#anyways hes like 2 feet tall | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafey-baby · 3 months ago

Text

sweet treat 2

In which sexy construction worker!rafe who spends his days lifting heavy stuff and building shit (his words) and driving shy!reader home shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

Hi! this is a part two to this (also this whole story was originally supposed to be just a small blurb consisting of a few silly sentences but then I got a bit carried away :D) anyways hope you enjoy xx

part 3 part 4 part 5

cw: construction worker!rafe being a tease, slight somnophilia, smut (dry humping, dirty talk, p-in-v, unprotected sex)

wc: 2.7k

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment.

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her.

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) and she finally opens the door, albeit gingerly, mentally preparing to face a serial killer. However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her.

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” A surprised look paints over her visage.

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might need it back,” he’s grinning, holding out a phone to her, pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call you,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke.

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance.

A worn-out t shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it. She’s not wearing anything else. He’s trying not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair, swallowing nervously under his attention.

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never actually ended up fucking her when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for a week after the particularly long shift she’d just had.

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder, thumb smoothing over the material of her shirt, letting her rest in tranquility. Telling himself he could be patient with her, not wanting to rush anything.

However, she’s not making it very easy for him right now when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her. She looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms and slump down on her bed, crawling under crisp sheets and feel how her lungs expand against his chest.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He carefully asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer, not wanting him to go yet; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” She clumsily offers.

His brows raise, surprised at her proposition. She’s being uncharacteristically bold; his mouth twists into an amused simper.

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and just wanna go home, sorry, I don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown familiar with.

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold, taking a look around her cozy home. Leafy plants adding greenery to the small space and picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls. It’s cute, he thinks.

She sets a steaming mug in front of him on her kitchen table and sits down next to him on a wooden chair. He’s definitely not staring at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up the tops of her thighs, allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out. He clears his throat.

“You often have trouble sleeping?” He tries to focus on something else, anything else, taking a slow sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s just sometimes it’s hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. I try to fall asleep but the loud noises of the customers talking and the clinking of plates and spoons keep replaying in my head and suddenly I’m wide awake, you know?” She explains.

“I’m sorry, is there anything that helps?” He prods.

“I don’t know, I guess just trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out.

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re just using me in order to fall asleep?” He teases, grinning when he manages to drag out yet another giggle from her mouth.

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she looks at him.

“Should I feel offended right now?” He jokingly scoffs.

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.”

And he thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy, she’s a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self would be, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape the gaps of his teeth.

“You into cuddling?” He asks, profound aquamarine locking with her rounded eyes.

“Uh— I mean, I probably would be if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond.

“Wanna cuddle with me?” He says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent to this whole situation while she feels dizzy, dazed mind reeling and vivid heart tingling in her ribcage.

“Really? You want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?” She seems taken aback by his proposal.

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” His brows crease.

“Yes, of course we are, I just—”

“Look, all I’m saying, is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having something else to focus on and shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this; he’s simply trying to help.

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees and swiftly gets up on wobbly feet, almost falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, grounding her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at his sudden proximity.

“Easy there, Sweetheart,” he chuckles against her hair, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him amusing.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle, caging her in with gentle fingertips toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter closed.

He’s so warm and big making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.

“You good?” He murmurs next to her ear.

“Mhm,” she blissfully croons, letting out a content exhale.

Her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy and the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.

“Sweet dreams,” is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a crepuscular dormancy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She’s lethargic in her movements when she rouses from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in. Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his and it’s murky in her unlit bedroom; the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots in her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what has woken her up.

Then she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass. There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization.

He’s hard. Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more.

She swallows.

What is she supposed to do?

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low groan, rumbling deep from his firm chest; grip tightening around her smaller form.

“Rafe?” She calls out.

No response.

“Rafe? Wake up.”

Still nothing.

She can feel him breathing heavily against her hair; pawing at her hips every now and then, trying to pull her even closer, even if they’re already effectively glued together and there’s absolutely no means for her to move.

She’s starting to become sticky between her thighs as he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in a stupor.

She mewls when her clit throbs, pestering for some sort of friction. And that’s when he finally stirs, the weight of his arms loosening like a tight knot unfurling and her lungs are finally able to greedily suck in brisk air.

“Shit, sorry, my bad” his tone is gravelly and at that, some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides.

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects; her face heats up.

“It’s uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries,” she rambles because what the fuck is she supposed to say?

“No, it’s fully my fault, just had quite a nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse.

“Oh. What was it about?” She inquires, yawning, perhaps too curious for her own good.

“You wanna know?” His brows raise, surprised.

She hums.

“Well, there was this really pretty girl, and she had me in her mouth and was letting me do whatever I wanted to her,” he murmurs with a heady tone overlaying his response.

“Oh,” she tries to appear indifferent, although there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom from the damp soil in the pit of her stomach at his words.

He chuckles at how oblivious she is. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?” He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here with him?

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smiling to himself.

“So, what else happened?”

“What else? Okay, then she let me do this,” he says at the same time as he grabs her hips again, pushing against her, earning a faint whimper from her when she can feel how big he is through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Rafe…what are you doing?” She manages to ask through a whine; his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” He mutters, shallow.

“I— what are you— what are you talking about?” Her brain is foggy and she’s not able to think straight when he’s so close.

He doesn’t answer, instead continuing the retelling of his dream. “Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper. Her inhale gets stuck somewhere along the way when he paws at her hips, shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock and he lets out a heartfelt grunt when she moves her achy cunt over him.

“You like this? Such a needy little thing, yeah?” He helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips; dragging her against his cock, filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.

“Rafe, can you…”

“Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” He says as he slips a hand in her panties, fingers petting at her puffy clit and a loud moan leaves her when she lifts the fabric of her shirt up in order to have a better view.

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Getting real fucking wet from me just being close to you, yeah?” His thumb rubs lazy circles on her sensitive button, making her cry out his name as she presses down harder against his cock.

“Shit, gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that. You wanna know what else was in my dream?”

She nods, frantic.

“I pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, I did this,” he mutters as he takes himself out from the confines and her eyes round out as she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head of his cock on her clit, one, two, three times, and then smears it on her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean, pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out, turning her into a whimpering mess. The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked down to where they connect, fascinated.

“Fuck, Sweetheart, does that feel nice?” He asks, swiping a thumb over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper, forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.

“Feels so good, Rafe, I think I’m gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.

“You’re gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his face, nudging his dick about halfway in and out, never fully plunging it inside of her though.

“You feel so good, I can’t— can’t hold it,” water droplets are gathering in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as teary eyes look into larimar and she rolls her hips against him, chasing after some sort of release.

“Shit, go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” He encourages her and she doesn’t need to be told twice; crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him.

“There you go, just fucking give it to me,” he grunts and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching; rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he stuffs his cock profoundly into her, to the hilt.

He stills inside her and then he’s groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim; making her feel so full. She thinks she could die happy right now.

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him, burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.

“Did so good for me, shit, we should do this more often, yeah?” He says with a sleepy tinge.

And she’s completely out of it, head as empty as ever, merely managing an amorphous hum in agreement; tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber.

2K notes · View notes

all-purpose-dish-soap · 6 months ago

Text

34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)

...

You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.

You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.

Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.

Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."

This is a nightmare. A hallucination.

"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."

"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"

"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.

"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."

"You bit me!"

"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."

"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."

⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇

You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.

There’s nowhere to go.

Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"

"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.

Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.

Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.

The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.

He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.

"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.

You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.

Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”

Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."

You make it up another two footholds before you slip.

Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.

You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.

Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."

You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?

"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"

"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."

"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"

You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"

"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”

Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"

Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.

He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.

"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."

You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...

Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"

You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."

You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.

Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"

Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."

You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.

You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.

He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.

Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?

Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.

You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.

"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.

"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."

You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"

Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.

At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."

“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.

At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.

Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"

You huff. "When I can, clearly."

He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."

"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.

"Then how d'you catch food?"

"I don't have to catch my food."

"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."

"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.

"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."

"If that's even possible," Gaz says.

You scowl. Rude.

Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."

"Watch it."

A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"

"Maybe."

"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."

You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.

Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.

"We both have bones.”

"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.

He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.

Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.

"My thigh is like a seal?"

"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.

You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.

Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.

You grab his hands. "Hey!"

He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”

"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.

"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"

You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."

A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."

"Absolutely not."

"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."

“Let us in,” Gaz says.

“No.”

"Not even me?" he asks.

"No."

They both frown.

"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"

You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"

"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"

Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."

"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."

He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.

Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"

You cross your arms. "None of your business."

"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.

“I didn't say that.”

"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.

All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"

Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”

"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"

Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.

Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."

"But it's morning!"

"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."

"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.

"It will,” Gaz agrees.

You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.

A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”

You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.

Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"

"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag

2K notes · View notes

highvern · 9 months ago

Text

Work Me Out

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: working out, flirting, touching, almost car sex, making out, breast play, fingering, oral, face sitting, multiple sex positions, big dick mingyu, protected sex (gasp!), strength kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking :) lover boy gyu as always. let me know if i missed anything!

Length: ~5k

Note: y'all thought cheol rot was bad but the OG bias wrecker is back. dont come at me for gym terminology i go by vibes. replaced my gym crush with mingyu and this is what happened <3 i have a bonus/pt 2 in the drafts too but I'll wait to post it bc too much muscle pig mingyu is bad for the soul... and the [redacted]

to the anon that sent me a seok ask forever ago about his arms, im sorry i used it in this fic. but know i have a seok fic with exactly what you asked for in the works rn. everyone say thank you anon.

@bbychocolat do not hit my line about mingyu for at least 24 business hours i need to recover

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read part II

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Figuring out the ins and outs of a new gym isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible. Go too early and you’re surrounded by creepy men old enough to be your grandfather. Right after work is a sure way to experience hoards of gym bros crowding around machines like they own them.

So you go as late as possible.

Only a handful of people are dispersed through the large space. A few run on the treadmills lined on the catwalk of the second floor, several switch through different weights in front of the mirrors. You make your way through the maze of equipment towards the leg press; your final sets before you can go home and wash away the grime of the day.

Or you would if someone wasn’t occupying the one machine you need.

Peeping your head around, you notice a black backpack and matching water bottle on the ground. You glance around, unable to find a clear owner since the next closest person is halfway across the gym doing a different exercise.

Would it be that rude to take the machine out from under someone if they’re not even using it? You could probably get in all your sets before the person even came back if you moved quickly.

You wait a few minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have the mystery person walk back up the second you sat down? But after five minutes pass and no one emerges to claim the spot, you set about changing the weights out.

And just when you slip into the seat, you look up and find someone approaching.

He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s barely ten feet away. Your saving grace is that he hasn’t spotted you yet thanks to his phone.

