguel's nipples as you went. You relished the little shudder it sent through him. “Alright, but remember baby, you asked for this.”

He snorted out a laugh, which you quickly silenced once you began riding Miguel like the stud he was. “Hnnn–shock, bebita.”

“Ah,” you sighed as you bounced on his prick. Before sleeping with Miguel, you had assumed the term “feeling him in your guts” was hyperbole. Not with him. “Fuck, you’re even bigger like this.”

A large hand traced its way up one of your thighs, now lightly covered with a sheen of sweat, past your sex, split apart by his shaft, to where Miguel’s manhood made the slightest bulge in your lower belly. His smile became wider and even cockier. “It’s good, no?”

You gave him a nonverbal, but enthusiastic, reply. He smacked your ass in satisfaction, “Yeah c’mon, cariño, ride me. Wanna watch your tits bounce.”

You officially hated Miguel and his big, thick, perfectly sized cock. Where as with other partners you’d smack them right back with a zinger, all you could do was moan again. His naughty, domineering words did nothing but excite you. There was something about him and the way he fucked that made you incapable of doing little else than enthusiastically submitting to him. You leaned back, your fingers clutching onto Miguel’s thick thighs to stability as you changed angles and gave him a better view of your breasts jiggling in time with your motions.

“Ay, sí bebita,” Miguel’s hands flew to your hips to intensify the frantic mashing of your bodies together, “Ven aquí.”

He gathered your torso in his hulking arms and pulled you closer so that he could coax a breast into his mouth again as you rode him.

“You gonna come for me Miguel?” you panted.

“No,” he sounded as winded as you were. “Not yet.”

You clenched around him and snickered. “Are you sure?”

“¡Coño!” Miguel snarled at the feel of your already blistering, tight pussy suffocating his dick further. “¡No más – basta de esto!”

The vision of your bedroom swam when Miguel lifted you off his pulsing member and dropped you back on your stomach onto the mattress facing the foot of the bed.. You could hear him shifting behind you, and you blindly groped for the lower metal railing of your bedframe’s footboard, only vaguely aware what was to come.

A grunt from Miguel, and the next thing you knew one of your pillows was stuffed under your lower belly and his massive hands were back on either side of your hips. Your lover didn’t give you any notice before shoving his fat erection back inside of your already tender pussy.

You shouted at the feeling of his cock stuffing you to the brim once again. Miguel’s hands appeared above your head where you held on for dear life as he impaled you on his prick.

“Ahhh!” you clamored, desperately trying to pull enough air in your lungs to function as Miguel squatted behind you. “I’ve never been so full! Oh God, Miguel, it’s so much…so much…”

Miguel responded with a pleased growl, and merely rammed into you harder. You were peripherally aware of the clanging of the pieces of your metal bed frame clanging together in protest at the vigor of your and Miguel’s coupling, but there were too many sensations overwhelming you at once to focus on one in particular. Not even when the metal groaned and the angle Miguel fucked you at changed did you pay attention to what was actually happening. You merely pushed back onto his cock as much as you could, your fingertips scrabbling into the folds of your comforter.

Your eyes screwed shut at the barrage of stimuli - the unrelenting stretch of Miguel’s hardness, his harsh but steadying grip on your hips, the light scratch of fabric beneath you on your skin, the little puff of warmth on the back of your neck from Miguel’s labored exhalations. You were sure this was better than any high any drug could provide. You hadn’t tried many, not even Rapture, and but nothing could top being thoroughly fucked into your mattress by Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel’s dogged grunts morphed into shouts when he at last found his release, spurting rope after rope of hot, creamy cum into your welcoming cunt. You found yourself crying out along with him as he emptied his load, your walls bearing down around his length as you both rode out his high. Miguel flooded your pussy with his seed and before you could even try to adjust to the feeling, he withdrew his cock from you, tearing a quite pathetic-sounding whimper from your mouth.

