#It felt a little like too much was going on but also not in enough depth to some aspects??

[charmed-quill]

The Bet// F.W x Reader Part 2

authors note at end

Summary: Fred Weasley and y/n make a bet: whoever gets a date to the Yule Ball first wins. But what starts as harmless competition devolves into full-blown war.

Word count: 4.7k

Previous Part

Look, Fred Weasley wasn’t the worst person in the world to go to the Yule Ball with.  

Not y/n’s first choice, not by a long shot, but also not the worst.  

Still, standing in her dorm, adjusting her dress for what felt like the millionth time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.  

It wasn’t like Fred had never seen her in a dress before. They’d been friends for six years, of course he had. 

But this? 

This was different. The whole "dressing up" thing was throwing her for a loop.  

The last time she wore something this fancy was her cousin’s wedding when she was ten, and even then, she had hated every second of it. She still remembered the way the lace had itched against her skin, how uncomfortable the frilly socks had been inside her too-tight shoes.  

But this dress it wasn’t stiff or scratchy, wasn’t something her mum had picked out last minute. 

It was hers.

 And it looked…good.  

Angelina had swept her hair into an elegant bun, leaving just a few soft curls framing her face, while Alicia had carefully applied her makeup, just enough to highlight her features without making her feel like she was wearing a mask.  

Y/n barely recognized herself.  

It was uncanny, looking in the mirror and seeing someone who actually—Merlin forbid—looked pretty.  

She swallowed, fingers tightening slightly on the fabric of her dress.  

It was just one night. Just Fred. Nothing had to change.  

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the thought of heading downstairs.

—

Fred stood by the fireplace, hands stuffed in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The common room buzzed with energy, students heading off to the Great Hall in clusters, adjusting dress robes and exchanging last-minute compliments.  

George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia had left just moments ago, after much teasing and knowing smirks thrown his way.  She’ll be down in a moment, they had assured him before disappearing through the portrait hole.  

But it had been more than a moment.  

Fred huffed, glancing up the dormitory stairs. Had she changed her mind? He wouldn’t blame her. Their whole arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, was far from ideal. A last-minute   truce  , born out of mutual stubbornness and sabotage. He knew y/n hadn’t exactly been   thrilled   about going with him.  

Still… part of him didn’t want to be left standing alone in the common room like some abandoned fool.  

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and took a step toward the stairs. If she wasn’t coming down, he’d bloody well—  

The door opened.  

Fred froze.  

His words, his thoughts,   everything   slammed to a stop as y/n stepped into the warm glow of the common room.  

She looked…  

 Merlin.   

Fred wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, he’d seen her in dresses before, plenty of times. 

But this? This was something else entirely.  

The firelight cast a golden hue over her, catching on the delicate fabric of her dress as it moved with her. Her hair, swept up with effortless elegance, framed her face in soft tendrils, highlighting the curve of her jaw and the brightness of her eyes. Her makeup was subtle, just enough to make every little detail stand out, her lips, her cheekbones, the way her lashes fluttered slightly as she scanned the room.  

She was beautiful.  

And Fred?  

Fred was stunned.

He barely managed to school his expression before she looked up, meeting his gaze.  

"Got tired of waiting?" she teased, stepping forward, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her dress.  

Fred cleared his throat, forcing himself to breathe properly. "Thought you’d done a runner," he said, managing a smirk. "Was ready to heroically charge up the stairs and rescue you."  

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You just wanted an excuse to break into the girls' dormitory."  

Fred chuckled, but it came out almost   nervous, and since when was he, nervous   around her?  

His eyes flicked over her once more, like his brain was still trying to process that this was   actually y/n standing in front of him.  

"You clean up alright, y/l/n," he said, voice lighter, teasing, though there was something else beneath it—something even he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.  

Y/n raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin slightly. "Just alright?"  

Fred grinned, stepping closer, offering her his arm. "Don’t get a big head about it."  

She huffed, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something challenging, something thrilling.  

As she looped her arm through his, Fred couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this arrangement wasn’t as terrible as he had thought.

—-

Fred and y/n stepped through the entrance to the Great Hall, and for the first time that night, neither of them had anything to say.  

The entire space had been transformed.  

The usual long house tables were gone, replaced by elegant round ones draped in shimmering fabric, flickering candlelight bouncing off crystal goblets and golden plates. The ceiling was enchanted to reflect a breathtaking winter sky, soft flakes of snow drifting lazily down before vanishing just above their heads. Ice sculptures lined the edges of the hall, carved into delicate figures that seemed to move when you weren’t looking. The chandeliers overhead twinkled like a thousand tiny stars.  

It was… stunning.  

Fred let out a low whistle, eyes sweeping over the scene. "Blimey," he muttered. "They really went all out, huh?"  

Y/n didn’t answer right away.  

She was still taking it all in, her gaze moving from the enchanted icicles hanging from the balconies to the grand staircase leading to the raised dance floor. She had never seen the castle look like this before, so ethereal, so dreamlike.  

It almost felt unreal, like stepping into some sort of fairytale.  

Fred glanced at her, catching the way her eyes shone under the candlelight, the soft parting of her lips as she stared in quiet wonder.  

Something shifted in his chest.  

"You alright there, y/l/n?" His voice was teasing, but noticeably softer than usual.  

Y/n blinked, snapping out of whatever spell the Great Hall had cast over her. "Yeah," she said, glancing up at him. "It’s just… I dunno. I wasn’t expecting it to be so—"  

"Romantic?" Fred finished, raising an eyebrow, his smirk playful but his voice lighter.  

Y/n scoffed, nudging him with her elbow. "I was gonna say impressive, but sure, Weasley. Whatever helps you sleep at night."  

Fred chuckled, but he didn’t tease her back. Instead, he let his gaze linger for just a second longer than necessary.  

The music swelled in the background, students filing in around them, laughter and chatter filling the air. The entire evening stretched before them, full of possibilities neither of them had really considered until now.  

Fred shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on her arm before tilting his head down toward her. "Guess we better get on with it, then," he murmured.  

Y/n met his gaze, something flickering between them that neither of them wanted to name just yet.  

With a quiet breath, she nodded.  

Y/n stood beside Fred, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched the champions and their dates take to the center of the dance floor. The music started soft and elegant, a slow waltz drifting through the air, filling the Great Hall with something delicate, almost fragile. The enchanted ceiling reflected the winter sky, stars glittering overhead like they had been placed there just for this moment. Snowflakes spiraled lazily down before vanishing into shimmering wisps of light.  

It was beautiful.  

She had never seen Hogwarts like this before. Had never felt this kind of stillness, this quiet anticipation that wrapped around her like a whisper. The usual laughter and chaos of the Great Hall had been replaced by something softer, something weighty in its beauty.  

She stole a glance at Fred.  

He was watching the dancers, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth like he was amused by the whole thing, but there was something else there, too. A quietness she wasn’t used to seeing in him.  

And that was when it hit her

Something felt different tonight.  

They had been friends for years, partners in crime, rivals in pranks, always pushing and pulling, always toeing the line between bickering and camaraderie. But this, standing here beside him in a ballroom full of flickering candlelight, the warmth of his arm just inches from hers, the way he had looked at her when she had walked down those dormitory steps,   

It didn’t feel the same.  

It wasn’t uncomfortable, not exactly. But it was new. Like she had stepped into something she hadn’t expected, something unfamiliar but thrilling all the same.  

The music swelled, couples twirling across the dance floor in graceful, sweeping movements, and suddenly, she was hyper-aware of Fred beside her. Of the way his fingers twitched slightly at his sides, like he was debating something.  

She swallowed.  

"Getting bored already?" she asked, keeping her voice light, teasing, as if nothing in the world had changed.  

Fred turned his head, his gaze flickering to hers. He smirked, but not in his usual way, not in the way that made her roll her eyes or shove his shoulder. This was something softer, something amused and knowing all at once.  

"Nah," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "Just waiting to see if you trip over your own feet when we dance."  

Y/n scoffed, nudging him with her elbow. "Bold of you to assume I’ll dance with you at all."  

Fred chuckled, looking back at the floor. "We’ll see about that, y/l/n."  

And something about the way he said it sent warmth curling through her chest.  

She exhaled slowly, turning her attention back to the dancers, pretending she wasn’t thinking about the way his voice had dipped just slightly, or the way her stomach had flipped at the sound of it.  

Y/n barely had time to protest before Fred was tugging her toward the dance floor, his grip firm but light as he grinned down at her, mischief dancing in his eyes.  

"Come on, y/l/n," he teased, his voice low enough that it sent a strange, warm shiver down her spine. "Let’s show them how it’s done."  

She rolled her eyes but let him lead her anyway, her fingers curling against the fabric of his robes as they moved into the sea of swirling couples. The candlelight flickered overhead, casting soft golden glows against the ice sculptures, the music swelling around them in a gentle rhythm.  

Fred slid a hand to her waist, his touch lighter than expected, and lifted their joined hands. "Try not to step on my toes, yeah?"  

Y/n huffed, settling her free hand on his shoulder. "I’d worry more about your own coordination, Weasley. We both know you’re all limbs and recklessness."  

Fred chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for a second, she forgot they were in the middle of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by students, teachers, and swirling magic.  

"You know," he mused as they moved to the beat, "I don’t think we ever settled our bet."  

Y/n raised a brow, amused. "Oh? And what exactly needs settling? I’d say it was a draw at best."  

Fred scoffed, spinning her suddenly, pulling her effortlessly back into his arms before she even had time to process it. "A draw?" he echoed, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I clearly won. You were the one who asked me, remember?"  

Y/n narrowed her eyes, her fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. "That is not how I remember it."  

Fred grinned. "Sounds like selective memory to me, love."  

She huffed. "Fine. Even if I asked you first, which I didn’t, you were already on your way to ask me."  

"Exactly!" Fred said triumphantly. "Which means I still would’ve won in the end."  

Y/n rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it.  

Because the truth was, she wasn’t even thinking about the bet anymore.  

She wasn’t thinking about the competition or the weeks of sabotage.  

She was thinking about the way Fred’s hand rested so easily at her waist, how effortless it felt to fall into step with him, how his grin softened when he looked at her now—like maybe this wasn’t just about winning anymore.  

And that realization sent her stomach flipping in ways she wasn’t prepared for.  

She exhaled slowly, focusing on keeping her voice steady. "You’re impossible, you know that?"  

Fred smirked, tugging her just a little closer as they turned with the music. "And yet, here you are, dancing with me anyway."  

Y/n swallowed, feeling that damn warmth creep into her chest again, curling beneath her ribs, making it increasingly difficult to remind herself that this was just Fred.  

Just Fred Weasley.  

Her best friend.  

Her rival.  

Her date.  

And, Merlin help her, something about that last word felt different now.

Dancing with Fred Weasley was dangerously easy.  

Y/n had expected him to be all awkward footwork and dramatic spins meant to throw her off balance, but instead, he led her through the steps effortlessly, his grip firm but light, his movements confident without being cocky.  

The warmth of his palm at her waist sent a slow heat curling in her stomach, something she tried desperately to ignore.  

Because it was just Fred.  

Fred, who she had spent the last several weeks sabotaging. Fred, who had annoyed her beyond reason since they were twelve. Fred, who, despite all of that, made her laugh more than anyone else ever had.  

And maybe that was the problem.  

Because something had been shifting between them, something she had been too stubborn to see before tonight.  

The music changed to something slower, couples swaying close, and Fred leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear.  

"Alright, y/l/n," he murmured, his tone far too smug. "Who do you reckon is shagging who by the end of the night?"  

Y/n snorted, instantly snapping out of whatever ridiculous romantic haze had been creeping up on her.  

"Subtle, Weasley," she said dryly, shooting a glance around the ballroom.  

Her eyes landed on Jack Carmichael and his date, who had definitely been sneaking off toward a shadowy alcove near the back of the hall. She nodded toward them.  

"That one’s a given," she said. "He’s been trying to get her out of here for the last half-hour."  

Fred followed her gaze, chuckling. "Bet you ten Sickles he barely makes it up the stairs before she tells him to piss off."  

Y/n grinned. "You’re on."  

Fred twirled her unexpectedly, pulling her back in a little closer than before, and she hated the way her breath caught.  

Get it together, she scolded herself.  

Fred’s eyes flicked toward the table where a few sixth-years were gathered, drinking out of goblets that definitely weren’t filled with pumpkin juice.  

"Alright, new bet," he said. "Who snuck in the booze?"  

Y/n scanned the room, eyes narrowing. "I’d say Nathaniel Burke, but he’s an idiot and would’ve gotten caught already."  

Fred smirked. "True. So?"  

She exhaled through her nose, thinking, then grinned. "My money’s on Lillian Moore. She looks too innocent. It’s always the innocent ones."  

Fred laughed, his grip at her waist tightening briefly. "You know, y/l/n, you might be onto something."  

Y/n opened her mouth to throw another sarcastic remark his way, but something in her chest twisted unexpectedly when he smiled at her.  

Something warm, something alarming, something that had been creeping in for weeks without her permission.  

Because suddenly she was remembering every little moment leading up to this

The way he had looked at her when she first stepped into the common room tonight. The way he had teased her but never once insulted her. The way he had waited for her reaction before taking her hand, before leading her into this dance.  

And, Merlin help her, she realized all at once that this hadn’t just started tonight.  

It had been building for weeks.  

Every time he had grinned at her, every time they had gone back and forth with playful insults, every time their arguments had felt more like flirting than fighting

She had been falling for Fred Weasley.  

And she hadn’t even noticed until now.  

The thought was so overwhelming that she nearly stepped on his foot.  

Fred raised an eyebrow. "That hesitation, was that you losing the bet already?"  

Y/n blinked, snapping herself out of it. "Absolutely not."  

Fred chuckled, shaking his head, completely unaware of the internal crisis she was currently having.  

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the banter, on the laughter, on anything except the fact that she was looking at him differently now.  

Because the second she acknowledged it?  

She knew there would be no going back.

—-

Fred leaned back against the wall, his butterbeer warm in his hands, the golden glow of the Great Hall flickering over y/n’s face as she took a sip of her own.  

She was grinning, her lips still curled in amusement from whatever ridiculous bet they had just made, her eyes bright despite the dim lighting. She was leaning slightly toward him, like it was natural, like it had always been that way.  

And maybe it had.  

Fred took a slow sip of his drink, pretending he wasn’t completely distracted by her.  

By the way she looked tonight. By the way she always looked, if he was being honest.  

And suddenly, it hit him.  

This wasn’t new.  

This feeling, this warmth curling in his chest, the way he kept catching himself looking at her longer than necessary, this hadn’t come out of nowhere. It had been building, sneaking up on him so slowly he hadn’t even noticed it.  

It was there in the little moments, moments he could suddenly recall with sharp, stupid clarity.  

Like the time she had shoved a stolen Chocolate Frog into his pocket during first year, grinning as she whispered, “Take the fall for me, Weasley.”  

Or the time she had patched him up in second year when one of his own pranks had backfired, muttering the whole time about “how much of an idiot he was”, but her hands had been so gentle as she wiped the blood off his chin.  

Or the way she always seemed to understand him, even when he didn’t say anything.  

The way she could read his moods better than anyone else could, the way she knew when he needed a joke and when he needed quiet.  

The way she never treated him like a joke, even when he made himself one.  

Fred swallowed, staring at his butterbeer like it held all the answers.  

He hadn’t meant to feel like this.  

Hadn’t meant to notice how pretty she looked when she was focused on something, or how her nose scrunched when she was thinking, or how her eyes lit up when she was about to start an argument with him.  

But here he was.  

And for the first time, he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.  

"Oi, Weasley," y/n nudged him with her elbow, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.  

Fred blinked, forcing himself to smirk. "Y’know, y/l/n, if you wanted to get close to me, you could’ve just asked."  

She scoffed. "Please, I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t passed out. You looked a little dazed there."  

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. "Just thinking."  

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous habit for you."  

Fred snorted, taking another sip of his drink.  

Yeah.  

Dangerous indeed.

The Great Hall had gotten too much.  

Too crowded, too warm, too many couples tucked into corners, whispering to each other like the entire world had disappeared around them. Everywhere Fred turned, there was some overly romantic display, some sickeningly sweet gesture, and Merlin help him, he needed fresh air.  

So, naturally, he grabbed y/n’s hand.  

"Come on," he muttered, already tugging her toward the doors before she could argue.  

Y/n let him, though he could feel her curious gaze on him as they slipped out of the hall, the sound of music and chatter fading behind them.  

"Where exactly are we going, Weasley?" she asked as they stepped into the cool night air.  

Fred inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill his lungs. "Anywhere but in there. Too many people snogging like their lives depend on it."  

Y/n snorted. "Jealous?"  

Fred rolled his eyes, nudging her with his shoulder. "Oh, absolutely. Watching Kevin Whitby nearly eat his date’s face off was thrilling."  

Y/n gagged. "Disgusting. Alright, lead the way."  

And so they walked.  

The path leading away from the castle was quiet, save for the faint sounds of the ball still drifting from the open windows. The stars above were bright, the sky clear, and the lake stretched before them like a dark, endless mirror. The wind was cold but pleasant, ruffling the edges of their dress robes as they followed the stone path toward the water.  

It was… nice.  

Comfortable.  

Like they had done this a hundred times before.  

And maybe they had, maybe not in fancy dress robes, maybe not with the weight of something unspoken pressing against Fred’s ribs, but it was still them.  

Still easy.  

They fell into natural conversation, talking about nothing and everything—making fun of McLaggen’s tragic dance moves, placing one final bet on whether or not Olivia Davies had smuggled an entire bottle of firewhiskey under her cloak.  

But beneath it all, Fred could feel it.  

That… thing.  

That stupid, frustrating thing that had settled in his chest hours ago and refused to leave.  

Because every time y/n laughed, something in him twisted.  

Because every time she nudged him, teasing and light, it sent something warm rushing through him.  

Because every time she looked at him, really looked at him, he felt like she was about to figure him out.  

And that, that scared him more than anything else.  

He had spent so long not noticing. Had spent years thinking of her as just y/n—his best friend, his competition, the one person who could match him beat for beat.  

But now?  

Now, all he could think about was the way she looked under the stars, how the silver light caught in her hair, how her lips curled when she was about to say something smug.  

Now, he was noticing everything.  

And he wasn’t sure he liked it.  

Y/n nudged him again. "You’re quiet."  

Fred blinked, forcing himself to smirk. "Unusual, isn’t it?"  

"Extremely." She shot him a suspicious glance. "You sure you’re not getting emotional over all the romance in the air?"  

Fred snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Oh yeah, I’m the emotional one. Not the girl who gasped at the ballroom decorations like she walked into a bloody fairytale."  

Y/n gasped again, but this time out of offense. "I did not—"  

"Did too."  

"Fred—"  

"You even twirled, y/l/n," he teased, his smirk widening. "Don’t try to deny it, I saw it with my own two eyes."  

She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "I hate you."  

Fred grinned. "No, you don’t."  

Y/n turned to shove him, but he caught her wrist before she could, laughing as he held it up between them.  

And suddenly

The laughter faded.  

Not completely, not abruptly, but just enough.  

Because suddenly Fred was staring at her, and she was staring back, and something about the night felt too still.  

Her wrist was small in his grip, her pulse just barely thrumming beneath his fingertips.  

For a second, just a second, he almost didn’t let go.  

But then

He did.  

And whatever had settled between them slipped away before it could take root.  

Fred cleared his throat, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Anyway. Should probably head back before George accuses me of running off and eloping."  

Y/n snorted. "I dunno, Weasley. I think we’d make a pretty tragic love story."  

Fred smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

"Yeah," he muttered. "Tragic."  

And as they made their way back up toward the castle, Fred ignored the fact that something about that word didn’t sit right with him at all.

They were just steps away from the castle doors when Fred couldn’t hold it in any longer.  

It had been building all night, all week, really, if he was honest. Maybe even longer than that.  

Every glance, every laugh, every stupid little moment that had felt so normal before had suddenly taken on a different meaning.  

And now, standing beneath the stars, the castle glowing softly in the distance, it hit him all at once.  

He loved her.  

Maybe he always had.  

Maybe he had just been too thick to realize it until now.  

But now, now it was all he could think about.  

Y/n was walking just ahead of him, her dress shifting with the breeze, hair slightly undone from the night, still looking as effortlessly beautiful as she had when she first stepped down the dormitory stairs.  

And Fred, heart pounding in his chest, suddenly realized he couldn’t go inside without saying it.  

Without doing something about it.  

"Y/n."  

His voice was quieter than usual, but she stopped immediately, turning to face him with a curious tilt of her head.  

She hadn’t expected him to stop. Hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… careful.  

Fred took a breath. Now or never.  

"I—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the words when really, there was only one way to say it.  

"I like you."  

Silence.  

Fred barely noticed the cold anymore, heat rushing through his chest as he watched her eyes widen, her lips parting slightly in surprise.  

