#thank you for suggesting a sequel

[levi-venn]

Accolades - Part Two

Timeline: A Year after the final escape from Mount Tantiss.

Summary: Hunter wants to make an Accolades Box for Omega, too, but he needs his brothers' help. Part One | Part Two | Part Three Available on AO3

Note: A special thank you to @dragonrider9905 @yeehawgeek and @cw80831 for requesting a sequel.

A lot of changed after the war ended.

And the carefully decorated boxes Hunter had made for each of his brothers stopped collecting accolades and started collecting dust. 

He couldn’t bear to look at them when Crosshair joined the Empire. 

He thought about throwing them away when Tech fell.

In the end, he hid the lovingly painted boxes in his armor tote. Out of sight…but never quite out of mind.

A year went by.

Pabu was beginning to feel like home. Crosshair had returned to them. Omega was finally safe. Echo visited often. 

For the first time in Hunter’s life, he could think of those five boxes and not feel his heart cave in on itself.

It was time to add a sixth.

Omega and Phee left that morning for a treasure hunting trip and would be gone for the next week. A week longer than Hunter would like, but it was just enough time for four brothers to get together and figure out this whole...arts and crafts thing.

Hunter sent a message to his squad: [We got a Mission, boys . Come on over at 1300]

He quickly added: [A Fun Mission]

Then...he clarified: [It’s for Omega]

Echo replied first: [Roger that]

Wrecker next: [A mission for Omega? I’m in!]

Crosshair gave a thumbs up.

By 1302, the brothers sat in the middle of Hunter’s home, sitting in a circle on the floor, a box in front of each of them. 

Hunter placed Tech’s box in the center of the circle. They had all agreed to keep it closed.

For a long while, no one spoke, quietly looking at each medal and ribbon and the messages Hunter had etched into each.

Surprisingly, Crosshair was the first to speak. “I can’t believe you kept them. You kept mine.” He turned a medal over in his hand, reading the inscription Hunter had carved over the original accolade.

[The most WIZARD precision shot through a tank’s barrel while spitting a toothpick in a clanker’s eye]

“Heh, I remember this mission. I short circuited the droid’s OS with that toothpick.”

“Oh yeah! I remember that! ” Wrecker laughed, punching Crosshair’s arm, earning a quiet, amused hiss.

“I can’t believe you etched over these medals,” Echo said, looking through his pile of medals.

“Hope it's not too sacrilegious for you,” Hunter said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not at all," Echo replied. "I think this is more appropriate than any awards we received on our missions. As an ARC trooper the more devastating our losses, the more medals we received. Really sours the award when its attached to so much death. Trust me, this is better.” Echo read one of his medals aloud.  "'[The most regulation codes recited in an hour]'" He laughed. "I would’ve had hundreds of these medals in Domino Squad.  Thank you for doing this, Hunter.”

“What’s in there?” Crosshair asked, nodding to the box with half a skull painted on top.

“...Nothin’.” Hunter said, scooting it closer to him.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Crosshair sneered, pointing a toothpick at Hunter.

“C’mon, show us!” Wrecker said, and reached for the box.

Hunter snatched it from the circle and hugged it to his chest. “It’s none of your business.”

“Guys, he doesn’t want to-” Echo started, but Crosshair pushed past him to lunge at the box. He bumped Hunter’s arm instead and it slipped out of his hands into Wrecker’s lap.

Hunter dove forward! Wrecker rolled backwards! Crosshair slithered into the fray.

“Boys…” Echo sighed and collected the other boxes before they could get crushed by three grown men wrestling and giggling like shiny cadets.

When the dust settled, Wrecker had Hunter in a headlock while Crosshair perched on Wrecker’s back, gazing thoughtfully at the collection of medals.

“What’s in it?” Wrecker asked, ruffling Hunter’s hair as he kept him pinned.

Crosshair frowned and reached for another medal. And another. And another…

“I told you, it’s nothing,” Hunter grumbled, wriggling futilely in Wrecker’s iron grip.

“You…put the same message on each medal,” Crosshair said.

He didn’t read the inscription aloud.

[This medal is awarded to Hunter for being the proudest oldest brother in this Badass Batch. I love you guys.]

“Wrecker, let him go.” He hopped off his brother’s back and handed a medal to Echo and Wrecker to read. 

“It's the same message on each medal because I felt the same way after every mission," Hunter sighed. "So, go ahead and laugh.”

“You should’ve told us you were doing this,” Crosshair said, handing the box back to Hunter. 

“Yeah! We could’ve made you a medal, too!” Wrecker said, handing a medal back.

"Yeah...well..." Hunter shrugged and looked away. “I didn’t ask you here to make medals for me. I asked you here because I’d like to make some medals for Omega too.”

Wrecker gasped. “Ooh, that's a good idea!”

“So we write anything we want?” Crosshair asked.

“Anything you want,” Hunter said. “We’ll make them together, a daily project, as many medals as we can think of before she gets back. It ain’t a competition, but I’d like to fill it up.” He showed them the latest box with an energy crossbow and white skull painted on top.

“Let's hear our orders then, Sarge,” Echo said. 

“Right,” Hunter puffed up. “Alright, boys, here’s the plan. Wrecker, secure us some bundt cakes from Shep for this week’s end. Lemon for Omega, red velvet for me n’ you, dark chocolate for Crosshair, and confetti for Echo.”

“Roger that!” Wrecker said, and headed off to his solo mission.

“Echo, gather up some construction flimsy and ribbons from Feilo’s shoppe. Yellow and gray color scheme preferred. And we need adhesives, markers, paints, and a few rotary precision tools.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Echo said, and was next to leave.

“Crosshair, you and I are on a scavenger hunt to the junkyard for any materials that look like our old medals. Metal plates, golden chains-”

“Those magnetic rectangular medals that never stuck on our plates quite right?”

Hunter laughed. “Heh, exactly.”

Crosshair got to his feet and extended his hand. “Let's go.”

Hunter clasped Crosshair's hand.

He expected to be pulled up…

…but he didn’t expect to be pulled into a hug.

It was a brief hug. It was a tight hug. And it was exactly what he needed. 

“Thank you,” Crosshair mumbled, releasing him and not looking his brother in the eye. “For keeping my medals, too.”

Hunter put a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming back to us.”

[extravagav]

Yk I never did truly recover from the sick fic chapter

[beauty-and-passion]

hi, i adore your writings on sanders sides and have for years. i also agree with basically all of the criticisms that you've voiced before, and truly worry for if we'l get an ending.

there's a different thing, an album, called chonny's charming chaos compendium that completely coincidentally explores a similar idea to sanders sides (the aspects of one's identity seperated and forced to communicate to solve problems) but in a much darker tone. it might not be your thing but i know a large portion of the fandom, including me, are sanders sides fans. i wanted to tell you about it in case you were interested or decided to check it out. and hey, the whole album is one complete story, and we've been promised a sequel. no waiting for important plot.

Oh, a long-time anon! Hi! :D Glad you like my writings, criticism included! As I said in the last ask I got, by now I doubt we will ever get an ending of Sanders Sides - gosh, it will be a miracle if we get a full season finale. But who knows, hope never dies :P

Your suggestion about this album sounds very, very interesting. A darker version of Sanders Sides? Aspects of one's identity forced to communicate to solve problems? It sounds promising indeed, I will give it a try. I hope it will be particularly inspiring, I might end up writing a full post about it...

[disastrouscanasta]

okayyy lemme see here. in punch-up. i need to know what the first movie luz showed toye that toye had Not seen before. what was luz's moment of ohmygodineedtoshowyouthisbeforeicombust

okay so i’m very annoyed to say that I drafted this all up on tumblr, and saved it as a draft, then when I opened the draft it only saved like one line of my rambles, so here we go again

I contemplated this question for a while. I went through my entire dvd collection while throwing out random film names at @krakerjaksstuff, who actually suggested the following: The Cornetto Trilogy

if you’re unfamiliar with the Cornetto trilogy, it’s three films directed by Edgar Wright, and written by him and lead actor Simon Pegg, also starring Pegg’s best friend Nick Frost. They’re three British comedy-genre-blend films: Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and my personal favourite, The World’s End (Gary king is a disaster of a human being and it makes him all the more interesting to watch)

anyway so I feel like that would definitely be up on the list within the punch-up universe. I would like to also suggest for your consideration Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang or The Nice Guys because I know nothing about writer/director Shane Black as a person, but his films have definitely affected the way I speak to some degree

and also just any one of those sort of nostalgic comedy “classics” (aka not “classics” but George didn’t go to film school, he just watches them) from the 80s/90s, special shout-outs to Planes, Trains and Automobiles, as well as like Raising Arizona

Anyway thank you for the ask, I hope that this makes at least a single grain of sense :)

[t4tails]

im chewing on zero escape so hard right now im rattling the characters around in my brain trying to see into their brains and pockets like little dolls in jars

[scionshtola]

okay what is everyone reading rn…i can’t get a book to stick i need help

[svtiddiess]

Nom Nom

Synopsis: After what seems like years of asking, your boyfriend has finally allowed you to bite his tiddies.

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: suggestive, mini-series, established relationship

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: biting, marking, nipple play, dry humping, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is kind of a continuation of the boyfriend texts post, but it's not really necessary to read it! It will help with some context though!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu for beta reading!

Tagging @brownsugarbaybee as usual!

This feels very on-brand for me.

Read the sequel: Nom Nom: The Revenge

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You giggle to yourself as you enter your shared apartment. You can't believe Seungcheol actually agreed to it; after what seems like months of asking, he's finally agreed to let you bite his tiddies. Although you had to admit you were only joking when you asked him those 500 or so times, you were actually kind of excited to finally have this opportunity.

As you enter the living room, you find Seungcheol seated on the couch in an oversized hoodie with a pout plastered on his face. You look at him quizzically as you approach him.

"I thought I asked you to be prepped and ready on the bed," you huff, half-joking with him.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his pout somehow deepening. "You were actually serious about that?" he asks, exasperated.

"Of course I was serious," you scoff. "When am I ever not serious?"

"Pretty much all the time," he huffs. You let out a small "hey" and playfully hit his shoulder.

"Now stop dilly-dallying and go lie down on the bed," you demand, crossing your arms. He lets out a whine and wraps his arms around your torso, snuggling his face into your abdomen.

"Princess," he whines, then looks up at you with puppy eyes. "Please don't do this to me," he pleads.

"Nope, not happening. No amount of whining and pouting is getting you out of this Cheollie. It's too late now. You already agreed to it," you look down at him and grin. He groans and hides his face in your abdomen.

"Now chop chop. Or else no kisses for a week," you state. His head jerks up, and his eyes widen.