Miguel pulled your ass cheeks apart to examine your stretched, puffy pussy leaking his cum. His chest rumbled with primal delight. “Hermosa.”

You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath when Miguel dove back in for more, this time his eager, demanding tongue again invading your channel. You whimpered again, your pitch jumping an octave at Miguel’s needy tongue not only collecting his spunk from your pussy, but flicking the muscle against your clit. He was a man possessed, he ate you out as if he needed you to orgasm one more time for his survival.

You gave him what he wanted (how could you not?), and once the crest of your pleasure had subsided, you lightly pushed him away from your gaping, abused cunt.

The first thing you noticed when your wits returned to you was how much closer the ground had become.

“Oh my God,” you put it together and turned to face your partner, "we broke the bed.”

Miguel arched a brow from where he leant back into the pillows. “Are you surprised?”

You frowned at him.

“I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m going to…” you trailed off your gaze floating to the bathroom.

“Do your thing.”

“Can…can I get you anything?”

Miguel glanced down at his crotch. “A towel?”

You nodded. “Say no more.”

You ducked into your en-suite, and once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind you, you proceeded to have a freak out to yourself in the mirror. You scarcely believe your own appearance – lips kiss swollen, hair a veritable bird's nest, your mascara smudged into rings around your eyes. Miguel had destroyed you in the best of ways.

The thought sent a little aftershock of pleasure through you. You didn’t dally any longer — you relieved yourself, washed your hands, ran a brush through your hair and splashed water on your face. After dampening a washcloth for Miguel, you returned to the bedroom, where your bed frame was properly vertical again.

You glimpsed the glow of Miguel’s distinctive red webs holding the broken metal rods together. The other Spider was reclining on your mattress, a sheet haphazardly tossed over his groin to preserve his modesty. Even so, the sight of him made you go weak in the knees. He really did remind you of some sort of a large cat given the odd grace in which he lounged with, the evidence of his power and strength so poorly hidden under the surface of his skin.

“Get a new frame and expense it to Spider-HQ,” Miguel's baritone snapped you out of your reverie.

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” You tossed him the towel.

His eyes raked over your naked form. But instead of the desire you’d found there earlier, his gaze was full of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes. Very okay. A little sore but good sore, ya know?”

“Good,” Miguel busied himself with cleaning up.

“I mean, what’s the point of having superpowers if you can’t enjoy extra rough sex?” you joked.

“Yeah, about that,” Miguel refused to meet your eyes. “As um…great as all this was…I think we–it should be a one-time thing.”

“Um, duh.” He looked up at you hastily and you continued, “Miguel, neither of us are anywhere close to ready or in the right place for a relationship.”

Your heart disagreed with your words, but you uttered them anyway. Not because it was how you truly felt, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear. Miguel associated any sense of closeness or vulnerability with weakness and danger. Trying to get him to see otherwise was a fool's errand, and it was easier on your heart to convince yourself into concurring with him.

Oddly, Miguel didn’t seem to relax at your assurances. He looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

“Oh my God, you are so cocky!” you accused him with a playful slap to the broad, tan chest. “Spare me the fake worry 2099, you may be amazing at sex, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to be professional with you at HQ.”

“Amazing at sex?” Mirguel parroted you with a smirk.

You slapped him again. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Sorry but those are very distracting,” he claimed, his gaze focused on your exposed breasts.

You scoffed and grabbed a pillow to temporarily cover yourself. “Hang on there, Spider-Man. Yes, you are…not terrible at showing a lady a good time, no, you don’t have to worry about me being clingy at work, and yes, I’m sure so stop looking at me like that!”

You tossed the pillow away and straddled him. “Now I don’t know about you, but it’s only midnight. If this is indeed a one-time thing, I say we make the most of the night and the fact that no one has bothered us with some multiversal emergency yet.”

Miguel finally let it go, choosing to focus on your very nude body on top of his. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding his cock, already stiffening back up to full mast, against where you were still so nice and stretched for him.