Maybe he should’ve eased into it. Maybe he should’ve said it differently. But hell, there was no stopping now.  

He took a step closer.  

"I like you, y/n," he repeated, voice steadier this time. "And I—I don’t mean in the way we joke about, or the way everyone always thinks we do. I mean, really. And I think I have for a while, I just…" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "I was too much of an idiot to see it."  

Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but nothing came out.  

She just… stared at him.  

Fred’s heart dropped.  

Oh, hell.  

Maybe he’d messed this up. Maybe he’d just ruined everything

But then

Y/n moved forward so fast he barely had time to react.  

Her hands curled into the front of his dress robes, pulling him down as she kissed him.  

Fred’s mind blanked.  

For a second, he didn’t breathe.  

Didn’t think.  

Didn’t do anything except feel.  

Because Merlin’s bloody beard, he hadn’t expected that.  

But then, instinct took over, and his hands were at her waist, tugging her closer, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.  

It was slow, softer than he ever thought a first kiss between them would be. No teasing, no sarcasm, just… her.  

Just them.  

The night was silent around them, the only sound between them the faint hitch of breath, the quiet shift of fabric, the snowflakes drifting through the air like the universe had planned this all along.  

When they finally pulled away, Fred’s forehead rested against hers, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous.  

"So, uh…" He exhaled, still catching his breath, his hands still resting firmly on her waist. "Can I take that as a yes?"  

Y/n laughed, arms still wrapped around his neck, eyes shining with something he had never seen before but desperately wanted to see again.  

"Fred Weasley," she murmured, shaking her head fondly. "You are such a bloody idiot."  

Fred smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Yeah, but I’m your idiot now, yeah?"  

Y/n grinned, tugging him down into another kiss.  

And Fred?  

Fred was completely okay with that.

A/n: so I wasn't planning on writing a part 2 for this but so many people asked so I hope you enjoy this!!!

[ouran1a]

sucking Jerry off while he whines and whimpers his way through explaining dnd to me but he just ends up yanking my head up and down his cock HEHEHAHSHHAHAHA

rating: R for slutty ass blowjob scene

also i wrote the words “dick and balls” and immediately thought of the south park ‘dickin balls’ or wtv and bursted out laughing at work <3

“a-and so the…uh-ngh-“

Jerry felt like he was going fucking insane. his face was too hot, his hands were embarrassingly clammy, gut churning, throat burning as he forced down his pathetic little mewls and whines, it was too much.

you were too much.

you’d called him up a few hours ago begging him to show you how to create your Dungeons and Dragons character since Bill was being, in your words, “a goddamned fart-sucker”, and being the good friend he was, he agreed to help. Jerry thought of himself as the most normal around chicks, he was a nervous wreck, sure, but he didn’t insult them like Bill or stare like Josh or perv on them (outwardly) like Pete, he held normal conversations and exchanged greetings, just an average dude having average interactions with average females.

but this wasn’t average, there wasn’t a fucking average way to suck your friend’s dick, there wasn’t an average way to claw down his stomach and hips and thighs and leave angry red lines, not a fucking thing was average about the look you were giving him or the soft ‘gluck! gluck! gluck!’ noises that made his head spin. Jerry’s mouth fell open, slack-jawed as he gently, almost nervously, cradled your face, bony fingers starting to pull you in deeper as his bonier hips twitched and jumped your face.

god, he’d felt like such a fucking pervert when your first got here, sweats hung low and loose on your hips, that tiny little sliver of your tummy and your tits practically hanging out of your stupidly slutty take top, Jerry had so selfishly wanted to rip it off you and slam you down onto his bed, muffling your moans with his Totoro plushy you’d gotten him while nose deep in your puffy cunt. Instead, however, he’d simply smiled sweetly like he always did, hand up in Vulcan salute while you both plopped down on his bed—

“fuck—“ Jerry rasped when you slid your head back to his tip and prodded at his dick hole with your tongue. A long, pathetically whiny groan slipped from his wobbly lips as you slid right back down, trying to force himself to meet your intense stare. You’d been looking at him like that all fucking night, pupils blown wide and smile downright evil. he felt his dick twitch as one of your soft hands came up to cradle his balls, “o-oh my fucking god—“ he cringed at the sound of his voice; raw and needy.

you smiled and pulled off his cock with a dull ‘pop!’, laughing as he strained to not yank your pretty face back down and suffocate you agaisnt the mess of blonde pubes he sported, “you never finished your sentence, Jer,” oh, fuck right off. Jerry felt a hot flash of annoyance thrum alongside the aching pleasure shooting down his spine at the shit-eating grin plastered on those spit-shiny lips, his big hands clenched in your hair, two messy handfuls of your locks between his fingers, “c-can’t r’member,” he huffed. he watched you laughed again at his pouty face and yanked your face back down to his crotch, “…please— fuck I-I’m so close babe,” he let the pet name slip out, a boyish fluttering of his heart following the sound.

you smiled, a warm one this time, and pressed a sweet kiss to the junction of his dick and balls that made his heart and cock tug. your soft hands stroked him slowly, a tight fist giving him just enough pressure to feel the breathe get knocked outta him when you paired it with sucking and kissing his balls. Jerry felt his gut twist, his muscles clenched and he doubled over you, hands cradling your head as close to his cock as he could, “o-oh— shit- fuck- f-fuck shit—“ he rambled, thighs quivering when you wrapped those lips around his tip again and sucked hard.

Jerry’s hips pumped up and down, dragging his cock in and out of your head while he held you steady by the hair, gathering up your silky locks in one hand while the other wrapped around your neck. he moaned louder when his thumb pressed down and he felt his dick sliding down, felt your throat tense and go lax as you got used to his quick tempo. Jerry’s hands both flexed as he got closer, choking you just a bit and pulling your hair just a smidge too tight, “I-I’monna c-shit! O-ohmyfuckinggod I’m gonna cum- r-right down your fucking throat,”

you got no other warning when both hands yanked you down to the very base of his cock, nose smushed against his pelvis while his spunk shot out and flooded your throat. Jerry was unabashed at this point, loud moans and throaty sighs as he held you in place, his entire body shaking while his cock shot spurt after spurt out. you gagged on the suffocating feeling and he gasped softly, eyes rolling back at the feeling and hips grinding into your face.

he was so lost in the pleasure that it took you slapping his sensitive hips covered in your nails marks before he slowly slid your head off his dick. you swallowed what you could, gasping and coughing as he just sat above you, staring down with what you can only describe as ‘awestruck’ while you struggled to catch your breathe.

after a few second of silence, both of you heaving and gasping for air, he spoke up first,

“…you’d uh.. you’d probably work best as a mage.”

[captain-huggy-bear]

Treat You Right

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: unwanted advances, men not taking no for an answer, Clayton's involved in a fight.

Summary: You're not dating Clayton Keller, but there's one thing he can't stand and that's a guy not treating you with respect...turns out he hates it enough to fight a guy in a bar after a game.

Notes: All I have to say is i'm in my Clayton brain rot era.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a normal night or it starts that way. Being friends with a bunch of pro-athletes means you're often dragged out after home game wins to whatever bar they decide is best that night. Tonight it's Sunny's, a common choice for the Utah Hockey Club because of the pool table, dart board and the fact that most of the people who come in are old middle age men or contractors. Guys, who might ask for an autograph but not the usual screaming crowd that make it impossible for them to have a drink or two.

You never really had being friends with the lot of them on your bucket list, but Michael had met you when he'd taken his cats to the vets and you'd been there with your own, a fat black moggie called Gremlin who'd fallen in love with Ranger. From that point on cat dates had been a thing because in Kess' words 'you can't separate true love', you weren't entirely sure whether Gremlin loved Ranger or just wanted to lick the other cat bald.

Either way the moment you became friends with Kess was the moment you became friends with the entire team, suddenly you were being asked to events, invited to home games and the celebratory drinks after. It was nice, for the most part you felt like you were their sister, someone for them to look after but also mock, just as much as you made fun of them. You had a little community, a gang, a group where you belonged even if you weren't actually on the team.

The exception to that rule being Clayton Keller...you definitely did not want to feel like Clayton Keller's sister.

It was bound to happen, that you'd have a crush on at least one of the team. It wasn't really your fault, and well, Clay had this way of treating you, all soft and sweet and like a girl, that had you flushing under his attention and preening at any compliment he gave you. You were almost certain it was a one-sided crush doomed to go nowhere and leave you pining after the captain until you settled for some mediocre guy in finance. He was just so nice to you, so sweet.

Still, Clay was half the reason you'd agreed to come out to Sunny's that night. Determined to spend some time with or at least around him. You'd even gone home to change after the game into a nice dress before coming back out again because maybe, just maybe, this would be the night that Clayton Keller realised you were the girl he wanted.

You're waiting for your coca cola at the bar, leaning on your forearms and watching the room from over your shoulder. Kess and Dylan were playing a game of pool in the corner, Kess appearing to be losing based on the glare he was sending Dylan's way. The rest of the guys were sat around their usual table, beers in hand laughing and joking. Your eyes find Clayton like he's a magnet, he's smirking at something O'Brian's said, Tuna probably making some stupid dirty joke or telling a story at the expense of Kess.

"Hey, pretty..." You're pulled out of your people watching by a slurred drawl far too close to your ear for comfort. Your eyes shift to the man next to you, who might have been considered handsome if he wasn't staring at your boobs so blatantly that you suddenly understood what a tasty pastry felt like in a patisserie window. It wasn't particularly flattering.

You shift away from him as much as you can without appearing rude because he'd managed to somehow sneak up on you and get within inches of your ear. Something you're sure he thought was seductive but just made your shoulders tighten and your body tense.

"Hi." You try to keep your tone short, not wanting to encourage the man but hating to feel like you're being unnecessarily rude as well.

"Can I buy you a drink, baby?"

"I'm good, thanks." You gesture at the soft drink your bartender just placed in front of you, thankful that this is your cue to leave and return to the safety of a group of hockey players.

Unbeknownst to you in that moment Marino is nudging Kells with his elbow, chin gesturing in your direction. You look uncomfortable, the way you're shifting away from the man leering at you, practically leaning over you, says enough. Every time you shift away from him, he shifts closer and it's clear to Clayton that you'd rather be anywhere else.

He can't help it, the way it makes his hackles rise, the way his fist clenches tight around his beer bottle as he takes another swig, forcing himself to be cool, to just let you handle it for a moment. It's not like you're dating, it's not like he has any right to storm over there and maybe he's wrong...maybe you're interested in the guy leering down at you like you're a piece of meat. Maybe he's more your type than Clay is.

He doesn't really blame the guy for showing interest. You're beautiful, always, but...there's something about the way you look tonight. Maybe it's that your dress accentuates your hips or the fact that the colour makes your skin look like its glowing...or maybe Clayton is just a little weak for you. That's not exactly a new revelation for him. He's been weak for you since day one.

"Seriously, baby, that's not a real drink, let me get you a real drink."

"I'm good." You stress your point this time, snatching your drink back from the man who just tried to take it off you and straightening to walk back to the guys. Any pretence of politeness dropped because you don't have to deal with this and you aren't going to.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" It's a shift in attitude that you should have expected, you've seen it before, but you don't expect the hand that wraps around your wrist to stop you walking away, your drink spilling as you're jerked to a stop. His hand is tight, uncomfortable so and the situation has gone from irritating to frightening, fear running down you're spine because this strange man has his hands on you.

Your eyes find Clay's almost instinctively, wide and scared but he's already out of his seat and shoving people out of the way with short, sharp apologies as he goes. It's not like he's alone either, half the team are now looking your way, waiting to see if their captain needs any help or not. Looking to see if they need to also step in.

"Get the fuck off me." Still, in the time it takes Clay to reach you you try to shake the man off, glaring up at him like it might help. It doesn't, if anything his grip tightens and he pulls you closer, a hand reaching for the skin of your thigh like he has any right to touch you.

It's that that has Clay seeing red. Going from thinking he'd calmly intervene to storming between the two of you like a bull in a china shop. It must be the surprise of someone intervening that does it, but the man let's your wrist go and Clay's pushing you gently back and out of the way before he's letting a fist fly at the guy's face without so much as a word towards the other man.

"Shit, Clay...What the fuck are you doing?!" All you can do is take another step back, hands coming to your mouth because out of all the guys on the team, Clay's the last one you expect to be starting a fight in a bar with a guy at least a head taller than him.

He doesn't answer you because he's too busy fighting, you're so shocked, so focused on what's happening in front of you, that you jump when Kess brushes your shoulder, pool having been deserted in favour of helping O'Brian and Marino pull the two men apart.

Despite the size difference Clay's winning or it looks like he's winning, you're pretty certain he's broken the other guy's nose and even with a bloody busted lip, he doesn't look winded or ready to stop. Part of you hates it. A stupid display of male pride and dominance that you should not condone at all...another part of you feels a thrill at Clayton fighting on your behalf, at the blood speckles across his white dress shirt, at the bruising on his knuckles, at the way he licks the blood from his busted lip and smirks at the guy sarcastically. Like he's completely and utterly in control.

You're not sure he's going to stop, eyes feral, mouth pursed, huffing like an angry bull when Kess finally has him round the shoulders and starts pulling him away. Tuna doing the same to the stranger. But, Clay does stop, just shrugs Kess off with sharp movements, "I'm fine. He won't be if he doesn't fucking leave though."

It's Tuna that escorts the stranger out of the bar and you're certain the only thing stopping the bar owner from kicking Clay out is the fact he's a local celebrity who brings in half the customers.

"What the hell, Clay?" You're still shocked by the brute display of force from him, not scared, just surprised. You can't deny there's a certain appeal to it. To the way he looks at you as he wipes blood from his chin, how his large hands clench and unclench testing his knuckles for a break. They're just bruised. He's hot...hotter than usual and you kind of hate that you feel that way, like you're setting feminism back 100 years. But, God...

“No one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? No one.” He can't stand it. The entitlement to grab you, the belief that anyone has a right to touch you without permission, to talk to you like that. He's half a mind to chase after Tuna and the guy, to keep going, but he knows he shouldn't...he's already done more than he probably should have. Headlines in the morning no doubt already looking like 'Utah Captain beats local man in bar brawl!'.

"That...you can't just fight someone for being a asshole," You can see Kess gesturing for everyone to give the two of you privacy as Clay steps into your personal bubble. He's still amped up, chest heaving like he wants another fight, lips parted to take in more air. You hate that you want to take a bite out of him, you hate that you want him to take that energy out on you in a completely different way than fighting.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because...because..." all you can come up with is, "I'm not your girlfriend, Clay...you don't have to defend me."

He looks at you like you're an idiot, the only time he's ever looked at you like that. Like you're daft and it makes you flush with warm embarrassment because why couldn't you think of something better to say.

"No one gets to treat you like dirt. Like a piece of meat. Like he owns you, okay? Doesn't matter if you're my girlfriend or not, men better treat you with respect or they're dealing with me."

"Clay...I get it, you're a woman loving, modern man but..." You're convinced this whole display is just part of his gentlemanly stick, his righteous desire for fairness and justice in the world and nothing to do with you. it would be cute how oblivious you are, if he wasn't so fed up with it.

"And before you start that shit, yeah, I'd defend any woman in here, but I sure as fuck wouldn't be throwing punches over anyone else, baby." Clay runs his hands through his hair frenetically, the strands messy and loose, hat non-existent for once.

You feel like your head is spinning, buzzing, confused because surely he's talking about the fact you're kind of friends, that you're not a stranger. He can't possibly mean...he called you baby? When did Clay ever call you baby?

His laugh is sardonic, disbelieving as he watches the way you stare at him, all wide eyed and confused like he hasn't been trying to flirt with you for the past six months that you've known each other. Like he doesn't try to compliment you every time he sees you. Like he didn't give you his number the very first day so you could meet up. Like he's not totally irrevocably in love with you.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, sweetheart?" He's being a bit abrupt, a little bit mean in a way Clay normally isn't with you. Not quite so soft and he'll apologise for that later but he's still angry about the whole thing and you're obliviousness to his feelings feels like a slap in the face, like he's not good enough for you to even comprehend the idea of something more with. You don't owe him anything, but fuck, he's frustrated with the ignorance of it all.

"You're not my girlfriend, but I sure as hell want you to be and I've been flirting with you for six months and if you're just not interested that's fine, I'll still be in your corner, but I need to know if I'm just wasting my time waiting." This time when you're backed against the bar top by a man, it's by Clay, and it's wanted. He's in your space but with enough room that he's giving you an out, you can slip under his arm and leave at any moment. But you don't.

"You like me?" It's every dream you've had about Clay, every want, rolled up into one. The way he barricades you in on the bar top. The smell of his cologne. The warmth of him. The intense stare of baby blue eyes as he tells you he actually likes you, that your stupid, silly little crush isn't actually as one-sided as you thought.

"Only been flirting with you since the moment we met, baby."

"You've been flirting with me?" You lean back to get a better look at his face, your mouth dropped in shock. In turn he leans back to look at you in a similar manner, eyebrows high, blue eyes blinking in confusion.

"Are you serious?"

"Fuck...I thought...I thought you weren't interested...I thought...I thought you didn't like me back..." You're practically having an existential crisis between his arms because he's just admitted he likes you that he's been flirting with you for months, that all your pining and your moping has been for literally nothing.

"Back?" Clay's smile is starting to grow, the one you adore, all teeth and dimples as he picks up on that one seemingly insignificant word and prods at it. As if that word has put all the frustration, all the anger, all the bad feelings of the night instantly to rest.

"I..."

"Do you like me, baby?" He's all teasing smirks and half-lidded eyes now, leaning back into your space so close that you're chest to chest, nose to nose. So close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. So close it makes you stutter and freeze.

"Clay..." Your eyes dart to all your friends, all eyes on the two of you as you flush warm, cheeks growing supremely hot because fuck, Clayton Keller looks like he's about to kiss you in the middle of a bar with the entire team watching like they need popcorn.

You watch Clayton's eyes flicker to catch the audience watching, the way he takes a moment to pause, to think, whatever impulsive decision he had being put to rest for the moment.

"C'mon..." His hand is wrapping around yours in no time, tugging you along and out of the bar, away from prying eyes as if that isn't just as blatant, just as obvious as kissing you in front of all of them or whatever he might have planned to do. There's part of you that wonders if this might be all some big joke he's about to play, the insecure part, the little girl from your childhood part, that feels like he might turn around and laugh with a loud 'as if!'.

You let him lead you outside, the night air cool against your arms, the sort of chill that makes goose bumps raise on your arms. He doesn't even hesitate before shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over your shoulders, his arm coming to rest there, tucking you into his side like you belong, like its natural for him to do.

You don't speak as you walk, scared to break the silence until you come to a stop a few streets down in front of a shop that Clay had parked across from earlier in the night. No one is around but you and that's what gives him the confidence to push you against the brick wall of the shop, to lean back into your space and ask the question that he never got an answer to.

"Do you like me, baby?" It's more intimate this time, but less pressured. There are no eyes on you, there are no bright bar lights or teammates getting an eyeful. Something about the dimness of the night, the cool air, the feel of his jacket over your shoulders and him, oh him, leaning into your space again, has you answering honestly.

"Yeah, yeah I do..."

There's a silent conversation that happens as his hand comes up to rest against your throat, thumb rubbing against the underside of your chin. He watches you carefully and you try to answer him without words, that you want this, that you really do like him.

Whatever Clay sees must be enough because he's leaning in slow, just slow enough for you to dip out if he's misread the situation, hand tightening just slightly around your throat before his lips are slanting over yours.

It's not a frantic kiss, not forceful or aggressive. He kisses you like a slow dance, like your the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and he's trying to savour it, enjoy it for as long as he can. Lips soft and slow against yours, tongue licking into your mouth unhurried and patient. If anyone is impatient it's you, your hands tangling into his hair and tugging until he groans against you, until that patience breaks just enough for him to start devouring your mouth like he's a glutton for you.

When Clayton finally pulls back from you you're both heaving in breaths, chests bumping against each other and lips kiss bitten. The smile he gives you is so soft, so sweet it makes you want to melt into a puddle, his eyes crinkling as just a hint of his teeth comes out to play.

"Can I take you on a date?" His nose bumps against yours, purposeful in the brush against your own like he can't stand to be too far away from you right now.

"Yeah, you can take me on a date, Clayton Keller."

"Good, cause I really need an excuse to punch the next guy that looks at you funny," He jokes causing you to let out a huff of a laugh, hand escaping his hair to whack his shoulder admonishingly.

"Don't you dare!"

[oharaslove]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝓉.𝟤

Summary: The story of Miguel's first and only love, you. A passage through the most significant moments of your relationship.

Tags/Warnings: pre!Spiderman Miguel x Civilian!Reader + Spider!Miguel x Civilian!Reader, fem!reader, fluff, smut (Minors don't interact, please)

Word count: 8k

Note: This is part 2 of a request!! I think you can read this as a one shot, but it would be better if you read the previous part (linked below). I also recommend listening to "Sugar"-Sleep Token, It is so good (mainly in the 'you know' scene).