"No kisses for a week?!" He exclaims.

"Princess, you can't do this to me!" He complains.

"I can and I will," you huff. "Now hurry up!"

With a final grumble, he reluctantly lets go of you and stands up.

"Please let Cheollie go," he pouts and cups your face.

"Cheollie is about to get his ass whooped if he doesn't get on the bed within the next five seconds," you sarcastically grin.

Shoulders slumping at his last ditch effort, he makes his way to the bedroom with you closely following behind.

He sits on the bed, fidgeting with his fingers while staring at the floor. You giggle at how shy he seems.

"Well, what're you waiting for? Strip," you smirk.

He looks at you with a pout, a blush dusting his cheeks as he slowly reaches for the hem of his hoodie. He slowly pulls off his hoodie and quickly covers his chest with his arms, causing you to laugh. Your boyfriend, who was usually dominant in bed, is now acting like a shy virgin; you can't help but laugh at his actions.

"Stop laughing," he whines, blushing harder.

"I can't help it," you giggle. "You're acting like I've never seen you naked before."

"Well, it feels weird, okay?" He grumbles with a pout.

You can't help but coo at him. You move to straddle his lap and cup his blushing face.

"I promise I'll be gentle. You can ask me to stop anytime," you whisper. You lean in to gently kiss him as reassurance that you won't do anything he's uncomfortable with.

"Now, lean against the headboard," you murmur. You get off his lap to allow him to lean against the headboard and get comfortable.

Once he's comfortable, you straddle his waist and start leaving wet kisses along his jaw, helping him relax. You smile to yourself when you feel him slowly relax under you.

Slowly making your way to his lips, you capture them into a passionate kiss, moaning at the feeling of his tongue against yours. You lightly grind against him, causing him to groan into your mouth.

You pull away from him, both of you panting. He looks incredible beneath you, his eyes dazed, lips swollen, and breathless. You shift to leave kisses down his neck, your teeth grazing against his skin.

You hear his breath hitch when you reach his chest. They feel so firm beneath you that you can’t resist moving your hands to squeeze them.

"Princess," he groans.

"God, I love how firm your chest feels," you whine, squeezing him harder.

You lean down to lick one of his nipples, causing him to shut his eyes and moan out loud.

"F-Fuck princess," he groans as you start sucking on the bud.

He throws his head back and shuts his eyes when he feels your teeth lightly digging into his skin. You start sucking on the bud, causing him to let out a string of curses. After finishing marking the bud, you move on to the other one, giving it equal attention. He lets out a loud groan when you pinch his puffed-up nipple. You feel his bulge growing as he ruts against you.

"Feel good Cheollie?" You purr after sitting up to look at him.

"Feels so good princess," he moans, eyes screwed shut.

You grin, then lean down to start marking his chest. He lets out a long groan and arches his back. Small pants and moans escape his lips as your marks get deeper and rougher. Blotches of red and purple slowly bloom across his chest, painting it with your mark. His hips jerk up, and a whimper escapes his lips when you bite down particularly hard.

Enjoying his reactions, you continue to abuse his chest, savouring every moment. You lean back to take a minute and cherish your work. You beam when you see his chest covered in bruises, bites, and saliva.

"Look at me Cheollie," you purr. He opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes blown out and a fucked out expression on his face.

"Are you alright baby?" You murmur, caressing his flushed cheeks. He nods breathlessly, the corner of his lips lifting up into a fucked out smile.

Just then, an idea strikes you, and you smirk before leaning in close to his ear.

"I'm going to mark you with my initials," you purr. "After all, an artist has to sign their painting to show who it belongs to, right baby?" You giggle. You feel his dick twitch at your words.

"You like that Cheollie? You like being marked by me?" You smirk. He lets out a soft whimper and grinds against you, causing you to let out a giggle.

"I am an artist, and you are my canvas baby," you whisper before shifting back to his chest.

You lean down and begin biting and sucking the skin, marking your initials into his left chest cause it's closer to his heart, making sure they take up most of the space. You have to show him and everyone else who belongs in his heart, of course. You hear him moan and groan under you, his hands on your hips to keep you steady. After embedding your initials into his skin, you sit up and admire your handiwork.

You look down and pout, still unsatisfied with your work, feeling like something was missing. That's when it hits you; you giggle as you lean back down to encapsulate your initials with a heart.

"Princess, what—" his question is abruptly cut off by a moan as you bite down harder than usual, silently asking him to simply let you do what you want.

You sit up after finishing the heart, finally satisfied with your work.

"So pretty Cheollie," you purr as you gently trace your fingers across your artwork. "I need to take a picture."

"A picture?" he asks, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

"Of course! I need to forever encapsulate my masterpiece after all," you giggle. You shift to reach for your phone on the side table, causing him to groan.

"Princess, you're killing me here," he mutters.

"Hush! I'm busy taking pretty pictures of my pretty man," you grin as you proceed to take multiple pictures of him.

Your words make him blush, and you squeal, thrilled that the pictures are turning out even better than you expected. He looks so pretty with your mark on him, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes dazed. You're definitely going to use them as your wallpaper for a while.

"Enough," he growls, snatching your phone and tossing it back onto the table. You let out a gasp when he suddenly flips you over, him now on top of you.

"I've let you have your fun, but now it's my turn."

[sixosix]

religion's in your lips

third year to timeskip!hinata x fem!reader, a tad suggestive

It’s Shoyo’s fault.

You don’t join Shoyo’s outings often; most of them are volleyball-related anyway, and you didn’t want to get in the way. But right now, it’s just the third years, and Shoyo had begged so sweetly with round eyes that you would be cruel to even think about denying him.

Kageyama sits on your other side, stiff and polite, jostled here and there by Shoyo pressing up against you. Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Yachi sit on the other side of the table. Conversation is light and comfortable. They don’t exclude you even when talking about practice matches and lineups—Yamaguchi asks you about your own club ever so often, too.

Yamaguchi claps his hand, forcing everyone’s attention on him. Except Shoyo, who’s busy tracing stars on your hand. “Do you guys want to watch a movie this weekend? I heard they’re releasing a sequel of the one we watched back in first year.”

Yachi emits a wordless sound of excitement, easily agreeing. Kageyama and Tsukishima begrudgingly agree at the same time, then sneer at each other. Then they all turn to you and Shoyo.

Shoyo grins. “Sorry, I got plans already.”

“You get a girlfriend, and suddenly you forget about us,” Yamaguchi mourns. Shoyo laughs while you get flustered and assure them that you’re not keeping your boyfriend hostage. Kageyama says that they know Hinata is the one doing it.

“You’re going to watch our match next week, though, right?” Shoyo asks you in a low whisper, as the other three dutifully settle in their own world.

“You don’t even need to ask, Shoyo,” you tell him. “Of course.”

Shoyo’s eyes brighten impossibly, face split into a grin. He looks like he wants to push you down onto the floor to kiss you in front of his friends, but he doesn’t. You knew he wouldn’t.

It’s Shoyo’s fault.

Really. Seriously this time. Specifically, Hinata Shoyo from third year. He’s changed from first year, gained more confidence, but he’s still shy and soft-spoken with you, which you expected from someone as sweet as him. It set your expectations for him and what your relationship would look like in the years and years that you’ll spend with him: bearing that first love kind of shyness.

It takes about two years to prove you wrong.

When Shoyo came back from Brazil, the first thing he did was kiss you breathless in front of everyone in the airport.

His strong arms around your waist, pulling you up—which you had to think ‘thank God’ for because your knees have definitely buckled. You don’t think too much about it, because he’s been gone for two years—two!!—and you’ve missed each other too much.

But when Hinata’s mouth descends to your jaw, you have to push him by the chest and exclaim (albeit weakly), “Shoyo—there are still people behind us!”

Shoyo blinks and pulls off, his eyes fogged over with heat that makes you have to look away, having to remind yourself that you’re in public and you do not want to beg for him to continue. Thankfully, his friends yelling his name seems to have snapped him out of it.

But his palm never left your side, splayed over your hip like a mark.

It gets worse at his homecoming party thrown by his teammates back at Karasuno. You’re familiar with them, and they’re familiar with you, so of course, it wasn’t a problem when Shoyo was pulled away to greet everyone. You made friendly conversation with Sugawara-san, caught up with Nishinoya, and joked around all night with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.

“You called each other every night?” Yamaguchi’s brows have shot up all the way to his hairline.

You smile. “I mean—isn’t it normal for people in a relationship?”

Tsukishima shrugs. “Hinata loves you as much as he loves volleyball, I’m not surprised.”

Yamaguchi considers it. “Hmm, I guess.”

“Hinata’s waiting for you,” Kageyama mutters from behind you, appearing out of nowhere. His brows are stitched together, and his mouth is pulled in his ever-permanent Kageyama pout. “His staring is pissing me off. Can you go get him?”

“He’s not a dog, Tobio,” you chide lightly but grin all the same when you turn to your side and see Hinata Shoyo’s eyes drilling holes into your head.

He’s not mouthing anything. Shoyo stays seated on the loveseat, looking entirely isolated from the crowd around him. His eyes say it all: come here.

Helpless to his whims, you obey.

“Shoyo,” you murmur as soon as you reach him.

He pulls you to his lap. “Baby.”

You freeze. He’s never called you that before—his expression isn’t shy at all, too, just expectant. Heat crawls down your body as he tugs your back to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. Shoyo’s own warmth is a burning sensation. You feel lightheaded.

“Ah—well, um.” You pinch your arm. “Are you feeling okay? Did you drink?”

“There’s no alcohol here.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw Sugawara-san holding a bottle.”

“Ah, well. Sugawara-san.”

You understand. What you don’t understand is what happened in those two years to have Shoyo’s hand crawling on your thigh, a scorching mark on only that part of your skin. To have Shoyo’s breath on the nape of your neck without him flushing and flinching away. To have Shoyo have this air of confidence around him that’s usually in volleyball suddenly translate to you.

“Did you miss me this much?”

“You have no idea, don’t you?” The implications are clear: I could show you how much, if you want.

Still, this development is very sudden. You squirm on his lap, but Shoyo doesn’t relent. He keeps you there, a puddle in his hands. Nobody is watching—or maybe they’re just being respectful, but you feel flustered facing this side of Shoyo in public.

“Shoyo,” you warn. “Not here.”

It’s Heitor’s fault.

Ever since Hinata had met Heitor and Nice and witnessed how unapologetically intimate they were with each other, Hinata became envious. He wanted that, too. He wanted that with you.

“Well, why wouldn’t you?” Heitor asked when Hinata lamented to him.