“Vamos, bebita,” he whispered into your ear. His fingers dug into your sides possessively in a way that almost let you believe he was doing it because you were his. “Wanna fuck you on the ceiling.”

***

You shouldn't have been surprised that Miguel didn’t stay the night. You were honestly shocked when he collapsed beside you after the hours you’d spent vehemently fucking. Your bed was now held together by a mix of both his and your webs, one of your framed photos on the wall lay shattered on the floor to be dealt with later, and the ceiling now sported a dent that was going to be very difficult to explain to your landlord.

The memory of Miguel leaving was hazy at best. After so many rounds of deeply satisfying, intensely athletic sex, you felt like you could sleep for a week. Yet the shift and dip of Miguel’s large frame exiting the bed was enough to wake you. You could sort of recall a small flash of light and chirpy voice which must have been Lyla…and you also had a vague memory of him replying in a hushed rumble as if not to wake you up. Or was he telling you he was heading out? Everything jumbled together under the fog of sleep.

Either way, you had to tell yourself that the sensation of a large hand caressing your face and then tenderly stroking down the sleep-warm skin of your back was a dream. Not for Miguel’s sake, but yours.

Thanks to super-spider stamina, you only really needed a couple extra shots of espresso to function somewhat normally the following day at headquarters. You were angry at your instinct to avoid Miguel. You both were adults that had an adult, mature conversation that last night’s activities were merely a form of stress release that didn’t mean anything. It was hard to believe however, when you could still feel the phantom shape of him inside of you.

Besides, it’s not even like you could avoid him if you wanted to. You were scheduled to go over more sequencing today with Miguel, and you were dead set on not blinking first in the post-sex-awkwardness stand-off.

“Hey, Miguel!” your voice reverberated in the vast space.

Several agonizing moments later, his platform lowered enough for you two to start conversing. If he was at all bashful about seeing you, the man didn’t show it.

“Good. You’re here.”

“Yep.”

Miguel was all business. “I want to go back to the fight you had with your father. Lyla, take us to timestamp 46:90:45.”

Damn, and here you thought you were good at compartmentalizing. You did your best to hide any disappointment from reaching your face, playing along as if he hadn’t seen every crevice of your body the night before.

***

Days turned into weeks, and you eventually, reluctantly accepted that Miguel had told you the truth that night. What you two had shared was really just a one-time lapse of his frighteningly strong self-restraint.

You were enjoying a rare night in, parked on the couch, takeout boxes strewn about the coffee table, your favorite trashy reality show playing on your TV. You’d gotten injured taking down a Doc Ock variant a few days ago, and Miguel benched you to recuperate. You were all too happy to take a break, from him and Spider-Girling. Despite your complicated feelings for the man, he assigned a recently displaced Spider, Spider-Woman 1357, to pinch hit for you in your dimension while you healed up. It was the first time since you became a hero you had a day off with peace of mind.

Just as you started another episode, a tingle raced down your spine. Your spider-sense. Something was about to happen. Out of all the possibilities of what could have followed, a portal opening in your living room and Miguel walking through was the last thing you would’ve guessed. You leapt up from the sofa.

You instantly regretted your appearance - messy bun, no makeup, and ratty sweatpants. Miguel, as usual, looked immaculate in his skintight spider-suit.

“Hey.”

“Is this a booty call?”

“No.”

“Don’t bullshit me–”

“It’s not, I swear! Coño, I came to check on you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you could have messaged me on my gizmo. It’s your preferred method of communication after all, ever since the last time you were in my apartment.”

“May–”

Lyla appeared over his shoulder. “He missed you, that’s all.”

Miguel growled at his AI. “I’m going to sentence you to robot death via spreadsheets.”

Lyla wasn’t threatened in the slightest. “Thank me later.” She disappeared before Miguel could try and make another retort.

“You missed me?”