But that doesn’t last long.

“Oh! Sorry! Were you using this machine?” You ask, trying to sound cordial.

“It’s okay!” He smiles at you. “Do you need it?”

Yes.

“No, I can find something else to do.”

You rise to do just that when he stops you with a shrug.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I take long breaks between my sets anyway so it’s no big deal.”

So that’s where he went.

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

He moves to lean against the wall, face buried in his phone once again as you work through your set. Honestly you think he forgot you were even there until you start standing up and he pushes off his perch.

Exchanging polite smiles, you skirt around him and snag your water bottle before occupying the same spot against the painted bricks. You try not to be a creep but watching the way the muscles in his legs bulge and coil with each rep is impossible to look away from. Especially when there’s just so much to look at.

He racks up twelve reps with ease and switches back off with you before wandering out of sight.

You work through two of your sets before he comes teetering back.

“I tried putting it back to your weight.” You laugh, sipping from your water bottle.

“Three forty? Ouch.”

“What? Should I have made it lighter?”

“Try heavier. Like four hundred.”

“My sincerest apologies.” You mock, placing your hand over your heart. “I’ll remember that next time.”

He laughs again before slipping back into the seat and working through the motions.

This time you don’t bother hiding the way you watch him over your phone. He looks good, it’d be a waste not to watch the swell of his chest or the stretch of his thighs. The gym shorts and snug black t-shirt only exacerbate how cut his physique is.

And if he makes a comment you can always twist your not so subtle gawking into a compliment about his form.

When he finishes his set again, he snags his bag and water bottle off the ground before turning to you. “All yours. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

And he’s gone.

Over the next few weeks, you learn mystery man works out at the same time you. He’s there when you arrive and remains when you leave after an hour and a half of sweating and gasping like a dying fish, only absent on Wednesdays when you manage the most last luster workouts of your life. The disappointment the first time you realized you were looking for the backwards cap sticking out amongst the free weights would have been embarrassing but what's wrong with a little eye candy while breaking a sweat?

And what a great view he makes. Your brief peeks into the mirrored walls are full of nothing straining muscles and glowing skin. The first day he did arms in a cutoff tee will go down in history as the worst day of your life. Only rivaled by all the other days he works his legs in shorts accentuating just how nice his ass is with every squat.

Your friends all ask when you’re going to talk to him again. As if you’ll just walk right up and interrupt the best part of your day. No, you’d rather watch him move across the gym floor from the corner of your eye, throw him a friendly nod, and go about your business than run the risk of making things awkward.

Unfortunately, doesn’t possess the same desire to remain a friendly nameless face like you do.

His name is Mingyu. Or that’s what the employee with glasses calls him while they joke around one night. You don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re loud and the only exit takes you right past the U-shaped desk. Mingyu throws a grin as you pass by on your way out and the flash of teeth spikes your heart rate higher than any exercise you’ve done that night.

When he officially introduces himself at the water fountain the next night, you have to bite the urge to tell him ‘I know.’ Instead you snort at his extended hand, providing your own name over the firm shake like you won’t be haunted by the feeling of the calluses on his fingers or the heat of his palm for the next week.

What’s worse is how he says your name back, rolling the sound across his tongue and past his quirked lips.

And the final nail in the coffin is when you leave and you see the way he turns in the glass doors to watch, bidding you a goodnight with your name signed at the end.

Mingyu might be the worst gym crush in the world. Mostly because your thoughts of him extend beyond the brick walls he should only exist in. And partially because he’s caught you staring more times than you care to admit.

Not as many times as you’ve caught him, but the point stands.

No, the worst part, you find out, is Mingyu is an incorrigible flirt. And he knows it.

Tonight you’re off schedule, runny nearly half an hour later than usual.; work clothes sticking to your skin as you make your way towards the off shooting hall housing the entrance to the locker rooms. In a rush, you step around another body only to end up in front of one much more familiar.

“There's my girl.” Mingyu smiles. “Thought you were skipping out on me.”

My girl. My girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….

There isn’t a thought in your head beyond the bold casualness he drops that bomb on you with so you nod awkwardly and force yourself not to sprint the next twenty feet to hide.

Half an hour later, when you catch him watching you in the mirror over his own weights, the bastard smiles like the cat who caught the canary.

But you end up on top when Mingyu offers to spot you while doing weighted squats. He’s at your back, an appropriate amount of space between your bodies you wish he’d close. You don’t need his help. Your form is better than his (you would know, his ass and thighs give you tunnel vision when its his leg day). And the weight on the bar isn’t even enough to make you strain but why pass up on the offer? Especially with how Mingyu meets your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror with each dip.

And then he cheers ‘that’s my girl’ again when you re-rack the equipment with ease and it's over.

“Shit,” you grunt.

Mingyu pops up from his perch between your breasts under your shirt, hair a mess and eyes glazed. “Good?”

“No, your steering wheel is in my back.” You wince, attempting to wiggle away and ending up further up his lap.

“Sorry, let me just…”

The seat flies back under your combined weight, throwing your forehead right into Mingyu’s chin.

“Fuck!”

“Oh my god!” You gasp. “Are you okay?”

Mingyu’s head falls back as he releases a massive sigh. Each second that ticks by has you both coming to the same conclusion.

“Yeah,” you breath, sitting up. “I think this was a bad idea.”

“Oh…”

“I just mean like your car is small and you’re too big and I—“

The guffaw Mingyu tries to hide slips free too easily. “That’s what she said.”

“God, you’re gross.”

Your nose crinkles as you rise up, using his chest for leverage. It feels as nice as it looks and its the worst knowledge you’ve gained in you life.

“Sticks and stones,” he hums.

“Well this was fun. I’ll ugh… see you around?”

When you try to shift back into the passenger seat to exit, Mingyu’s hands flex over your thighs to keep you in his lap. His sweats do nothing to hide his semi. Something he doesn’t even seem to consider as a concern given the way he unconsciously curls into you.

“Or we can go back to mine.”

He’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Like he won’t go home and fuck his fist in the shower with the echoes of your sighs filling his ears if you turn him down. You can see it in his eyes. What hinges on his offer and how much you’ll both regret it if the tension fizzles and dies in his SUV.

From where you’re sitting, it’s incredibly difficult to think with your head and not your hormones. Mingyu is hot, he’s nice, he seems decent enough. His behavior doesn’t hint at him being a creep. If he’s normal enough to fuck in his car, is he not normal enough to fuck in the comfort of a bed?

The thumb stroking your thighs and the hopeful eyes staring you down make the decision for you.

“Yeah, okay.”

With his address in your phone’s GPS, you trail after his SUV in your own car. The roads are familiar because they’re the same roads you drive when you return to your apartment that turns out to be only three blocks closer to the gym than Mingyu’s.

All this time he’d been so close and you never even realized. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him when he drove home? If he did, you’re in for a night.

Rolling into a space only a few down from where he parks, you pause to hype yourself up.

People have sex all the time. It’s no big deal. I can do this.

A knock at the window interrupts your spiral, finding Mingyu smiling sheepishly through the glass. The muscles in your chest squeeze when he opens the door and holds it for you to exit; and threaten to explode when his hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards the stairwell.

Footsteps echo down to the hall, Mingyu only a fraction ahead to lead the way to a non-descript door with a seasonal doormat that's seen better days.

“Ugh, this is it.”

His apartment is shockingly clean for a guy your age. Not clean in the ‘I don’t own enough shit to even be dirty’ way. No, Mingyu’s apartment is cozy. There’s throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He has a lamp and bookshelf in the corner and the walls are adorned with a collage of artwork thoughtfully pieced together. Several personal photos are littered throughout, some with an obviously younger Mingyu propped next to what must be a sister or a cousin, a few of him with friends. One of him and a familiar man with glasses, their faces blurry but the glee clear as they’re frozen in time. Your lips lift with a soft smile at the personal touches bleeding into every corner of his space.

Turning over your shoulder you ask, “You and the guy at the gym are friends?”

Mingyu’s watching you with something unidentifiable in his eyes, stepping forward to figure out which frame you're looking at until he’s only a foot behind you.

“Yeah, we went to the same middle school.”

“And this one?” You say, fingers tracing the edge of the wooden frame.

“My little sister.” Mingyu follows, still only a step behind.

“And I’m assuming these are your parents?”

“Actually those are Wonwoo’s parents.” He chuckles. “These are my parents.”

Mingyu’s arm reaches around to point at the correct photo, his chest brushing against your back.

“Wanna give me the tour?”

Mingyu manages to show you everything in five minutes. The living room and connected kitchen you’re already standing in, the door of the hall bathroom, and finally his bedroom. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, discovering the new smattering of details that uncover more about the man waiting with baited breath in the threshold.

“Why are you over there?” You ask.

With arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears, Mingyu resembles a kid waiting to be scolded rather than a man who tried to hook up with you in his car less than thirty minutes ago.

“I’m nervous.”

You can’t stop the satisfaction from spreading to your face. “I make you nervous?”

Mingyu pushes off the door jam, shuffling forward until he’s standing a foot in front of you. “Yeah. I don’t really do stuff like this.”

“Stuff like what? Try and fuck girls in your car?”

“Haha.” Mingyu mocks, face descending until he rubs his nose with yours.

Your eyes slip closed when his do, breathing each other's air. “Stuff like what, Gyu?”

Your hands find the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulder. Each brush of his lips across your cheek, down your jaw, until he finds your ear.

“I don’t sleep around with girls I’m not dating.”

Oh.

“We don’t hav—”

“Which is not the best way to ask you out.”

You press him out of your space, far enough that you can look him in the eyes and see if he’s serious. The tips of Mingyu’s ears burn red but he’s looking right at you despite how embarrassed he clearly feels.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Ugh, yeah. I think it’d be fun. But you don’t have to! If you just wanna do this that's fine t—”

Whatever words Mingyu was trying to say fizzle on the tip of his tongue as you pull him into a kiss. He curls over you, pressing you further into his bed with every fervent pass. Wedging one hand under the small of your back, Mingyu lifts you up and carries you while he crawls to the center.

Your mind wanders to all the other ways he can manhandle you into the mattress.

He settles flat against you, hips cradled between your own while delving into your mouth. You fill your hands with his ass, dragging Mingyu’s covered cock against your core. A groan backs apart your lips as Mingyu falls into the curve of your neck.

“This is a yes to the date by the way.” You pant now that he’s taken over, hands scratching up his back in an effort to get rid of his shirt. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Mingyu’s clothes disappear over his head and across the room, yours following shortly after. The heat of bare skin on bare skin is better than anything until he takes one of your breasts in his palm and the other in his mouth.

Every curse you know flies through your lips as he sucks and pinches until you're sore between the legs.