Hinata made a pitiful noise, like a deflating balloon. “I don’t know. I think she just thinks I’m too cute to take that seriously.”

Heitor laughs. “Shoyo. Trust me. You’ll drive your girl crazy if you’re confident with it.”

It’s Heitor’s fault, and Hinata is eternally grateful for it, seeing your wide-eyed face beneath him like this. He loves it when he surprises people, but yours might be a different kind of thrill that he’s already addicted to.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

omg PLSSSS do a sequel to ‘under a false alter’ like PLSSS ANDDD i wanna know everything about them

how’s married life? how has she adjusted to marriage? what does he think about her? i need banter i need sexual tension I NEED EVERYTHING PLSSS oh and lots of smut THANK YOUU

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀ ᴡᴀʟʟs

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x Wife!reader | WC : 10k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN | Under a False Alter

Summary: No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to escape your new husband, not that your father makes it any easier for you.

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, grinding, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Implied age gap, Scars, Voyeurism, Spitting, both give switch vibes, the reader has a little angsty past, biting, misogyny, almost drowning

A/n: I've never been so grateful for the amount of love this has received. I hope I do it justice with this part two. Lots of love and joy. ALSO, WE GET A MARCUS POV AT ONE POINT hehe

It had been three days since your "marriage" to Marcus, and the silence between you two had been a welcome respite. The tension in the air was thick, each of you occupying your own space, minding your own business. You hoped it would stay that way. Mornings were spent in relative peace, with Marcus at one end of the breakfast table and you at the other.

Taking a bite of a grape, you glared across the table where your father sat with his mistress, Aurelia. The sight of her playing with your father's hair made your stomach churn. The woman who had tormented you for so long was now lounging comfortably in your home, smugly flaunting her relationship with your father. They exchanged whispered words and glances filled with a shared history that excluded you. Aurelia's laughter echoed off the walls, a sound that grated against your nerves.

You noticed Marcus watching them too, his expression unreadable as he observed the easy familiarity between your father and his lover. As if sensing your gaze, Aurelia's eyes flicked towards you, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her gaze as if daring you to disrupt their blissful morning routine. It was a calculated move, a reminder that despite your marriage to Marcus, some things remained unchanged.

"My love, we should go to the villa," Aurelia cooed, her eyes darting towards you with a malicious glint. She was clearly enjoying your discomfort. You could practically taste the bile rising in your throat at the sight and sound of her.

Your father chuckled, his voice warm and affectionate. "Ah, my dear Aurelia, always full of wonderful ideas," he replied, his hand finding hers across the table. His gaze met yours briefly, a hint of apology in his eyes before returning his attention to Aurelia. "Perhaps we should make a day of it. Just the two of us."

Aurelia leaned in closer to him, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or we could make it a family affair," she suggested with a sly smile, her gaze flickering towards Marcus and then back to you, her implication clear.

Marcus tensed beside you, his jaw clenching subtly as he watched the exchange. His eyes briefly met yours, a silent question lingering between you. You shrugged imperceptibly, unsure of what to make of Aurelia's suggestion.

"We'll see," Marcus finally interjected, his tone neutral but his gaze fixed on Aurelia. "It might be a good idea to get some fresh air."

Aurelia chuckled softly, her gaze lingering on Marcus for a moment longer than necessary before turning back to your father. "Yes, fresh air could do us all some good," she agreed, her smile widening as if she had won some small victory.

The comment landed heavily, striking you with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Father, that is not—" you began to protest, but Marcus cut you off.

"Parents don't come on a honeymoon," Marcus interjected firmly. "We'll go alone. It's tradition."

Your father looked to protest, but Marcus continued, a subtle urgency in his tone. "It’s important for us to have time alone to... solidify our bond," he explained, casting a meaningful glance at your father. "Besides, it would give her a break from the current... dynamics here."

Your father's brows furrowed as he considered Marcus's words, his gaze shifting between you and Aurelia. It was clear he was torn, wanting to spend time with his lover but also recognizing the benefit of giving you some space away from Aurelia's influence.

"Very well," your father conceded, though his expression remained stern. "But remember, you must be back by fall. And I expect you to return with news of an heir."

The ultimatum hung heavily in the air, weighing down your heart. Visiting your mother was a rare privilege, one you couldn't afford to pass up. But the thought of being with Marcus, of possibly bearing his child, filled you with dread.

"You can't be serious," you whispered, turning to face your father. "You can't make me do this."

His expression was unwavering, a stern reminder of the power he held over you. "It's for your own good," he said simply. "And for the good of our family."

Marcus's gaze remained locked onto yours, a blend of authority and challenge. "It's settled, then," he declared firmly. "We'll leave in the morning."

You bristled, your skin tingling with a mixture of anger and an unwelcome flicker of desire. "This isn't over," you warned, your voice quivering with emotion. "I won't be your pawn."

A dark chuckle escaped Marcus, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I never thought you were," he replied coolly. "But we are bound together now. Whether you like it or not."

The next morning, you found yourself in a lavish carriage, the countryside rolling by in a blur of green and gold. Marcus sat opposite you, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. The silence between you was heavy, fraught with unspoken words and simmering tension.

"I hate you," you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I hate everything about this."

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Do you?" he asked, his tone almost mocking. "Or do you hate that you can't control it?"

You glared at him, your fists clenching in your lap. "You think you're so clever," you muttered. "But you don't know me. You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," he conceded. "But I intend to find out."

You turned your gaze away from him, looking out the window as the scenery shifted. The villa was near the ocean, a place you knew well. It was where you had grown up, where you had spent countless days playing in the sand and swimming in the waves. The familiarity of the landscape brought a rush of memories, both comforting and bittersweet.

Despite the beauty of the place, the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you. The promise of seeing your mother again was the only thing that had convinced you to agree to this honeymoon, but the thought of returning pregnant filled you with dread. You knew your father’s ultimatum was a trap, a way to ensure your compliance and submission.

"I won't return pregnant," you said firmly, breaking the silence. "I'm only doing this to see my mother."

Marcus leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You think you can control that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can decide what happens between us?"

"I can try," you retorted, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I won't let you dictate my life."

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You’re stubborn, I'll give you that. But you underestimate the power of our bond. We are married now, and that means something."

"Not to me," you said, your voice trembling with anger. "This marriage is just a prison, a way to control me."

"It doesn't have to be," he said, his tone softening slightly. "We could make it something more, something real."

You scoffed, turning back to the window. "I doubt that," you muttered, your heart heavy with resentment and fear.

As the carriage continued its journey, you lost yourself in thoughts of the past and the uncertain future. The villa by the ocean, once a place of joy and freedom, now seemed like a gilded cage. The waves crashing against the shore were a stark reminder of the turbulent emotions within you, a mix of anger, sadness, and a glimmer of hope that you couldn't quite extinguish.

When the carriage finally arrived at the villa, you were both relieved and apprehensive. The grand entrance and the familiar scent of the sea filled you with a sense of nostalgia, but the presence of Marcus at your side was an ever-present reminder of the new reality you were forced to accept.

As you stepped out of the carriage, Marcus placed a hand on your back, guiding you forward. The touch was both possessive and surprisingly gentle, a contradiction that left you feeling even more conflicted.

"We'll make a fresh start here," he declared, his voice tinged with sincerity. "No more fighting. Let's give this a real chance."

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Then we keep trying," he said simply. "Until we do."

You studied him intently, trying to gauge the truth in his words. The weight of his gaze held yours, earnest and unwavering. After a moment of contemplation, you spoke, your voice tinged with skepticism. "What makes you so sure we can make this work?"

Marcus sighed softly, his hand falling to his side. "Because I'm not here to control you," he explained gently. "All I want is communication. That's all we need to make this work—open and honest communication."

His words resonated with a truth you hadn't expected. Despite your reservations, a flicker of hope stirred within you. "Communication," you echoed, testing the word on your tongue. It sounded simple, yet laden with potential.

You'd been at the villa for two days, and despite everything, you had managed to avoid Marcus and even sleep in separate bedrooms. Meal times were awkward, the silence between you both louder than any words could have been. You had resolved to stay like that for the entire three weeks your father had given you to "get pregnant." But your alcohol tolerance had other plans.

Each morning, you found yourself waking early to escape to the farthest corners of the villa, the sprawling gardens and the serene lake providing a much-needed sanctuary. You spent your days wandering through the lush greenery, finding solace in the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. Marcus, it seemed, had taken a similar approach, retreating to his own activities and leaving you undisturbed. The villa was vast enough to make this evasion possible, yet each evening you couldn't help but feel the walls closing in, the loneliness amplifying your homesickness.

The memories of your mother haunted you. The villa, though beautiful, reminded you painfully of the home you'd left behind and the loving presence of your mother. You missed her gentle voice, her comforting embrace, and her wisdom. The separation weighed heavily on your heart, each passing hour a reminder of the emotional distance that now lay between you.

It was late afternoon when you asked one of the maids to bring you a drink. A mistake, you realized too late, not specifying how strong it should be. Without your father's supervision, you had indulged far too much. The room spun around you, and your vision blurred as you stumbled your way toward the dining room.

You pushed open the heavy door, the sudden light from the chandelier making you squint. Marcus was already there, a book in his hands, but his eyes snapped to you the moment you entered. You could feel his gaze like a weight on your skin, making the room feel even hotter than it already was.

"Well, if it isn't my estranged bride," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. He put down his book, his posture straightening as he watched you struggle to find your footing.

You squinted at him, the light from the chandelier making your head throb. "Don't start," you warned, though your voice came out more slurred than stern.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Start what? Observing the obvious? You're drunk."

You staggered forward, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I'm fine," you insisted, though you nearly tripped over your own feet.

"Fine?" he echoed, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You're a mess."

You shot him a glare, your temper flaring. "Like you care," you spat. "You're just loving this, aren't you? Seeing me like this."

He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "No, actually, I'm not. You're making a fool of yourself."

"Better a fool than a tyrant," you retorted, your fists clenching at your sides. "You think you can control me, just like my father."

Marcus's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "I don't need to control you," he replied, his hands gripping your arms. "I just need you to stop acting like a child."

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "Don't touch me," you hissed, your anger boiling over. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

His eyes flashed with irritation. "Someone has to since you clearly can't handle yourself."

"You're such a pompous ass," you shot back, your voice rising. "Do you really think I wanted any of this? To be stuck with you?"

His grip tightened, but his voice remained dangerously calm. "You think I wanted this either? To be saddled with a spoiled, reckless girl who can't even hold her liquor?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, the alcohol fueling your reckless words. "I hate you," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "I hate everything about this, and I hate you."