“No,” his denial was instant. “I just…I–”

“This is a booty call!” you crumpled up a napkin and chucked it at his large form. “Go home, Miguel!”

He didn’t budge. “It’s not a booty call. I…what are you watching?”

“The Realest Housewives of Manhattan. What, don’t judge me!”

Miguel couldn't keep his face straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Seeing his eyes crinkle with amusement was infectious. You threw another napkin ball at him and then composed yourself. He wasn’t getting off the hook this easily. “Why are you here? Be honest with me. It’s the very least I deserve.”

“I wanted to see the shocking expensive bed frame you expensed to HQ for myself.”

“You said I could and you didn't set a spending limit.” A wicked little grin pulled at the corners of your mouth. The bed frame from Restoration Hardware had been your own private form of revenge. “And I’m supposed to believe you wanting to see my bed – my bed that you broke–”

“Hey! We broke the bed–”

“--is not your thinly veiled excuse for seeking another roll in the hay? Enough with goddamn mind games Miguel.” He tried to speak but you pushed on, “I’m tired and this is the last thing I need.”

Miguel sobered. He hung his head. His mouth seemed to fight the words as they left his lips. “Alright, fine. I missed you.”

You ignored your heartbeat’s sharp increase and schooled your features to maintain a neutral appearance. “I have some extra Pad Thai if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

“So this may not be a booty call, but does anyone other than Lyla know you’re here?”

“No.”

You nodded. “Come. Sit. I just started the episode where Beverly throws her poodle a forty thousand dollar birthday party.”

“Nothing you said just now made sense,” Miguel protested, but took a seat on your couch anyway.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed!! Miguel has fully rotted my brain so I thought it only fair to share the horniness. Of course I have more imagined in this AU, fingers crossed I can find more time to write (comments and reblogs and likes help!)

Translations:

Mierda - Shit

cariño - dear

bebita - baby

Gracias a Dios - Thank God

Ven aquí - Come here

¡Coño! - Damnit!

¡No más – basta de esto! -No more, enough of this!

Hermosa - beautiful

Vamos, bebita - Come on, baby

Taglist: @plethora-of-imagines, @itdobe-liza @absolutelybloodyhopeless @ninebluehearts, @oscarissac2099 @trinthealternate

#miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfic #we're not here to f*ck spiders

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lokisprettygirl · 2 months

Text

Utopia (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x female reader) (Non Canon AU) (18+)

Read chapter 4 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 5

Summary: Life gets chaotic and feelings get mangled post your rescue from the island.

Warning: 18+ sex ,death and destruction that comes from a ship wreckage, smut, sex, menstrual sex, unprotected sex. Some inconsistency with ship sinking, i researched as much as I could

You couldn't help but listen in on the muffled sounds of shouting that were coming from the room next to you and you felt guilty even though you had done nothing wrong. They were not in a relationship, they were not even dating the moment you two had gotten stranded on the island so you had done nothing wrong but that didn't mean you felt any better about it.

“Almost ten years ..we have been together and you are doing this to me now?” Lily screamed at him and her tone made him snicker bitterly.

“10 years right? And half of those years we spent apart because you wanted to break up every fucking time you couldn't handle our relationship” Lily scoffed as Daemon raised his voice, in the decade of them being with each other, even though Daemon saw other women whenever they were on a break, she never really felt threatened because it never lasted long, they were just mindless flings but you threatened her.

She was worried you'd replace her in his life. That you'd become the love of his life, his muse, his own.

“I'm allowed to take time away from us when I'm not feeling well Daemon..that's how a healthy relationship works” She yelled at him again, her voice laced with frustration as if this conversation wasn't really required.

“Yeah? Is that what it is? Or you just take off whenever you want to fuck someone else?” As soon as he said that Lily began to cry profusely and he didn't want to hurt her like that, he cared about her, a part of him of course carried emotional attachment towards her or so he thought but he also couldn't deny no longer that he felt something for you, his feelings for you were becoming increasingly difficult to push aside.