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

After realising how he felt about you, Miguel tried to take a little distance. He was scared. Terrified even. He had never felt this. Never felt the need to, the urge, to make someone his.

 And that was what scared him. He was a total loser, how could someone like you want something with him?. You were perfect in his eyes, and he was far from it. You were probably experienced too, which he wasn’t. Miguel’s insecurities were at all time high. 

Besides, he couldn’t get the comments you had made the first time you met out of his head. You hated or at least disliked Valentine's day. So did he, not long ago. Damn, how things changed. 

Six months ago he dreaded the question: ‘There is someone special in your life?’, but now… 

You appeared in every thought. Your face materialised in the most random moments. If someone were to ask him that question today, his immediate answer would be yes, grinning from ear to ear. He would jump at any opportunity to talk about you.

Not every thought was happy, though. Miguel imagined countless scenarios where he came forward, pouring his heart out to you, and you didn’t feel the same way. Negative assumptions clouded his head day and night, leaving an empty feeling in his chest. He didn’t want to think about them, but there was always a voice on the back of his head tearing him down to pieces. Telling him he didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t enough. He would never be. 

His feelings were growing bigger and bigger, despite his attempts to keep them down. His chest would explode at any minute if he didn’t let them go. The words at the edge of his tongue, begging to come out. Every time he was close to you, so close he could smell your scent, which drove him crazy, he felt like throwing up. The air would be pushed out of his lungs every time you smiled at him. You stared at him with those beautiful eyes, fueling the idea that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same. 

That there was a possibility. 

It didn’t help that, due to the advances on both of your researches, you had to stay more time in the lab. Meaning, it was just the two of you, for hours on end. Many would say it was the perfect opportunity, but what if you said no? What if you secretly hated him? What if–

“Miguel?” you asked gently, moving closer to where he was standing. He had been staring off at the wall for at least five minutes, unmoving. He was barely blinking, and his hands were sweaty. “Are you okay?” you continued, moving even closer. 

Miguel instinctively took a step back, creating distance between the two of you. You were intoxicating. He shut his eyes hard, trying to clear his thoughts. While doing so, he missed the hurt look over your face. 

“Yeah, I… I am fine, don’t worry” he whispered. He clutched the edge of the table. Come on Miguel, take a grip on yourself. 

“Are you…, are you sure? You don’t look okay” You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater.

“Yes” he huffed. His breathing became more erratic. Miguel dropped his head, eyes remaining shut, hoping to block you off. 

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t tell you how much you affected him, even though he wished to. All he wanted was to hug you, make you feel how you made him feel. But no. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. 

“Did I…” you began, your voice trembling. “Did I do something wrong?”. You sniffed, making Miguel open his eyes immediately and look at you. 

You were looking down. Tears streaming down your cheeks, despite your efforts to keep them at bay. Your hands, barely visible, pull at the end of your sweater, making yourself smaller. Trying to hide. 

Shit. “No no no” Miguel whispered, hurriedly walking towards you. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to hug you, but would that be alright? Or, should he just go for a supportive hand to the shoulder? So, that’s what he did. “You.. you did nothing wrong. Hey, please. Look at me” he mumbled, barely audible. Thankfully, he was closer than he realised. His mouth only inches away from the crown of your head. He was basically towering over you. 

You looked up. Teary eyes locking into his. Trembling lips mumbling incoherent things, a lot of ‘sorrys’ and ‘please’. Miguel’s heart broke. He had done this. Him. No one else. He was so focused on his own feelings, on not getting hurt, that he didn’t realise how his actions were affecting you.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Miguel cooed, drawing figures with his thumb on your shoulder. Hand, that he noted, you hadn’t pushed away nor seemed uncomfortable about.  

You leaned into his touch. Your cheek grazing his hand, never breaking eye contact. Miguel’s eyes traveled from focusing on one eye to the other, to your nose, your mouth, everything. He wanted to memorize your face in case this was the end. While doing so, ever so lightly, his hand drifted upwards, caressing your cheek, without realising. 

You closed your eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling. His hands were sweaty, but he was warm, and he smelled nice. Your breath slowed down, calming yourself. You nuzzled your cheek further. She’s adorable, Miguel thought, lost in how ethereal you were. His body moving on its own.  

Miguel's eyes went wide. A moment of clarity letting him be aware of his actions. He wanted to retreat his hand, stop touching you, but at the feeling of the slight pull movement from his hand, yours instinctively wrapped around his wrist gently, keeping him there. 

You opened your eyes slowly. Small droplets of water hanging from your lashes. Your eyes searched his, a message clear on them. Stay. “Please” you begged. Your words vibrated against his skin. Your cheek squeezed against his hand. Your eyes big, like a puppy begging for treats. 

Miguel left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His shoulders instantly relaxed. The worried lines on his face dissipated, and a small smile pulled at the edge of his lips. He didn’t want to leave, he would stay how and where you wanted for eternity. All you had to do was ask. 

He had a feeling this was the night, and the conversation wasn’t going to be short. So, better get comfortable. 

 “Come, sit” he said, retreating his hand slowly, trying not to startle you, before slightly bending down to grab the nearest stool behind you. He gently placed his hands against your shoulders guiding you down. 

You sat down, putting your feet on the bar and tugging them closer to your chest. Placing your chin on top of your knees. Miguel sat down in front of you, leaving a decent space between the two. 

Your eyes were still glassy from crying. Miguel felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. That someone being himself. He clenched his fists over his legs, grabbing the material of his trousers. How could he be so stupid?. 

¿Qué mierda me está pasando? Miguel muttered looking down. He was losing his head. (What the hell is happening to me)

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, even though it was barely audible. Did he just say that aloud? His eyes shot to yours. You were curious, he could tell, and also scared. Of him, for him? He couldn’t tell, which made him anxious.

“I am sorry if I ever crossed the line” you continued, seeing that he wasn’t responding. “I-” You dropped your arms and placed your feet on the floor, getting more comfortable in the stool, breaking eye contact while doing so. 

“It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.” You rubbed your face, cleaning the tears and pushing back the hair stuck on your cheeks. You looked down, placing your hands together over your legs. “I just thought that,” you shrugged your shoulders. “you liked me”. You looked up slowly, biting your lip. Your face  was a little turned away, looking at him softly, eager, but also scared by the response. 

Miguel’s eyes opened like plates. Like you? Like, like like you? He was stunned. Miguel couldn’t believe his ears. You liked him! This was the greatest moment of his–

“Or maybe it was all in my head, I don’t know” you continued, turning around on the stool, giving your back to him while you hugged yourself. Asshole. How long were you silent for?

“NO!” he shouted. His first instinct was to stand up and get closer to you. “No,” he said more calmly, collecting himself. 

You turned around slowly. Fresh new tears adorning your face. Slowly, but surely, Miguel reached for your cheek. His fingers made contact with your skin, immediately feeling your warmth. As soon as he felt you lean into it, he applied pressure caressing you, wiping the tears away. 

“I’m sorry.” He began. “I… I am a loser” Miguel scanned your face. He couldn’t back out now. 

“You don’t–” you wiped the side of your face with the back of your sleeve, still leaning onto his hand. ”Don’t seem like one to me” You placed your hand on top of his, melting into his touch.

“Maybe, but I am” He sighed, looking at your face. You were so beautiful. He needed to sit down. He could feel his whole body trembling. Miguel was nervous. Even more nervous than when he interviewed for Alchemax. He looked back, spotting the forgotten stool. He wasn’t leaving your touch again, so he reached with his foot and pulled it towards him. 

He sat down, much closer now, your legs brushing against each other. The proximity was exhilarating. He could smell your perfume. Feel your warmth under the palm of his hand. He could see the way your chest went up and down from your breathing. How your lashes gently touched the top of your cheeks every time you blinked. 

Miguel was charmed by you. If you told him you were a witch who had cast a spell on him, he would believe it. No doubt in his mind. 

Focus Miguel, he thought. This was a golden opportunity, and he couldn’t let it slip away. His eyes landed on his hand, gently stroking the skin of your cheek. You were so soft and warm. Miguel could feel your eyes staring at him, but he couldn’t look at them. Not now. He needed time to be bolder, to build the guts to pour his heart out to you. 

“Miguel” you whispered. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I understand.”

Miguel moved his hand, breaking away from your grasp. He moved down the curvature of your face. The back of his fingers leaving goosebumps in their way. He grabbed your chin gently, his thumb centimeters away from your lips. Hovering. Oh, how he wished he had the experience. The bravery. The audacity to just dive in and capture your lips with his. Say everything with his mouth that words couldn’t express. Tangle his tongue with yours instead of it tangling with the thoughts running through his head.

“I am a loser” he repeated, more serious this time. His focus remained on your lips. “I don’t know how to do this.” he confessed, his thumb finally making contact with the pout that had formed in your face. They were soft. They looked so kissable. He traced the shape of your mouth lightly, before using his fingers under your chin to angle your face towards his. 

His eyes finally gazed into yours. Your cheeks were redder now, skin warmer. “I’ve never done this” He whispered, inching closer. “All I know–” he gulped, looking down again, to your lips. “is that you drive me crazy. I like you, I really do”. Your noses were now brushing together. His breath fanning over your cheeks, gently moving your lashes.

His lips hovering over yours, too scared to make the final move. 

“Miguel” you pleaded, looking at him from your hooded eyes. Your mouth slightly agape. He looked up to your eyes again. There was a pause. Neither of you dared move. 

The tension was palpable in the air. Both your breaths united. Words weren’t needed in this moment, only actions. His eyes sent you a silent plea. A question. Permission to do what he wanted the most. You nodded softly, and that is all it took for him to take the leap. 

Miguel’s lips crush into yours softly. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch, and so did he. Your lips were softer than he had felt with his hands. He had done it! He was kissing you. But now, in the act, he didn’t know how far he could go. Miguel’s hand on your cheek froze, he was cupping your face lightly, but his grip faltered. 

You pulled back softly, creating distance. Miguel chased you with his lips, not wanting to let go yet. You giggled, as you moved back, staring at his cute face. It was all red and warm. His lips slightly parted, letting out puffs of air out. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, blinking, as in a trance. Miguel was met with your smile, that pretty smile he learnt to cherish and to look forward to. 

“It’s okay” you whispered, taking both of his hands and placing them in your waist. You shifted closer, the stool screeched against the floor. Your legs parted a little, leaving enough space for one of his own to settle there. 

You placed the palms of your hand over his chest. Your eyes trailed from his chest, to his neck, until your gazes met again. “I trust you.” you smiled. You dove back again, this time showing more confidence. 

As soon as your lips brushed against his, Miguel’s heart skipped a beat. Your hands travelled from his chest to his neck, while his were still locked around your waist. Every thought that miraculously was still in Miguel’s head, flew out of the window. All he could register was you.

 All of you. 

The way your lips brushed and pushed against his. How they slightly parted, little amounts of air leaving them, making contact against his skin. The way your hands were now playing with the curls on the back of his neck, twirling them around your fingers. Miguel groaned. The taste of you becoming unbearable. He needed more. 

Hopefully, you understood. Miguel felt your tongue against his lips, before granting you access. As the kiss deepened, the tension on his body dissipated. He could feel your hands playing with his hair, loosening his muscles. 

As every second passed, Miguel grew more confident. 

First, he squeezed your waist, testing. He didn’t want to overstep, but at the same time, he needed more. He wanted to feel your skin on his. Pull noises out of you, created by his touch. 

His hands moved up, stopping below your breasts. His thumbs slightly grazed under them. You inhaled sharply, surprised, but glad he was loosening. You too wanted him to explore more, to take you. To make you his. 

While one of his hands stayed there, squeezing and drawing figures over your sweater, the other detached from your body, before making contact with your arm. He squeezed your forearm, before tracing your arm and reaching your neck. 

Miguel grabbed your neck, taking control of the kiss. He angled you just the way he wanted, giving him more access to explore your mouth. You groaned, the vibrations traveling through Miguel’s fingers.  He pressed his thumb against your throat, the kiss becoming more passionate. 

You pulled at his hair, his sweater, everything your hands could grasp to keep him close, to pull him even closer. Miguel was feeling lightheaded, his breathing becoming more ragged, but he didn’t want to stop. He had had a taste of you, and he didn’t know if he was ready to stop. 

Every sound he coaxed out of you made him more confident. He was obsessed, as if he wasn’t already. Every caress, each touch without an exception your hands made on his body drove him nuts. His lungs were beginning to scream at him for air, so were yours, but neither made an attempt to pull back. You were in a fever dream, and you didn’t want it to stop. 

Miguel’s body was on fire. The kiss became sloppy, teeth clicking against one another. The lab wasn’t silent anymore, your breaths were heavy, both of you panting, an occasional moan erupted from you, making Miguel groan as a response every time. 

He knew if he continued, he would do things he would regret. Not entirely because of the action, but because of the timing. You were his first, he didn’t want to fuck up. He needed to go slow. 

Miguel reluctantly pulled back from the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours, his hand still around your neck, his thumb caressing your warm, and slightly sweaty skin. Both of your chests going up and down, catching your breaths. He could feel the warm air exiting your mouth hit his face, making him smile. It wasn’t a dream, you were right there, in front of him, touching him, melting under his touch. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, squinting, not comfortable with the now really bright light of the lab. You had been kissing for what felt like hours, his eyes had been shut all the time, basking in the feeling. 

He found you staring back at him through your lashes. A grin formed on your face once you two made eye contact. Miguel’s expression mirrored yours, he was ecstatic. His hands moved up your neck, towards your cheek, drawing figures there as well. 

“So..” you began, leaning into his touch. Your voice was a little hoarse. Gosh, you sounded so sexy. You bit your lip, looking down a little, towards Miguel’s lips. “Does this mean you like me too?” 

Miguel laughed, his whole body shaking. You giggled as well, breaking the tension on your body and in the room. Miguel cupped both sides of your face, before bringing you in for a quick peck, and a kiss to your forehead and nose. 

He pulled back, admiring you. Your smiley face squished against his hands. “Yes” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing visible, just melting into you, feeling drawn to you. Nothing else mattered. 

The lab fell silent, you both just staring at each other. It was comforting, the feelings being out in the air. Reciprocated feelings. You liked him, and he liked you. Nothing could go wrong from now on. 

That moment of clarity made an idea pop on Miguel’s head. “So… are you free tomorrow?”

𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

Your first date was ethereal. Miguel had decided he didn’t want to go to a restaurant, or be near people in general, knowing that both you and him preferred to be private. Instead, he arranged a nice picnic with a beautiful view. 

You had the time of your lives. Miguel had never felt so care free and light. His heart was content and he felt on cloud nine every time you laughed, you smiled at him, or kissed him. Mostly when you giggled into your kisses, he thought you were adorable, and he didn’t know how he could say goodbye to you everyday. He needed to be with you 24/7, although he knew it was best for you both to have some alone time. Don’t move too fast now Miguel, Jesus.

Three months had passed since you two confessed your feelings in the lab. Three whole months of stealing kisses from each other, dates every week, seeing each other at the lab every day, being so close that Miguel couldn’t remember his life before you. How had he lived so long without you by his side?

Miguel couldn’t believe that at first he worked by himself in the lab. You two were like one, working around each other like it was second nature. Stolen touches here and there. You wrapping your hands around his waist from the back, leaving kisses, melting his heart and still, making him blush, despite all the months of dating. 

Unfortunately, today you had a meeting elsewhere. Meaning, Miguel was alone. He was feeling a little under the weather, he didn’t like being away from you. The routine you both had broken for a day. Thanks to his mind not being present one hundred percent, he had missed how one of his co-workers messed with his machine, causing the accident. 

Miguel had been experimenting with DNA fusions, something you knew about. This particular moment, he was curious if he could split his own (you clearly weren’t there to tell him it was a stupid idea). He had no clue what he had gotten himself into, nor what his coworker had done. All he knew is that, after surviving the experiment, he felt different. Changed. 

Miguel had always been a tall, muscular guy. But, he felt stronger, more powerful. He squinted his eyes, the artificial light in the lab hurting his eyes. Weird. He was fine just some minutes ago. He went to shut the lights. When his fingers made contact with the switch, he broke it, an abnormal strength surging from his body. 

He felt wrong, he wanted to throw up. At that moment, all he could think about was you. Miguel rushed towards his things, throwing everything aside looking for his phone. Once he had it in his hands, the eyes staring back at him in the reflection of the black screen weren’t familiar. They weren’t his usual brown ones, they were red. He dropped the phone in shock, the screen shattering in pieces. 

Miguel was pissed, causing a set of talons to emerge from his fingertips, scaring him off. What am I? What should I do? What would you think? He crumpled to the ground, shaking. What was he supposed to do? You couldn’t see him like this, he couldn’t lose you. He picked up the remains of his phone, before quickly gathering all his belongings and rushing to his flat. He needed time to think, he needed to be away from people. He needed to be away from you. He couldn’t let you witness the monster he had become.

A few days went by, Miguel had had no contact with you. He didn’t go to work, he didn’t answer his phone. Nothing. Clearly, you grew worried. He had never pulled a stunt like this before. Reason why, you were now standing outside his flat door. 

“Miguel?” you called, after knocking the door a few times. No answer. “Miguel please, I know you are in there” you pleaded, worry evident in your voice. 

Miguel was pacing left to right in his living room, in front of the door. He didn’t want you to see him, but he could tell you were worried. He hated making you something else that wasn’t happy. The dilemma was making his head hurt, the light coming through the windows wasn’t helping. During the days he had been hiding, he noticed his senses had been amplified. His eyes were ten times more sensitive to the lights.

You continued banging on the door. Tears were now running down your face.

“Miguel please,” you hiccuped, each breath was harder to take in. “Please, I don’t know what I did wrong. But please, let me in. We can talk about–”

At that moment, Miguel opened the door. He couldn’t stand hearing you cry any longer. You sobbed, launching yourself to him. Your arms landing around his waist, your face burying in his broad chest. 

Miguel’s arms stayed in the air, not wanting to touch you. What if his talons came out and he hurt you? He wouldn’t bear it. Seeing your wet and flushed face from the crying was torture enough. 

You cried a little more into his chest, creating a small patch of water in his shirt. You pulled yourself together, detaching yourself from him, allowing Miguel to close the door.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from sobbing. 

You had tear stains all over your cheeks. Miguel made an attempt to caress your face, wiping them away, but he froze in the middle. He pulled his hand back. He inhaled loudly,  shutting his eyes and making fists with his hands, before turning around and going to sit on the couch. 

You stood there, a frown in your face. What had you done for him to be so mad about you?. 

“Mig?” you mumbled, too scared to make sudden moves. 

Miguel groaned, rubbing his face between his face. You approached him slowly, barely making a sound. You watched him quietly, deciding what to do. As there was no reaction, you sat down, leaving some space between you two. You reached towards him, placing a hand over his arms. 

Miguel flinched away, making you retract your arm and look down to the floor. 

“I’m sorry” you began, trying to not break down. You sniffled, you could feel the tears already forming in your eyes. “I don’t know what I did, but I am sorry”. 

Miguel ran his hands through his hair, pulling a little. He didn’t want you to blame yourself. You had done nothing wrong! But he also didn’t know how to tell you what he was. 

“You,” he began, not looking at you. “You did nothing wrong”

“Then why?” You shifted your body, facing towards him. “Why have you been avoiding me? I thought we… I thought we were doing great.” The last words were barely audible. 

“We were… we are!” he corrected himself, now facing you, but not quite catching your eye. 

You played with your fingers in your lap, resisting the urge to reach for him. “Then… why?” You looked at him expectantly, searching for his gaze. 

Miguel hesitated. He played with the material of his sweatpants. He bit his lip, his knee going up and down. He needed to tell you. Either way, this relationship was over. If he didn’t tell you, you would break up with him because who would date someone who hides everyday in their flat? And if he told you… Well, you would probably freak out, call him a monster and walk away. Both outcomes pointed to heart break. 

“I– I can’t do this” he placed his head between his hands and started to cry.

Your heart broke. You didn’t understand what was wrong, but you hated to see Miguel so sad, angry and frustrated, all at the same time. 

“Shhh it’s okay” you scooched closer, hesitating to place a comforting hand on his back, but deciding to do so anyway. 

Miguel flinched at the contact at first, but later melted into you. He leaned into you, before collapsing in your lap. He curled himself into you, his big body retracting to feet on the couch and into you. 

You wanted to cry just from the sight. You rubbed his arms lovingly, trying to calm him down. Miguel was shaking, sob after sob cursing through his body. He mumbled incoherent stuff. Strings of ‘I’m sorrys’ and something along the lines of monster. You didn’t know, nor care. All you wanted was for him to calm down, you wanted your baby to be okay. 