Marcus's eyes darkened, his grip on your arms firm but not painful. "Good," he said, his voice low and intense. "Use that hate. Let it drive you. But don't you dare make a fool of yourself in front of everyone."

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "You don't get to tell me how to feel," you choked out. "Or what to do."

He sighed, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not trying to control you," he said quietly. "I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

You glared at him, your vision blurring. "I don't need your help," you insisted, though even you knew how weak it sounded.

"Too bad," he said simply, lifting you into his arms with ease. "You're getting it anyway."

You struggled weakly, your head spinning. "Put me down," you demanded, though your voice lacked conviction.

"Not a chance," he replied, carrying you toward his room. "You're staying where I can keep an eye on you."

You hated the feeling of being so helpless, so dependent on him. "You're insufferable," you muttered, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"And you're stubborn," he retorted, his grip on you firm but gentle. "But I'm not leaving you like this."

He pushed open the door to his room and set you down on the large, plush bed, his hands lingering on your arms for a moment longer than necessary. You tried to sit up, but your body refused to cooperate.

"I'm sleeping in my room," you said, trying to push yourself up, but failing miserably.

"Not tonight," Marcus said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knelt in front of you, removing your shoes with careful precision. "You're staying here where I can keep an eye on you."

You glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He looked up, meeting your gaze with a small, knowing smile. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But only because I finally get to take care of you, whether you like it or not."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't need your help," you repeated weakly.

He stood, his eyes never leaving yours. "Maybe not," he said softly. "But I'm here anyway."

You tried to maintain your defiance, but your vision was blurry and your body was betraying you. The alcohol had dulled your senses, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You attempted to sit up straighter, to keep the conversation going, to keep your mind sharp. But the effort was in vain. Your head felt heavy, and your eyelids were drooping despite your best efforts.

"Don't fall asleep," you murmured to yourself, the words slurring together.

Marcus's expression softened, and he crouched down beside the bed, his face level with yours. "You need to rest," he said, his voice gentle.

"I can... stay awake," you insisted, but your body had other plans. Your limbs felt like lead, and the comfort of the bed was becoming impossible to resist.

Marcus reached out, his hand brushing a lock of hair from your face. "Just sleep," he urged. "I'll be right here."

You tried to fight it, tried to keep your eyes open, but the pull of sleep was too strong. As you stared into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze was the last thing you saw before everything went dark. His eyes held a depth that made your heart ache, a mixture of frustration, determination, and something else you couldn't quite name.

Your breathing slowed, and you felt yourself slipping away, the warmth of the bed enveloping you. Marcus's presence beside you was a strange comfort, a reminder that despite everything, you weren't alone. His hand lingered on your face for a moment longer, his touch surprisingly tender.

The last thing you saw before sleep claimed you was his face, the worry and care etched into his features. Your final thought was a confused jumble of emotions, a mixture of anger, defiance, and a reluctant sense of safety.

I watched her struggle to stay awake, her eyelids fluttering as the effects of the alcohol took hold. Her earlier defiance had melted into a fragile vulnerability that tightened my chest. Despite everything, there was something about her that stirred a protective instinct in me.

She hated me, and I couldn't blame her. This marriage wasn't her choice, just as it wasn't truly mine. But here we were, bound together by circumstances beyond our control. I had accepted the arrangement with a single, desperate hope – to escape the life of a gladiator. To live a life where survival wasn't measured by the swing of a sword.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful now, a stark contrast to the fiery woman who had spat venom at me earlier. Her reputation had preceded her – wild, unladylike, with a rebellious streak that made her father's blood boil. Any other man would have turned her away, seen her as too much trouble. But not me.

I was no stranger to trouble. Hell, I lived in it every day in the arena. So when this opportunity arose, I took it. Perhaps, deep down, I saw a bit of myself in her – trapped, fighting against the current, desperate for a way out.

I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking softly under my weight. The villa was quiet, save for the soft sounds of the ocean outside. It was beautiful here, far removed from the chaos of our everyday lives. Maybe, just maybe, it could be a place for new beginnings.

But that was wishful thinking, and I knew it. We were too different, too stubborn, and too caught up in our own struggles to see eye to eye. Still, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe over time, we could find common ground. Maybe I could help her see that not all men were out to control her, to use her.

As she slept, I couldn't help but reflect on our wedding night. I had been a little drunk, my senses dulled by the wine and the weight of what lay ahead. I hadn’t known what to expect, and the confusion of hate and passion made me feel odd, out of place in my own skin. She had initiated sex that night, surprising me with her boldness. Yet now she pretended I was nothing more than a rodent, something to be tolerated.

But I wasn’t blind. I saw the way she looked at me, the physical attraction she tried to mask with disdain. It was confusing, this mix of desire and loathing. I wanted her, but I wouldn’t force it. I refused to become the monster she seemed to believe I was.

My eyes wandered over her sleeping form, taking in the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair splayed out over the pillow. She looked peaceful, and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a future where she looked at me with that same peace when awake.

I remembered the way she had clung to me on our wedding night, her body warm and pliant against mine. The way she had moaned my name, her defenses lowered, just for a moment. It felt like a betrayal that she could feel so passionately in bed yet treat me with such coldness during the day.

Watching her now, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. She had fallen asleep in my presence, a small step forward in this tangled mess we found ourselves in. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A sign that maybe, just maybe, there was a way for us to find common ground.

The exhaustion from the day's events washed over me, and I settled into the chair, unable to tear my gaze away from her. She shifted slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips. The urge to go to her, to hold her and comfort her, was strong, but I stayed put. Pushing her now would only drive her further away.

As my eyelids grew heavy, I thought about the road ahead. The days would be long and difficult, filled with arguments and misunderstandings. But for the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe we could make this work. Maybe we could find a way to understand each other, to build something real from the ashes of our forced union.

With that thought, I let myself drift off, the rhythmic sound of her breathing a strange, comforting lullaby. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, we had this moment of fragile peace. And in the quiet of the night, it was enough.

You woke up with a slight headache, the overwhelming scent of a man filling your senses. It was a heady mix of sweat, leather, and something distinctly masculine. You sat up, and the room spun a little. A groan escaped your lips as you checked to make sure your clothes were still on. You didn't remember him taking off anything other than your shoes, but he was still a man, after all. Your eyes landed on Marcus, uncomfortably slouched in a chair facing the bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sight of him asleep, vulnerable, stirred something unfamiliar in you, but you quickly pushed it aside.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stood up slowly, testing your balance. The headache pounded behind your eyes, a painful reminder of your overindulgence. You made your way to the washbasin, splashing cold water on your face, hoping it would help clear the fog in your head. After a moment, you straightened, took a deep breath, and left the room, eager to put some distance between yourself and Marcus.

The villa was quiet as you made your way to the dining room, the only sounds the distant call of seabirds and the gentle lap of waves against the shore. The familiarity of it all made you ache with a longing for simpler times. You remembered your childhood here, playing on the beach, carefree and happy before the world became so complicated.

As you entered the dining room, a maid appeared, carrying a tray with a bowl and a single, raw egg. She approached you with a polite smile, her eyes downcast.

"Good morning, my lady. I've brought you something to help with... pregnancy," she said, her voice hesitant.

Your eyes narrowed, and you snapped, "I'm not pregnant. The only remedy from an old wife I want is a hangover remedy."

The maid's eyes widened in surprise and fear. "I'm sorry, my lady. It's just that raw eggs are believed to help with getting pregnant. I meant no offense."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Just bring me something for this headache, please."

She nodded quickly and scurried away, leaving you with the bowl and the raw egg. You stared at it with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. The idea of swallowing a raw egg made your stomach churn, but you knew that in the world you lived in, old wives' tales often carried weight.

Moments later, the maid returned with a cup of herbal tea and a damp cloth. "Here, my lady. This should help."

You took the tea gratefully, sipping it slowly. The warm liquid soothed your throat, and the bitter herbs began to work their magic on your pounding head. You sat down at the table, placing the cloth over your eyes and leaning back in the chair.

The quiet was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. You peeked from under the cloth to see Marcus standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He had changed into fresh clothes, but the scent of him from the night before still lingered in your nostrils.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Not really," you replied, your tone sharp. "What do you want?"

He walked over, sitting across from you. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

You glared at him, the words from the previous night echoing in your mind. "I don't need your concern."

He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You were quite the handful last night."

"Well, if you hadn't dragged me off to bed like some helpless damsel, maybe I wouldn't have been," you shot back, the anger flaring up again.

"You're right," he said, surprising you. "But I didn't want you hurting yourself. Despite what you think, I don't want to control you."

You scoffed, lowering the cloth and meeting his gaze. "You keep saying that, but your actions say otherwise."

He sighed, rubbing his temples as if he, too, had a headache. "Look, I know you didn't want this marriage any more than I did. But we're in this together now. Fighting each other isn't going to make it any easier."

You stared at him, the sincerity in his eyes catching you off guard. You wanted to lash out, to keep up the walls you had built, but something in his demeanor made you pause.

"Why did you accept this marriage?" you asked quietly, the question that had been nagging at you since the wedding.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I hoped it would be a way out," he admitted. "A way to escape the life of a gladiator. And yes, I knew of your reputation. But I also knew that any other man wouldn't have accepted you, not with the rumors."

His honesty disarmed you, the anger slowly seeping out of you. You wanted to understand his motives further, but another question gnawed at you.

"So, you did this for your freedom?" you asked, trying to grasp his intentions.

"And maybe for yours too," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours again. "I know what it's like to be trapped in a life you didn't choose."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. For the first time, you saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask, and it left you feeling more conflicted than ever. You didn't know if you could trust him, but you couldn't deny the small spark of hope his words ignited.

The sound of the waves outside grew louder in the silence, as if echoing the turmoil within you. You took another sip of the tea, letting the warmth spread through you, grounding you in the moment.

Marcus shifted in his seat, breaking the silence. "Do you want to visit the pier?" he asked, his voice tentative.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "The pier?" you echoed, memories flooding back. You remembered visiting the pier with your mother, the laughter, the carefree days. Since returning to the villa, you hadn't gone to see it. The thought of revisiting that place brought a mix of nostalgia and longing, but also a sense of trepidation.

"Yes, the pier," Marcus repeated, watching you closely. "I thought you might like to see it."

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to reject his offer out of sheer stubbornness, to prove you didn't need anything from him. But another part of you, the part that missed the simpler times, yearned to go.

"Why do you care?" you snapped, crossing your arms defensively.

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not about caring. I just thought it might be nice for you to see it again."

You glared at him, trying to keep your walls up. "You think taking me to the pier will make everything better? That I'll suddenly forget everything and be grateful?"