As he stepped towards Lily in an attempt to comfort her and prevent the situation from escalating, she began to strike him in the chest. Despite her outburst, he managed to remain calm and restrained her hands, pulling her into an embrace. He held her tight, allowing her to release all of the pent-up emotions that she had been holding onto.

“Just calm down okay?” He mumbled softly to her, he didn't even want to argue with her anymore, the time on the island has made him realize that life was too short and unpredictable to turn the same pages over and over again in the hope that story would somehow lead differently the next time..

“Please don't hurt me Daemon..i love you..I love you so much ..you know that”

Her eyes welled up as she spoke to him so he wrapped her arms around her again and didn't say anything, however his silence spoke more than his words ever could. Once she was asked to leave for staying outside the visiting time he walked into your room and you were pacing back and forth already in stress and worry. As soon as you saw him you began to ramble all your thoughts out loud.

"Look, I don't want to stand in the way of whatever you two have. I don't want to be the reason it's destroyed. I'm OKAY with us just remaining friends.”

You said to him, not really realizing how this would affect him. He was on the fence with Lily but not with you, with you he knew how he felt.

“Really? So we just forget everything we have done in the past five months?” he asked you as he crossed his arms in frustration, his brows were crinkled and jaw was clenched in anger.

“That was us being there for each other when we had no one” your eyes welled up with tears as you didn't really understand what he wanted and you didn't want to be his rebound girl again.

“Fine…If you say so”

That was the last you had heard from him for a while actually.

In the month that followed, you were faced with plenty of challenges, from dealing with lawyers for the compensation claim to then managing your newfound fortune that you had no clue where to invest. You also needed to take some time for yourself in regular therapy sessions. You weren't prepared at all to go back to the life you were living before all of this transpired.

Media had been on you and Daemon as well, everyday a new press reporter wanted to interview you, sometimes together which both of you denied, a documentary crew had approached you as well and it was a lot. Life was a lot these days and amidst all of this chaos you didn't have Daemon by your side which really pissed you off.

If he felt something more than just friendship for you then he should have told you that.

“Come on..get ready” Emma mumbled as pulled out a dress from your closet and threw it at you.

“I don't want to go, em” you groaned as you spoke to her. She wanted to take you to the Karaoke bar, Daemon and the rest of the group would be there too and he was the reason why you didn't want to go, well not really, you did want to go but how dare he just cut you off like that? Sure you were being a bit mean to him but you just wanted to keep your conscience clear.

“He's miserable too you know” your ears perked up as Emma said that.

“What?”

“Daemon..he's not happy, he misses you alot” you rolled your eyes in fake pretense as if her words weren't making you all giddy inside.

“And you know that because?”

“Because Aemond told me, they were drunk one night and he almost wept because he felt that he had lost you” Emma said as a matter of fact and it was hard to believe her words but the possibility that Daemon was miserable without you was heartwarming. Because you were absolutely miserable without seeing his stupid face.

“You're lying”

“I have no reason for that,” she retorted.

“What about Lily?”

“She wants him back..but he's not willing to do so again, like he tried but he's not able to”

After pretending that you didn't want to go some more you eventually got dressed but before that you made sure to remove every hair on your body because you hadn't done that in the past six months.

When you reached the bar the group saw you and you noticed how Lily wasn't happy at all by your presence.

You looked at Daemon and you thought he'd look away but he kept his eyes on you and you had to smile eventually making his lips curve in a smile as well.

“Y/n should sing, she's the only one of us who had never done this right?” Lily chimed in so you shook your head and chuckled.

“I don't sing..like at all” you responded as you chugged on your drink and looked around the group hoping that someone would rescue you.

“Oh come on..don't be such a party pooper..she should sing..right dae?” she spoke again and you really wanted to smack her gorgeous face.