After a few minutes, Miguel regained composure. He could breathe normally. Your warmth was soothing. The way you run your hands through his hair, caress his cheeks, tracing his sharp cheekbones. Lifting his shirt up a little so you could run your nails down his back.

For a moment, he forgot why he was so worried. You had done this countless times, you were his safe space. He could trust you. He needed to believe you wouldn’t leave him.

Miguel placed his feet on the floor, lifting himself off you. He wiped the tears with the back of his hands, before making eye contact with you, for the first time in days. He saw all the worry lines in your face, making his heart clench. Miguel could see your sad expression, a pout in your lips. Your gazes locked, and your eyes widened. 

“Miguel! Your eyes” You reached forward, placing your hands at each side of his head, examining further. 

“I know, that’s part of the problem”

“What happened?!”

Miguel explained to you in detail what happened the day you weren’t in the lab. And, after that, he gave you a demonstration of what he had learned. He stood up and showed you his talons, as well as his fangs. Both retractable. 

You sat there, shocked, while Miguel stood in place, watching you carefully, fully expecting you to shout “Freak!” and storm out. 

You gathered your thoughts, and stood up slowly. Miguel took a sharp breath in. He was terrified. 

“Miguel” you began, looking him straight in the eye. You still had that loving stare in your eyes, that is a good sign he thought. 

You walked closer, and when you were at arms reach of him, you slapped his arms, with all your force. 

“OUCH!”

“How dare you!?” you shouted. “Do you know how scared I was?. I thought you were dead. Dead!” You grabbed the roots of your hair and pulled, now pacing from left to right in front of Miguel, while he rubbed the spot where you had hit him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you figure this out!” You threw your hands in the air, mumbling some more things, a few curse words and some other things Miguel didn’t know if they were for his ears or for yours. 

“I thought… well, maybe you would call me a monster and leave” He mumbled the last part, feeling ashamed. 

That made you stop in your tracks, snapping your head towards him. 

“Leave?” you whispered in disbelief. “Leave?” You repeated slightly louder. “In what world would I live? Oh you are so fucking oblivious. I would rather die than leave you, you asshole. I love you, and I–”

“You love me?” Miguel cut you off. His eyes opened like plates, an alarm going off in his head. 

You froze in place too, realising what you had just said. 

“I–” you gulped. “I do. I love you”

Miguel smiled. A toothy grin from ear to ear. He rushed towards you, lifting you in the air and spinning you around, not a care in the world if you bumped something. He hugged you tightly, burying his head in your neck. Once he placed you back on the ground, he grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. 

“I love you too.” he sighed. “Te amo” He pressed his forehead against yours. 

You smiled, and hit his chest playfully. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like this ever again. You hear me?” 

“Si mi vida. Perdón” He kissed the top of your head before enveloping you in his arms. 

“I love you” you mumbled against his chest. You truly did.

Miguel was going crazy. You had been teasing him all day long. Slight touches here, caresses there. Pressing your whole body flushed against his. You were driving him insane, more than he already was. He couldn’t wait to get to his flat and let you have him, because he had to be honest with himself. He didn’t have a clue of what was going to go down. 

Yes, he had done research. But that doesn’t mean anything. Besides, he knows that things like porn aren’t realistic, so he had a rough idea, but not quite. 

The end of the work day couldn’t come fast enough. Once it was over, you guys went to a nice dinner place, had fun, enjoyed some nice food, before deciding to go back to his place.

Miguel’s leg was bouncing up and down in the car. He was nervous, and you could tell. You placed your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to where he needed you the most. 

“It’s okay Mig. We don’t have to–”

“No!” he cut you off, way too eager. “I want to.”

“Okay” you rubbed his thigh affectionately, leaving your hand there for the rest of the ride home. 

As soon as you stepped into his flat, Miguel’s lips were on your own. Sloppy, needy, warm. His hands roamed your body, tearing away the outer layers, dropping them to the floor. You doing the same with his. 

He walked you backwards into his room, never detaching his lips from yours. You bumped a couple things on the way, but neither of you cared. Once you reached the bedroom, you turned you both around, pushing Miguel towards the bed. 

His legs hit the edge of the bed, landing on it on his back. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his lap. You ran your hands over his body, from the hem of his trousers to his neck, while Miguel’s hands landed on your waist. You bent over, your chests touching, your faces centimeters away from each other. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Yes” Miguel breathed out, before grabbing the back of your head and slamming your lips together. 

The kiss got heated. Tongues exploring each others mouth, while hands explored bodies. Your whole wait was on top of Miguel, but he didn’t care. You began moving your hips, creating friction. Your center was on top of Miguel’s hard on, the only thing separating your core from him being your panties. 

Your dress had rode up over your thighs, exposing more skin for Miguel to squeeze and touch. He groaned into the kiss, the movement of your hips driving him crazy, but he needed more. His hands planted themselves in your waist, guiding your movement. Once in a while, one would sneak down to grab a handful of your ass, giving it a pinch, resulting in a moan from you. 

Your kisses moved down, kissing along his jaw, down to his neck. You sucked the skin into your mouth. Miguel inhaled shakily.

“Amoor” he grunted. 

 You smiled into his neck, biting and nipping a little more before moving down his chest. You undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing the majestic skin underneath. He had some scars thanks to being Spiderman, but he was beautiful. You could see how his muscles moved with every breath he took. 

You kissed down the middle of his chest, over his sternum. Miguel arched his back towards your mouth, enjoying the feeling. You bite down, and nipped, tracing the scars with your tongue. You moved down, parting his legs, before sinking down to your knees, your eyes in level with the tent on his trousers.

You could already tell, he was big. You could see the outline over the material. Miguel used his elbows to lift himself off the bed, getting a better view of you. You pecked his dick over his pants, gazing up at him. Miguel swallowed hard.

You massaged him on top of his pants, getting Miguel used to the feeling. He groaned, closing his eyes momentarily, but opened them when he felt you undoing his belt. He snapped his eyes open, staring at you.

“Is this okay?”

“Ye– yes” he stuttered. 

You smiled at him, before continuing your actions. After a few seconds, you freed his cock out of its confinements, pulling his pants and underwear down. It hit the bottom of Miguel’s stomach, standing proud in front of you. 

You licked your lips, staring at him, already salivating by just the sight. 

“Is it okay?” Miguel asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

“It’s perfect” you answered, and as to show him, you wrapped your hand around his tip, spreading the precum already there. 

Miguel threw his head back, your hands felt way better than his own. 

You continued to stroke him slowly, up and down. Your thumb massaging his tip, pressing at the head over his slit. Miguel was breathing heavily now, uneven. His thighs began to shake. 

You wetted your lips, and continuing your hand movements, kissed his tip, tasting the salty precum. You spit on him, before wrapping your mouth over his head, beginning to match your hand movements with your head. 

Miguel tried to keep looking at you, but the warmth of your mouth and the way your tongue ran over his slit drove him mad. His elbows gave away, his back hitting the mattress again. He fisted his sheets on his hands, curse words leaving his lips. 

“Yess, Jesus, fuck” he moaned, spurring you on. 

With your free hand, you massaged his balls. Rolling the skin over between your fingers and squeezing them. You hollow your cheeks, sucking at his shaft. You took him as far as you could, his tip hitting the back of your throat, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Oh, God, yes” Miguel breathed out. He was feeling light headed, his skin sweaty, sticking to the sheets. He could feel a knot in his lower belly, almost at the point of bursting. 

You pulled back, taking a moment to breathe, but never stopping your hands. His tip was red, precum leaking from it. Tons of it. He was close, you could tell. He was lasting more than you would have thought, to be honest. 

“I’m closee” Miguel choked out. “Please” he begged, opening his eyes slightly to stare down at you.

You continued jerking him off. Your mouth going to his balls, sucking at them, before licking a stripe down the side, following the most prominent vein, reaching his tip. You gave a few kitten lips before putting it in your mouth again. Miguel’s head flew back, eyes shutting hard. 

He moaned your name over and over. Strings of “Yes, right there” “Fuck” and your name falling from his lips. All of a sudden, his vision went black. Cum spurted in your mouth, while you tried to swallow most of it. 

Miguel’s chest was heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at you, at the same moment you took his now softening cock out of your mouth, a string of saliva and cum still connecting the two. 

“Fuck” he mumbled. You looked so pretty. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling at him and winking. You stood up slowly, letting your dress fall off your shoulders leaving you only with your panties on. You pulled them down your legs, kicking them behind once they reached your feet. 

Miguel was star struck. He couldn’t believe you could be more perfect than you already were. But you could. Before him, he was seeing a goddess. He was about to be fucked by a goddess. 

You straddled his lap once more, now without any item of clothing between your skin. You could already feel his dick hardening again against you. Miguel’s hand flew to your neck, bringing you in for a heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth, moving your hips to create the much needed friction you craved. His cock rubbed against your clit with each movement. 

His hands explored the new skin available, being cautious at first, but growing bolder. He squished your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, even pinching them, making you groan into his mouth. He swallowed every sound you made, and so did you. 

You broke this kiss, running your nails down his chest, looking between your bodies. You needed him inside of you, and he wanted you to be around him. He wanted to feel all of you. 

“Condom?” You breathed out, pulling back the hairs stuck to the sweat of your forehead. 

“In the drawer,” Miguel answered.

You climbed down his body, for a split second Miguel missed your warmth, but before he could complain about it, you were already back, motioning him to get more comfortable in the bed, before seating back in his legs. You opened the squared package, pulling the condom out. 

You looked at it, and back at Miguel. “Are you really sure?”

Miguel nodded, the anticipation making his brain fuzzy. He didn’t think he could speak right now. 

You nodded, positioning yourself better. You stroke him a few times, before rolling the condom on. You lifted yourself up, using Miguel’s chest as support, while his arms flew to your waist to help you. You aligned his dick with your entrance. You were already wet from the anticipation and just making him come. He sounded so pretty, breaking under your touch. Cumming just for you, and only you. 

You rubbed his tip along your slit, tapping your clit a few times, before aligned it with your hole. You breathed in, before sinking slowly. He stretched you out so perfectly, it stinged a little, but it felt so good. 

Your mouth and Miguel’s fell open. It was so intense, finally being connected. You reached down, your hips flushed with his. Miguel’s nails were digging into your waist, while your hands squeezed his shoulders. 

You got used to his size before starting to move slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Miguel let out a shaky breath, watching your movements. 

“Touch me” you purred, leaning over and taking his ear lob between your teeth, your breath tickling the side of his face. 

One of his hands stayed glued to your waist, while the other played with your breasts, alternating between the two. You nipped at his neck, leaving hickies and bite marks where no one could see them, only you. 

Miguel whined, he was enjoying the feeling, but he needed more. 

“Please, more” He begged, his hand squeezing harshly on one of your tits. 

You sat up straight, placing your hands flat on his chest for support. You lifted yourself up, leaving only half of his cock inside of you, before sinking back down. You both moaned at the same time, he felt so good inside of you. 

You kept doing that a couple more times, while Miguel forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching how his dick disappeared inside of you. Once you got used to it, you set up a rhythm, using Miguel’s chest and shoulders as support. Miguel’s hands went back to your waist, while his head flew back. His mouth was slightly open, groans and moans feeling up the room, combined with the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Miguel’s sounds were turning you on so badly, you could barely concentrate. He grunted your name, moaned it so loudly you were sure even the neighbours could hear. You weren’t any better. His dick was hitting just the right places, stretching you out just the way you liked it. 

“Fu-Fuck” you stuttered, shutting your eyes. You were getting close, and so was Miguel, by the way his cock twitched inside of you. 

“Mig– I’m close” You cried out, the pace you had been setting faltering. 

“Me too” he said, through gritted teeth.

His hips had begun to lift from the mattress, meeting yours halfway, helping you reach both your orgasms. 

“Migg” you whimpered, slumping forward.

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, as much as he could. Your nails were digging on his shoulders, while he had a death grip on your waist. One of his hands caressed your stomach, disappearing between your bodies, his thumb making contact with your clit. You jolted forward, the stimulation overwhelming you. 

Miguel began drawing tight circles on the num, matching his and yours broken rhythm. He could feel you were closed, your pussy was squeezing his cock so good, getting him over the edge. 

“Beba” he mumbled, before throwing his head back and cumming inside of the condom, making you fall over the edge and come around him.

You collapsed on his chest, his thumb rubbing small figures still in your clit while you rock your hips in circles, coming down from your high. 

You stilled your hips, while Miguel his hand from between you, placing it in your back and rubbing it up and down, with the little power he had left. You stayed silent for a couple minutes, recovering. Both of your bodies covered in sweat, and the both of you with smiles over your face. 

You lifted your head slightly, placing your chin on his chest, looking at him. He looked so peaceful, breathing slowly from his nose, eyes closed. You pulled back a strand of hair stuck to his forehead, caressing his face with the back of your fingers. Miguel opened his eyes, his gaze falling on yours. 

“Hi!” You whispered, stroking his cheek. 

“Hi” he smiled, eyes tired, blinking slowly, like a child almost falling asleep.

“I love you Mig”

“Te amo, mi vida, y siempre lo haré” (I love you, my life, and I’ll always do)

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

Authors notes: AHHHH I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the first one!!! Thanks for all the love 🥹☺️

I'm a little anxious or nervous about this one because of all the lovey dovey stuff (mainly the smut) but anyway, I really like how it turned out and I hope you do too!!! I had so much fun with this one.

It turned out to be sooo long!! Funny that I cut the first one because I thought that 2k was A LOT, and this is 8k. Oh well.

I may edit this a little later, cause I don't really know how to feel about the smut. I honestly wanted it to be longer. But maybe I'll do another part, or a side story featuring what I wanted (Basically, Miguel eating you out). Anyway, let me know what you guys think!! Be truthful, don't hold back!! You can tell me: "Never write Smut again" And I'll allow it.

Practice makes perfect I suppose, so the more I write about sex the more I should improve, right? But, well. I think it is good to be the second time.

Tags: @guilty-pleasures21 @boogiemansbitch @amberbalcom14

[themultifanshipper]

Seeing your requests open seats makes me happy 🤗

Id like to put another request in whenever you can or want to! Reader x the Spaniards (Alsonso & Sainz and honorary Franco- I know he’s not Spanish) with 🟣 and somehow semi public? Honestly whatever your magic can whip up is good too

Five times Carlos was jealous of Franco. 

And one time Fernando helped him do something about it. 

Warnings: smut, anal (mxm), Jealousy, mention of alcohol, idk if yachts count as semi-public? Fernando is manipulative, he is also bisexual, kinda dom nando, sub franco,  Carlos being pathetic and Nando being a good AND BAD friend, franco gets railed, idk what else to say

Prompt list

● The first time Carlos noticed you with Franco he almost threw up in his mouth. 

Franco and you were walking into the paddock, hand in hand and looking all happy together. 

For the entire day, when Franco wasn't busy, his arm was around you. 

Or his hand was on your back, or your neck, or your hair. He apparently felt the need to touch you at all fucking times. 

Carlos wasn't entirely sure why your relationship with the Argentine made him so angry. 

He wasn't into you like that, you were close friends, and he had nothing against Franco, so his own anger confused the hell out of him. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Carlos had been building up the courage to finally make a move on you. 

● The second time, Carlos felt his blood boil when he caught the two of you making out behind one of the garages. 

He'd almost punched the younger man in his stupid boyish face. 

How could you let Franco rope you into doing something so stupid and reckless? 

He was a bad influence on you, and Carlos told you so but you laughed him off. 

You said you and Franco weren't serious, that you were just messing around. 

That almost made it worse in Carlos' opinion. You deserved better than that, you deserved someone more mature. 

Someone who knew to please a woman. 

Someone more like him. 

That thought made him shiver.  

● The third time he finally thought he was getting somewhere. 

 In between race weekends you chatted often, and when you had two week breaks, the opportunities to see each other multiplied.  

You could feel how distant he'd been lately, and you wanted to remedy that by inviting him to your yacht party. 

It wasn't a huge thing, just a few drivers (the ones that could make it) and a few friends. 

But the first thing he saw when he got there was Franco, with his arms wrapped around you as you danced. 

He'd been stupid to think Franco wouldn't be there, but it still pissed him off to no end every time you kissed him. 

And that little number you were wearing wasn't helping either. 

It was somewhere between lace and mesh, covering and hugging your bikini clad figure underneath. 

You'd spent the afternoon swimming with Franco, it transpired. 

The only time he smiled was when you finally gave him some attention, sitting in his lap, obviously slightly tipsy, and told him how much you enjoyed being his teammate. 

Then you pecked him on the cheek, which made his heart beat out of his chest, before going straight back to Franco. 

He scowled the rest of the night, hoping everyone could forgive him for his inexplicable sour mood. 

But there was one other person there that didn't need an explanation. He knew Carlos well enough by now to know exactly why he frowned more than he smiled nowadays. 

● “Jealous? Of him? You have got to be joking” 

Fernando levelled Carlos with a look that clearly said ‘Cut the bullshit mate’ 

They were both standing around, watching the mechanics rushing around on media day, trying to get everything ready for the next day. 

“You have been teammates for two years and you never made a move, of course she has someone else now” 

The old man was right. Damn him. 

Carlos had been attracted to you from the moment you joined the team, but had been hesitant to potentially ruin the great dynamic you had going with him. 

“I know, and it's not like I love her, I just think I could satisfy her better than that kid” 

Fernando sighed. They watched you suddenly emerge from somewhere, pursued by Franco. 

From their vantage point they couldn't hear anything, but it looked like you were having an argument. 

“Ah? Trouble in paradise?” Fernando smirked. 

Carlos hummed thoughtfully. 

He wasn't about to jump in while you and Franco were having problems, he wasn't a dog. 

But he was insanely curious about what you could possibly be angry about. 

Maybe Franco had caught feelings? Maybe he was bad at sex? Maybe you were ending the arrangement because you liked somebody else? 

A man could dream, anyway. 

He won the race on Sunday, and when you'd jumped out of your car and into his arms he felt the weight in his stomach lift, just a bit. 

But you couldn't celebrate his win with him because you had an early flight. 

The more Carlos thought about it, the more he wanted to strangle himself for not fucking you sooner.  

● By the next race, Fernando was officially sick of Carlos' behaviour. 

He'd slumped down on his driver’s room couch and ranted about how he was sure you were in love with Franco because you'd stopped paying attention to him. 

“Listen, mate” He huffed “Do you want me to talk to her? Do you want me to talk to Franco?” 

Carlos scoffed at the idea. 

“No that would make it worse. They would know you came from me” 

Fernando rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. 

“I can be very inconspicuous…” 

… 

That night, Fernando followed you home. 

Not in a creepy way, he just took an uber with you to your hotel, so that he could start a conversation and hopefully dig into some gossip. 

Or at least that's what he told you. 

His real intentions were to get you to talk about Franco, and Carlos. 

And then if he got the answers he suspected he was going to get… maybe a little something extra. 

This week, your hotel room had a minibar, which you and Fernando made full usage of during the evening. 

“So what is the deal with you and Franco? If you are dating it is not very discreet… I am surprised social media hasn't picked up on it yet” 

You laughed putting your 3rd shot of whatever concoction Fernando had created down on the smooth marble of the bar. 

“No, no! We're just having fun!” you chirped “You know, like young people do” 

You winked and Fernando raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Have more respect for your elders!” he chuckled. “But if you aren't serious, why were you fighting in the paddock the other day?” 

“Nando!” you gasped “You little gossip monger!” 

He raised his hands in surrender. “Just curious” 

“Well… if you must know, we were arguing about Carlos” 

Beautiful, he thought, he didn't even need to bring up his fellow spaniard, you were doing it for him. 

“Franco thinks Carlos hates him. Because he has this idea in his head that Carlos wants to fuck me, which is absurd, and that I want to fuck Carlos!”  

Fernando gasped. 

“No!... but… do you?” 

You seemed to hesitate at that. “Well, I wouldn't say no, he is fit. But I doubt he'd be interested” 

He chuckled. “Really? I assumed you were more interested in younger men because of Franco” 

You smirked cheekily at him. 

“Not really, I can go for slightly older men. In fact I haven't spoken to Franco in a few days now…”  

Your hand landed on Fernando's knee, and he gulped. 

"I think I need a change of pace…” 

His eyes darkened and he leaned against the counter. 

“How much older can you go?” 

“I don't know…” you purred, hand slowly making its way up his tense thigh “twenty years? Give or take” 

The look in his eyes was predatory as he glanced at your lips. 

“Good.” He rumbled “Then let me show you the benefit of experience”... 

By the time he got on his plane the next day, he had a plan. El plan to end all plans. He just wasn't sure how to set it in motion. 

● The perfect opportunity landed in his lap a week later, when you sent him a text. 

“Nanooo, how would you feel about an afternoon on my yacht? Maybe have a bit of fun ;)” 

He grinned, typing out a response immediately. 

“I am always down for some fun ;) Can I bring someone to join us?” 