He takes the squeeze of your thighs and the rock of your hips as a greenlight, hands leading where his lips follow until it’s nothing but your panty clad core an inch from his face.

“This okay?” Mingyu asks in the fat of your thigh, tongue trailing fire across the skin.

You nod with a sigh, “Mingyu, please.”

He doesn’t need much more than that, the fabric barrier gone in a blink and his nose traces your folds until he’s dying for a taste.

Mingyu eats pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen. The path of his pointed tongue around your clit is nothing short of precise, meticulously tracing every ridge and curve until the sheets stretch under your fingers. When he flattens it to pay broader attention, your legs squeeze and Mingyu’s hands force them wide around his shoulders.

Your feet flatten on the bed and thrust up his mouth, wet and crude with fingers in his hair and your whines in his ears. Every suck of Mingyu’s mouth forces the muscles in your neck to lerch until they hurt and your head falls back. He takes pride in the way you drip for him, making the best mess he’s ever had the privilege to clean up.

You reward him with an lavishing praise at the next twitch of your insides, “Fuck, just like that.”

Taking advantage of the slight arch in your spine, Mingyu’s hand sneaks under your back, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your ass. He curls your hips up and buries a finger in your core with mortifying ease.

Between your legs, Mingyu catches your eyes. Pupils blown wide, mouths bruised around stuttered breath. A matching set of debauched expressions. He’s more familiar like this; skin glowing with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Next time you see him at the gym you know it's all you’ll think about. Next time you're alone in your room, or the shower, or the grocery store. Or anywhere you’ve day dreamed about him before.

He leans back to watch the digit disappear, only to reappear soaking. “Feels good?”

“Give me another and it will.”

You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you for what you felt under his shorts. His tongue is hard and wet at your clit, fingers stretching and spreading until your stomach dips and you nearly buck him off as your clit swells from abuse.

Your fingers pluck at your nipples and Mingyu apparently likes to watch because he manages more enthusiasm, forces his finger to crook just the right way, and continues to suck even after you start screaming.

“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant, voice cracked.

Something sounding suspiciously like a ‘thank you’ drops into the mix but Mingyu’s the only one to hear it. In his opinion, he should be the one doing the thanking; you just gave him enough spank bank material for the next six months.

You don’t dislike the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and even his chest when you flip Mingyu over and aim to return the favor. He blushes when you lap against the hollow of his throat; embarrassed from the way he goes boneless with such simple affection.

He sinks into the plush of the mattress, propped up by the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Mingyu’s stomach stiffens under your tongue and the twitch blooms a smile on your face. Predictable.

“Sensitive?”

Your nails raking up the shape of his thighs turn the denial falling from his lips into a whine, and it makes you wonder what other sounds Mingyu will make with his cock in your mouth.

The vein bulging along the underside of his length gives your tongue something to trace along as you lap from base to flared tip, sucking down until it shines from spit and pre-cum. You take all you can until the curve of your throat protests.

Mingyu’s big and he’s loud.

“Oh God, shit.” He babbles with abandon, hands fisted at his sides until his knuckles turn pale.

You focus on the cock in your mouth rather than how pretty Mingyu’s chest would look covered in bite marks. How a bruise on his hip would be just visible when he reaches over his head to do pull ups, and red streaks from your nails on his bicep would make a great accessory.

A hand lands on the base of your skull, gentle until it's not. His thumb dips to stroke the bulge of his dick through your throat as you take him deeper. And like some ridiculous porno theres still an inch you’ll never be able to take even if you do nothing but let him fucking your mouth until the only thing you taste is cum.

“Fuuuuck,” Mingyu groans from a harsh suck on the upstroke.

He distracts you with his tongue on yours, keeping you from diving back down and destroying his ego from how quick you almost made him cum. Your one solace is the lazy grip you have on the base of Mingyu’s length, fingers tightening around the head while he cants into the squeeze.

You think Mingyu is going to plant you on his cock and make you ride it until one of you is crying. But he keeps pushing and pulling until you’re kneeling over his face, knees cushioned in the pillows and hands against the wall to steady you while he dives in again.

His head shakes back and forth, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit as you grind into his face. The last grip of sanity you have gives you the mind to reach back, jerking Mingyu off while he eats it, a cycle of moans moving through you; him into your folds when you squeeze from a grating pass off his tongue that has you whining to the ceiling fan.

“Shit, need you to fuck me.” You whine but don’t stop curling against the latch of his lips, legs stiff with ache.

It’s Mingyu who brings things to a halt, raising you away from his mouth until you're left on your knees while he stands to rummage in the drawer for a condom. You listen while the paint of the wall cools your forehead.

The hand at the dip of your spine makes you melt when he checks in, “Still okay?”

Nodding, you find him over your shoulder with a thick swallow. Mingyu’s nose follows the slope of your muscles, lips untying all the knots he’s worked into them over the past few weeks.

“Want it like this?”

“Yeah.”

You drop until your chest meets the bed and arch until it hurts just to put on a good show. Mingyu shuffles behind you, knocking your knees wider with his own, palms molding to your ass and spreading it apart to take a good look like he wasn’t tongue deep inside your pussy already. The room is nothing more than the sounds of grounding breaths; Mingyu watching the way your torso moves around the air, releasing a long exhale before moving closer.

The feel of his chest against yours was great, but the hard muscle of it along your back, his chain caught between and leaving a definitive mark, is life ruining. It shreds the last bit of humanity you’ve been clinging to since you dragged Mingyu to the parking lot and tried to stick your hands down his pants while leant against the passenger door.

No matter how well Mingyu stretched you for his cock it was never going to be enough. Taking the first inch nearly splits you in half. But you're soaked and needy; nothing short of the end of the world is going to keep you from getting the satisfaction of feeling him in your guts. You take it with measured breaths and affirmations to relax. Slow arches of his hips work him in until he’s flat with your ass and whispering absolute depravity into your ears.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Arching your ass higher, you whimper, “You’re huge.”

Your ass stings under his punishing hand, thrown forward by an involuntary buck of his hips.

“Don’t say that.”

You turn until you can look over your shoulder again, meeting wild eyes. “You feels so good.” You moan, eyelids low and wrecked.

“Didn’t—shit, think you’d have such a dirty mouth.” He bites into the side of your neck, sucking a bruise like a depraved teenager.

“I knew you’d have a fat cock.”

You get what you want so easily it's almost insulting; Mingyu’s hand forcing your face into the sheets and his hips rushing into you with pure need. Every prod into your cunt has you wailing. It’d destroy your self respect if you could think of anything beyond how he’s ruining you for anyone else.

Pillows topple off the edge of the bed as you scramble for a hold. Anything to ground you against the burn in your veins with every tight squeeze around Mingyu’s cock. His balls slap against your clit teasingly, more degrading than the way he has you bent in half.

“Harder,” you beg.

Mingyu falls back on his haunches, pulling you with him until you're sitting up right. His arm comes into view, curling around neck until your throat sits in the crux of his elbow and his hand latches on your shoulder; a crude headlock he uses as leverage to keep fucking into you. You’ve been choked but this is infinitely better. Whatever Mingyu wants to take from you, he’s in a position to do so.

“Gonna cum?” He nips into your earlobe.

His hand shoves its way between your legs, swipe roughly against your clit before you can even hope to answer.

A pathetic nod is all you manage thanks to the muscles gathered under your chin limiting your mobility.

Mingyu let's go then and your hands prevent a crash into the headboard, putting you back in the same position as before but you have to work for it now; ass bouncing in his laps as you ride him. Finding your balance, you drop one hand to your clit as Mingyu’s pinch your nipples.

“Let me have it, let me make you come." Mingyu pants into your spine. "Fuck you look so good like this, shit.”

He keeps rambling, flying with you towards the edge hand in hand; both breathless from the slap of your thighs against his.

“Mingyu, feel so good. Oh my god, oh my g—”

The softness of the pillows greets you once again while everything flashes white. Mingyu scrambles behind, fucking you into the mattress while you soak his cock. Muscles twitching, teeth ground till they crack, you come and come and come while begging him to do the same.

Mingyu gives in without hesitation, all his weight behind his hips as he fills the condom; dragging you back with an arm around your waist. Every jerk of his cock against your walls from the force makes you vibrate until he’s slipping out, soiled and used against the back of your thigh.

The last thing you register is his lips finding your shoulder again, rubbing back and forth as he comes down.

You fall asleep under the heat of his body for who knows how long, content in the mind shattering numbness of what just happened. Mingyu seems to feel the same, dead weight hanging half off you so you can at least manage to breath.

When you wake, whether it's twenty minutes or two hours later, Mingyu is snoring into the pillow, still naked. His lips pout in his sleep and you swallow the urge to shower them with kisses thanks to the drool at the corner of his mouth.

Even without the covers, you're warm. The kind of heat that slips over your skin, sinks into your bones and keens for you to fall asleep and stay. But Mingyu asked you on a date, not to spend the night. And you’d hate to assume and ruin whatever this is before it as a chance to start.

“Where are you going?” He pouts.

You don't make it two inches out of his arms before he’s pulling you back, tangling them around you so there's no chance of unnoticed escape. Mingyu digs his nose into your cheek and waits for an answer like he has all the time in the world.

Something tells you if he knew you were attempting to head home, Mingyu would throw a fit. And what use is that when you want to see what a night sleep with a giant human furnace is like?

“Bathroom.”

Adding to the list of information you’ve learned, Mingyu is a stage five clinger. He latches on to your back, guiding you into the shower stall for a quick spray down that leaves half your face, part of your thigh, and almost none of him clean.

He falls asleep against the base of your skull while brushing your teeth, because of course he has a stash of extra toothbrushes under the sink just in case.