“Go on..you're amazing you know?” Daemon said out loud and Lily's expressions faltered, you weren't Amazing at all, he was just being nice because you'd often sing to distract him whenever he had one of his migraine attacks on the island.

“Come on y/n” Lily gave you a smile so you chugged on your drink and decided to fuck it all, nothing mattered to you anymore. Sure she was trying to humiliate you and make you feel uncomfortable but you won't allow her to win this one.

As you stepped up to the microphone and the music began you recognised the Ellie goulding song immediately so you took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the worst,

“We ..we don't have to worry about nothing..we got the fire and we burning one hell of a something”

You began to sing and felt a bit off key in the beginning but as the song progressed you got the groove. You heard the group hooting for you and Daemon was smiling throughout your silly performance and Lily? Well, the only reason she wanted you to sing was because she figured you'd humiliate yourself in front of everyone but that wasn't happening.

“We’ll be raising our hands, shining up to the sky, cause we got the fire, fire, fireeeee and we gonna let it burn burn burn burn–”

The crowd applauded as you finished your performance, you had never done anything like this before but the time on the island has really changed your perspective on life. Once all of you were drunk enough you couldn't help but notice that Emma and Aemond were getting really cozy with each other and that piqued your curiosity..

As you excused yourself away from the group to grab a drink Daemon followed you and you couldn't help but glare at him, you were pissed.

“You're ovulating” you crossed your arms as he said that.

“That's what you want to say to me after a month of ignoring me?” you turned towards him and he stared you down. His gaze was unreadable.

“You didn't try to get in touch either..dance with me” You stood there, stunned, as Daemon suddenly took your hands and pulled you closer to him. His words caught you off guard, but there was a part of you that was thrilled to be asked. It was weird seeing him without the beard but you noticed that he had grown the stubbles again when he preferred to keep it shaven before, you also noticed that he hadn't cut the length of the hair short.

“You smell so sweet darling..close aren't you?” he mumbled as he pressed his nose against your neck and took a whiff.

“You're such a caveman”

“You know you can always call me to relieve your pain” he smirked as he mumbled in your ear.

“I don't need it anymore” you retorted and for some reason that managed to wipe the smug expression from his features.

“That hurts me”

“I'm not trying to hurt you Daemon--” your voice softened as you realized you were hurting him indeed.

“You're hurting me..you didn't even listen to what I had to say that night”

“What about Lily?”

“Why do you care so much?” his teeth gritted as he spoke.

“Because I don't want to hurt anyone”

“Except me..the man you lived with for five months”

“Because I had no choice” he huffed as you said that. You were saying things to him that you didn't really mean at all.

“You had a choice, you came after me, remember? You chose to endanger your life for me while she took the first boat out of there and didn't even think of me. You want me to spare her feelings? I am trying..but darling -” he cupped your cheeks and pressed his thumb below your chin to make you look at him, his ragged breath washed over you and all you wanted was for him to kiss you but you could also feel Lily burning a hole in your backs.

“Never mind” he let go of you and stormed out of the bar, leaving you all speechless and turned on and guilty at the same time.

Daemon took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up as he got inside the car and drove away. The last few weeks had made him realize that his feelings were not frivolous in nature, he might have gotten attached to you because of your situations and conditions on the island but that didn't mean what he felt for you wasn't real. Despite his attempts to resume things with Lily, every time he even looked at her, a reminder of you would flood his mind. It was as if you were always there, always present in his thoughts and emotions.

Daemon knew that his feelings for you were real and that they meant something to him. It was a realization that had come to him slowly, but it had become clearer and clearer with each passing day when he wasn't able to sleep with you at nights or kiss you first thing in the morning.

Daemon felt a mixture of emotions, but above all, he felt a sense of longing for you.

Later that night he received a text from you that you wanted to see him at your place and as much as he wanted to play hard to get he drove to your place and when you opened the door you were still in the sexy little dress you had on before. You grabbed him by the collar of his dark gray full sleeves t-shirt and pulled him inside.