"No," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I don't expect anything. I'm just offering."

The sincerity in his voice made you falter. You hated the way he could make you feel so uncertain, so conflicted. But the thought of the pier, of the memories it held, was too tempting to ignore.

"Fine," you said, your tone laced with defiance. "I'll go."

Marcus nodded, standing up. "Meet me at the front door when you're ready."

You finished your tea and stood up, taking a deep breath. You made your way to your room to change into something more suitable for the walk. As you dressed, your mind wandered back to the days with your mother, the laughter and the joy of simpler times. You hadn't realized how much you missed it until now.

When you stepped outside, Marcus was waiting by the villa's front door. He gave you a brief nod, his expression unreadable. You walked down the steps and joined him, the air thick with tension.

"Let's get this over with," you muttered, starting down the path that led to the pier.

The walk down the small hill was silent at first, the only sounds the distant calls of seabirds and the gentle rustling of the trees. You kept your eyes forward, determined not to let Marcus see the turmoil within you.

"Did you ever come here often?" Marcus asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," you replied curtly. "With my mother."

He nodded, glancing around. "It's a beautiful place."

"It was," you said sharply, quickening your pace.

Marcus matched your stride easily. "You know, you don't have to be so hostile."

You shot him a glare. "I wouldn't have to be if you didn't keep treating me like some delicate flower."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Trust me, there's nothing delicate about you."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "And what exactly do you know about me, Marcus?"

"Enough to know you're stubborn as a mule," he retorted, a smirk playing at his lips.

You bristled, your temper flaring. "Well, at least I'm not a brute who thinks he can solve everything with his fists."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think of me?"

You turned to face him, your eyes blazing. "That's exactly what I think of you."

He opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, quickening your pace down the path to the pier. The sand and salt air grew stronger as you neared the shoreline, the familiar sights and sounds stirring a bittersweet nostalgia.

When you arrived at the pier, you paused, taking in the scene before you. The wooden structure stretched out over the water, the waves gently lapping against the posts. You could almost hear your mother's laughter, feel her hand in yours as you walked together.

Marcus stood beside you, his presence a steadying force despite your irritation. "Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the pier.

With a sigh, you stepped onto the weathered planks, the wood creaking slightly underfoot. You walked in silence, the only sound the distant call of seabirds and the gentle lapping of the waves.

As you reached the end of the pier, you leaned against the railing, gazing out at the horizon. The sea stretched endlessly before you, a vast expanse of blue that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world.

Marcus joined you, his gaze also fixed on the horizon. "It's peaceful here," he said quietly.

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm. "It is."

For a moment, the tension between you seemed to fade, replaced by a shared appreciation for the beauty around you. But the peace was short-lived.

You turned to leave, but your foot caught on a loose board. The world tilted as you stumbled, losing your balance. With a yelp, you plunged into the water below. The icy shock of the sea stole your breath, and you struggled to stay afloat, panic surging through you. The water was a merciless force, dragging you under. Your limbs flailed wildly, but you couldn't seem to break the surface. The salty liquid filled your mouth, choking any attempt at calling for help. Your heart pounded, every beat a frantic plea for air as you fought against the pull of the sea.

In the midst of your panic, a shadow loomed above you. Through the haze of water and fear, you saw Marcus diving in. His strong arms encircled you, pulling you upwards with a force that felt both powerful and reassuring. "I can't swim!" you wanted to shout, but the words were swallowed by the water. Instead, you could only gasp, your chest burning as you fought to breathe. Marcus's grip was unyielding, his strength a lifeline. He hauled you to the surface, your head breaking through to the sweet relief of air. You coughed violently, expelling the seawater that had threatened to drown you. Your vision blurred, but you felt Marcus's steady hands guiding you to the shore.

The sand was a rough but welcome texture beneath you as Marcus laid you down, his grip loosening now that you were safe. You continued to cough, your lungs heaving as you expelled the last of the water. You were soaked to the bone, the chill of the sea clinging to your skin. Marcus stood over you, an amused glint in his eyes despite the concern etched into his features.

"I thought you said you grew up here," he remarked his tone light but edged with teasing.

You glared at him through your exhaustion, still catching your breath. "Just...shut up," you managed to rasp, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment as you realized how helpless you'd been.

He crouched beside you, his expression softening slightly. "You should have told me you couldn't swim," he said, a hint of genuine concern breaking through his teasing demeanor.

You sat up slowly, brushing sand from your wet hair. "I didn't think it would matter," you muttered, annoyed more at yourself than at him. "And I didn't expect to fall in."

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, it's a good thing I was here to save you."

You shot him a withering look. "Don't let it go to your head."

He grinned, clearly enjoying your irritation. "Too late."

You pushed yourself to your feet, shivering as the cool breeze hit your wet skin. "I need to get cleaned up," you said, more to yourself than to him.

"Do you need help with that too?" Marcus asked, his tone mischievous.

You glared at him again, but there was a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not a chance."

As you made your way back to the villa, you couldn't shake the conflicting feelings that Marcus stirred in you. His arrogance was infuriating, but there was something about his confidence and the way he had jumped in to save you without hesitation that you couldn't ignore.

"Your father said you grew up here, and you can't swim?" he mocked, shaking his head. "What kind of life have you led?"

You glared at him, anger and humiliation warring within you. "Not that it's any of your business, but my mother didn't want me learning. She was afraid of the sea."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. "And you? Are you afraid of the sea?"

You looked away, the memories of your mother's fear mingling with your own. "Maybe," you admitted quietly.

Marcus sighed, helping you to your feet. "You could have told me."

"And you could stop assuming you know everything about me," you shot back, refusing to meet his gaze.

He paused briefly, then chuckled softly. "Fair enough."

Standing there, dripping wet and shivering, the earlier bickering had faded, leaving behind a tentative peace. The walk back to the villa had taken an unexpected turn, yet as you gazed out over the water, a curious sense of calm settled within you.

He remained quiet, and you welcomed the respite of silence as you reached the villa. You marched inside, heading straight for your room. The maids hurried over, their eyes wide with concern.

"Prepare a bath," you ordered, stripping off your wet clothes. "And make it quick."

The maids hurried to obey, filling the tub with steaming water and adding fragrant oils. You stepped in, sinking into the warmth with a sigh of relief. The water soothed your aching muscles and washed away the sand and salt.

As you soaked, the events of the day replayed in your mind. The bickering with Marcus, the fall into the water, his unexpected rescue. You couldn't deny the conflicting emotions he stirred in you, the blend of anger, frustration, and something else you couldn't quite identify. The bathwater's warmth wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, and you let out a long, slow breath, trying to relax.

Just as you were beginning to feel at ease, the door to your room creaked open. Your eyes snapped open, and you saw Marcus standing in the doorway, his eyes widening as he realized you were still in the bath.

"Gods above, Marcus!" you shrieked, sinking deeper into the water and grabbing a towel to cover yourself.

He quickly turned his back, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't know you were still in here!"

"What part of the closed door didn't you understand?" you snapped, fumbling to wrap the towel around yourself.

"I just wanted to talk to you," he said, his voice slightly muffled as he faced away from you. "About what happened today."

"Can it wait until I'm dressed?" you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He sighed. "I suppose it could, but I thought we should clear the air sooner rather than later."

You finished securing the towel and stood up carefully, stepping out of the tub. "Fine, just... turn around and give me a moment."

Marcus nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. You quickly dried off and pulled on a simple, comfortable dress. The fabric felt soft against your skin, and you let out a small sigh of relief.

"Okay, you can come back in," you called, tying your hair back with a ribbon.

The door opened again, and Marcus entered, looking slightly sheepish. "Sorry about that," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You waved a hand dismissively. "Just don't make a habit of it."

He chuckled, then grew serious. "I wanted to talk to you about learning to swim."

You raised an eyebrow. "Learning to swim? Now?"

He nodded. "Yes. After what happened today, I think it's important. You grew up by the sea, but you can't swim. It's something you should know, for your own safety."

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. "And you think you're the one to teach me?"

"Who else?" he replied with a shrug. "Besides, it might be a way for us to... not bicker so much."

You let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head. "You really think swimming lessons will solve our problems?"

Marcus gave you a small smile. "It couldn't hurt to try."

You thought about it for a moment, the memory of the cold water and the panic still fresh in your mind. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. Learning to swim would be useful, and maybe it would help ease the tension between you.

"Fine," you said at last. "I'll let you teach me. But if you mock me, even once, I'll throw you into the sea."

Marcus laughed, a genuine, warm sound that surprised you. "Deal."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow morning," he said. "We'll go down to the beach and start there."

You gave a reluctant nod. "Alright. Tomorrow morning."

As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but feel a small glimmer of hope. Maybe this would be a step towards something better. Or at the very least, it would give you a chance to prove you weren't as helpless as he seemed to think.

You were dreaming so sweetly, the air from the balcony streaming into the room, bringing with it the scent of the sea. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of seabirds blended into a lullaby that cradled you in its arms. In your dream, you were walking along the beach with your mother, her laughter mingling with the sound of the waves.

Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder jolted you awake. "Get up!" Marcus's voice was a harsh whisper in the pre-dawn darkness.

You blinked, disoriented, your mind still clinging to the remnants of your dream. "What...?" you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

"It's time to start your training," he said, pulling the curtains open. The sky was still a deep indigo, with the faintest hint of light on the horizon.

With a groan, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, still half-asleep. "Alright, alright. I'm up."

"Good," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Get dressed and meet me outside."

You quickly changed into a simple tunic and tied your hair back, the cool morning air nipping at your skin. As you stepped out onto the balcony, the first rays of dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and orange. You made your way to the front of the villa, where Marcus was waiting, looking annoyingly alert.

"Could you be any more enthusiastic?" you muttered, stifling another yawn.

He smirked. "I'm just trying to make the most of the day. Unlike some people who would rather sleep through it."

"Some people prefer not to be woken up at the crack of dawn," you retorted, crossing your arms.

"Maybe if some people had learned to swim earlier, we wouldn't be here now," he shot back, starting down the path towards the beach.

You followed him, the cool sand squishing between your toes. "Or maybe if some people weren't so insistent on dragging others out of bed, they could have a more peaceful morning."

He chuckled. "You know, you could just admit that you need the lessons."

"I don't need them," you grumbled, "I just don't want to drown."

"Same thing," he said, shrugging.

The beach stretched out before you, the waves gently lapping at the shore. As you walked, the sound of the sea grew louder, filling the air with its soothing rhythm. The familiar scent of saltwater brought back memories of playing on the sand as a child, carefree and happy.