And when you crawl under the fresh sheets, he pulls you into his chest, leaves a kiss against your forehead, and tells you he can’t wait for your breakfast date tomorrow.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #🫡 highvern

3K notes · View notes

letorip · 2 months ago

Text

kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n

791 notes · View notes

dmercer91 · 11 months ago

Note

can we get a part 2 of luke liking jacks best friend??? maybe where they end up together 🤭

got the girl, lh43

in which luke's behaviour finally clicks and you mess with him until he can admit his feelings out loud (2.0k)

soft, almost needy/naive luke is becoming my favourite cause i love me a boy that's deeply reliant on his snuggles despite being tall and man shaped. a little unproofread and a little silly in the middle, for flavour

when you woke up, you found yourself tucked under lukes arm, your face now a little hidden into his neck so that he could be far up enough on the bed that his legs didn't teeter the edge.

he was sound asleep, a little less of a morning person than you despite his hectic schedule during most of the year.

the summer was his time to sleep until ludicrous hours, and you took note throughout the years that he always took advantage.

he was always the last one of the brothers to hobble downstairs for breakfast, sleep frequently prominent in his eyes and his hair a tangled mess of his curls that were drying out due to the lake water and lack of caring for.

so you let him rest, carefully untangling yourself from his grasp and heading to wash your face, and brush your teeth. it would be a while before quinn was up, usually the most responsible brother who knew that if he got up early enough he could poach some of your breakfast and have a little while of peace in the gym or front yard.

you cleaned up some of the water bottles that had been left in the living room from the night prior, folding the throw blankets and fixing up the pillows before starting to cook your breakfast, deciding on a simple one for today; eggs, toast and some fruit.

what you didn't expect was to hear the creak of the stairs within a few seconds of you frying your eggs, your eyebrows furrowing as you examined the microwave for the time.

a little early for quinn, but you figured it was him anyways. "quinny?" you said, your voice travelling far enough to make it to the stairs but not to make its way upstairs and wake anyone.

when he didn't answer, you turned your head and saw that it was luke, rubbing exhaust from his eyes and sleepily making his way over to you.

you smiled, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into him, and sharp whine echoing into your ear as he saw that you were cooking breakfast.

"it's so early.. come back to bed w' me," he pleaded, tugging you away from the oven and pawing at the knobs of the stove, trying to turn it off.

you giggled, adjusting his arms on you and turning back to your pan, shaking your head.

"i'm making my breakfast, lukey. i can make you some, hm?" he shook his head, tucking his face into your neck as if the natural morning light was too harsh on his eyes.

his arms unravelled from your waist, hands planting on your hips and soothing up and down, pulling your shirt up on your waist a little with each passing.

you bit your lip, his actions from now and last night finally coming together in your brain.

snuggling up with you, staring at you instead of watching a movie he picked out, agreeing to spend the night with you, calling you baby by accident. you weren't sure how you hadn't picked up on it before.

everything was confirmed for you when the stairs croaked once again, now under the feet of the eldest hughes brother. when he saw you, luke still trying to pry your attention away from anything that wasn't him, his face lit with an amused smile.

he knew

you started to ponder on if jack knew, or even trevor and alex. if everyone was painfully aware of luke's eyes always being trained on you and decided to keep it from you.

you blinked back into reality, turning off the stove and plating your eggs. "lu?" you mumbled, offhandedly like you had a question you'd been meaning to ask him for some time, even though it only just come to you.

he hummed, hopeful eyes peeking up at you and his hands coming to a halt. "how about you go get ready and ill make you some breakfast, n' we can have it out on the boat," you murmured, cupping his head in your hand and playing with his curls.

you were gonna see how long it took until he broke, admitted how he'd been feeling.

you watched as his eyes dilated, scanning down to your lips with a deer in headlights-esque look of infatuation. he licked his lips, eyes darting back up to yours as soon as he caught his own staring.

he then nodded, blinking away the evident look of euphoria on his face at the feeling of your hands in his hair.

"oh," he murmured, still nodding along to your question. it was like he was under a spell. "okay," he finished, your hand retreating from his curls and pressing to his chest.

"i'll meet you out there, alright? gotta change once i'm done making your food," you instructed, earning one last nod of confirmation before he finally tore his body away from yours and lugged himself back upstairs and towards his own room.

"don't tell me you're gonna do this until he tells you himself," quinn's voice came from behind you once luke's bedroom door was shut and he couldn't hear the conversation.

"what's the fun in telling him i know? and plus, you can't tell me you didn't love watching that," you gestured to where luke had been standing, calling back to the blindingly obvious pining that the older brother had watched from the stairs.

he nodded a little, smile cracking at his lips as he took the plate of food you had already made for yourself.

you glared at him, mixing together another couple eggs into your bowl now that yours were gone.

"what! they would've been cold by the time you got to the boat anyways," he defended, shovelling a fork full of eggs into his mouth and sitting down at the island.

"y/n?" he asked, swallowing his bite.

you hummed, looking back at him as you poured the eggs into the pan. "you won't just lead him on, will you? like, you feel the same," he asked quietly, eyes avoiding yours after a quick second of eye contact.

your lips pulled back into a smile at his attempt at nonchalant protectiveness over his youngest brother, and you shook your head. "silly question. remember the girl who's face i shoved into a pile of snow? when we were kids?" you recalled, and quinn chuckled.

"yeah. i guess he's kinda always been yours," he stated, much more comfortable now that he knew two of his favourite people would soon stop dancing around each others requited feelings.

when the stairs could be heard again, you were expecting luke, but instead you saw your best friend, gloomy as he stared at you.

"you watched top gun without me, and you had our movie night with my little brother," he pouted, going up to you and ruffling your hair, tugging you into a side hug.

"even?" he asked, looking down at you hopefully.

"you threw me into the pool while i was wearing white. and zegras was there. even," you stuck your hand out, watching as he bashfully took it up to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

"not my brightest impulse decision, i have to admit," he sighed, reaching over your head for a plate and stealing the toast that had come out of the toaster, then some eggs.

you gave him the same glare you'd sent quinn, earning a similarly mischievous grin.

"why'd you make so much if s' not for me?" he wiggled his eyebrows, eyeing luke's bedroom door.

you rolled your eyes, a response you seemed to have needed to resort to one too many times this morning. for future reference, you'd keep in mind that one brother at a time for this hour of the morning was more than enough.

"her and lukey have a breakfast boat date," quinn teased, the two of them looking at each other with excited looks, both with hints of relief that something finally stirred between you and luke.

"at long last was getting a little long, munchkin. good for you," he kissed your forehead, sitting next to quinn at the counter.

"you're both just.. so insufferable" you grumbled, now having to finish off the carton of eggs you'd been using since two plate fulls had been stolen from you.

you popped more toast into the toaster, frowning at the empty plate of strawberries you’d cut up and grabbing the container of unsliced ones to make up some more.

switching focus back to the eggs, you scrambled them up and shook the pan around, ensuring a more even cook.

then, thing one and thing two came jogging downstairs in a full fledged conversation at the top of their lungs

“no, no. i totally kicked your a- ooh, fruit,“ he went to grab a piece of strawberry, earning a slap on the hand.

you spun around, spatula drawn like a sword at his face

“zegras, if you touch my food, this spatula is going down your throat.” his eyes went wide for a second, index finger pointing to your utensil and slowly lowering it down

“i liked you better yesterday,” he grinned, winking and grabbing an apple from the fridge, tossing one to alex. “touchy, this morning.” he grumbled under his breath as you glared at jack

“come on, man. you’re gonna get my top gun privileges revoked. again,” jack got up to put his plate away, shoving trevor’s shoulder on the way by.

“i like that that’s what you’re worried about, that’s really cool of you, j.” you rolled your eyes once more, finally greeting alex with a ruffle of his hair.

then finally, after the string of hockey boys coming down to steal your breakfast, each adorned with bottomless pits for stomachs- luke made his way back to the kitchen. he was now in a hoodie and swim shorts, his hair wet from his shower.

“could you finish up plating everything, lu? your brothers stole our original plates so i’m running a little behind,” you smiled sarcastically as the two eldest waved to you

luke chuckled, nodding and taking your place in front of the stove.

while you changed, he finished cutting up the fruit, he put whatever spreads you’d taken out on the toast, and he split the eggs.

when he was done, he turned to see his brothers, along with trevor, alex and cole- who came down as you went back up, staring at him.

he turned his shoulders inward, suddenly a little too self aware.

“.. what?” quinn grinned, cole coming to pat him on the back as he made his own meal.

“look who finally got the girl,” trevor teased, alex wiggling his eyebrows after taking a bite of his apple.

he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at jack who nodded in confirmation.

“i got the girl?” he asked softly, arms falling to his sides, slightly limp in his state of shock.

“yeah, you did.” you smiled from the entrance to the kitchen, coming up and massaging his shoulder a little.

“you are no fun,” you pointed at quinn, who raised his hands in defence.

“what? why?” luke asked, looking down at you with his head tilted adorably.

“i was gonna mess with you just a little longer. wanted you to admit it,” you grinned, hand on his abs

he smiled a little, pecking your lips.

you tugged at him, grabbing your plate and nodding to his.

“c’mon, now.” you pulled him towards to patio door.

the boys whistled after the two of you and you giggled, looking back to see jack with a proud, almost bashful smile. his favourite people, this’d mean a lot to him even if he never said it.

to save face, the last thing you heard from him on your way out of the back was ‘wear protection!’

you shook your head with a smile, turning to luke now that you couldn’t be seen.

“my lukey,” you murmured, cupping his face and kissing him softly, still more intense now that there wasn’t an audience.

he nodded into your kiss, returning the favour with a hint of desperation.

“my girl,”

#e’s fics #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils #hughes brothers

2K notes · View notes

scoutswritingcorner · 8 months ago

Text

Despite Everything

Alastor x GN! Reader

A/n: I’ve been seeing too many angst prompts on tiktok- ANYWAYS I WORKED ON THIS BETWEEN REQUESTS SO ENJOY

TW: Angst, Flashback to when you were alive, drinking, talk of murder, secret marriage.

Part 2: It's Still You

Alastor sent a glare towards Mimzy as she sat at the bar. Why was she telling all his dirty secrets but what made him let out a growl was she mentioned something that shocked everyone into silence around her. One of his best kept secrets is now out in the open. He wanted to kill her right there but he couldn’t, he was stuck where he stood staring her down as loud static echoed around everyone in the hotel. Even Husk had quickly made an exit.

“Oh yeah! I saw your little songbird wanderin’ around Cannibal Town, Alastor.” She hummed ignoring his glare as his smile threatened to fall, ears flickering in annoyance. “Songbird?” Angel asked unfazed from Alastor’s angry sulking, “Oh Alastor don’t tell me you haven’t told them about your spouse!” She hummed out taking a sip from whatever Husk had given her. Everyone abrupt into questions at that, only falling silent when Alastor sent them a glare. His cane tapped on the ground in annoyance before he stormed out of the hotel, feet automatically taking him towards Cannibal Town he needed to find out if what Mimzy was saying was true or was she just trying to get under his skin. They shouldn’t be down here- they should be up in Heaven, especially after what he had done.

Your hands gripped the ceramic sink as you glared at your reflection in the mirror. You were tired, so tired from constantly being around people that it drained you before you could even get onto the stage and sing your heart out. Was this what fame felt like? Even if it wasn’t the finer Hollywood fame people have talked about, but the fame that came with being a known singer around where you lived.