There was that annoying but ridiculously hot smirk on his face that frustrated you alot.

“I don't want to hurt you daemon” you mumbled softly, your fingers were still clutching on the round collar of his shirt so brought his hands up and ran his fingers on your forearms.

“You shaved”

“Mmm do you like it?”

“You know I dont give a fuck about body hair” the tension between you two was palpable as you spoke to each other. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and you really wanted to feel him up close.

“You're a dirty boy”

“You like that” he mumbled against your lips before he kissed you passionately, tongue swirled into your mouth as if he was starving for a mere taste and you hoped that he was, because you definitely felt that way.

He picked you up by the hips and stopped kissing you momentarily to look into your eyes as you mumbled against his mouth.

“I have a surprise for you” you mumbled softly so he chuckled “An apology if you will?”

“Okay show me”

“Walk me into my bedroom” you pointed towards the bedroom so he took the lead with you still in his arms. As he stepped inside the first thing he noticed was the candlelights all around the room, the orange hue reminded him of the fire he used to ignite every evening on the island. His heart nearly leaped out of the chest when he noticed the bed of leaves on the floor right next to your bed.

“Ohh you sweet sweet thoughtful girl” he mumbled as he laid you down on the floor right on the top of leaves. “Apology accepted” he mumbled softly so you cupped his cheeks and kissed him feverishly, you climbed on top of his lap and wrapped your legs around him, his hands roamed over every inch of your skin, a gasp escaped your throat as he laid you down.

He took your underwear out of your dress and you moaned as he suddenly rode your dress up, pulled your legs apart and placed his head right between your thighs.

“You really shaved all over didn't you?” he asked you so you bit on your lower lip.

“Mmmhmmm”

“Now hair won't get into my mouth”

“Shut Upppp you're so so dirty …goddd Daemon” you tried to pull away but he grabbed your thighs and held you still.

“Why are you so squeamish? It's just hair”

You were going to give a sly remark but as he placed his lips on your nether lips the words died in your throat.

“Really had a dream about you like this sweetheart” you smiled and ran your fingers through his hair as he sucked on your clit, arousal dripped into his mouth as he turned you on with every flick of his tongue.

“You dream about me?”

“All the time..some more vulgar than others but my thoughts mean well i promise”

“I dream about you too”

“Mmmm I know that. You blabber in your sleep baby. As much as I'd enjoy making you quiver in my mouth I really need to feel your cunt around me…can i?” his voice came out all breathless as he climbed up on top of you, you had felt something sharp in his pocket before but now wasn't the time to have that conversation.

As he slid up you nodded and proceeded to take your clothes off as quickly as possible, he had seen you naked more times than you can count in the past five months so it didn't really matter..

“Pills?”

“Mmmhmm”

“Thank the god”

You gasped and were rendered speechless as his thick cock entered you, you had been waiting for this for months. It was a torture to have him so close but still not have him all into you.

“Feel so fucking perfect around me love..if only you were bleeding” he whispered in your ear and his words made your face warm.

“What's with you and my periods?”

“I don't really know..i can't…I can't make sense of the ways you turn me on”

You grabbed his arse and squeezed his plump cheeks as he thrusted in and out of you slowly, every thrust was slow and calculated, he wanted to feel your cunt restricting him, he needed you to suffocate him and he wanted to last as long as possible.

“Fuck ..y/n..oh love”

As he chanted your name between his shallow thrusts it reminded you of that drunken night when he had taken her name when he was inside you, things had changed since then.

When he eventually came you almost passed out from the sheer intensity of your own orgasm that mirrored his. Took you both a while to come out of the trance..