You were taken aback by his request, but you agreed without much convincing, even though he refused to tell you who he was bringing because it was a surprise. 

You sure were excited though, because there was only one logical choice. Carlos.  

The reason (you suspected) Fernando wanted to talk to you that night before… well… 

The memory made your heart beat a little faster every time it crept into your mind. 

How own earth were you going to handle two of them?

When the day came, you picked out your nicest bikini and sprawled out on the deck while you waited. 

When you heard a voice call out your name, you bolted upright. 

That wasn't Fernando's voice. It was… 

“Franco?”  

He grinned, making his way over to you. 

“Ooh you look nice today!” he embraced you warmly, but you just sat there in shock. 

“You were who Fernando wanted to bring?” you asked incredulously. 

“Yes? Are you disappointed?” he seemed a bit hurt at your lack of enthusiasm. 

“No of course not! I just wasn't expecting it to be you. I’m surprised you’d want to… you know, with Fernando.” 

You giggled and he kissed your forehead affectionately. 

“I am up for anything, you know that” 

Fair enough. 

“Why don't I get us a couple of drinks while we wait for him?” he offered kindly, he knew your yacht in and out by now and you accepted. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched him jog down the steps. 

You weren't sure whether you were happy or disappointed.  

Franco and Fernando seemed like quite duo, but you'd kind of build yourself up to the idea of finally getting to fuck Carlos and… 

Well you didn't really have time to finish that thought, because suddenly Carlos was there, walking across the deck, having just come aboard. 

He quickly noticed your terrified expression and stopped in his tracks. 

“I am guessing Fernando didn't tell you I was coming…” 

Your eyes darted to the steps, up which Franco would be coming any second now. 

“No he did not” 

“Are you… are you not happy to see me?” he looked heart broken and you snapped out of your stupor to go and give him a hug. 

“Of course I am… it's just-“ 

“Listen, I told Fernando if you are not comfortable with this, we do not have to do anything. He told me you would be…” 

He trailed off, eyes fixed on Franco who was standing back on the deck with two glasses in his hands, and looking slightly confused. 

Carlos scoffed “Why is he here? I thought it was going to be the three of us?” 

Franco’s eyes narrowed at the older man. “I could ask the same, I was invited by Fernando” 

Carlos looked at you questioningly, and you looked at Franco, who looked a Carlos, and it carried on like that for several seconds, a festival of wide eyes traveling back and forth. 

“I'm gonna call him” you finally broke the silence and grabbed your phone. 

When he picked up, his smiling face took up the entire screen and he was wearing the most ostentatious sunglasses you'd ever seen. 

“Fernando what the fuck did you do?” 

He just laughed and set his phone down so that you could see he was in a car. 

“Ah, I take it the other two are already there. I’m sorry nena, I will be a few minutes late, don't let them kill each other before I get there” 

He hung up, and you just stared blankly at the screen for a minute. 

“So… what do we think his plan was?” Carlos asked warily. 

You thought back to the conversation you had with him in your hotel room. 

“Well… I'm guessing he wants me and Carlos to fuck.”  your gaze snapped towards Franco “But I'm not sure what your role is in this”

 

“Well… I will get another glass then” Franco responded, and promptly made his way back downstairs. 

“I'm sorry Carlos, I had no idea about any of this” 

He chuckled “Well I supposed it is partly my fault. I have been complaining to Fernando that I have wanted to fuck you since you joined the team” 

You choked on your spit. 

Franco didn't take long to come back and sit with you, each of you with a cold drink in hand while you waited for Fernando. 

When he did finally arrive, the three of you just stared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“I thought we could all have some fun!” he shrugged. “Given that some of us are already… intimately acquainted” 

You blushed, avoiding his eyes. 

“And also I want to see you two finally fuck” he pointed between you and Carlos. 

Franco, who was closest to him, looked up at him shyly. 

“What about me?” 

Fernando threaded a hand through Franco's hair, pulling his head back slightly and making the younger man's breath hitch as his eyes widened. 

“You… are going to sit on my lap, hermoso, and watch them” He smiled evilly “And if you are a good boy, I might reward you” 

Franco gulped, and that image was so hot your thighs clenched together involuntarily, which caught Carlos' attention. 

“You like that idea?” he muttered, leaning close to your ear “You want me to fuck you while they watch us?” 

You nodded with a small whimper, and that was all Carlos needed to press you down onto the sun lounger and devour you. 

Almost literally, he all but attacked your neck with his greedy mouth, licking and sucking at your skin in an effort to mark you up. 

His hand made quick work of the ties on your bikini, getting you completely bare for him, and he marveled at the sight. 

He then worshipped your chest, sucking hickies into your soft flesh while his hand made its way between your legs to teasingly slip a finger inside you. 

You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“More, Carlos.”  

He slipped another finger in and his thumb came to rub circles around your clit, sending jolts of electricity up your spine at the contact. 

He couldn't believe you were this wet already. 

It took you an embarrassingly short time to come, and Carlos groaned into your neck at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around his fingers. 

The sound of a bottle cap opening caught your attention and you looked at where Fernando was lubing up his fingers. 

What made a new wave of arousal course through you though, was that Franco was on his lap, bare from the waist down, his legs spread open by Fernando’s thighs. 

“Fucking hell” you muttered, and Carlos seemed to have the same though as he watched with an open mouth as Fernando teased Franco's rim, before pushing two fingers inside the younger man. 

The whimper he let out made your cunt throb, and you licked your lips at the sight of Franco's cock leaking precome onto the floor in front of him. 

“Look at me” Carlos muttered, and the look he was giving you made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I have waited for this for a long time, I am going to savour it” 

His eyes were fully black, and he slid into you slowly, inch by agonising inch until his hips met yours. 

You let out a breath, and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss while he waited for you to adjust to his girth. 

You glanced to the side, to where Fernando was placing Franco over his cock, and the younger man didn't even wince when he sank down onto it. 

“Now don't move until I say so” Fernando rumbled, and the order made Carlos twitch inside you. 

He thrusted into you shallowly, figuring out the angle and pace you preferred by the amount of noise you were making. 

Thank god your yacht was docked right at the end of the marina, next to the cliff face so you weren't very visible (or audible).  

As Carlos picked up the pace, he could feel your legs trembling, so he hooked them over his shoulders to press you down harder while he bullied his cock into you. 

The new angle made you fucking melt into the lounger, it was so good. 

 

Franco was having trouble obeying Fernando's orders, the sight of you falling apart under Carlos was making him so fucking needy it hurt. 

Not to mention Fernando's cock buried inside him, stretching him out so perfectly it was keeping him on edge.

“Nando…” he whimpered “Please, I'm gonna come” 

His hips were twitching uncontrolably, and the Spaniard decided to take pity on him. 

“Carlos!” he called “bring her over here so she can suck him off” 

The two of you crawled over without hesitation, and Franco was manhandled onto his knees with Fernando behind him. 

The first lick against Franco's angry, leaking tip made him sob out a whine and you promptly took him down as far as you could go. 

Carlos resumed his earlier pace, and stared at the way Franco's eyes rolled into the back of his skull. 

Fernando held him in place and thrusted into him at a brutal pace while you sucked him off diligently. 

Suddenly his body clenched and he threw his head back in pleasure. 

“Fuck- Mierda… Puta ma-“ 

Carlos couldn't hold himself back at the obscene sight in front of him, Fernando fucking into Franco like an animal, while you swallowed his cum like a good girl. 

A few more thrusts and he was spilling inside you as well, panting hard as he curled over you and wrapped an arm around your middle to ground himself after that intense wave of pleasure. 

Fernando wasn't far behind, coming inside Franco with a low groan while the Argentine let out a breathless whimper at the feeling of being filled up. 

Carlos thought he looked almost ethereal, glowing in the sunset with his lips bitten raw and his utterly fucked out expression. 

The thought almost made his cock twitch back to life.

 

Maybe there could be some room in his bed to explore some more with you and Franco by his side…

[ilysungho]

hiii what do you think about the boynextdoor members + sad sex?? maybe they're aware you two are going to break up soon or know there is something wrong with the relationship (i honestly love angst)

i actually have some ideas but itd be great to hear yours too since you write amazingly

thank you so much for your compliments love! this is so different from all the other asks i've had, thank you for asking me this! i'd love to hear your thoughts too so please feel free to leave them any time, and let me know what you think of mine as well~ i wrote short scenarios for each of the members as i thought that was the best way to express the emotions. they aren’t as focused on the sex, but rather the emotions. leehan’s is inspired by this post!

contains: a lot of angst and sadness and tears, sad sex, husband!sungho x wife!reader, situationship!leehan x fem!reader, everyone else is in an established relationship (bf/gf), sungho/riwoo live with reader, lowercase intended

sungho - fixing a breaking marriage

there would be a lot of tears from both you and him, though not a lot of words are being exchanged as he holds you so impossibly close, yet still pulling you closer. bruised lips would show how much one means to the other as he gives you slow, deep strokes. eventually, he would be the first to break the silence, his words cutting through the sadness as he utters three simple words: i love you. and at that, you’d be crying harder than you already were, nodding while repeating those words back to him. he’d crack a small smile at you, relieved to know that you still care for him, at least enough to say the sentence back to him. you both know that both of you messed up somewhere along the line, but neither of you were ready to admit it. and as days went on, it felt like both of you were walking on eggshells around each other despite being married for 2 years, together for 5. his strong arms held you close as he started to be more vocal, asking you how it all feels so he can be better, not only at the moment but also as your life partner. he wanted nothing more than to stay as your husband, and he knows you reciprocate those feelings. so you tell him everything, through actions and words, for better, but not for worse.

riwoo - words that should've been left unsaid

"let's just break up then!" riwoo's voice echoes through the room as he stood up to leave. it was pretty normal for the two of you to have disagreements over small and meaningless things, the occasional arguments making way. yet it had never been as big as the current one you were both having. a little nagging turned into a course of reasons why he isn't being a very good helper around the house, which then turned into a screaming match between the two of you. neither of you knew why the argument became this extreme. he roamed around the park nearby as you sat on your shared bed in shock. you processed your pain and anger, ultimately deciding to take a leave for a couple days to really think things through, getting up to pack a light suitcase. about ten minutes after you began, riwoo comes back and is standing by the door frame with his eyebrows arching high. "babe i didn't actually mean it." he'd say as he tries to get you stop, only getting you to do so when he pulls you to him. "you're not going anywhere, you got that?" you're glaring at him the entire time, anger through the sky at the thought of that sentence slipping out of his tongue. he notices your expression at him not faltering, leaning in then to kiss you, apologizing to you continuously as he laid you down to properly convey his sorrys by giving you unforgettable pleasure.

jaehyun - closing the distance

he'd be very sad, hearing you say some things he never thought would come out of your mouth. jaehyun knew his schedule was too busy, yet he always tries to make time for you. days turned into hours, hours turned into minutes, and minutes turned into nothing. the distance between the two of you grew exponentially as he tried to juggle so many things at once. when you said that you were thinking of potentially breaking up with him because of how the relationship didn't even feel like what it's supposed to be anymore, he's on the verge of breaking down. it wasn't until you were at the door, questions with unanswered motives hanging over the two of you when he hugged you from behind, sobbing into your shoulder. jaehyun didn't want to let go of you, pleading you to stay with him as you tried to get his hands to loosen up. you turned around to face him, giving him a hard kiss full of requited pain and emotions. he'd kiss you through the tears, following your movements into his room as the kiss turned into more. you both hadn't been so close in a long while, but it felt like the right place to be in as he showed you his undying love for you in any way he could for the rest of the night.

taesan - instincts on point

if a relationship with you was something he didn't want to keep anymore, then he would've made it very clear. you know he would've told you that he can't be with you while also juggling all other aspects of his life. you know that, yet you still find yourself begging him to spend more time with you, to give you more attention, to properly communicate with you even. and the worst part of it all is that taesan knows it all. he knows it and that is why, the second before you could hit the send button asking him to break up with you, he's standing outside your main door, drenched in the rainwater and breathless. as soon as you open the door, he comes in and slams the door shut, kissing you hungrily against it before you could utter a word. he's pulling you in with him as he discards his wet clothes along with your nightwear. as you both reach the main bedroom, he's pinning you against the mattress as he says how he could feel something was wrong and came to ask you himself. you'd be shocked to see how strong his senses are, not saying anything as you pulled his face to your own to kiss him through your tears that finally spilled out, turning you both over so that now you are straddling him. "let me do this please," you say with a breaking voice, inserting his length into you while he pulled you down to kiss you again, unable to keep himself apart from you for too long.

leehan - end of an era

leehan held onto your figure, hugging your shoulders as the faint sound of the tv reverberated through the room. “let’s not meet anymore. this should be the last time we do.” well, those were the exact words leehan expected yet didn’t want to hear. he was… stunned to say the least, absolutely quiet as you looked at him to see any reaction he’d put on his face. being in a situationship was the hardest thing for you, especially when it was with someone like leehan who was practically perfect, yet far from it at the same time. “ok… i understand.” those weren’t the words he wanted to utter, yet he was afraid of fighting for you. he knew that if he stayed, it would all end up going wrong eventually. he had convinced himself of it and doesn’t even want to try to salvage what’s left of it. he knows he fucked up, he always does, but you are only doing what’s best for you and he respects your decision. he’s too in love with you for you to not choose what’s best for you. he’d hold your body close as you both share such intimate moments for the last time, kissing and letting sounds of painful love show through instead of direct words signifying the end of an era. an end of an era because of his denial of needing you, tears falling as he holds you one last time before letting go of all traces of you.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 10 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇sighhh Raphael chapter

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The garden of the Skiaphos palace was a picturesque haven, with blooming flowers and the gentle hum of bees creating an almost serene atmosphere. Y/N sat on a stone bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap, watching as Adonis babbled on a soft blanket spread over the grass. He kicked his chubby legs and grabbed at the petals of nearby flowers, giggling as the breeze tousled his little curls.

Though the scene was peaceful, her heart was heavy. The chains around her wrists had been removed for the time being, but she could still feel the phantom weight of them. She glanced at Adonis, forcing a small smile to keep herself composed. He was her only solace here, her reason for enduring this nightmare.

The sound of soft footsteps drew her attention, and she looked up to see Daphne, Endymion’s wife, approaching with a kind expression on her face. Her golden hair shone in the sunlight, and her delicate features radiated warmth. She carried a small bundle of white flowers in her hand. “Y/n,” Daphne greeted gently, her voice like a soothing melody. “May I sit with you?”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Of course.” Daphne gracefully lowered herself onto the bench beside her, arranging her skirts neatly. She placed the flowers in her lap, then turned to Pandora with a soft smile.

“I thought you might like some company,” Daphne said, her tone careful. “You looked so lost in thought.”

Her lips curved into a faint, polite smile. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

Daphne studied her for a moment before speaking again, her voice laced with empathy. “You don’t have to pretend with me, y/n. I know this… situation is difficult. Raphael… he can be intense.”

Her smile faltered, and she glanced down at her hands. “That’s an understatement.”

Adonis let out a happy squeal, and Daphne leaned forward to tickle his tummy, eliciting a fit of giggles. She glanced back at y/n, her expression softening. “He’s a beautiful boy. You must be so proud.”

“I am,” she said quietly, her gaze fixed on her son. “He’s my everything.”

Daphne reached out and gently placed a hand on Pandora’s arm. “You’re stronger than you know, y/n. And you’re not as alone as you think.”

She looked at her, surprised by the sincerity in her words. “Why are you being so kind to me? I’m your husband’s brother’s… prisoner.” The word felt bitter on her tongue.

Daphne’s eyes softened further. “Because I can see how much you’re hurting. And because I don’t agree with what Raphael has done. Endymion doesn’t either, though he’s too proud to openly say it.”

Her throat tightened, and she looked away, blinking back tears. “I just want to go home. I want Adonis to grow up in Ithaca, with his father and his family. Not… not here, in this gilded cage.”

Daphne’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, a gesture of solidarity. “I can’t promise anything, but… I’ll do what I can to help you. You don’t deserve this.”

She finally turned to look at her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Daphne gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Just hold on. You’re stronger than he thinks. And so is Adonis.”

As the two women sat together, she felt, for the first time in a long while, a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her going, for now. The peaceful ambiance of the garden shifted as the heavy sound of boots against stone announced Raphael’s arrival. Y/n immediately stiffened, her hands balling into fists in her lap as she caught sight of him striding towards them. Daphne, who was still seated beside her, also straightened, her warm expression cooling at the sight of her brother-in-law.

Raphael’s calico hair shone in the sunlight, but his piercing gaze was anything but warm. He carried himself with his usual air of authority, his lips twitching into a smirk as his eyes landed on y/‘ and then darted to Daphne. “Daphne,” he said smoothly, his voice low and laced with an edge of menace only someone attuned to him would recognize. “I didn’t realize I’d invited you for a chat with my wife.”

Daphne raised her chin slightly, her demeanor calm and unflinching despite the unspoken warning. “I was simply keeping her company. It’s a beautiful day, after all.”

Raphael’s smirk widened, but his eyes remained cold. “It is, isn’t it? But I believe my wife and I have some… private matters to discuss. Don’t let me keep you from your duties.”

Daphne hesitated, glancing briefly at y/n, who avoided her gaze. Finally, with a measured nod, she stood, smoothing her skirts. “Of course. Y/n, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”With one last pointed glance at Raphael, Daphne left, her footsteps fading into the distance.

The silence that followed was suffocating. She kept her gaze on Adonis, who was still happily babbling and playing with a flower he’d managed to pluck from the ground. Raphael broke the silence by settling down on the bench beside her. He didn’t say anything at first, just watching her with a sly grin. Then, to her horror, he shifted, laying his head boldly in her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Ah,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he got comfortable. “You smell like spring, little birdie. Like fresh flowers and sunshine.”

She stiffened, her entire body rigid as she clenched her jaw. “Get off of me,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice low to avoid alarming Adonis.

Raphael chuckled, the sound dark and rich. “But I’m so comfortable here. Besides,” he opened one eye, glancing up at her with a mocking smile, “aren’t wives supposed to indulge their husbands? You wouldn’t want me to be uncomfortable, would you?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something that would make the situation worse.

As if sensing her frustration, Raphael’s smirk grew. He reached up, brushing his fingers against her wrist, making her flinch. “You know,” he drawled, his tone suddenly dropping to something lower, darker, “Adonis is such a sweet boy. But one child isn’t enough to secure a legacy, don’t you think?”

Her blood ran cold, and she froze, her breath hitching. Raphael’s grin turned wicked as he tilted his head slightly, looking up at her with those sharp, unyielding eyes. “What do you say, little birdie? Should we work on giving Adonis a sibling? A little girl, maybe, with your eyes and my charm.”

Her stomach churned in disgust, and she pushed at his shoulder. “You’re disgusting,” she spat, glaring down at him.

Raphael only laughed, the sound low and menacing. He caught her hand easily, gripping it tightly as he sat up. His face was mere inches from hers now, and his voice dropped to a whisper, dripping with mockery. “You’ll come around eventually, my love. After all, what choice do you have?”

Her glare was fierce, but the subtle tremble in her hands betrayed her fear. Raphael leaned back, satisfied with her silence, and stood. He adjusted his sleeves and gave her a smug smile.

“Enjoy the sunshine, y/n. It suits you.”

With that, he walked off, leaving her shaking with anger and despair. Adonis’s soft giggles broke her spiraling thoughts, and she looked at her son, forcing herself to keep it together, for him.

——

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the grand windows, casting silvery beams across the bed where y/n lay beside Raphael. She had her back turned to him, clutching the edge of the sheet tightly in her sleep, trying to carve out as much space between them as possible. Adonis was in his crib across the room, his quiet breathing the only sound filling the stillness of the night.

Suddenly, Raphael stirred beside her, his breaths quickening, and his fingers twitching against the sheets. His face contorted in distress, his usual arrogance replaced with vulnerability as he muttered incoherent words under his breath. A low, strangled sound escaped him, and he jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving. For a moment, he stared into the dark room, disoriented, his heart pounding. The nightmare clung to him, the shadows in the corners of the room feeling oppressive. Unable to shake the fear, he turned to the one person he never admitted he sought comfort from.

“Y/n,” he muttered hoarsely, his voice cracking slightly. He reached out and shook her shoulder gently at first, then more insistently. “Y/n, wake up.”

She stirred, groaning softly as her body shifted in the bed. “What…?” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. “Raphael, what are you doing? It’s the middle of the night…”

Ignoring her confusion, he sat up and pulled her toward him, laying his head against her chest. She froze for a moment, startled by the sudden closeness, her half asleep mind struggling to catch up. “Raphael?” she asked groggily, her voice tinged with both annoyance and worry. “What’s going on? What are you—?”

“Shh,” he cut her off, his voice unusually quiet. His arms wrapped around her waist tightly, as though she might vanish if he let go. His face buried against her chest, and she could feel the rapid rise and fall of his breaths. “Just… stay like this. Don’t move.”