A knock on the door made you jump out of your skin before you let out a soft sigh walking towards the door, “Mr. Deverick give me a few more moments-” You stopped mid sentence as you gazed upon the famous radio host standing in front of you, a soft smile on his lips as he held out your favorite flowers. “Now I’m not Mr. Deverick but I will generously give you a moment alone if needed.” He hummed stepping inside your personal room after you had let him in, the flowers still in his hand. Closing the door you let a small smile grace your lips, seeing your husband fix his suit in the vanity that was located in the corner of the room.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Alastor?” You asked as you also fixed your clothes making sure to hide the wedding ring under your favorite pair of gloves, you’ve had to hide your marriage with Alastor for years, why was it bothering you now? “Well I wanted to come see you, Dear! Especially before your show.” He hummed out watching as you turned your back towards him to fix some things up, watching as the smile you wore turned into a frown. He walked over to you carefully placing his chin on your shoulder, “You should smile more, Dear.” He whispered, watching as you nodded and glanced at the wall, your mind was somewhere else.

But before he could comment on it, the faraway look in your eyes disappeared and you smiled at him. Leaning your head against his and he hummed before allowing a lulling silence to captivate you both. A comfortable silence. Everything he did, it was for you. Only you.

~~~

He walked into Rosie’s Emporium, his eyes snapping onto her tall frame as she was talking to someone. Which had made him stop in his tracks. It..It was you. You looked as beautiful as the day he married you and then the day he..he had killed you in a blind rage. You were no longer under that horrid man’s thumb.

You were here down in hell..why were you in hell? Why weren’t you in Heaven enjoying your afterlife carefree? He was snapped out of his trance as Rosie finally noticed him standing in the doorway. But he couldn’t hear her as he stared at you, seeing how you looked at him- his own spouse was scared. His songbird was terrified of him. He deserved it after all, he was the one who ripped you from the life you were living.

But deep down despite everything he had done to end up down here. He knew it was still you. You were his driving force, he did everything for you. His little Songbird.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #gn reader #alastor x gn!reader

863 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 26 days ago

Text

part 2 to this | T | wc: 2,141

🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾

No wonder he didn’t fuckin hear him. His whole brain was focusing on excuses that it drowned out anything else. Without the door opening (which would 100% have shut him up), Steve didn’t have the brain power to listen for even the softest carpet-muffled footsteps.

“Sorry, I was coming to help and then I heard you talking about…” Eddie starts, but trails off, glancing between Robin and Steve, then shakes his head as if getting himself back on track, “But then you said you’d ‘radish’ me and it was so damn funny…”

For a breath, no one says anything. Steve can hear it in Eddie’s breath and in his heartbeat’s slightly quickening pace that he’s just about to say something else, probably some way to excuse himself, when Robin bursts out laughing.

“Seriously! I couldn’t believe it either, ‘Radish’! Ha!” She continues to cackle, doubling over dramatically.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “Yeah, yeah, Steeb no good with word.”

That just makes her laugh louder. “Oh this is too good, damn, I can’t breathe.” She giggles again, standing straight only momentarily, because as soon as she looks at Steve, she starts cracking up again. “Sorry, sorry, I gotta,” another giggle, a gesture toward the house, “I’m just gonna…” she heads back inside, cackling all the way. He even hears her mumble ‘radish’ to herself again just before she slides the door closed behind her.

“Uh…surpri–”

“You’re really a werewolf?” Eddie cuts him off, then realizes. “Oops, sorry.”

Steve sighs and sinks down onto one of the patio chairs. He looks up at Eddie, still standing by the sliding door, and pats the spot on the seat next to him.

Eddie, of course, nearly trips over his own feet to get over to him, falling onto the chair with enough force to shift the feet on his end backwards an inch or two.

“Yeah, I really am.” Steve takes a deep breath and glances over at Eddie; his eyes are wide and wholly focused onto Steve, more than ready to listen. He huffs a laugh when he lets out the breath. “I’m sure you have questions.”

He’s barely gotten the words out when Eddie starts pelting him with questions. “So, can you like..smell really good? Or hear? How far can you hear? Does everyone have their own scent? If you bite someone, do they become a werewolf too? Do you only change on the full moon or is it a ‘whenever I feel like it’ type thing? Like, are you a werewolf or a Werewolf TM?”

Steve snickers at Eddie taking the time to actually say the letters T-M out loud, but it doesn’t affect Eddie’s focus on asking a million and one questions in the slightest. “What color is your fur? Is it brown like your hair? Do you even have fur when you change? Do you have claws? How big do you get anyway? Do you have a tail? Is the pack thing real? What about the mate thin—”

That’s where he cuts himself off. The bright blush on his face seemed to be the cause; all the blood that he could’ve used in his brain to ask more, suddenly rushing to fill up his face with color.

Still smiling, Steve asks, “You done?”

Eddie gulps down nothing, managing a strangled “Yep.”

“Well, I’m a werewolf, I turn into a…not exactly a wolf, I don’t think, more like a big dog? And it’s not really a moon thing; I can change whenever I want to, though I feel more of a need to around the full moon. It’s easier then too.

“I’m about as tall as I am now when I’m changed, like, my face is right about the place it usually is, and yes, I’m stronger, faster, and have had better hearing and smell since it happened.”

“What happened anyway?”

“Hang on, hang on, I’m still answering your first zillion questions.” Steve says, faux-disgruntled. It makes Eddie laugh and do a weird half gesture slash bow in his seat for Steve to continue.

“Okay, uhm…” He starts to count out things on his fingers, thinking back on what Eddie asked. “Yes tail, yes to everyone having a scent, but that’s already been a thing, you can smell other people too, can’t you?” Eddie shrugs in acknowledgement, “Mine’s just stronger of a smell; Not claws, but I have nails like any other dog..

“And the pack thing…” This one was going to be more difficult, “Yes? But mostly only for the kids I suppose. And Robin. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll put myself between any of you and whatever danger comes along, but it’s like in my bones to want to…I dunno, hoard them all away? Wolf analogy would be to put them all in the cave,” he gestures to one side, “and put me in the entrance.” Then gestures to his other side. “Not realistic, but that’s what it feels like.”

Eddie snorts a laugh, but nods, so he continues on. “The mate thing though,” Eddie tenses, “It’s not like the fics, not really at least as far as I can tell.”

“You’ve read werewolf fics?”

Steve shrugs, “I got curious, sue me.” They both fall silent, staring out over the pool.

“How’d it happen?”

He takes in a long breath through his nose; the chlorine stings.

“Couple years ago the shitheads roped me into venturing through these tunnels under Merrill’s Pumpkin Patch. Upside Down related nonsense, of course, and when I was helping them back up out of the hole to avoid this..herd of demodogs, I was still down there when they came tearing down the path.

“I think one of them snuck a taste and that’s what did it. Though I didn’t notice it at first, adrenaline and all; plus the beating I’d taken from Hargrove what, a couple hours before that at minimum?

“I woke up a couple days after everything was over that time as a dog, nearly snapped my bedframe in half with all the extra weight. Anyway, long story short is: I woke up a dog, took me a couple days to figure out how to turn back, then another chunk of time figuring out how to do it on purpose, then Starcourt happened and whatever those guys shot me up with made it so I couldn’t change for a while, made me pretty loopy, but I got Robin out of the whole thing, and told her about wolf Steve while coming down off that truth crap, and that’s pretty much it.”

Eddie blinks at him once.

Twice.

Then, sounding as if he was releasing a breath he’d been holding that whole time, Eddie heaves out a “Jesus Christ.”

“Yep.”

Eddie blinks at him a couple more times, then his face scrunches up as if he’s in pain, “Jesus Christ, you heard me talking about being claimed and shit… I was talking to you about it, uugh!” he drops his face into his palms in exasperation.

Steve hears Eddie’s frantic heartbeat grow faster then, so clear it’s as if he had his ear pressed directly to his chest.

“And you overheard me saying I’d like to radish you,” a loud laugh escapes Eddie’s lips, “So I think we’re about even.”

He’d tried to sound confident and nonchalant about it, but in the breath it took Eddie to finally drag his hands down off his face, Steve’s own heart and thoughts were thundering on. It must’ve really, only been hypotheticals, wishful thinking, fantasy. There’s no way Eddie would actually want him. No way his affections that'd grown for the man beside him in the short month since the world didn’t end, would be returned.

Eddie finally removes his hands, “The full moon is only a couple days away.” he says, glancing up at the sky.

See? Topic changed. Steve knew it’d be too good to be true.

“Yeah, there was one right before everything happened last month.” Steve nods, swallowing down the lump in his throat, “Maybe I’ll come by the park and visit.” He elbows Eddie playfully.

“I’ll make sure Wayne doesn’t shoot ya.” Eddie grins.

Steve snorts, elbowing him again and standing. “C’mon, let’s go back in, I think Robin wants to play Uno.”

- - - - -

True to his word, Steve loped out into the light of the full moon a couple nights later on all fours, trotting away from Loch Nora with one place on his mind.

Crossing through the forest separating the two neighborhoods, he makes it to the edge of the Forest Hills park in no time at all. He skirts along the edge of the park to where the government had bought and placed the Munsons’ new apology double-wide and hunches low, padding along until he’s under the window he knows is Eddie’s.

Even if he hadn’t known before now, the music he could hear across the highway out by the entrance to the park would certainly tell him which one is the metalhead’s.

He hops his front paws up just under the edge of the window and sneaks a glance inside.

Eddie’s bed is against the wall in this trailer, the end of it falling right under this window, and Eddie is sitting in the middle of the mattress, hunched over his guitar.

Not wanting to scare him, Steve originally wants to just scratch his nails along the sturdy vinyl siding here, but even if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he’d know that Eddie wouldn’t be able to hear something so light.

So, he barks.

One short ‘boof’ at the bottom pane does it, and if Eddie had been holding anything but the literal most important possession of his, it’d be on the other side of the room with how far he jumps.

“Jesus Chri— Steve?” he asks disbelievingly at the window.

Steve feels his doggy face react to the goofy grin he’d be doing if he’d been on two legs. Tongue lolling out one side, tail swooshing up a mini hurricane behind him, damn he’s obvious.

Eddie comes to the window and Steve drops down onto all fours, plopping down on his haunches while he waits for his friend to budge open the glass.

He finally wrenches it open, grinning down at Steve in wonder, “Look at you, big boy, y’came to see me after all—”

Whatever Eddie says after that is lost to the now-settling wind.

All of Steve freezes up. His tail stops mid wag, his jaw snaps shut and narrowly misses catching his tongue on his own teeth.

Because Steve can smell him.

He can smell Eddie.

Screw whatever he’d told him before at his pool, not everyone has a smell. Not one like this.

Sweet and spicy, smoky and delicious, like nothing he'd ever smelled before.

The wolf part of his brain, a mostly mute half of him that seems to be what tells him where the moon is in its cycle, how far away that smell he picked up on the wind is, that holds all his baser instincts, screams “MINE.”

Just before he’s about to fling himself over/onto/past Eddie in the window to get into that trailer by any means necessary, Steve’s conscious human brain grasps onto the last sliver of conscious thought, and not a moment too soon. His legs were couched as if about to leap.