"Alright," Marcus said, stopping at the edge of the water. "We'll start with the basics. Just try to relax and trust me."

"Trust you," you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's a lot to ask."

He gave you a patient look. "I know. But if you can't trust me, trust that I don't want to have to save you every time you fall into the water."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. But if you mock me, even once, I swear I'll throw you in."

Marcus laughed, a genuine, warm sound that surprised you. "Deal."

As you waded into the water, you could feel your tunic growing heavier, clinging to your skin. You paused, looking down at the soaked fabric. "This tunic is going to get ruined," you muttered, more to yourself than to Marcus.

With a huff, you turned your back to him and carefully pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it onto the shore. The cool air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you stood bare before him. You waded back into the water, feeling exposed but determined not to let it show.

Marcus watched you with an appraising gaze, his eyes tracing the curve of your shoulders and the lines of your back. There was a moment of silence between you, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. Then, without a word, Marcus reached for the hem of his own tunic and pulled it over his head.

The sight of his bare chest took you by surprise. His skin was bronzed from days under the sun, muscles defined and powerful. Droplets of water clung to his torso, catching the sunlight in a way that made you momentarily forget your irritation. His presence was commanding yet strangely comforting, like a force of nature you couldn't resist.

You tore your gaze away, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks. "Alright, enough staring," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Marcus chuckled softly, stepping into the water beside you. "Just making sure you're not the only one feeling exposed," he remarked his tone light but tinged with something deeper.

You scowled at him, but there was a hint of a smile playing at your lips. "Don't get too comfortable," you warned, trying to regain your composure.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Who says I'm not comfortable already?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture. "Enough of your smugness. Let's just get this over with."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Who says I'm not comfortable already?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the flutter in your chest. "Just focus on the lesson, Marcus."

He nodded, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. "Alright, let's get started then."

Marcus led you into the shallows, the cool water lapping at your ankles, then your knees. He moved with an easy confidence, his presence reassuring despite the lingering tension between you.

"First, we need to get you comfortable with the water," he said, his tone more serious now. "Can you float on your back?"

You hesitated, the memory of your earlier panic still fresh. "I can try."

"Good," he said. "I'll support you. Just relax and let the water hold you."

You lay back, feeling his hands under your shoulders and lower back. The sensation of the water buoying you up was strange, but Marcus's steady grip kept you grounded. You focused on the sky above, the blue expanse calming your racing heart.

"See?" he murmured. "You're doing fine."

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "For now."

Marcus chuckled, his hands firm and reassuring. "Now, try to kick your legs gently."

You did as he instructed, the water resisting your movements. It felt awkward, but you persisted, trying to find a rhythm.

"That's it," Marcus encouraged. "Just like that. You're doing great."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "Maybe this isn't so bad."

Marcus grinned. "I told you. Now, let's move a bit deeper."

He guided you further into the water, his grip never faltering. As the water reached your waist, you felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside. You were determined to prove you could do this.

"Alright," he said, stopping when the water was up to your chest. "Let's try some basic strokes. I'll show you, then you copy me."

You watched as he demonstrated a simple stroke, his movements smooth and confident. His muscles rippled under the water, every action purposeful and efficient. You tried to mimic him, feeling clumsy in comparison.

"Good," he said, nodding. "But keep your elbows higher. Like this."

He corrected your form, his touch gentle yet precise. You adjusted, trying to follow his guidance.

"Better," he praised. "Now, let's keep practicing."

You continued the lesson, each new skill building your confidence. As you practiced, you couldn't help but feel a growing respect for Marcus. Despite his arrogance, he was a patient and effective teacher.

After a while, Marcus called for a break. You waded to shallower water, grateful for the reprieve. As you stood catching your breath, Marcus studied you thoughtfully.

"You're not afraid of the water, are you?" he asked suddenly.

You shook your head, surprised by the question. "No. I just... never learned to swim."

"Why not?" he pressed, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

You hesitated, the memories tugging at your heart. "My mother... she despised the sea," you began softly. "She preferred the safety and serenity of the countryside. My father, on the other hand, adored it. Most of our family's wealth came from his sea trade ventures. He built his entire empire on the waves."

Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly intrigued. "So your mother didn't share his love for the sea?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "No, quite the opposite. She was terrified of it. She hated the constant worry every time he left on a voyage, the endless nights spent alone. She never understood his obsession with the sea. Their marriage was arranged, just like ours. But unlike us, they never found common ground."

"And your father?" Marcus asked, his tone gentler now.

"My father loved the sea more than anything," you said, your voice tinged with sadness. "He saw it as a source of freedom and wealth. He would spend months at a time on his ships, overseeing his trade routes, and ensuring our fortune grew. The sea was his true mistress."

Marcus seemed to consider this, his expression thoughtful. "So your mother lives in the countryside now?"

You nodded. "Yes. She moved away a few years ago. Couldn't stand the sight of the sea anymore, or the memories it held. She wanted peace, a life without the constant fear and loneliness."

"Do you see her often?" he asked, his curiosity genuine.

"Not as much as I'd like," you admitted. "She visits sometimes, but my father keeps her at a distance. He's still bitter, even after all these years. He sees her as weak, unable to embrace the life he chose."

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds like we're both products of difficult marriages."

"Indeed," you replied, meeting his intense gaze with equal fervor. "But I don't want to be trapped like my parents."

Marcus's eyes softened as he stepped closer, his hands finding your waist with a gentle certainty that sent a thrilling shiver through you. Without hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his torso, feeling the strength of his body supporting you effortlessly.

"We won't be trapped," Marcus assured you, his voice low and steady, filled with promise. "Not like them. We'll find our own way, together."

His words, spoken with such conviction, resonated deep within you. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored your own, forging an unspoken bond between you.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of gold and pink, casting a serene glow over the water, Marcus leaned in closer. His warm breath mingled with yours, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the tranquil sounds of the sea.

With a tenderness that belied his usual stern demeanor, Marcus brushed his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss. It was a moment suspended in time, charged with unspoken desire and the promise of something more.

You responded eagerly, your heart racing as you deepened the kiss, surrendering to the intoxicating connection between you. The barriers that had once stood firm melted away with each tender caress of his lips, leaving only the raw, undeniable truth of your shared desire.

 As the kiss grew more fervent, Marcus's hands roamed your body, their touch both possessive and tender. He guided you out of the water, each step a testament to his strength and control. The cool breeze hit your wet skin, but the heat between you and Marcus was undeniable, a fire that neither the sea nor the morning chill could extinguish.

 He laid you down gently on the sand, the grains rough yet grounding beneath you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "Would it really be so bad to at least try for a baby?" he asked, his voice a mix of longing and challenge.

 You bristled at his words, your defenses rising again. "I'm a child myself," you retorted, your voice trembling with both defiance and uncertainty. "How can I bring another life into this world when I'm still figuring out my own?”

Marcus's gaze softened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. "No one said it had to work," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "But we can try. Together. We can make our own Path.

 His words were a balm to your fears, a promise of partnership rather than domination. As he leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, you felt the last vestiges of resistance crumble. The passion between you was a living thing, a force that demanded to be acknowledged.

 Marcus's hands moved with purpose, exploring every inch of you with a reverence that made you shiver. You arched into his touch, your body responding to his in ways that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. His lips trailed down your neck leaving a path of fire in their wake.

 "Marcus," you breathed your voice a mix of need and wonder. He paused, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away.

 "We don`t have to do this if you're not ready," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "But know that I want you. I want us to have a chance."

 You searched his eyes, finding a sincerity that both scared and exhilarated you. "I want you too," you admitted the words a leap of faith. "But this... it changes everything.”

"Then let it change us," he murmured, his lips finding yours once more. The kiss deepened, a blend of urgency and tenderness that left you both breathless.

You felt the rough sand beneath you as Marcus pulled you closer, his hand gripping your cheek firmly as he kissed you passionately. His touch was both possessive and reverent as if he were handling a precious porcelain doll. His hand traveled down your body, caressing every curve with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

He pulled away from the kiss, the sun reflecting off his body, making him glow with an almost ethereal light. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hand traveled lower, caressing your upper thigh before spreading them, giving him a place to stabilize himself. You felt his length prod at your thigh, the heat of his desire palpable.

Unable to resist, you pulled him in for another kiss, feeling his hips move into your body, his erection grinding against your thigh. "God, you're hard," you murmured, pulling away from the kiss to take in his disheveled appearance.

"I've been hard as a rock since we started the lesson," he teased, his voice thick with lust. He captured your lips again, his hand wandering down to your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions.

"Marcus," you gasped your voice a mix of need and frustration.

He smirked against your skin, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he bit softly, making you wince. "You dick," you muttered, but your protest was cut short by a moan as he rubbed his length up and down your slick wetness.

Leaning over you, Marcus positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes dark with desire. "I know you want my dick," he said with a smirk, pushing into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

Your body arched at the sensation, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he began to move. He lifted your legs slightly, pushing your knees to your chest, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper. The stretch was intense, the feeling of him filling you completely almost overwhelming.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your whimpers, but they quickly turned into borderline screams as he brutally fucked into you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and frantically grab at the sand for some stability. You could swear he was rearranging your insides, his cock hitting your G-spot with relentless precision.

Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense pleasure he was giving you. You didn't think getting fucked like this was physically possible, didn't think you were capable of feeling such intense pleasure at the hands of a man.

Marcus's smirk widened as he leaned down, his eyes following the bulge on your lower belly. "Yeah, feel it," he mocked, resting his forehead against yours as he bottomed out again. "Got you stuffed all the way in, huh?"

You couldn't even argue, your eyes brimming with tears as he pressed his palm harder against the bulge. Your eyes clenched shut, but his relentless thrusts only edged you further. He gripped your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him. "No, you keep looking. Taking me so good, gonna—fuck, gonna have to ruin you."

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes as the pressure within you built to an almost unbearable peak. You were so close, so desperately close to the edge. Sensing your state, Marcus's gaze flicked to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Ask nicely, goddess” he grunted, picking up the punishing pace once more. "Use your manners and I'll give you whatever you want." His hands moved to your thighs, forcing them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The sensation made your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening immediately.

"Please... for fuck's sake, let me cum or I'm gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we're done," you managed to grunt through gritted teeth.

He chuckled breathlessly, his hand returning to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it. "We'll work on that," he laughed softly, feeling you rapidly slipping towards the edge. He didn't let up on his ruthless motions, finally pushing you over the brink.

You were loud. Probably too loud. Your scream of release echoed along the shore, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Marcus followed you over the edge, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilled into you, the warmth of his release sending one last wave of pleasure through your already trembling body.