She blinked, still trying to process the situation. Her body stiffened under his hold, but the vulnerability in his voice threw her off guard. This wasn’t the arrogant, controlling man she had come to know, this was something else entirely. She glanced down at him, seeing the faint sheen of sweat on his brow and the tension in his usually composed features. “Did you have a nightmare?” she asked softly, her voice cautious. She didn’t want to provoke him, especially not in this state.

He didn’t answer right away, his fingers clutching at her nightdress as he let out a shaky exhale. Finally, he muttered, “It doesn’t matter. Just… stay here.” She hesitated, torn between pushing him off and letting him stay like this. A part of her felt pity, though she quickly squashed the feeling. Instead, she let her hand rest lightly on his back, unsure of what else to do.

The minutes stretched on, and gradually, his breathing slowed, his grip on her loosening slightly. “You’re warm,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You always feel so warm.” She didn’t respond, staring up at the ceiling with a mix of exhaustion and frustration. She didn’t want to be his solace, he didn’t deserve it. Yet here he was, clinging to her like a lifeline, and she was too tired to fight him off.

Eventually, his breathing evened out, and she realized he had fallen asleep again, still curled against her. She sighed quietly, her mind racing even as her body remained still. Whatever nightmare had haunted him, she didn’t care to know. All she knew was that this fragile moment was fleeting, and by morning, he would return to being the man she despised.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff

[undomesticated-animal]

Honestly, body euphoria has done WONDERS for my ability to keep a physical self care routine, and I keep thinking back to Young Domi being so fucking OVERWHELMED by the thought of having to haul myself through the daily gauntlet of mirrors, lights, smells, self-shaming, and dysphoria inducing body modifictions made in a desperate bid to feel worthy of my skin. The idea that this could ever be anything but NEUTRAL AT BEST was laughable to me, so much so that I didn't even realize how terrified I felt by the possibility it could be real.

I can't go back and tell Past Domi all the things I understand now that I know would have mattered so much, but I can say them on the internet and maybe someone gets to learn them faster than I did.

Body euphoria isn't just for trans and intersex folks. And I mean this more than just "oh cis people should get gender ephoria too" (it's true!) because I also mean that the idea that body euphoria/dysphoria is neatly segmented up into little slices of life with no crossover is unrealistic and painful for everyone. Thinking that I was only allowed to care about my euphoria around gender actually made it REALLY hard to recognize I was having DYSphoria around my gender at all. After all, I avoided thinking about that in exactly the same ways I avoided thinking about the dysphoria around other aspects of my embodiment! I must just be bad at body positivity, "it's always easier to do for others than for myself 🤗 teehee" was a go to blow off for me when people asked me to confront how visibly uncomfortable I was in my body.

Because the thing is, it ISN'T easier to do for others than yourself. It really isn't. The part that's easier is avoiding the shame we feel about it. But once we confront the shame, loving your body is the easiest thing in the world. <- this is gonna be where Past Domi went "oh fuck this noise" and bounced but HEAR ME OUT

A body you cannot live with is a body you cannot care for, and a body you can't care for is a body you will almost always struggle to live with. This feedback loop is the CORNERSTONE of body dysphoria for a lot of people. It's a chicken and egg situation where it's nearly always going to be impossible to know what came first, but once either is present, the other will kick into gear to really hunker down in your psyche.

The feedback loop works the other direction too though. This is why people tell you to find the little things that make a tiny difference. They are (usually) not telling you that it'll be enough on its own, but every one of those you find uncovers new ones, and little by little you start feeling up to bigger pieces of self care because you've recovered enough to start putting int the front-loaded work for the worthwhile outcome

When that upwards feedback loop clicks? It's night and day. Like I genuinely don't know how to describe what it's like to just sort of.....wake up different. But it happens all the time, and it KEEPS happening. And you start to realize you're not "waking up different" you're just....getting to know yourself without feeling so uncomfortable with what you're learning that you shy away from yourself

I dunno man, I don't have a point here, but I've been processing old grief lately and the grief of how long I spent viciously hating myself and truly believing that's what neutrality feels like.....Little-Domi deserved better, and so do yall

[justnatoka]

Letting go

Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: I'll be honest. With angst, I'm always afraid that it somehow turns out more melodramatic than serious. So writing this was a bit of a rollercoaster. It has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and every time I came back to it, I was feeling different about it. At first I liked it, then not so much, then even less, at some point having no idea if it will even turn into something that makes sense. In the end, somehow it still turned into a fic I actually like. That's just what the writing process is all about I guess.

Word count: 3k

Warning: angst, bittersweet (hopeful?) ending

Prompt: “I’ll survive. Somehow I always do.”

The sudden appearance of a threat from your past forces you to make a hard decision.

It was by pure chance that you caught his scent. He probably thought that the crowds and myriad smells of the boardwalk – the buttery aroma of popcorn, the sweetness of cotton candy, the salty ocean air and the sourness of human sweat – would mask his natural odor. And with good reason. It was the slightest change in wind direction that alerted you to his presence, a lucky coincidence that he couldn’t have anticipated. Had it not been for that, you probably wouldn’t have noticed him at all, not before it was too late. And there were too many instances of it almost being too late. He was a pro after all, he had surprised you before, and each time someone else paid the price. You wouldn’t let that happen this time.

“We need to leave.”

The casual chatter immediately died down around you, four pairs of eyes searching your face curiously. All they could find was grave seriousness with a hint of panic as you anxiously searched the crowd, looking for even just a glimpse of that familiar and dreaded figure.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you alright?” Dwayne’s gentle voice brought your attention back to them, their faces full of concern now as they noticed your quick and shallow breathing and shaking hands.

“No, I’m not. We need to go back to the cave. Right now.” Punctuating the last two words, you wasted no time, and headed for the bikes, quickly hopping onto David’s. Your urgent tone did the job as the boys followed close behind. David got on in front of you, your arms quickly wrapping themselves around him, seeking comfort and stability. But you knew you were rapidly losing both.

“We’ll talk about this when we get back.” His tone equaled yours in seriousness, and you felt your skin crawl with the uncomfortable anticipation of what was to come. But that was a matter for later, right now you just wanted to get as far away from here as possible. You couldn’t leave the boardwalk fast enough.

The ride back was tense. No cheers, no laughter this time, no enjoying the speed. They knew something was very wrong, your fear making them unnerved as well. You were stiff as a board behind David, always anticipating something to happen, your head whipping around in a blind search for some unseen danger. On one hand, you couldn’t wait to reach the safety of the cave, your home that you shared with your lovers for almost a decade. It has been so long. You genuinely thought you were finally safe, that you didn’t have to run anymore. And even though you wanted to get back as quickly as you could, the ride home also couldn’t be long enough. Because you knew what you had to do when you arrived. You tried to get yourself ready mentally, but felt like your world was falling apart around you too quickly. Before you knew it, you were slowing down.

After parking the bikes, you made your way down to the cave. Going at the front, you could feel their eyes on your back, you could feel the tension radiating off of David, the anxious energy coming from Paul.

As soon as your feet hit the cave floor, you headed for your nest, the place you shared with your boys. You tried not to think too much about how you have to rip yourself out of that intimate little safe haven as you started packing your stuff together.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, sugar!” Marko’s sound of alarm alerted the others, and the next second a hand grabbed your arm, stopping your movements.

“What do you think you’re doing?” David’s eyes were swimming in emotions as you turned to look into them, confusion chased by a protective urge to eliminate the threat that had you so freaked out. And behind it all, even though he tried to hide it, you could see fear. He was scared that whatever was happening, it would change everything.

“Please let me go.” Your voice shook as you struggled to keep your composure. You didn’t want to break down, not if you really planned to go through with this.

“…are you leaving us? You’re not, right? Right?” There was hesitation in Paul’s voice and silent hoping on his face as he tried to cling to the smallest of chances that they were interpreting the situation wrong. But the moment you met his eyes, he saw the answer in them clear as day, and his expression crumbled, beautiful blue eyes already filling with tears as reality started to register to him. You knew then that your composure was out the window. Your lower lip began to tremble and you averted your gaze, not being able to look at him anymore.

“Why?” Marko’s fists were shaking as he spoke, not knowing what to do with the anger that was slowly boiling up inside him. He was angry at you, but more so at the nameless, faceless entity that caused your distress, forcing your hand to make this decision in the first place. In the back of his mind however, a small and ugly voice reared its head. His voice was a low rumble, thick with emotion as he asked, “Why are you doing this? You don’t love us anymore?”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. You dropped your bag on the floor and rushed over to him, enveloping him in a hug and cradling his head, burying your face in his neck as he desperately clung to you.

“Of course I still love you. I love all of you so much. Don’t you ever doubt that. That’s why I don’t have a choice.” Tears were stinging your eyes, but your voice was strong as you tried to reassure him with all your power, even though you knew you were breaking his heart. Even if it was the last thing you did for them, you had to make sure he understood how much they meant to you.

A hand landed on your shoulder, Dwayne’s voice resonating in your ear. “Please, talk to us. What’s wrong?”

You entangled yourself from Marko, but he was gripping your hand tightly as you turned around, fearing that you would disappear if he let go. You looked up at Dwayne, his eyes pleading with you to explain. He wanted to know the problem, so he can help you solve it, like he always did. Your gaze found Paul, then David, all of them waiting for an explanation. You knew you owed them that much.

Letting out a shaky breath, you began to talk. “There’s a hunter after me.” The declaration made all of them tense up. “He’s been following me for decades, chasing me all across the country. After coming to Santa Carla, I’ve been on edge for months, waiting for him to show up, but he never did.” You breathed out a pathetic little laugh. ”Then I met you guys, and I finally let myself feel at ease. I really thought I managed to lose him this time. That’s why I freaked out when I caught his scent at the boardwalk earlier.” Your voice strengthened with newfound resolve, steeling yourself for what you have to do. ”I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t let you all get caught up in this mess.”

David was listening to you in silence, his face growing more serious with each word. You could feel him slowly closing in on himself.

“But we could help you. There’s five of us and just one of him. With all of us together we can kill the bastard,” Marko argued, ready to go and jump into battle at you’re slightest sign of approval. Paul was nodding vehemently in agreement.

“I’ve heard that before and it never ended well.”

“You don’t even want to try? Are you willing to just throw this away so easily?” Marko was getting agitated, basically yelling at this point.

“Don’t you understand? I can’t afford to try! You don’t think I had tried to fight before? Of course I did!” Your voice was also rising in volume, desperation filling your lungs. “I fought so hard, tried to save every other vampire who gave me shelter before. The only reason they got exposed was because I was there. If I wasn’t, they wouldn’t have gotten caught up in this, and then maybe they wouldn’t have-“

A sob escaped your throat, unable to finish the sentence. You felt two strong arms wrap themselves around you as you started to shake, guiding you to the couch before all strength left your legs. You curled in on yourself as you cried against Dwayne’s chest. Gentle hands were rubbing your shoulders, wiping the tears from your face, running through your hair in soothing caresses, and through the haze of your grief and overwhelming guilt you faintly registered Paul and Marko’ presence next to you.

“I can’t lose you too, I couldn’t live with myself,” you cried in their embrace, their tender attention only making the ache in your chest ten times worse. They were so good to you, even though you were causing them so much pain.

They sat with you, whispering words of reassurance, all the while battling with their own thoughts. They didn’t want to accept this outcome where you had to leave them, even if you did it to protect them. Your presence took up too much of their lives and their hearts to just let this go.

After your sobs quietened to sniffles and shaky breaths, David finally spoke up.

“We can’t change your mind, can we?” He sounded resigned. He already knew there was no turning back to the way things were, even if the others still tried to fight it.

“You can’t be serious!” Marko turned to him vehemently.

“Marko, stand down,” David barked, the frustration evident in his voice. “Our love has clearly made a decision. We can’t force them to stay if they want to leave so bad.”

Even though this was exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t help but flinch a bit at the edge in his voice. So this was it, you thought, he was shutting you out, closing his walls around himself. You tried to ignore the little sting you felt somewhere deep inside you when he didn’t even look at you as he said it.

Marko looked lost as he turned from David to Dwayne to you, searching for any small reason he can still cling to, but found none. And he finally deflated when Dwayne added, “It’s what’s best for them.”

The silence that followed felt heavy with grief and heartbreak, and although you knew it was the best thing you could do, you couldn’t stop the constant fall of tears silently rolling down your cheeks. You heard Paul sniffle behind you where he was resting his forehead against your shoulder, breathing in your scent for as long as he could. Marko was holding onto your hand again, his thumb rubbing your knuckles in a soothing motion. You weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. Dwayne pressed a kiss against the crown of your head where it was still buried in his chest. You all needed a few moments to take in each other’s presence and just exist, allowing yourselves a fleeting semblance of peace before it all fell apart.

“However.” Your gaze wandered back to David, and the look in his eyes struck something deep within you. “We let you go on one condition,” he held up a finger, and you stiffened, sitting up straighter. “You have to promise to come back.”

There was no hesitation in his voice as he said it, his gaze holding onto yours the whole time. You felt the need to blink a few times.

“I can’t promise that,” you looked at him confused. “As long as he lives I can’t come back here. I can’t risk that.”

“Promise that you will come back,” he continued, unwavering. “Do what you have to do, find a way to kill him, then come back to us.”

The way his eyes softened at that last part made your stomach flip. At the small tug on your finger you turned to Marko, his gaze full of emotion.

“Promise?”

“I can’t,” you answered, your voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “There’s no guarantee I would even come back. I can’t make you wait for me for eternity in the hopes that nothing bad happened to me.”

“You won’t make us do anything,” Dwayne took over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You made a choice to leave, so we made a choice to wait for your return.”

You were stunned. You tried to argue with him, but in the end you just closed your mouth. They were ready to let you go, even though you might never come back, even though it was breaking their own hearts. They loved you with all they had and were still willing to let you go so you could protect them. Not just that, they were willing to wait for you.

At that moment you realized you couldn’t run anymore. You can’t just leave, find a new place for a few years to hide then go on when he inevitably showed up again. You couldn’t let this go, couldn’t let them go. You had to fight him. You had to fight him and you had to kill him. It was the only way to come back to your boys, to live in peace without fear. Because even though the souls of the dead had been eating you from guilt, these boys were still alive. And as long as they are, they will be ready to welcome you back with open arms.

You pulled together the crumbs of your hope and determination, and decided to try once again, just one last time. You nodded slowly, the whispered “I promise” hung heavy in the silence of the cave.

It didn’t take long to pack your belongings. You didn’t have much, and what you did have was mostly stuff they gifted to you: a stuffed bear Dwayne won you at a game stall on the boardwalk, a bracelet Marko stole for you off of a tourist’s wrist after you commented on how much you liked it, a mixtape made by Paul of both of your favourite artists, a necklace David gave you when you joined the pack. Your bag was filled with trinkets and memories of your shared life. It gave you something to cling onto even though the future was full of uncertainty.

You desperately wanted more time, just one more day to spend with them, but you knew you needed to move fast. The hunter was already in Santa Carla, he probably already knew you were here. You didn’t dare risk him finding out about the boys too.

They accompanied you to the mouth of the cave. Looking out over the ocean, you took a big gulp of the fresh air and let it out in a shaky breath. You didn’t dare think about how you will accomplish what you had to do, the reality of that weighing heavy in the back of your mind.

Turning around, you let your eyes wander over you lovers once more, knowing that it might be the last time you ever see them. David looked back at you with a serious, determined expression, and you decided to ignore how the shadows seemed deeper on his face than you’ve ever seen before. He knew he had to be strong right now for all of you, and you were forever grateful for it. If he had shown even an ounce of doubt, you were sure you would have crumbled, giving access to the fear gnawing at your mind.

You stepped up to him first to say goodbye. His gloved hand came to rest against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch.

“When you’re done-“

“If.”

“When you’re done,” David continued undeterred, “with what you have to do, we’ll be right here, waiting for your return.”

Tears stung your eyes, but all you felt was overwhelming love for him.

“I will come back,” you whispered against his lips as you leaned in for one last kiss.

Next was Dwayne, eyes full of sorrow. You cradled his face in your hands, pulling him down, so you can press a kiss to the frown between his brows. He let out a deep sigh as you did, and you rested your forehead against his, both of you drinking in each other’s presence before you inevitably had to pull away.

Paul, always smiling, always laughing Paul was quiet. You gently ran your fingers through the messy hair on the side of his head, prompting him to look up at you. The second your eyes met, his lip began to tremble, and you leaned in to pepper soft kisses against it. His hands fisted your jacket as he pulled you closer, his mouth desperate against yours. Your heart broke a little when you pulled back, pressing one last peck on his cheek.

Lastly, you turned to Marko, who was so ready to jump into a fight for you head first, and now looked like he had no idea what to do. Before you could make a move, he threw himself at you, squeezing you against him with all his might. You hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder, and you felt him do the same, inhaling your scent, committing it to his memory. You ignored the slight shake of his hands when he eventually let you go, instead pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead.

“What are you going to do? All alone against him,” he asked, needing some kind of reassurance that you will be alright.

You looked back at him with sad eyes.

“I’ll survive. Somehow, I always do.” It was all you could answer. But for the first time in a long while, the thought didn’t fill you with dread. Instead, something akin to hope was starting to sprout in the back of your mind. It was still a dainty little thing, but you were determined to let it blossom.

Still, as you stepped out into the night, you felt your heart break a little.

Tags: @stinkydove @pandemoniavenus @000-colby @lunarwhitewolf7 @notalwaysa @binightowl @darlingnikkisixxxx @skrimblo-blumpkgo @swagfancroissantpizza2

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[28harryssunflower]

Could u make one based off of ‘only angel’ or/and ‘Kiwi’ ? 🫶🏻

Okay so, it would’ve been a lot easier to write if I had specific lyrics to pick from instead of just two songs in general, so I don‘t really like how it turned out, lol. And I also didn’t know what era you wanted me to write in, so I just chose the good old 2017-ish era. Anyways, I hope you still like it xx

Third post today! Phew

Dangerous attraction

The dim lighting of the private booth cast long shadows, the soft clink of glass and quiet murmurs of people in the background melding into the low hum of the pub. Harry sat back against the plush leather seat, his eyes half-lidded as he absentmindedly swirled the whiskey in his glass. The concert had been a success, the crowds in New York had been wild, but after the adrenaline of the stage, this was what he needed: quiet, solitude, and a bit of time to relax before another long day.

But then he saw you.

At first, it was just a glimpse - a flash of your figure across the room, seated in a booth surrounded by a group of people who seemed to melt away the moment his gaze fell on you. You were the kind of woman who demanded attention without even trying. Such an actress.

You took a drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light, your lips parted just enough to pull in the smoke. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes fixed on the way your fingers held the cigarette so casually, the smoke swirling around you like a mysterious cloud. You looked like trouble - dangerous trouble - and it made his pulse quicken.

The moment you finished your cigarette, you tossed it into the ashtray, not even glancing at the half-finished glass of whiskey in front of you as you immediately reached for another from your cheap pack. You didn’t seem to care about anything - anyone - except your own pleasure.

But it was the next move that really grabbed Harry’s attention. He watched, stunned, as you poured a line of white powder onto the back of your hand. His eyes followed the movement, unable to tear away from the way your fingers expertly drew it in through your nose. There was something about it that made him feel both intrigued and uneasy, like you were a dangerous game he didn’t know if he should play. But god, he wanted to.

His eyes traced the curve of your neck, the way the neckline of your black dress dipped low enough to make his pulse race. That black dress, clinging to your figure so perfectly, seemed designed to drive him mad. Every curve, every movement you made was like an invitation. His chest tightened as he imagined what it would feel like to press his lips to that neck of yours, to taste the soft skin that looked so damn kissable.

“Get a grip,” Harry muttered to himself, shaking his head. But it didn’t work. His gaze was still locked on you, still captivated. His thoughts swirled with confusion and desire.

He needed to make a move.

He called for the waiter, his voice steady despite the frantic beating of his heart. “Bring her over here.”

Moments later, you appeared, slipping into the booth beside him without a word, the faintest smirk curling on your lips as your eyes met his. Harry had no idea what he was doing, but there was no way he was going to let you slip away. You were too much - a perfect mix of fire and ice.

“You’re Harry Styles,” you said, voice low and smooth, a little amused, as if you weren’t entirely impressed but still intrigued.

“That’s me,” he replied, his voice rough, more playful than usual. “And you are?”

“Me? I’m captivated,” you grinned.

You didn’t need to introduce yourself. Your name wasn’t what mattered here. It was the way you looked at him, the way you leaned in just enough that your perfume, sweet and intoxicating, hit him with the force of a punch.

Harry shifted, leaning closer, his eyes scanning your face. He couldn’t resist the pull. It was like a magnetic force drawing him to you.