He wrestles his wolf brain back, tucking his tail down (telling it desperately to stop wagging goddamnit), lowering his front paws and nose to the ground and taking lungfuls of dirt smell instead, and backs up.

He takes two good steps back before Eddie’s voice cuts through his hold on himself, “-eve? Steve! What’s wron–?”

His hold on his last strand of conscious thought wrenches him around and sends him flying back into the trees to Eddie’s call of “Where are you going?”

He just needs to stay out of Hawkins, stay in the woods at least, nowhere near where Eddie would find him if he came looking.. At least until the full moon is over and he won't feel that uncomfortable itch beneath his skin to shift if he goes back to two legs.

His thoughts threaten to whirl, why now, why Eddie? Okay, he knows why he’d like it to be Eddie, but really? Mates are a real thing and Eddie is his??

The wolf brain rumbles happily and Steve finds himself listing back towards Forest Hills mid-run and corrects himself.

He can’t risk hurting Eddie; what would he even do? His wolf brain says to bite, to claim, reminds him that Eddie wants that too, but wouldn’t that hurt him?? His teeth are, in fact, much larger in this form.

He’s listing again.

Steve shakes his head, empties his head of everything but run, breathe, run, breathe, run…

Daybreak can’t come soon enough.

🐺🌕🐾🐺🌕🐾

surprise! it was always meant to be 'radish' lmao

editing to tag folks who were interested in the last part!

@shainsaw22, @devondespresso, @sageclipse, @allyricas, @hotluncheddie, @stedumpsterfire, @themoonagainstmers, @mugloversonly, @yesdangerpls, @matchingbatbites

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #werewolf!steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddeve #steveddie #noelle writes

246 notes · View notes

miguelhugger2099 · 10 months ago

Text

Him and I (1/2)

Summary: You get thrown into another, another dimension while on a mission with Miguel. You end up meeting Miguel's variant where lingering feelings lie. Next Comic!Miguel x Reader x ATSV!Miguel, SMUT, PWP, Word Count: 6,808 CW: just a smidge of voyeurism

It was rough how you ended up here in another dimension and it wasn’t ideal either. Earlier, you were on a mission with Miguel and doing the usual of tracking and containing anomalies. However, this one was a little rough, giving both you and Miguel a hard time with how slippery it had been. Arriving at the scene, Miguel quickly barked orders at you to scan the place to track and trace any possible disrupted canon events. While he went one way, you went the other and for a while, neither of you had been able to grab it. Until your watch pinged with a hologram of Miguel’s face calling to tell you he found the anomaly and was leading it towards you for some backup. Putting on your mask, you swung away on your webs to meet him halfway.

One thing led to another and both of you were hollering at each other different plans and strategies since this anomaly was somehow escaping every chance it got. Miguel grabbed on its neck and yanked it back which made it screech and slam him against a brick wall. He grunted and let go from the sheer force of it. The anomaly went head first for you to which you jumped on its back. Eventually, you held onto it and tried to use your watch to open a portal. The anomaly tried ripping you off it, scratching your watch and damaging the touch pad. Whatever number you tried putting in, was jumbled up and yet a portal opened up anyway. Time and space warped around you two, the wormhole trying to suck up anything. The anomaly then grabbed you and ripped you off its back, throwing you into the portal which shut right after you went through. So here you are, in a dimension that isn’t your New York, but it did look like a certain someone’s Nueva York. Tall buildings, hovercrafts and holographic billboards were plastered everywhere. You looked down at your watch and saw claw marks on the touchpad, small sparks of electricity fizzed out but it wasn’t too damaged, you decided. You weren’t glitching so you counted that as a win. You heard a familiar zip of web shooters being used from above. Tilting your head up, you saw the familiar red and mostly blue suit swinging by and ignoring you. You squinted at the figure leaving.

“Miguel…?” You whispered to yourself. Pushing the watch problem aside, you began following him, trying to catch up to him. “Miguel!” You called out through the whipping winds as you gained speed.

His figure thwipped around, seemingly trying to get you off his tail. You grew frustrated. Why was he just avoiding you? If he was here, that means the anomaly had gotten away and it’d be more work for both of you.

He then made a sharp turn around a tall building. You nearly passed it but you stopped yourself just in time to swivel your head around to see where he had gone. Your eyes honed in on his figure crawling up the side of the building and into an open window. With determination, you shot your web to the building and began crawling up. Once you made it to the damn near very top, you opened the window and crawled in. With your feet now planted on the floor, you took off your mask and looked around. It was a bedroom and a large one at that with a giant king sized bed and a giant set up where you assumed would display a holographic screen. You noted it was dark too with all the lights switched off and Miguel was nowhere to be seen. You were sure you saw him crawl in this room. You began walking around the room just to make sure, trying to find anything. When you didn’t–the lack of pictures was appalling– you made your way over to the bedroom door and took a peek outside of it. The hallways were just as dark, if not darker. You took a step out and squinted your eyes, hoping your vision would adjust to the lighting.

You heard a shift far in front of you and paused in your steps. You tried focusing on whatever was in front of you and that’s when you saw red eyes. You froze and held your breath while the eyes simply watched you, slightly moving as it seemingly saw you through the dark.

These eyes were familiar to you and so you dropped your guard. “Miguel…?” You called out again. “What the hell? I was right behind you! Did the anomaly throw you in here too?”

You tried approaching him but then backed up when he came closer as well, at a faster rate than you thought. Your gasped and your spider senses went haywire. With a bit of difficulty on your end, you looked up to see someone who wasn’t Miguel. Or you thought.

The man had Miguel’s scarlet orbs, but instead of brown hair he had dark red hair to match his eyes. Instead of brown skin, he had white skin. He had a similar face shape with the same sharp cheekbones and strong jawline but his face was a bit longer than that. You noticed a five o’clock shadow he might’ve been planning to shave off soon. His height was shorter than your Miguel but it was still tall enough to tower over you. His face was in a scowl, teeth bared and claws unsheathed, on guard for the danger that he decided you were. You took a glance down his chest, the spider emblem different than you remember–much sharper than your Miguel’s geometric shapes.

“Who…who are you?” You asked, taking a few steps back and this man following, his eyes never leaving yours. If you searched for a while longer, you would’ve seen a hint of disbelief and hidden fondness.

“Miguel O’Hara. Who are you?” He growled. You gulped flinching when your back hit the wall and his clawed hand struck the space by your head to cage you against him.

You stated your name with a shake of your voice. It seemed to anger him further.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grit his teeth, his lips curled to show his fangs.

“It–It’s not! I swear!” You insisted. “Listen, I can explain. I’m from another dimension. I–I’m part of this society full of other people like us—with spider powers. I got…blasted here by some villain when I was with you—or the variant you–but I’m not here to fight some more.” You sighed, hoping he could have some sense and maybe believe you.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed down at you to search and scan for just an ounce of lying in your tone but he found none. His facade cracked for a moment, almost melancholy and sad before hardening again. He separated from you, standing taller and retracting his talons back to his fingertips. You saw him hesitate to lift his hand up but he decided against it. “How did you get here?” He asked lowly.

You lifted your wrist to show your damaged watch. “It’s more or less a dimension hopping device,” You elaborated. Miguel attempted to slip it off your wrist but you stopped him. “I have to keep it on or else I’ll start glitching and–it hurts.” You laughed nervously a bit at the end. Miguel’s facial expression didn’t waver. He only held your wrist–gently at that– and turned it around to examine it.

“I can fix it.” He murmured nonchalantly with a raise of his reddish eyebrow. You sighed. Even in another dimension, Miguel is just as sure of himself. He looked up to meet your eyes, softer but still guarded. “If you’ll let me.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes, please, of course. That’d be great. Thank you.” He let go of your hand and turned around to a space in his home where various inventions laid around and you followed suit with big eyes. “Woah… This is..cool.” You mumbled. Miguel looked over his shoulder as he walked, a ghost of a fond smile on his lips when you weren’t looking. Then suddenly, a bright yellow figure popped up. She was life sized with long white blonde hair in a side part with a white long dress.

“Welcome home, Miguel,” She placed her hands behind her back and gave him a dimpled smile. Her smile faltered when she saw you. “Is that–”

Miguel cut her off by introducing your name to her. “She’s from another dimension. That’s all, Lyla.” You couldn’t see Miguels face but you did see Lyla’s–which you were surprised at the stark difference. You saw her eyes glance at Miguel and then stand up a bit taller, her smile coming back. It was as if they had a mutual understanding.

“Of course, Miguel.” She closed her eyes and phased out again, leaving the two of you alone again. Miguel turned around to face you and gestured to a stool by a nearby table. You walked over and sat on it, Miguel grabbing another chair–and a toolbox it seemed–and placing himself beside you. He offered his hand and you gave it to him, your size difference being much clearer. Miguel took off his suit gloves which surprised you once more since your Miguel’s suit wasn’t necessarily standard fabric like this one. But since this one had claws too, the suit must also be made of some technology you’re not aware of.

Miguel took a look inside the damage the claws had done to the watch and began working on it silently. You took the time to notice his features and began comparing it to the other Miguel subconsciously.

The five o’clock shadow you had noticed before was also coming in red. It seemed like this version of Miguel leaned more into his Irish side. His hair was in a short side part, with his fringe falling on his forehead but he didn’t seem to pay any mind to it. The small glances he took at you made you see his eyes more clearly. They were the same red as your Miguel and equally as beautiful.

You pushed that thought away. It was strange to think that way about your boss’ variant, much less your boss himself. You admit he’s handsome–the two of them– and you could also tell that they knew that.

“Had enough staring?” He asked when you turn away to shake off your thoughts. If you didn’t know any better, it’d sound like he was teasing you.

“Have you?” You shot back. “I saw you staring too.”

“I was.” Miguel answered simply. He placed a screwdriver down, popping open the screen and examining it further. “Sorry about that. You…remind me of someone.”

The air had felt heavier. You had a gut feeling and you decided to see if you were right. “Did you know another me?”

Miguel nods, not looking up. “My own you, she passed,” He picks apart the device carefully, making sure to not damage it further. “Seeing you and sensing you…I was convinced you were some villain trying to haunt me. But I know now that it’s not true.” He says with little to no emotion. Maybe he was just hiding it under a facade. It wouldn’t be the first time you were on that end.

“I’m sorry,” You tried to apologize but he stood up, taking a piece of your watch with him.

“Nothing’s really damaged other than the screen. It shouldn’t be a problem to fix.” He says softly, and turns away to another side of the room. You purse your lips, deciding whether or not to play into his bad habits of closing off when he just opened up. You decided the former and asked another question.

“How long will it take?”

He pauses. “Do you hate it here already?”

“What?! No. No, of course not! I mean, I can't hate what I don’t know. Not to say I don’t know you. I know a Miguel just maybe you’re different. Which isn’t a bad thing but it’s just I can’t overstay–I need to go home because that would be invading your space.”

Miguel looks over at you and the corners of his lips are turned up. “I was joking.”