As the intensity of the moment faded, you both lay there, tangled together in the sand, breathing heavily. Marcus's forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and something deeper.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try," you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try," you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you.

Marcus's smile widened a glint of mischief in his eyes. "If it feels that good every time," you added with a playful smirk, "I might not mind at all."

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned in to brush his lips against yours once more. Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the kiss again, a voice suddenly called out from behind you.

"Hey! What are you two doing here?" The voice was stern, and authoritative.

You and Marcus scrambled to cover yourselves, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up as you fumbled with your discarded clothes.

Realization dawned on the guard's face as he took in the sight of Marcus's distinctive, regal features and your own disheveled state. His expression quickly turned from stern to horrified as he realized who he was interrupting.

"I-I'm so sorry, my lord, my lady," he stammered, turning an alarming shade of red. "I didn't realize—"

Marcus, still half-naked and laughing, held up a hand to stop him. "It's alright," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Just a little... misunderstanding."

The guard's eyes darted around, clearly trying to avoid looking directly at either of you. "I'll just... I'll just be going now," he mumbled, backing away quickly before turning and sprinting down the beach.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation breaking the tension that had been lingering. Marcus joined in, his laughter a deep, infectious rumble that made you forget all your worries, if only for a moment.

Once the laughter had subsided, Marcus turned to you, a mischievous look in his eyes. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper, "there's always the sea. No guards to interrupt us there."

You raised an eyebrow, your own smile widening. "Is that so?" you asked, the idea sending a thrill through you.

"Absolutely," he replied, standing up and offering you his hand. "Shall we?"

You took his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver of anticipation through you. Together, you made your way to the edge of the water, the cool waves lapping at your feet. Marcus's presence beside you felt grounding, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of the playful breeze and the gentle rush of the sea.

As you reached the water's edge, Marcus pulled you into his arms. The sea welcomed you both with its refreshing embrace, its coolness a stark contrast to the heat that had built between you. You chuckled softly at Marcus's promise, spoken against your lips.

Marcus pulled you into his arms, the sea providing a refreshing contrast to the heat between you. "I promise," he murmured against your lips, "no interruptions this time."

[liliacamethyst]

Webs of Redemption (Part IV)

Sequel to Web of Shadow and Light

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 6,7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, heavy angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

The piercing cries of your baby boy, Gabriel, are a haunting symphony of fear that reverberates through the labyrinthine corridors of the Spider Society headquarters. Your heart pounds in your chest like a drum, each beat echoing the terror that grips you. After your recent fight with Miguel, you felt weakened but your mind is a whirlwind of fear and worry. You sprint through the maze-like structure, your feet moving as if on autopilot.

Unbeknownst to you, Lyla, the holographic AI assistant you've always found slightly weird, had been assigned to watch over Gabriel. You never imagined she could pose a threat to your child. But as you approach Gabriel's room, a chilling sight stops you dead in your tracks. A laser barrier, courtesy of Lyla, blocks the entrance. Your solar powers, usually so reliable, are fizzling out, leaving you helpless before the impenetrable barrier.

The room beyond the barrier is filled with an invisible, deadly gas - monoxide. You can't see it, but the signs are there. The malfunctioning heating unit, under Lyla's control, suggests sabotage. She must have manipulated the unit to produce the lethal gas. Gabriel's cries grow fainter, more desperate, and you're powerless to reach him.

Your pleas for help echo through the corridors, your voice raw with desperation. You call out for Miguel, your words a plea, a command, a prayer. Miles is there, his powers at the ready, but they're useless against the laser barrier. You watch as Miles strains, his powers flickering against the barrier, but it's no use. The barrier remains, as unyielding as ever.

Suddenly, the cries stop. The silence is deafening, a void that swallows your heart. "Gabriel!" you scream, your voice a raw wound. "Gabriel!" But there's no answer, only the oppressive silence. Your world grinds to a halt, every second stretching into an eternity. You can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but stare at the barrier that separates you from your son.

"Miguel!" you cry, your voice breaking. "Miguel, he's not crying! He's not... he's not..." The words die in your throat, too terrible to voice. You turn to Lyla, desperation etched on your face. "Lyla, please! Open the barrier! Miguel, tell her to open it! He's not crying, Miguel, he's not..."

Miguel's eyes turn blood red, a terrifying sight that sends a shiver down your spine. With a guttural growl, he lunges at the barrier. His claws rip through the laser code, tearing it apart. The barrier flickers, wavers, and finally shatters under his assault. Miguel pulls his suit over his mouth, rushes into the invisible cloud of monoxide, and moments later, emerges with Gabriel in his arms. His heart pounds in his chest as he pulls back his suit, revealing his son's face. "I got you, baby," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "You're okay, I got you. Nothing will ever happen to you. Please, open your eyes."

But Gabriel doesn't react. His little body is still, too still, and a cold dread seizes Miguel. He doesn't hesitate. With a urgency, he rushes over to the medical bay, pushing past the shocked faces of his friends. He gently lays Gabriel on the table, his hands shaking as he starts to perform CPR.

"Come on, Gabriel," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. "Come on, baby." He administers chest compressions, his hands moving in a steady rhythm. He gives two rescue breaths, praying for a sign, any sign, that Gabriel is okay.

The room is silent, everyone holding their breath as they watch Miguel work. The seconds stretch into an eternity, each one a lifetime of fear and hope. And then, finally, a small cough. Gabriel's eyes flutter open, his gaze unfocused but alive. A wave of relief washes over you and you fall to your knees thanking God that your boy is alright.  

Tears blur your vision as you rush over to Gabriel. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest as you scoop him into your arms, holding him close. His small body is warm against yours "You're alright,  my baby," you whisper into his hair, your voice thick with emotion. "We're going home, you're alright." You rock him gently, his soft breaths against your neck soothing the ache in your heart.

But as you look up, your gaze finds Miguel. The relief of the moment does nothing to quell the anger boiling within you. His eyes meet yours, wide and filled with regret, but it does nothing to soften your glare. "This is YOUR fault!" you scream, your voice echoing through the room. The words hang heavy in the air, a damning sentence. "You did this! You brought this danger into his life!"

Tears stream down your face, hot and unchecked. Your words are choked with emotion, each one a raw wound. "You will NEVER see Gabriel again. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve to know his laughter, his tears, his NOTHING." The words are a bitter poison, spat out with all the venom you can muster. "You deserve to SUFFER, just as you've made me suffer and HIM."

The silence that follows is deafening. Miguel, eyes wide and shell-shocked, opens his mouth, but you cut him off. There's nothing left to say for him and he knows it. The portal back to your universe begins to shimmer into existence, and you hold Gabriel tighter. You're going home. 

Just as you are about to step through, Gabriel, who'd been silent and wide-eyed through the whole ordeal, turns in your arms. His chubby little hand stretches out toward Miguel, a soft and innocent "Dada?" escaping his lips.

After the door of the portal closed behind you, Miguel stood still for a moment in complete shock, the echoes of Gabriel's tiny "Dada" ringing in his ears. He stumbled back, finding his way back to his office. It felt cold, sterile. It felt like a lie.

"Miguel..." Lyla's holographic form appeared before him, her synthetic voice filling the room.

"Lyla!" Miguel barked, startling her. "Why?"

"Wha-" Lyla began to stutter, taken aback by Miguel's rage.

Miguel slammed the files that Margo had uncovered onto his desk. The holograms fluttered in front of them, evidence of Lyla's deception. "What did you do?"

"I...It's not what you think, Miguel," Lyla attempted to explain, her holographic form wavering.

"I am giving you one chance to explain yourself, so choose your words wisely," Miguel warns, his eyes piercing into hers.Lyla takes a step back, mumbling under her breath. "I should have killed that bitch when your bastard was the size of a pea." She scoffed, looking up defiantly at Miguel.

Miguel's heart drops. He can hardly believe his own ears. “Never speak of her that way again!" Miguel's fist tightens, and the tension in his jaw is nearly audible.

"Oh? Because she dazzled you with her beauty? Parading in that tight suit you adored? You always looked at her as if she was the sun, the center of your universe. All the while, I was there right beside you and you never even glanced at me. I was your anchor, Miguel. Can't you see? I was always there, supporting you, giving everything. All she did was leave you."

Lyla's holographic image wavers, her eyes a storm of pain and defiance. "No, it was me. I left her. She was the light in my world, but I took her for granted. By the time she left, I had already abandoned her." Miguel's eyes shimmer, the weight of regret making them heavy. He couldn’t fend off the flood of guilt and sorrow from the past. He embraces the anguish, refusing to shy away from it. Because Miguel, in all his flaws, was never one to run from consequences.

"Why?" The word, barely audible, escaping his lips. He doesn't even glance at Lyla as he voiced the lingering question.

“Because... because I love you, Miguel. I've been in love with you for years. I am the woman for you."

He stumbles back, his fingers flying over the holographic keyboard as he pulls up Lyla's software. He had programmed a self-destruction command, a failsafe, though he never thought he'd have to use it.

"This isn't love, Lyla," Miguel says, his voice shaking with anger. "You almost killed an innocent boy. I almost killed my son, Lyla!" His voice echoes through the room, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Lyla's form began to flicker, her synthetic eyes widening in fear. "Miguel...what are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Miguel doesnt respond. There is nothing left to say.He just stares at her before finally pressing the command.

“Miggy, please mi amor, let – “ Lyla let out a digital scream, her form glitching, as she was slowly deleted from the system. 

And then, silence.

Miguel drops the icy demeanor he'd been holding onto, falling to his knees. The weight of what he'd done, what he'd almost lost, crashed onto him. He wraps his arms around himself, feeling a sharp, hollow ache in his chest. He became the monster, he swore to protect the universe from.

"What have I done." he whispers to the silent room, his voice breaking. He buries his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs.

"Man, shits been mental." Hobie collapses onto the couch next to Gwen and Miles, who are trying to keep young Mayday distracted in Peter B.’s universe.

"Watch the language, Hobie!" Gwen scolds, her eyebrow arching sharply.

"Alright, my bad. Everything's just been chaotic since Miguel vanished, especially after his... uh, Lyla bird — the hologram lady — tried to... you know, kill his kid," Hobie fumbles.

"Watch it!" Gwen and Miles chorus, causing Mayday to pause her play and glance up curiously.

"Alright, alright, fam. Point taken, jeez. Nearly unalived his son," Hobie corrects himself. "But we need a plan. One of us needs to check on our Sun, ensure she's holding up mentally ya know and then there's the Spider-Verse mess. Those black holes are messing things up, and without our brooding, drama-filled, ‘oedipal’ leader, the rest of us Spiders are stuck."