Your lips were on his before he had the chance to think twice. He felt your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, the kiss hungry, urgent. He groaned into your mouth as you practically devoured him. There was no gentleness here, no tentative exploration. You kissed him like you owned him, like you were claiming him, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d never been kissed like this - never had anyone just take him the way you were.

You pressed your body against his, and Harry felt his control slipping away. Your hands were everywhere - on his chest, his neck, his jaw. Your body was like liquid fire, and Harry found himself losing track of everything except the feel of you. The kiss was filthy, passionate, and full of something far darker than he was used to.

When you pulled back just enough to break the kiss, your lips glistened with the same whiskey he had been drinking, your breath a sweet mixture of smoke and alcohol. “You know,” you whispered, “I didn’t think you’d be this easy.”

Harry didn’t even flinch at the comment. In fact, the challenge in your eyes only made him want you more. “Who says I’m easy?”

You smiled, and for a moment, Harry thought he might lose his mind. You were the definition of chaos, of everything he shouldn’t want. But God, he did.

Before he could gather his thoughts, your lips were back on his, and this time it wasn’t just a kiss. You were all over him - your hands sliding down his chest, pulling at his shirt, making him forget where he ended and you began.

Normal people would pay for this kind of woman to be sitting on their lap, making them feel like you made him feel right now.

His brain was foggy, his heart thumping in his chest. You didn’t stop. You didn’t even let him breathe. It was reckless. It was wild. And in that moment, Harry couldn’t care less about the consequences.

It felt like you were both on the edge of something dangerous, something electric. His hands roamed down your body, his fingers itching to explore, but you took control again. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You like this, don’t you? You like the way I’m all over you.”

Fuck. It was a punch to the gut, and Harry had never felt so alive. He wanted you - needed you. It was the most primal urge he’d ever felt, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, you grinned and scribbled your number on a napkin. “Text me,” you said, your voice taunting. Before he could even respond, you stood, giving him one last lingering look over your shoulder, a slow wink before you vanished back into the crowd.

Harry sat there, his chest heaving as he stared at the napkin in his hand. He wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but he knew one thing for certain: you had left a mark on him, something deeper than just a casual fling. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and that frustrated the hell out of him.

It took him several more drinks to shake the frustration, but it didn’t do much to ease the gnawing feeling in his gut. By the time he got back to his hotel, the taste of you was still fresh on his lips, your scent still lingering in his mind. He had texted you twenty minutes after you left, but there hasn’t been an answer yet.

Then, his phone buzzed.

It was you. Of course, it was you.

Your text came in with that usual warning:

You: I’m bad news. Your fans won’t like it if they knew I was influencing you this way ;)

Harry chuckled, leaning back on the bed as he read your words. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

The words spilling out before he could stop them.

Harry: I don’t care about anything else. I want to see you again.

You didn’t hesitate.

You: Tell me your room number and hotel name. Then meet me in the hotel hallway. I’ll be there soon.

And soon enough, you were. Harry stood in the hallway outside his room, a grin plastered across his face, heart pounding in his chest as the elevator doors opened and you stepped into the hall. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

There was no talking this time. No hesitation. You pressed him up against the door of his hotel room, hands sliding under his shirt, lips crashing against his. The heat between you was suffocating, and Harry didn’t fight it. He couldn’t.

This time, you were the one in control. You pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him as your lips devoured him once more. Your hands, your body, everything about you was completely in charge, and Harry loved it.

He was lost in the sensation of you taking the lead, of the way you teased him - your lips brushing his, your hands tugging at his clothes as though you couldn’t get enough of him. And when you finally got on top, taking the reins in a way that surprised him, he couldn’t help but surrender.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, but it was. It was everything he didn’t know he needed.

Afterwards, when his lips brushed against your ear one last time, he whispered, “You’re a real devil in between the sheets.”

You chuckled darkly, your eyes glittering with amusement. “You have no idea.”

You stood, pulling on your clothes with that same nonchalant attitude, as if you hadn’t just completely shattered him. Harry watched you, breathless, trying to catch his breath. But before he could speak, you leaned over him and kissed him deeply, just once.

And then you were gone - no more words, just a wink as you slipped out of the room.

Harry sat there, staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he knew one thing: You were trouble.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

Day 27: Corruption

Fuckkkk, Chuuya won’t miss the last time he has to use Corruption.

…/If/ that ever happens.

The amount of threats that actually need him to use it are far and few between nowadays, especially with the addition of Shin Soukoku’s new attacks that don’t render one of them half-dead like Soukoku’s, but every so often some bad guy sweeps through town strong enough to even have him and Dazai being summoned to the scene together.

Chuuya swallows, trying not to hack up a lung when a blood clot from his earlier bloody nose seeps down his throat. His clothes are beyond ruined at this point and his arms are too tired so he doesn’t even try to cover his mouth. The brick wall he’s been propped against is tilting a little too dangerously – from an earlier attack by someone’s ability – for his comfort, but it’s not like he can do much about it.

If the bricks fall, he’ll stop them. Maybe. Probably.

He just wants to go home and sleep for at least a whole day.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there. I leave Chuuya for two seconds and he’s trying to die on me again,” Dazai placates like he’s some /dog/, jogging the last few steps to him. The brunet is wearing Chuuya’s hat on his head and the fingers of one of the redhead’s black gloves sticks out from his coat pocket. Chuuya wipes the side of his mouth, watching as Dazai pulls a water bottle from his coat’s other pocket and uncaps it before handing it to him. “Don’t drown yourself~”

“Says the mackerel.” His voice comes out raspy, barely audible but the smirk Dazai sends him tells him the brunet heard. He takes a slow sip, breathing out a sigh before chugging as much as his body will let him.. Water has never felt as good as the times after Corruption, when his voice is scratched raw and just breathing is a chore for his windpipe. Clearing his throat to test it, he asks, “How much longer?”

“We’re free to go,” Dazai responds, waiting in front of him with his hands in his pockets. “Mori-san took your coat and has graciously given you a few days off as a reward for being such a loyal dog.”

Also known as ‘Dazai asked therefore Mori approved’ because God forbid Boss says no to ‘the Mafia’s final executive to come.’ As if that’s ever gonna happen.

Dazai’s smirk twists into that one that tells Chuuya he read his mind just then. “Chibi’s cranky.”

The redhead scowls back. “No shit, Sherlock. Hurry up and carry me already.”

“So feisty~ How does the pretty princess want to be carried?” Dazai squats in front of him, leaning within arms’ reach of Chuuya.

“I’m not– honestly, fuck you,” Chuuya grumbles, not even bothering to punch the other. “Do whatever you want, you shitty bastard.”

Of course, Dazai has the audacity to beam at this, already moving to adjust Chuuya into whatever way he wants. He swears he even hears a little giggle from the brunet as he shifts one of Chuuya’s legs.

It’s going to be a long walk back home.

Chuuya hisses as Dazai, still facing him, goes to move one of his arms behind his bandaged neck, the muscle pulling in a way that sears too much to be considered uncomfortable. “Wait–!”

“Where?”

“Bicep, close to delt,” he grits out, forcing himself to breathe as the knot or whatever is wrong with his arm continues to flare. Dazai points at the location given, dead-on in his accuracy. Chuuya manages to nod, watching as nimble fingers find the perfect spot to apply the right amount of pressure in massaging caresses that have shivers running down his spine.

He sucks in a breath when Dazai’s finger moves in just  the right way to alleviate most of the pain in one go. After Chuuya releases a shaky sigh, Dazai looks up. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Dazai returns to maneuvering him into the right position, wrapping Chuuya’s bloodied arms around his neck and scooping under his thighs. Dazai, right in his face, grins something young and fond. “Just like old times, partner.”

With that, he hoists them both up, Chuuya sinking further into his arms as Dazai steadies them. The pop Chuuya hears from his knee has him grimacing with a squint sent at Dazai, but the man doesn’t even stop to test if his scrawny bones can hold them up, instead marching forward in the direction of Chuuya’s apartment.

Fine. If Dazai wishes to play stubborn, then Chuuya doesn’t care (until Dazai either trips or his legs give out, that is).

With that thought, Chuuya settles in on Dazai’s shoulder, eyelids already drifting downwards.

They miraculously make it back to his apartment without Chuuya waking up, Dazai dropping him, or the both of them going splat on the concrete.

That’s a plus, Chuuya supposes.

If Dazai had tried this when they were around seventeen or eighteen, Chuuya’s sure one of them would have ended the night with a broken bone. The last time they had done this had to have been sometime after Corruption's first use, he realizes.

“Where does the slug wanna go?” Dazai asks as he fumbles with the door’s lock. Chuuya blinks his eyes open enough to do his security system’s retinal scan. There’s a click, a shuffle of clothes and doors, and the sounds of shoes hitting the genkan as Dazai pulls Chuuya’s off before taking off his own.

Chuuya hums. “Bed.”

“You’ll be mad if you wake up in a dirty bed.”

“Mornin’ problem.”

“So my problem,” Dazai huffs with a tsk.

Based on the twists and turns they’re taking, they’re heading towards the bedroom anyway. And just before Dazai can make it to the bed where Chuuya’s long desired rest awaits, the brunet swings to the left, eliciting a low whine from Chuuya as they head towards the attached bathroom.

“I know, I know,” Dazai starts, setting him on the counter to turn the sink’s faucet to hot as he grabs a hand towel. Chuuya continues to lean forward on his shoulder, forcing the man to stay in front of him. As the water heats up, Dazai starts prying the redhead’s bloodied clothes from his body. “We’ll take a bath tomorrow. Just a quick cleanup to get most of the blood off and then you can sleep to your heart’s content.”

Chuuya’s already beginning to doze off when he mumbles back, “With you.”

A pause, the shoulder beneath his head stiffening before it slowly comes to relax again. A bandaged hand comes up to rest at the back of Chuuya’s head as the faucet is shut off. “With me.”

Dazai makes quick work of wiping the dried blood from Chuuya’s face and body, delicate but precise, and afterwards in the bedroom dresses the redhead in his softest pajamas. Chuuya always runs cold after using Corruption so he takes precaution, even if it means there’s potential for Chuuya to wake up annoyed because he got too hot.

After tucking Chuuya in the bed – and far enough in the middle of it to guarantee the slippery slug doesn’t fall off of it with his hazardous sleeping positions – Dazai recleans the bathroom, removing his own bandages and clothes in the process.

He steals a pair of oversized pajamas that Chuuya claims he “accidentally bought and was too lazy to return,” then slips into bed beside the other.

When Chuuya wakes in the morning, it’s to warm arms and the sound of a heartbeat against his ear, beating in tandem with his own.

[jbaileyfansite]

As it charts a new course for the franchise, Jurassic World Rebirth also promises some other callbacks to the original Jurassic Park. Bailey hints that his paleontologist, Dr. Henry Loomis, has a history with Sam Neill’s intrepid character. “I’ve always wanted to make Dr. Alan Grant proud,” the actor says. “You’ll have to wait and see to see what sort of link there is between them.”

His professorial hero is a contrast to Bailey’s recent breakthrough role as Fiyero in Wicked, a less-than-intellectual character who scoffs at the library and kicks books aside in his signature song “Dancing Through Life.” Dr. Loomis would be aghast. Bailey says his Rebirth character “reinforces big, cerebral, and emotional arguments about the natural world and how we as humans live our lives.”

Unlike the others, he’s not combat-ready, however, which places him at extra risk on the Island of Misfit Dinosaurs. He may be a little too fascinated by them, and not guarded enough as he guides the team toward harvesting the dinosaurs’ genetic material. “His strengths are his compassion and enthusiasm and hunger for the natural world,” Bailey says. “That’s his brilliance and that’s also his downfall.”

Speaking of extracting DNA, the new film does this with Spielberg himself, who serves as an executive producer on Rebirth. “To me, it’s like a heist movie that meets all the films of Steven Spielberg I loved growing up,” Edwards says. “The three films we were orbiting were Jaws, Indiana Jones, and the awe and wonder of the original Jurassic.”

Bailey’s character channels Dr. Jones in one sequence set on a towering cliff, when he tries to extract fluid from the eggs of some flying dinosaurs who are said to be the size of fighter jets. The egg is about the same size as the golden idol from the opening sequence of Raiders of the Lost Ark (which was the first of many movies Marshall made with Spielberg.) “The original script just referenced the nest in a cliff and I really felt like we’re in Central America, and I like the idea that there was an old civilization here at one point,” Edwards said. Instead of a cave, he made the setting “an Inca-style old temple that had been abandoned hundreds of thousands of years ago. Inevitably, the second you do that, you’re suddenly going, ‘This is very Indiana Jones.’”

Bailey points out that the relationship between the three leads mirrors another monstrous Spielberg classic about a killer shark. “Much like in Jaws, you see how three people react to the same extreme level of survival,” he says. His Dr. Loomis is like Richard Dreyfuss’s bookish oceanographer; Johansson is the battle-hardened leader like Roy Scheider’s police chief, Martin Brody; and Ali’s Duncan Kincaid, a black-ops logistics expert who shepherds them into the island, has elements of Robert Shaw’s grizzled seafarer Quint.

New image of Jonathan Bailey as Dr. Henry Loomis and him talking about his character in Jurassic World Rebirt [x]

[thanossssss]

more nam-gyu regressor/thanos cg? 💜🩵

Regressor! Nam-gyu w/ Caregiver! Thanos

Summary: Thanos makes the mistake of washing Nam-gyu’s special blanket, since he didn’t know he had regressed. Nam-gyu becomes extremely upset when he finds this out.

Contains: Age regression, crying, thumb sucking.

Not proofread.

Thanos couldn’t help but cringe at how loud Nam-gyu was sobbing in his arms. He accidentally made a horrible mistake of washing Nam-gyu’s special blanket, since he didn’t know he had regressed. If he did, there was no way he would’ve washed it, he knows just how attached Nam-gyu is to the thing.

Thanos had tried just about everything to calm him down, but nothing was working. All Nam-gyu wanted was his blanket. He didn’t care about anything Thanos was offering him or trying to give him. He just wanted to have his blanket back.

For a while now, Nam-gyu had been clinging to Thanos while loudly crying. It was to the point where Thanos was starting to get a headache, but he knew denying Nam-gyu comfort would only make matters worse. Even if it wasn’t calming him down, Nam-gyu still needed to be comforted. He would become a lot more upset and stressed out if Thanos just ignored his cries.

Thanos was rubbing his hand up and down against Nam-gyu’s back while softly shushing him. It wasn’t settling him at all, but it also wasn’t making him more upset either. Thanos just wasn’t sure what else he could do, since the only thing that would calm Nam-gyu down is him having his blanket back.

It was in the dryer now, so it wasn’t too much longer Nam-gyu had to wait, but to him it felt like forever. Thanos did feel really bad, especially when Nam-gyu watched him put his blanket in the dryer. He thought he could have his blanket back, but instead it was put into the dryer. It only made Nam-gyu start crying even harder than he had been.

Thanos did try to give Nam-gyu a different blanket, just for the time being. However, that just made Nam-gyu even more upset, which was very obvious when he angrily threw the blanket at Thanos.

So, Thanos didn’t offer him another blanket, since he clearly didn’t want a replacement. Thanos did offer Nam-gyu a stuffed animal though, but that was also thrown at him as well. The only thing that somewhat worked was holding him, even though it wasn’t really soothing him. It was just keeping him from crying harder.

Thanos was waiting for the alarm he set to finally go off, since it meant everything in the dryer would be done. He wanted Nam-gyu to just stop crying, and it wasn’t because of the headache he now had, but because he really did feel horrible about how upset he was.

Though, out of nowhere, Nam-gyu was slowly starting to quiet down. Thanos figured it was only because he didn’t have enough energy to keep on wailing like he was. He began hiccuping and whimpering while curling up against Thanos. He looked at Thanos, his eyes super teary and his face all puffy and wet. He’d been sobbing for almost an hour straight, so Thanos was not at all surprised that the poor guy looked like an absolute wreck.

“My poor little guy…” Thanos frowned as he gently wiped Nam-gyu’s tears from his eyes. A tiny whine left Nam-gyu, his bottom lip quivering a little. “Oh, don’t cry. It’s okay, you’ll have your blankie back soon.” Thanos told him. Nam-gyu only responded with a quiet, choked out sob.

“Shh..shh…” Thanos softly shushed him, rocking him ever so slightly. Nam-gyu sniffled, before placing his thumb into his mouth and letting himself relax a little in Thanos’s arms. Thanos felt relieved that Nam-gyu was finally calming down, but he still knew he was extremely upset. Only difference was that he wasn’t bawling like he was earlier.

Thanos rocked him for a couple minutes, when his alarm went off. It startled both of them, but especially Nam-gyu, who began whining out of frustration and annoyance.

“Yeah, I know it’s annoying, buddy. I’m turning it off.” Thanos said while silencing the alarm. “Come on, we’re going to get your blankie. Are you excited to have your blankie back?” Thanos spoke with a smile as he stood up and carried Nam-gyu to the laundry room.

When they arrived at the room, Thanos placed Nam-gyu down on the floor, then went to get everything out of the dryer. Nam-gyu stood up and toddled over to Thanos. He used his free hand to tug aggressively on his shirt.

“Blankie…blankie!” Nam-gyu impatiently fussed at him. “I’m looking for it, baby. Hold on.” Thanos responded, continuing to pull clothes out while searching for the blanket. Nam-gyu kept whining as Thanos looked for his blanket, but after a few more seconds, Thanos finally got it out.

“Here, buddy. Here you go.” Thanos said, holding out the comfort item to Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu immediately snatched it from him and held the blanket tightly to his chest. He smiled as a quiet and happy hum left him. “Happy now?” Thanos questioned, to which Nam-gyu answered with a quick head nod. Thanos smiled and gently ruffled his hair. “Good.” He said.

Nam-gyu giggled, before burying his face into the soft and warm material of his blanket. Finally, he had the item that brought him the most comfort and feeling of safety. Thanos was glad that Nam-gyu wasn’t upset anymore and was finally happy.

[paulyenvol6]

Bruised, Not Broken (Part 2)

This is part 2 of a one-shot I posted and it is based on this request. There will definitely be part 3 and maybe part 4 but we'll see :) Also, I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful support and I love you all <3

Contains: angst, mentions of pregnancy

Wordcount: 2.84k

Masterlist

Everything was spinning.

The ground beneath you was moving and although you knew that your mind was probably playing a trick on you you reached out to hold on to the wall of the inn.

You couldn't even cry. Your eyes were dry as a desert.

You knew you had to do something, walk away from this place but your body was frozen. Numb.

Everything was twisting and turning inside of you and as if it was a further sign from the gods the child in your womb kicked and moved so much that your upper body buckled.

You had nothing left in the world. Everything about this felt surreal and distant but at the same time you instantly knew your life would never be the same. What were you to do?

If someone walked past you they would probably assume that you were perfectly fine because your internal chaos wasn't visible from the outside. Your only reaction was the way your bottom lip trembled.

You didn't know how long you were standing by the brothel. Perhaps you could've measured the time by the movement of the sun but you couldn't raise your head high enough to watch it. Your eyes searched the crowd and only after a few minutes did you ask yourself why you had just done it. What had you been looking for? A sign that all of this was just a nightmare?

What were you to do? was the question repeatedly appearing in your head. What if you just ran away? You could find a boat and go to Essos. You could raise your child there and never hear from Daemon again.

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in your stomach and the tears that washed over you came so unexpected that you choked on a cry. Images of your husband appeared in your head. His smile, the way he tilted his head, his warm eyes. You allowed your tears to flow because otherwise you might have exploded and then soon, you didn't know where she had come from, you saw a woman's face in front of you through the veil of tears.

"My lady, are you quite alright?"

With trembling lips you nodded and tightened your grip on the facade of the house.

"Are you sure? Something I can do?"

You shook your head and then she left after giving you another suspicious glance. You were left alone and truthfully you appreciated it.

Time passed with you trying to calm yourself somehow but you couldn't fight the occasional breakouts and then, it was almost dark now, you knew you had to do something. You would either freeze here or get assaulted by someone and despite all your emotions, your child was still your priority.

You took a step back from this damned brothel and felt like a babe learning how to walk. Your knees were wobbly and your whole body was shaking so hard that you wished you could hold on to something. And yet you made it to the middle of the street and as if your whole life hadn't just got shattered into a million pieces you started to make your way back to the red keep.

In some way you were torn apart because you wished you could avoid Daemon for the rest of your life and not feel embarrassed and humiliated by merely looking at him but on the other hand the thought of screaming and shouting at him until you'd lose your voice sounded tempting as well.

When you eventually arrived at the keep you felt like you were about to explode from all the anger inside of you and you knew in order to survive, you needed to get it out. The guards were obviously too professional to comment on your expression and just allowed you to enter the castle and then the first thing that you did was make your way up to your chambers.

You didn't know what to expect. You didn't know what time it was so you thought that Daemon might still be out. Perhaps it would be even better that way so you could have a little more time to prepare yourself for the confrontation.