You stop your rambling and frown at him. “Your humor is bland.” Miguel laughs through his nose and shakes his head.

“You’re still the same…” He murmurs to himself. He shrugs off that thought, thinking it was disrespectful to the you that he once knew.

“It won’t take long,” He speaks to you. “I don’t have the exact materials as this but it’s still possible to make them. It should take a couple days. Maybe a little more or less a week.” He pulls up a holographic monitor and touches across the screen.

A week, you thought to yourself, at best. Miguel took another look around the damaged screen he’d plucked off your watch.

“Did I make this?” He looked over at you and you instinctively sat up straighter. “The other me.” He clarified.

“Well, yeah,” You shrugged on one side. “Made the blueprint and had Lyla help make it.”

“Lyla?” He hummed with a raise of his eyebrows. “Hm.” His jaw clenched, feeling a tinge of envy for his counterpart. He did dimensional travel and he had you around? It wasn’t fair. With a click of his tongue, he placed the screen back down and moved away from the table, opting out to type things you couldn’t see on another monitor.

You felt awkward sitting there with nothing to do so you stood up and looked around, keeping a respectful distance from Miguel and his things. You didn’t notice the way he stopped typing and admired you through the reflection of his monitor.

Same curve of your nose, shape of your jaw, same way your eyelashes fluttered. Miguel wished you were a ghost in that moment, maybe then he wouldn’t feel that agonizing itch to hold you again. “Do you…want a change of clothes?” He asked you, pulling you out of your bubble. “I have some of her things still here, lying around.” He offered, trying to appear nonchalant. You looked down at your spider suit. It was a bit dirtied from being thrown around so you could use a pair of comfortable clothes.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to ruin her things or anything.”

Miguel shook his head and made his way out, ushering you to follow him. “I insist. I’d rather her things be used than lying around anyway.” You two had walked into his bedroom again. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out some shirt and sweatpants. He held onto them a little longer before inhaling and passing them to you.

You looked at the clothes, noting how he looked at them “I really don’t have to wear them–”

“Please.” Miguel insisted. You blinked once and licked your lips, giving him time to make sure before you took it in your hands. You held it close to your chest.

“Bathroom?” You asked. He pointed down the hall and you followed, closing the door behind you and leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He rummaged through his drawer to find his own set of comfortable clothes outside his suit. He thought to himself, thinking about you and trying to find any differences. Your nose bridge was different but the tip of it was the same. Your hair texture was the same but you had a slightly different hue.

He didn’t know whether or not he wanted to help you. On one hand, you were the ghost of his past–the figure that taunted him of his failures as Miguel and as Spider-Man. But on the other hand, he missed you. All he ever wanted was to see you again and he wanted to selfishly keep seeing you. He sat at the edge of his bed, battling with his inner thoughts until he heard you come back.

Miguel looked up and got the wind knocked out of his chest. They fit you perfectly like you bought these yourself. You smiled awkwardly at him, thinking it was weird for him to see you in his dead girlfriend's clothes but he just nodded.

“Looks like it fits.” He choked out.

“They do. Thanks, again.” You smiled wearily. One week. He’d enjoy you for one week and maybe–just maybe– ask if you can come back.

Miguel didn't like the fact you offered to stay in his penthouse while he did his Spider-Man duties. Even more so when he knew you didn’t like sitting still either and only offered out of politeness. He guessed that if you were anything like him now, a being with super powers, it meant you also felt a responsibility to do something and help people. So, he invited you to join his patrols.

You declined at first. “I’ve already crashed your universe–”

“Would it kill you to just join me without being so high and mighty?” He asked with a pointed look knowing you were too nice for your own good even in his universe. You sighed through your nose and reluctantly agreed, still feeling awkward around him despite his not so stubble attempts to make you comfortable. Which was strange considering your initial hostile encounter.

For the next few days, it seemed patrolling was a nice bonding time for you two. Surprisingly, you worked well together like he knew just how you worked and acted accordingly. He knew once you spotted a small crime going on, he’d let you get the first punch in since you were a bit competitive. While swinging, he figured out you liked to hang in the air for a moment longer before using your webs again ao he swung at a distance while you could do your flips and jumps. For the entire week, you had forgotten you were technically stranded here but that fact didn’t seem to bother you.

Along with that, Miguel worked on fixing your watch, creating a small wristband that would delay your glitching while he took the device. Eventually, he did fix it and turned it brand new again. You were incredibly grateful and he just smiled softly at you through his shaded glasses. You slipped it on and was prepared to head home when he stopped you and asked if you’d like to go on a final patrol with him. You fiddled with your watch, debating but you did feel a small part of you not wanting to leave him, strangely enough. So, you went.

It had been late by the time you came back to his penthouse, opting to crawl through the window of his bedroom. The night was hotter than expected, both of you leaning on the wall to catch your breaths after ripping off your masks.

“Made sure no one followed?” You asked with a heavy sigh. Miguel propped himself off the wall and leaned over to glance outside the window beside you, his hand placed next to your head and his hand subconsciously held your hip, making you freeze. He didn’t seem to notice even as you stared shamelessly up at him. Miguel’s eyes were focused and sharp, a stark contrast to the way he squinted under his sunglasses during the daytime. His arm by your head flexed as he moved to keep himself steady but the hand on your hip was warm and comforting that left your heart fluttering. Sure, he was handsome–but you couldn’t, right? Right?

Miguel’s eyes found yours again and for a moment was confused why you seemed so stiff. You looked up at him with beady and bashful eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He instinctively looked down at your lips and back to your eyes, his hand moving up to your waist. He hunched over you, caging you to the wall and making you feel the heat radiating off his body. You stared straight even as he closed in on you by your ear, your heart pounding in your chest and down to your abdomen.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” He whispered by your ear, his thumbs by your waist caressed your hip bone, a subtle reminder of his sweetness underneath his rough exterior. Despite the short time spent together, he was sure you felt something for him after basically living with him. He was still at a distance but with your lack of reply, he took that as an answer and took a step back away from you.

Before he could, you grabbed onto his arms, keeping him in place and close to you. “No,” You said quickly. “No, don’t stop. Please.” You whispered, your heart hammering inside your chest.

Miguel came back to you, his arms securing himself around you, his own heartbeat increasing in speed. “Are you sure?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “Please.” You whispered again. Miguel took one arm off your waist to cup your cheek and tilt it up to face him. You felt heat crawl up to your cheeks meanwhile Miguel looked like he was about to take a bite of the forbidden fruit that was you. He was entranced and a little needy and eager to feel your lips on his again. Despite you being a different version of the one he knew–it was still you. Down to your hair, eyes and lips. Even the way your nose would scrunch in disgust and the way you walked and fiddled with your fingers. It was all still you. He wasn’t going to lose his chance.

So he kissed you.

He kissed you like a man starved, practically bending your back as he curled himself on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck to gain some stability while he pulled you close enough for you to go on your tiptoes. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and his hand left your cheek to bend slightly to pick you up. You got the hint and wrapped your legs around him and Miguel pressed you up against the wall. His growing erection grinding slowly on your clothed heat, making the two of you moan.

Your fingers curled into his fiery hair just the way he liked and his hands grabbed at every piece of flesh he could squeeze in his palms. Miguel’s lips separated from yours, a string of saliva connecting the two of you until he brought his lips down to your neck. You leaned your head back on the wall while he worked his magic, licking and nipping at your flesh with care due to his fangs. You heard him moan, gripping you tighter as he tasted you and your breathing became heavier.

Miguel lifted you off the wall, hurrying towards his bedroom and plopping your body down on the plush, soft mattress. He took your thighs and separated them to see the wet patch seeping out your spider suit. You felt his talons gently probing your skin and his eyes met yours again as he paused.

You nodded once again and with new vigor, he took one clawed hand and slashed the bottom half of your suit apart along with your panties. You gasped.

“Miguel…!”

“I’ll get you ten shocking suits. Just let me have you.” He groaned and delved between your legs. He licked up a stripe and your breath hitched, your hands immediately finding his hair. Miguel felt himself strain in his own suit, bucking his hips pathetically against anything he could find while he ate you out. His tongue probed your entrance and his nose rubbed against your clit that made your arch your back and thrust yourself on his mouth. His fingers joined his mouth in pushing you to your limit, coaxing more moans and whimpers from your pouting lips.

You covered up your mouth with your hand, covering up your face in embarrassment. The sounds of Miguel slurping and licking up your essence made you so much more wet and weak. You squirm underneath his hands and Miguel growls, using his strength to keep your legs in place and apart while he indulges in the taste of you. His eyes are closed, salivating and devouring your juices with every lap of his tongue. His fingers spread your lips open, sliding one finger in and swirling his tongue in your pussy. You clench around his wet muscle and finger, feeling him smirk against you.

Miguel continues to ease his finger inside you, pumping it too slowly for your liking. You whined which made his cock twitch and you pleaded for more. Drunk on your sweetness, he complied and added a second finger, the stretch becoming evident. You arched your back off the bed and you felt Miguel's other hand caress your thigh comfortingly. His moans send vibrations to your clit and grind yourself desperately on him while squealing his name.

“Hmm–Fuck, Mi-ggy…” You whined, pressing your thighs around his head. You felt Miguel pause for a split second, the nickname you’ve given him had gone straight between his legs. He gained more confidence to please you, taking his fingers out to grab your breast and sucking on your clit. The sensation of him forcibly spreading you apart again and the combination of your nipple being tweaked pulled and his tongue made you feel shocks of electricity down your spine. You felt the pit of your abdomen growing with your upcoming climax and you started thrashing around as much as you could with Miguel holding you down.

“Miggy! Fuck–Don’t stop!” As if he would ever, now that he’s tasted your delectable pussy. He only continued the same pace that had you squirming and chasing you high. His fingers teasing your nipples after every swirl of his tongue and the bubble pops inside you.

You scream his name into the air and grip on the sheets beside you while screwing your eyes shut. You humped on his eager mouth, drinking in whatever you gave him with a satisfied hum. He pressed closer to make sure he could lap up as much as he could but still, drips of you slid down his chin and around his lips. You mewled when the high finished and you were left with a sensitive pussy that he still made sure to clean you up with his mouth.

With hazy eyes, you stared at him still between your legs, watching with a smirk as you collected yourself. Miguel swirled his tongue around his lips to clean himself off and even used his hands to scoop up the parts he couldn’t reach to lick it off spotlessly, not a single ounce of your cum going to waste. It made you burn in embarrassment but also gaining a weak pulse to your twitching pussy.