Even on the island he made sure to take care of you after every sexual experience you had shared with each other, it was harder to do so there but in the privacy and comfort of your room he was able to treat you like a princess. Once you returned to the bed he grabbed his pants and took out something from the pocket. Your eyes had teared up immediately at the sight as he wrapped the shell necklace around your neck and it was as if you could smell the earthly whiff of the island for a moment there. You had seen him making this but you didn't know it was for you.

“Romantic at heart aren't you?’ you teased him and his face flushed in response.

“Shut your nozzle before I take it away” you giggled like a cheshire cat as he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I love it ..thank you”

He laid down next to you so scooted closer to him. You wanted to stay in the bliss you felt in the moment but you knew sooner or later you'd have to have the conversation.

“10 years is a long time to be with someone Daemon”

“On and off..but I see what you mean..the truth is not lost on me”

“I know you care about her still and don't want to hurt her”

“I don't but I don't want to hurt you either..are you going to tell me that those five months we spent together haven't changed you at all?” he asked you so you sighed.

“Of course it has..that's not what I meant”

“Shhhh now” he caressed your head so you sighed deeply this time and fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning when you woke up your body hurt, not because of the sex but because of the hardwood floor, it wasn't the same as sleeping on the sand or maybe you were just complaining because you could afford to complain now that you weren't stranded on an island thousands miles away from civilization.

“Daemon” you called out his name but he merely groaned in response like he always does “you can sleep on the bed” you mumbled again but when he didn't budge you leaned down to kiss his temple and got up.

An hour later while you were in the kitchen he walked in naked, and that didn't surprise you either because you were used to seeing him this way after you both bathed in the sea. You snapped out of your thoughts when he pecked you on the lips.

“Morning love”

“Good morning..breakfast is almost ready”

“I'll go wash up then” you nodded as he said that

“I placed a new toothbrush in the bathroom” you mumbled softly so he gave you a smile. When he returned he immediately hugged you from behind and the position really felt like something you could get addicted to.

“This is the first time i have cooked since we returned”

“Mmm why aren't you cooking love?” he asked as he nuzzled his nose between the crook of your neck. He was being so soft with you.

“Why aren't you singing?” You asked him so he nodded as he understood your plight..

Your jobs were the reasons you were on the ship, that had attached a negative connotation to what you had experienced, it was really difficult to go back to your normal lives. The memory of what you had been through haunted you, making it hard for you to concentrate on the routine tasks that had once come so easily to you.

“I really want to fuck you while you're wearing just this” he caressed your collarbone and you couldn't help but moan in response as he pointed at the shell necklace, you had honestly never had a man be so interested you in such physical ways so his words sometimes caught you off guard. Was he really this attracted to you that he found nothing wrong with your body? You hoped so.

“And then what? Will we ignore each other for one month again Daemon Cavemon?” you joked so he chuckled in response.

“Not my plan..I need you and you need me”

“Mmm what are you saying then?”

“Let me take you out on a date, let me treat you right and show you that I'm more than that uncivilized caveman you are used to seeing” you couldn't help but giggle as he said that, however him asking you out officially did give you butterflies.

“Don't get me wrong..I do enjoy your caveman side, he saved my life on that Island” he smiled as you held his chin between your thumb and forefinger.

“Aren't you sweet first thing in the morning?”

“I try”

“I'll pick you up at seven, yes?”

You were excited for the date, six months ago you never could have imagined that you'd see the day when your crush would ask you out on an actual date but a lot has happened in those months, your lives had changed and for better or worse, it had changed together.

You put on a beautiful black dress, wore your most expensive perfume and did your makeup after a long time as you wanted to look your best, not that it would have mattered to him, he had his lips all over you even when you looked your worst.

With a smile on your face and bated breaths you sat down on the couch and waited for him, and then you waited some more but he never showed up. He didn't show up to take you out on a date that night.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Note: Why do you think he didn't show up?

Taglist

@mcufan72 @123forgottherest @shuichiakainx @stupidthoughtsinwriting @tmlbdv

@ammo23

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #modern day au #non canon au #modern daemon targaryen

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