Your nails dug into the palms of your hands while you stared at the door. Driven by your rage you opened it and immediately heard a noise inside. You pressed your teeth into your bottom lip and slowly entered the room while searching for your husband.

"Honey!" he shouted and your eyes found him by the table. "Where have you been, I thought you would only be gone for an hour. Did something happen? I was so worried, tell me. Are you fine?"

Mayhaps he mistook your teary eyes with a reaction to something that had happened to you. You flashed your eyes at him and hissed out when his hand reached out to touch your upper arm.

"No," you dangerously whispered and you could see his eyes widening.

"What is it?"

You chuckled quietly but could feel your veins throbbing. "Fuck you."

"Darling, what – "

"Shut up. And don't call me darling," you said close to tears now and pushed him away from you.

"Y/n, I don't understand – " "DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME," you screamed completely overtaken by your rage which concerned Daemon so much that he took a step back.

"OF COURSE YOU UNDERSTAND YOU STUPID LIAR. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID."

Despite feeling unaware of the fact that you had started to cry again, you tasted something salty on your lips.

"No, y/n, please listen to me."

"I don't wanna listen to anything out of your mouth, EVER AGAIN," you hissed and pointed with your finger at him.

"You are an arsehole, an evil lying disgusting arsehole. You fucking CHEATED on me while I was here in the keep scared of having a miscarriage and then you came back here acting all loving and caring without even having any regrets. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??"

You were blinded by your emotions and didn't care about wakening up the whole castle. You wanted to hit him in his face until you forgot about his existence. Before you could even register it Daemon reached out to your hand and enclosed it tightly.

"Please, darling, I didn't know. I didn't know that you were in danger, otherwise I would've been here immediately."

You pulled back trying to free your hand from his grip and eventually he let go.

"You CHEATED, Daemon. NOTHING can justify this. Why the fuck would you do this?" you cried and dropped your head to your chest feeling very tired suddenly.

"I'm sorry. I know I fucked it up," he whispered and tried to come closer to you.

"Stay back," you sobbed.

He watched you cry for a few minutes and for some reason it made you even angrier. How could he just stand there acting like nothing was wrong while you bawled your eyes out? Why didn't he cry? Why wasn't he on his knees apologizing?

You wiped over your eyes with the back of your hand. "I don't wanna see you again. I'm gonna leave the keep."

Now Daemon's eyebrows lifted and for the first time he looked genuinely concerned. "What."

"I'm gonna leave. Do you actually think I want to spend another second in your presence after what you have done to me?"

Daemon took a step towards you and grabbed your shoulder.

"We have a child together. You can't just leave, we're married."

"Oh I can. Watch me," you hissed quietly.

"Y/n, don't be childish now."

You laughed out loudly and Daemon seemed so worried now that you could see in his body's reaction that he was nervous.

"I'm childish? You cheated on me and now you're calling me childish because I say don't want to live with you?"

"It was a one-time thing, gods be good. I won't go the brothel again. Ever. If that's what you want."

"You can do whatever you want from now on. You can go fuck your whores as often as you like, I don't care."

Daemon shook his head and looked to the ground. "That's not I want. I want you."

"Well, if you did, you wouldn't have cheated on me, Daemon Targaryen."

Your voice was barely more than a whisper and you were proud of yourself for sounding so indifferent although inside of you there was a storm.

"How did you find out?" he breathed after a moment of silence.

"I passed the brothel. And then the owner saw me and asked when you would come by again. I was confused and he explained everything to me."

Daemon pressed his hand on his eyes and murmured something you didn't understand but you didn't care to ask him.

"I'll leave tonight."

He closed his eyes looking frustrated. "Y/n, you can't just leave like this. Please be reasonable for a moment. You're with child and where do you even wanna go?"

"I'll find something," you whispered and then the both of you remained silent for a few minutes before you started to speak again.

"As I said so many times before, you're not able to listen to me. You don't understand what I'm saying and why I'm saying it. I guess now you don't have to anymore."

Daemon gulped loudly and tilted his head at you.

"What do you want me to do? I'll do anything, what do I have to do so you'll forgive me?"

"There is nothing. You broke my trust, you betrayed me and nothing will ever make up for it."

He shook his head and now you could finally see some tears in his eyes as well.

"Don't say that…," Daemon whispered.

"Goodbye," you whispered and turned around.

For a moment you thought he was coming after you but then you were already standing in the corridor and asked yourself whether you had wanted him to come after you or not.

1 month later

"I don't wish to see him, Ser Roggers."

"He's persistent."

Yes he was. Daemon had written countless letters to you, begging you to come back and if you were being honest with you you were surprised he acted so pathetic and had just swallowed his pride like this.

"Tell him that I'm not here."

Ser Roggers looked down to the ground. "It's too late for that, my lady."

"Then tell him something else, I don't care. I'm not gonna see him."

You crossed your legs and turned around signalizing him that the conversation was over now so Ser Roggers had no choice but to bow and leave your chambers.

Once you heard the door closing you sighed out and leaned back in your chair. It had been almost a month since you had left Daemon and everything that was happening around you still seemed absurd and surreal. You were living at Dragonstone now as Viserys had found that it was the only solution to this "situation" as he had called it.

The night after you had found out about Daemon cheating on you you had intended to storm out of the red keep but Viserys, who had found about your argument with his brother, had stepped in your way before you could even leave the castle.

At first he had tried everything to convince you to stay but after he had realized that nothing would make you spend another hour in Daemon's presence he had decided to grant you some time alone but in order to hide this crisis from the smallfolk Viserys had ordered you to go to Dragonstone.

Therefore you had a safe and warm place to live during you pregnancy and what would follow after you didn't want to think about right now.

You sat in your chair a few more minutes until Ser Roggers returned to your chambers. His facial expression worried you at first and you flared your nostrils.

"Is he gone?" He sighed but then nodded. "Yes. He left."

You exhaled deeply. "Good."

"But my lady, I don't think… I mean I think it would be good to see him. He's the father of your child. And your husband."

You rolled your eyes and grinded your teeth threateningly.

"I don't want to see him. He humiliated and embarrassed me and just because he inserted himself inside of me once doesn't mean I'm obligated to spend the rest of my life with him."

He widened his eyes at your inappropriate words but you ignored it.

"I wish to be left alone by him. I do hope you have made that clear to him. No more letters or visits."

"I tried to, yes. But I don't know if he'll actually do it."

You rolled your eyes again. "Then try harder."

Ser Roggers bowed and then excused himself and you were left with a bitter feeling in your stomach. You didn't want to be mean to your most loyal and closest companion here but just hearing Daemon's name made your blood boil. And yet it wasn't Ser Rogger's fault, he only followed your orders.

With a feeling of regret you promised yourself that you would be kinder to him in the morrow and then rose from your chair. It was still early but you were feeling quite tired already so you made your way to the door to ask your servants to prepare your supper so you could go to sleep early.

The next weeks passed and each day you felt like everything you were doing became more difficult. Your belly has swelled to an unimaginable size and soon the easiest things such as walking up a staircase became almost unbearable.

And then you were in your ninth month and you made a decision that probably shocked you the most out of all people.

You allowed Daemon to visit you.

You couldn't even exactly explain why you chose to do it but the date of the birth of your child growing closer triggered a feeling of both helplessness and reasonableness in you. Because as much as you still hated him and swore yourself you'd never come back to him on a daily basis you knew that he would demand to see his child. It would be his heir after all and even you couldn't deny him to visit his child.

And well aware that the first few weeks after giving birth would be hard for you you decided to rather get used to seeing him every now and then now.

When you told Ser Roggers the news his jaw dropped and he was too stunned to speak for a second.

"Pardon me, my lady. But did you say I am to invite the prince to dragonstone?"

The last weeks Daemon had still kept you busy with a lot of letters begging and pleading for your forgiveness and you had been quite vocal about your displeasure so it was no wonder Ser Roggers was confused now.

"Yes. Of course you may not invite him to live here with me. Just for an afternoon or supper."

The knight hesitate but then nodded. "F-Fine. I'm going to make it happen, my lady."

And so on the very same evening the message arrived that Daemon would be coming to dragonstone on the next day. Ser Roggers told you that Daemon had intended to come the very same day but he had refused him with the explanation that you needed a lot of sleep in this state so your husband had insisted on coming with the first light of dawn.

That night you went to sleep with an odd feeling in your stomach. You didn't know what it would be like to see him again. It had barely been two months and yet you so felt so distant to him that you caught yourself thinking whether you had actually known him at some point. What if he would drag you back to the red keep?

'No,' you thought and turned to your other side. 'All of this is still under Viserys' watch and Daemon wouldn't turn against his own brother.' But well, hadn't he turned against you? His wife?

You thought back to your life months ago. How well you were able to remember how happy you had been when the maesters had told you that you were with child. Your life had seemed perfect. A loving and protecting husband who worshiped you like a goddess. A safe and comfortable life in the keep and a promising future.

Unconcsiously tears had welled in your eyes and you blinked several times. You couldn't fool yourself, because as strong and angry you appeared towards the people here at dragonstone and first and foremost Ser Roggers, you were deeply hurt and had found yourself crying to sleep more than once.

Everything could have been magical if Daemon hadn't been so stupid to destroy it. All he had to do was open his eyes and see what both your lives had become now because you were certain that he wasn't any happier now as well. And that was entirely his fault.

You clenched your fist and gulped loudly. You had to stay strong now. Tonight and tomorrow. This would only work if you'd be able to control your feelings and remain calm.

You raised your chin and then fell asleep.

[koroart]

DimiClaude gets married and by some magical means or another, they have a child with both of their DNA and whatnot.

What kind of parents would DimiClaude be like with their child/children? I'm sure Dimitri would want to raise their kid(s) the same wat/similar to how Lambert raised him. Though I'm not necessarily sure if Claude would raise their kid(s) the same way his parents raised him. Like, when Claude says one of his punishments was being dragged around by a horse.

Oh, okay baby, we asking the real questions here, huh? Love it, love you <3

Under a read more cuz I've been ruminating this for a long time--

( hits both dmcl with trans-o-nator beam )

Now! Let's address something first and foremost! Mostly concerning Dimitri if we are talking about canon being applied here -- due to his trauma, there is a high possible chance that many of Dimitri's memories of his father probably would have been warped or even suppressed after what Lambert had become to him after the events of the Tragedy, which is a vengeful ghost ( in comparison to the real Lambert, who probably wouldn't want his son to live a life with vengeance as a means to keep going ) -- so Dimitri would not be able to even recall much of what kind of father Lambert was at some point during his own experience with parenthood.

Dimitri had lost his only good example of what a parent should be ( I would argue Rodrigue be counted as well but at the end of the day, he's not Dimitri's father, but I'm sure Dimitri would also draw on him for example all the same.)

Still! With what he could remember, Dimitri knew that he would have to approach parenthood with patience, understanding, and above all; love. Like his own father had to when he had to raise Dimitri alone for those first seven years of Dimitri's life. Even with what little we see of Lambert in canon, you can tell he was a good father -- he loved Dimitri very much and had so much faith in him. He also made sure to emphasize humility in his son, which is why Dimitri himself isn't your typical spoiled prince trope. Dimitri himself is a reflection of his father's love -- he's compassionate and kind and when allowed to, loving, because he had that example from Lambert. Dimitri was loved very much, so it's no surprise he ended up so vengeful and sorrowful because that love was ripped away from him.

In Claude's case -- while he is the only lord to have both parents alive and well -- from what he's said and what we can kinda see -- he's not as close to his parents as Dimitri was to Lambert.

Claude of course, does love his parents and his parents love him, Tiana loved him enough and had faith in him to let Claude go to Fodlan and make his own path in life -- and Claude seemed to be his father's favorite child among his many siblings -- his parents to me kinda felt like that, "tough love" kind of parents, if a bit emotionally neglectful ( given how distant Claude is, trust me, from one Leo to another with an emotionally neglectful parent whom I also love deeply at the same time-- you keep that shit IN )

So I definitely feel like Claude would not want to raise his child the way his parents did but he's going to struggle the most out of the two of them because he didn't learn how to be emotionally available when needed, just like how his parents probably were to him. He keeps a lot of shit in and it takes a lot of trust for Claude to be able to be so open and honest with people -- with a child that's hard to do, because a child learns from example and if he shows them that you have to earn that affection or being disciplined like he was is how a parent should love their child -- the kid is gonna end up presenting him and then they're both just gonna be at odds with each other as the kid grows up.

Which is why Dimitri is a good counterbalance for Claude -- he helps Claude be more emotionally open with their kid and Claude, in turn, helps Dimitri not become too over-bearing and let their child be independent.

Both of them together, learn to show their child love, warmth and understanding -- giving them a childhood that both of them didn't get to have. One who had that childhood innocence ripped from him with tragedy and the other living each day in survival mode. Because above all, their child's happiness is what is important.

[365emotionlessfaces]

i’m literally so in love with her

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 4 WC:~1.8k

The next couple days came and went pretty much the same way. Melissa and her Aspiring One kept winning, or at least placing in the top three, and every time Melissa saw that bright smile, she found it harder to not kiss the girl. Their friendship had grown quickly over the past few days, and by the time dinner rolled around on the fourth day, they were practically inseparable. They had gotten so comfortable with each other, it almost felt weird to not be touching in some way or another, whether it was shoulders or knees touching, linking arms to walk around, or all out holding each other’s hands when they were only in need of one useful limb.

The days ended the same way, too. They would don their swimsuits and make their way to their private beach, laughing and bonding before dinner, which was also paired with laughs and smiles that neither of them would admit meant anything more. Her Aspiring one would tell her all the things she would do if she got to go home with Melissa, and Melissa allowed herself to imagine what it would be like. Having this pretty young thing there to treat her like a queen, all the time. Living a life with someone who went out of their way to do nice things and say nice things. She shook the thoughts from her head. This is just a kid. Even though Melissa knew that she’d be getting one helluva sweet deal, she knew that the kid had her whole life ahead of her, and Melissa would turn out to be the Joe in her life. Not being good enough for her.

So, instead Melissa would redirect the conversation and share horror stories from teaching, and when the girl didn’t waver in her dream of teaching, Melissa got to tell her all the things that made sharing her knowledge worth it.

They tried staying out as late as possible on the fourth night because they both knew that after dinner tomorrow, everyone would be packing up and heading back to their homes. Melissa couldn’t admit out loud that she wasn’t ready for this to end. Here was this girl promising Melissa the life she’d always wanted, and the redhead knew she’d have to give it up. So she just enjoyed her last night with the girl, and tried to push the dread for the morning out of her head.

Dreams came to Melissa fast, and unrelenting that night. Snippets of a life she could never have. Parent Trap sitting across from her at their table, eating dinner in the home they shared. Slow dancing in the living room while Burl Ives sings Christmas songs through the radio. Double dates with Barbara and Gerald. Looking through a maternity ward window at a tiny baby with a tiny bracelet that says SCHEMMENTI-

Melissa jolted awake and sat up quickly, mindful not to hit her head on the bunk above her. It was still dark, but almost out of instinct she looked across the room to Parent Trap’s bed. Melissa could just make out the silhouette of the young girl. She leaned against a post of the bed frame, and sighed.

‘I’m being ridiculous. I’ve got Joe at home to worry about, hopefully not for much longer, and what would Nonna say?’ Melissa huffed out a silent chuckle at the thought. ‘Might give ‘er a heart attack. Not even done with my divorce an’ I show up with a doll on my arm younger than the broad Joe had?’

After five minutes, the post was starting to dig into her back, so she decided to use the bathroom light to check her watch. When she saw she had ‘two freakin’ hours??’ until breakfast, she decided that she was gonna watch the sunrise from her little secret beach. As she dressed for the day, and exited the cabin as quietly as she could, Melissa hadn’t noticed that the star of her dreams had woken up.

Melissa only had about ten minutes between herself and nature before she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see her Aspiring One with that beautiful smile, and those glittering eyes.

“Hey. Good mornin’, hon,” was the first words Melissa spoke for the day. Her voice was slightly groggy, despite being awake for a while now. She saw the young girl flush, and despite being slightly confused- she hasn’t blushed at ‘hon’ before-, she drank it in. This was the last day she’d ever get to see this gorgeous young girl and she’d like to spend it right by her side.

The girl took a seat next to Melissa and linked their arms before replying, “Morning, Em,” with a smile. The sun hadn’t made it over the trees across the small lake, but it was clear that it had come over the horizon behind them. The young girl didn’t say anything else, she just laid her head on Melissa’s shoulder. The redhead leaned her head against the top of the younger girl’s and they watched the sunrise in a comfortable silence. Melissa couldn’t help her mind wandering, imagining what it might be like to be able to wake up next to Parent Trap every day to watch the sunrise together.

After watching the beautiful colors cross the sky signaling the start of a new day, they pulled apart, but only slightly. “I’m really sad that we’re going home tonight,” the young girl said. Melissa hummed in agreement. “I really like you, Em. I wish we could go home together.” Melissa looked over to see the girl blushing again.

Melissa wished that, too, but she knew what she had to do. “Listen, kid-” The redhead was cut off when her Aspiring One placed their lips together softly. The kiss was brief, the young girl pulling away just as quickly as she had leaned in. Melissa had to use every ounce of self control not to throw everything out the window and just take the girl here on the beach.

“Sorry, I, uh, I just wanted to know what it would be like before you shot me down,” the girl said sheepishly. Melissa’s heart felt like it was shattering inside of her chest. They both knew what was about to come.

Melissa sighed before she spoke. The tears were already welling up in her eyes, so she looked down at her hands. “You’re young, you’re just a kid. You got your whole life ahead o’ ya. You’ve got school to go to, and I’ve got a divorce to win. I’d love nothin’ more than to be able to run away with you or somethin’, but I couldn’t do that to ya. It would never work, anyways. You need to go back home to Michigan, and go to school, and be the best teacher they ever see ‘round those parts.”

Melissa couldn’t bear to look back up to the girl. She finally let the tears fall when the girl stood and left, without saying anything more. Melissa couldn’t help but feel like she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Melissa and her Aspiring Teacher won the last contest, of course, but the young girl only spoke to Melissa when she had to. Her voice was still full of kindness, but it wasn’t as enthusiastic, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. Was the shine in the girl’s eye just in Melissa’s imagination? Now that she had broken the girl’s heart, and her own, she couldn’t seeit anymore?

At dinner, Parent Trap sat with a group of kids her age, instead of with Melissa. The redhead, unable to stand being in the same room as the girl without being able to be right next to her, took her dinner to go. On her trek back to the cabin, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a headstart on packing. Entering the cabin, she looked to the bed where her Aspiring One had spent the last week, and sighed, tears welling up once more. She’d been on the verge of crying too many times today for her liking.

Sandwich in one hand, she tried to use the other to heave her suitcase onto the bed. You would think that it being almost empty would have made the task easier, but somehow Melissa managed to almost drop her sandwich, which made her let go of the suitcase to make sure her dinner stayed safe and edible with both hands. As the case went tumbling, it opened and out fell a little stuffed eagle, clearly handcrafted, wearing a Philadelphia Eagles jersey and denim shorts.

“Oh, Ronny! I forgot about you,” Melissa mumbled aloud. She had brought Ronny along in case they did somethin’ stupid, like a show and tell type thing. She then, of course, would have told them that he’s named after the quarterback playing for the Eagles the year she started teaching. She bent over to pick him up, and as she stood back up, she had an idea to end on better terms with the young girl that may or may not have stolen Melissa’s heart in the span of a week.

Melissa was pacing when Parent Trap returned from dinner. Her bags, long packed, sat near the door waiting for her.

“Hey. I was waitin’ for ya. I, uh, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye and tellin’ ya that, uh, that I’m really glad I met ya,” the girl looked back at Melissa and frowned, but waited for the redhead to continue. Melissa reached down and grabbed Ronny from where she had set him on Parent Trap’s bed. “I hope I didn’t steer you away from teachin’, I still think you’d be amazing at it. This is Ronny,” Melissa held him out to the girl. “I got him from a student on the last day of my first year. I want you to have ‘im.”

The girl took the stuffed eagle before replying softly, “Thanks, Em.” Melissa looked at her while the girl smiled back at her, but Melissa could tell that the smile would never reach the girl’s eyes. Her still-not-sparkling-anymore eyes. Melissa sighed a ‘You’re welcome,’ before heading towards the door.

As she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, she turned to look at the girl one last time. “Maybe in the future, we’ll meet again. When you’ve finished school, and I’ve finished with the disaster in mine,” Melissa told the girl hopefully. She knew how unlikely it was. She only knew the girl’s first name, and the girl didn’t know her name at all. How would they even find each other?

“Yeah… maybe,” floated across the room softly and quietly. The girl didn’t even turn back to look at Melissa as she said it. Melissa just put her head down, and left the cabin. She cried in the taxi, and on the plane, and in the other taxi, and even a little bit once she was home.

Part Five