He kneeled over you, drinking in your naked body from the flyaways in your hair to the way your legs shook after just orgasming. His stare was intense and it made you want to hide yourself from just how long he’d been looking at you for. You didn’t know it, but Miguel felt a twinge of heartache in his chest. He missed you–the other you dearly– and it felt strange that in a way you’re still here but different. He felt afraid that this might’ve been on impulse. You look like her, sound like her, but yet you haven’t experienced things with him like her. The you in front of him was, in a way, a whole different woman.

“Miguel?” You gently pulled him out of his mind. Oh, how your eyes still send his heart racing when he looks at you. Your eyes held concern and worry in them. Was he regretting it? Should you stop? It was the opposite. One look at you and Miguel’s worries had faded.

It’s still you down to your core. The one he had truly fallen in love with. In every lifetime and in every universe, he was meant to be beside you. He leaned in to nuzzle against the softness of your neck and pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw. “Nothing,” He eased your worries. “You’re just simply gorgeous.” He murmured and you felt a blush crawl up your neck.

Miguel made his way down your neck to your chest where he continued to leave kisses in his wake. His head of red hair curled slightly from the sweat that had built up between the two of you and it tickled you on his way down. Your bashful state was cut short when he flicked your nipple with his tongue and it made you whimper. Your mind had gone up in the clouds once more when he began suckling on the bud, the nerves of it sending signals to your pussy, making you wet again.

Miguel took a moment to rid himself of his own suit and underwear, returning to please your tender breasts. His knee had gone in between your thighs to push one leg away and his hand delved down to rub your swollen clit. His fingers rubbed in small circles that made you melt and lean your head back while his mouth continued its attack on gently biting your now hardened nipples. Your hands ran through his hair which encouraged him further and you both moaned in unison.

Miguel pulled away from your tits, a small smirk on his lips as he saw the bitemark around your bud beginning to form. His hand left your sopping cunt and licked off the sweet nectar that was you with a hum of his voice. The sight left you shivering and he leaned back down to kiss you, making you taste yourself. You mewled as he forced his tongue inside to find yours in a heated dance. Your eyes rolled back and you pressed your chest up which made him groan when he felt your hard nipples graze his skin.

You felt a blunt poke at your entrance and Miguel pulled away just enough for his forehead to be above yours. He looked into your eyes, another check to see if this is what you wanted–what you both wanted. You nodded again, firmly this time, and he didn’t need another second.

Miguel pushed his fat cockhead between your lips to coat his length before entering it inside you. You winced and Miguel buried himself in your neck, his hand on your hip, caressing you and encouraging you to hold onto him. You wrapped your arms around him as he pushed further inside you, his size being nothing you’ve experienced. “I know, I know,” He shushed you, kissing your neck to distract you. “Such a pretty girl. You can take it, sweetheart.”

You whimpered at his praise, digging your nails in his back that left red crescents behind, a faint click sounding out that neither of you heard when you bumped your hand on his shoulder. “Miguel…” You moaned, spreading your legs further apart while he shook, sliding himself inside you.

Miguel moaned your name back, finally pushing himself to the hilt and his balls slapping your cunt with a wet smack from the combination of your weeping core and his spit. You wiggled your hips at the snug fit and tried to get used to his size but he stopped you, hissing and digging his nails in your flesh to anchor himself from cumming immediately. He kissed your cheeks to ease you while he gently pulled in and out in small strokes.

“More….harder…” You mewled, your walls finally used to his girth and clamping down on his throbbing cock to suck him in deeper. Miguel grabbed your hips and lifted it up with his inhumane strength and began moving, his cock glistening with your slick when he pulled out and hearing it squelch inside your wet cunt when he pushed back in. Your nails scratched at his chest and he grabbed one of your hands to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “You’re driving me crazy,” Miguel moaned. “This cunt’s just been waiting to be fucked, huh?” He huffed, slowly gaining speed. When you didn’t respond, he slammed into you and made you scream from his tip hitting your sweet spot. “Yes!” You sobbed, feeling his hands push your legs up to your chest and hammered himself in your pussy. You wrapped your arms around him while he pounded into you, hiding yourself in his neck. The bed creaked below you two, sheets shuffling from the force of Miguel ravaging your body. Miguel rested his arm above your head and held onto your thigh, making sure you were spread open while he adjusted his position to be more comfortable while pistoning his throbbing cock. He let out small grunts and moans, nipping at your neck and being careful with his fangs. With his dick hitting a different spot, you wrapped your legs around his waist to push him deeper. It seemed like even with him stretching your walls and splitting you apart, it was never enough–you wanted more. In the pit of your stomach, you knew you needed to have something more. His fucking was still mind-blowing, his talons gently poking your plush thighs and balls slapping rhythmically to the sounds of your whimpers and cries, which he adored. “So pretty, you sing so pretty for me,” He murmured, choking on his own pleasure as he felt you gushing around him just from the sheer ecstasy that coursed through your veins. “So tight and so warm—oh, god–” He groaned, picking up pace that had you squealing and clenching around him. “Lemme fill this pretty pussy, hm? Can I? Hm?” He moaned, trailing his wet lips down your chest to latch onto your nippled again, His tongue flicking the perky nub and pulling it between his teeth.

“Yes, yes, yes–God, yes–please!” You wailed, your hands scratching his shoulder blades and digging into his skin for purchase while you bucked in time with his thrusting. You eyes rolled back then closing them to focus on the way his cockhead was slamming into your sweet spot at just the pace you liked. You felt Miguel suck on your nipple, switching to the other side to give it equal amounts of attention. You shuttered and cried his name, finally feeling the dam break inside you. “Miguel!” Your vision going white and the euphoria of it washing over your body while you felt your pussy cum all over his length and squeezing him. Miguel let out a guttural groan deep from his throat when he felt you cum and clamp around him. Your cum slicked his cock and pelvis, and he then went faster to reach his own orgasm. You thrashed under him, feeling incredibly sensitive while he kept slapping against your pussy and pounding inside your walls. You moaned that you were just too sensitive, tears collecting at your eyes from overstimulation. He let go of your nipple and kissed you quickly to stop your whining. He lifted his head to watch you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto him tightly and whimpering. His eyes were bewitched with the scene of your tits bouncing, bite marks littered across the plump flesh. His eyes scanning down to see your slick making a mess between your legs after cumming, the way small strings connected to his person. But the sight of his massive cock sliding easily inside your pussy, your folds welcoming him by wrapping around him–he snapped from within and came hard. Miguel quickly grabbed the sheets so his talons could rip through them instead of you, his body curling as he let out a final groan and his cock spurted his seed in you. He continued to pump his load, feeling his cock soften and twitch out the rest of himself in strings of salty cum–a white ring forming on the base of his dick. He huffed, shaking as he made sure all of his cum stayed inside you. When he pulled out, a small white string connected from his tip to your pussy, slipping apart when he was far away enough. He watched the mess between your legs for a moment, breathing heavily as his seed oozed out of your folds and his heart began to beat a little bit faster.

Miguel carefully lifted himself off the bed to go to the bathroom and returned with a towel to clean between your legs. He carefully wiped your clean, being extra careful around your abused pussy. He watched you to make sure you weren’t in any discomfort, but you nearly fell asleep with how gentle he was. Miguel tossed the soiled towel into his hamper and slid back into bed with you. He brought you into his chest while he laid on his back, and he brought his covers up to your chin. You wrapped yourself around him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his hand running up and down your arm soothingly.

For a while, neither of you spoke, a strange comforting silence in the air. That is, until Miguel broke it.

“Miggy?” He asked. You grunted, still half-asleep and barely conscious.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, thinking it was rude of you to call him something so casually. Miguel huffed and looked down at you, his other hand petting your hair back.

“No, no. I didn’t mind. It was cute,” He smiled even if you couldn’t see it. “Do you…think you could stay?” He asked hesitantly.

His question made you wake up, the tone had gone a little serious but you knew what he meant. “I can’t,” You whispered and you felt his chest deflate. You felt horrible but you knew better than to stay in a dimension that wasn’t yours. “But…maybe I could come back?” You offered.

Miguel stiffened and you heard his heart beating faster. “Really?” You nodded and snuggled against his chest.

“I can’t stay but it’s not against the rules to visit other dimensions.”

Miguel scoffed at the mention of rules but if he got to see you again then that’s all that matters. “Will you go in the morning?” He asked, hoping you’d say no.

“I think I’ll stay a while.” You murmured sleepily and Miguel grinned to himself, letting you sleep peacefully in his arms.

While you had fallen asleep in the comforting arms of your boss’ variant, you failed to notice the shutter of your watch clicking off from a call.

Miguel O’Hara, leader of the Spider Society and the one who had been looking for you all this time, was sitting alone in his office panting heavily. Sweat accumulated on his forehead and thighs, a hue of crimson across his cheeks as he let go of his softening cock. Splatters of his cum, drenched his hand and desk and he groaned realizing what he had done.

He hadn’t meant to spy on you and your intimacy with whoever you wanted. He wasn’t expecting to hear from you after losing you on a mission, much less moaning his name. At first, he was relieved that you were alive and was about to speak until you squealed his name so sweetly. Miguel froze, wondering if you somehow got home and didn’t tell him. Whatever you did on your time was yours, but you were calling out to him. Eventually he learned it wasn’t him, but a different version. He debated whether to click out or not but some sick and twisted emotion inside him reveled in the way you begged and writhed underneath his variant.

Miguel had phased his hardening cock out of his suit and began pumping it slowly in time with his variants thrusts. He focused solely on you rather than the man that looked nothing like him. Another sick thought in his head wished his variant looked more like him, so he could imagine himself fucking you properly. Miguel made sure he was muted as he grunted and cursed under his breath, muttering praises to you in Spanish he knew you couldn’t hear. He made sure to edge himself, wanting to cum when he heard you scream his name. He bursted a fat load onto himself and the desk as you cried out your orgasm, watching you throw your head back and clutch onto his variant while you shook violently around his cock.

He grit his teeth, jealousy brewing in his heart at how hard you came. He could do better.

Once his mind had cleared up, he blushed heavily, shame overcoming his previous desires and covered his face. Despite being alone, he felt someone watching–which was hypocritical given what he had done. Before he ended the call, he traced your coordinates to find where you had been stranded all this time. Tomorrow, he’d find you and get you back.

A/N: i'm a proud lover of all versions of miguel !!!!! please be patient for part 2 🙏

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut

1K notes · View notes