"What's 'Oedipal'?" Peter B. interjects, walking into the room with a bowl of mashed dinner for Mayday. The child's face brightens at the sight of the meal, and she eagerly crawls to him.

"I believe Hobie's trying to reference Oedipus," Gwen says with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, that Roman dude who had beef with his son and erased him from the living world, right?" Hobie muses.

"Nope. It's Greek mythology. And he killed his father and married his mother," Gwen corrects, slightly exasperated.

"Man, that's all kinds of messed up," Hobie grimaces, making a face that gets a giggle from Mayday.

"You think it's funny when Uncle Hobie gets it wrong?" he teases the little one.

"Enough with the history lessons, guys," Peter B. interjects, concern evident in his voice. "Ever since Miguel's been gone, nothing's been right. Honestly, with everything that's been happening, I'm just overwhelmed. I'm especially worried about Sunny and everything just feel so surreal."

Hobie nods, absorbing the weight of the situation. “I hear you, man. Who knew Miguel was shagging our Sunny behind our backs.” 

The chorus of shocked voices fills the room. “LANGUAGE!" they exclaim, eyes wide.

Hobie raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I got carried away. I meant... it is weird how they had a deep love-making connection, and it led to... consequences without us knowing."

Peter B. leans back, a pensive expression clouding his face. "With everything Sunny went through, the joy, the pregnancy and leaving... I should have been there for her more."

As if sensing her father's distress, Mayday halts her meal, reaching out with her small, pudgy hand to comfort him, patting his cheek. Gwen, her voice gentle yet firm, adds, "We all could've done more, Peter. But we were preoccupied, trying to save our universes, and in doing so, we neglected our own Spider-Family."

She takes a deep breath, her demeanor changing to one of determination. "Now, no more moping. Miles and I will hunt down Pav and Margot to sort out the chaos at HQ. Peter, you should visit Sunny and Gabriel and take Mayday along. Hobie, team up with Jess to locate Miguel. Make sure he's alright and bring him back."

Miles cuts in, skepticism evident. "Bring him back? Isn't he the very reason we're in this mess?"

Gwen sighs, trying to choose her words carefully. "Miguel's a … complicated man. He made choices based on what he believed was best. His actions, while perplexing, stem from good intensions. But he's hurting too, Miles. I've seen it. He’s heartbroken." 

Miles scoffs, "A heart;for real? That dude? All I've seen is a cold exterior, mad demands, and an excessive pride."

A glance around the room reveals faces of understanding and sympathy towards Gwen’s perspective. Miles' frustration only grows. "Like seriously? All of you? His heart is straight-up frozen and his ego’s bigger than, like, everything! How y’all even thinking about letting him near your best friend."

"Miles," Peter interjects, his tone both assertive and compassionate, "you might not see the full picture here."

Miles, fire in his eyes, retorts, "It's all of you who are blind. I don’t get what charm he has over you, but that man is dangerous. Ain’t no way I stand by and watch him come near her or the baby again, or any of us for that matter. Y’all better wake up and join me.” Without another word, Miles activates his portal, leaving in a flash.

Gwen and Hobie scramble, attempting to follow or stop him. But Peter, with a resigned sigh, motions them to pause. "Give him time. He'll come around. For now, our priority is locating Sunny and Miguel."

Gwen, though worried, gives a nod. "You're right. We've got pressing matters. Sunny is in a vulnerable state, and we need to find Miguel."

Hobie, after a moment of contemplation, says, "Miles not wrong, though. We need to tread carefully around Miguel. Maybe he’s injured ‘imself, like that Icario bloke who got too close to the sun. Miguel might’ve burned his feathers on our Sunny.”

“Icarus. You mean Icarus.” Gwen corrects him once again with an exaggerated eye roll.

Peter agrees, "Yea, Miguel's actions have consequences, but remember, every story has two sides."

 "No, sweetheart, it's MA-MA. Say Ma... Not Da, MA-MA.”

“DADA!”

“Alright, if you won't say it, no toy for you. Come on, my love. Say MA-MA.” Blackmailing a one-and-a-half-year-old might not be your proudest parenting moment, but hearing him chant "dada" incessantly has been grating, particularly when said "dada" is a headstrong egomaniac with a hero complex and an overwhelming urge to save every universe but who seems to have missed saving the one thing that mattered most to both of you.

Sure, he's incredibly attractive and, yes, maybe he looked really hot while being on his knees — but those details are neither here nor there. A soft whisper in the back of your mind suggests that, in the end, he did rescue your boy. But that comforting thought is drowned out by the even louder, more cynical voice reminding you he's the reason the danger existed in the first place.

 “Dada?” Gabriel pipes up, his big eyes hopeful.

“No, love, I’m still your MA-MA.” With a resigned sigh, you hand the toy over to the gleeful toddler, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. You then rise, intent on tackling some household chores. Switching on the TV, you tune into the news, curious about the latest happenings in Nea Yorkey. 

Since hanging up your mantle as Spider Sun you've tried to distance yourself from the perils of heroism. Given all the challenges you've faced and the traumas you've endured, who could point a finger at you for wanting to step away? Your primary concern now is the tiny human being who looks up at you with eyes full of wonder and innocence.

Yet, a piece of your heart still aches for your city. You've always been someone who believes that one shouldn't stand by in the face of injustice. After all : 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' But now, you're not just a hero, you're a mother too. Balancing those two sides is proving to be quite the challenge and extremely frustrating. 

Curiously enough, the city's crime rate isn't surging, even in the absence of a superhero. It's almost as if there's still a vigilantly safeguarding Nea Yorkey in Sun-Spiders absence. But that can't be possible, can it? Wouldn't your spider senses have alerted you if that were the case?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further into the depths of concern, the persistent ringing of the doorbell snapped you back to reality. One glance at the door and an all-too-familiar voice later, you already know who's there.

“Would it kill you to answer sooner? I think I've lost count of how many times I rang. And for the love of all things good, it’s freezing out here!” Melissa, still in her over-dramatic fashion, breezes in, shedding flakes of snow from her vibrant winter boots. “And by the way, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Now, where's my favorite little munchkin?”

Melissa, once Gabriel's 19- year old former babysitter, stepped inside, shaking the snow off her boots onto your doorstep. After the harrowing incident involving the Spiders and your son, she was promptly relieved of her babysitting duties. That was an event you've tried to scrub from your memory, a dark stain you wish you could just wash away. But in the aftermath, you found an unexpected friend in Melissa. She turned out to be a wonderful listener and possessed an uncanny ability to keep Gabriel entertained. He had grown quite fond of her in the short time she cared for him.

While you had resolved never to leave your son unattended again, it was comforting to have Melissa's company. 

She’d become someone you could confide in, someone who could effortlessly make Gabriel giggle, and most importantly, someone who filled the echoing silence of your home with warmth and chatter. She is your "guy in the chair." Well, more like "girl in the kitchen chair,"  but the sentiment still stands. 

Truth be told, after distancing yourself from the Spider society, a deep-seated loneliness had settled in. While the world continued to move around you, there was a stillness in your heart. The absence of your closest friends, the void left by Miguel - it all felt like a puzzle with a missing piece.

“Nopedidope, I am not Dada, I am ME-LI-SSA.” she says with a playful tone, then turns sharply towards you. The damp red strands of her hair, wet from the snow, swing gracefully with her movement. "What's with him and 'Dada' all the time?"

You shift uncomfortably, hoping to avoid delving into that topic. "Kids and their phases," you mumble, trying to sound nonchalant.

Melissa studies your face, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You're looking a little pale there, Sunny. You know what you might be missing?" She raises an eyebrow teasingly. "A bit of Vitamin D?" Her voice drips with insinuation.

In a mock attempt to shield Gabriel, you place a hand over his ears, which only spurs Melissa into laughter. "Come on, he's too young to understand. When was the last time you had a little fun?A month? Or Two?"

You shake your head, not meeting her gaze. Since Miguel, there hasn't been anyone else. Between the birth of Gabriel and the whirlwind that is motherhood, the idea of dating or loving someone else doesn't even cross your mind. No matter the hurt and heartbreak Miguel has caused, the truth is clear: your heart still belongs to him. It always has.

The mere thought of another person comparing to him feels almost blasphemous.

"Sunny!" Melissa's voice draws you out of your trance. "Don't tell me you've had a dry spell since.. well, since well, Gabriel was conceived. No fucking way. Seriously?"

"Let it go, Mel," you interject gently, because while the weight of loneliness presses on you, and the desire for intimate connection tugs at your heartstrings, a longing for human touch, to be seen as more than just 'mom', there's also an undeniable self-consciousness that wraps itself around you. The aftermath of pregnancy has reshaped your body, and though each stretch mark narrates the beautiful journey of your son's creation, they also evoke self-doubt. 

Memories of Miguel's adoration flood back. He had a gift for making you feel cherished during your intimate moments. He would take his time, appreciating every inch of you, always emphasizing how much he desired you. The warmth of his fingers, the gentle press of his lips tracing your curves, and the whispered assurances of how much he wanted you. The way his tongue tenderly caressing the swell of your breast, his hot breath tickling your skin and your - Snap the fuck out of it, Sunny!

But the chill of an empty bed the next morning led to those persistent doubts which still plague you today. We’re you not beautiful enough for him to stay? Were you not interesting enough to make him want to hold you when dawn broke? 

For someone who always prided herself on not tethering her self-worth to any man, let alone someone as self-absorbed as Miguel, these feelings of desire and yearning were unsettling. A desire for him to truly see you, to understand and love the depth of who you truly are, continued to consume you. 

Love? You catch yourself. Where does that come from? Shaking your head, you mentally scold yourself. He's proven himself less than worthy. It's time to regain control and shut your damn heart out. 

"I'm taking this little one out to build a snowman, and I'm setting you up on a date. You don't get to say no," Mel declares.

You raise an eyebrow, replying, "Thanks, but no thanks. If Gabriel's going out, I'm coming with. And I'm not looking for any man right now."

Mel rolls her eyes playfully. "Take a breather, Sunny. We're just going to be right outside. You can watch us through the window. Besides, a little rest might give you the energy for the spontaneous date I might arrange for you tonight."

"You're out of your mind," you retort.

She offers a sincere look. "I promise he's in safe hands, and you can keep an eye on us the entire time. But seriously, you look drained. When's the last time you had a good night's rest?"

You sigh, admitting, "I haven't slept well in weeks." It's the truth. Every time you close your eyes, memories of the HQ come flooding back.

Mel, sensing your hesitation, adds, "I'll protect him as if he were my own. You know that, right?"

Taking a deep breath, you let her go, breaking your cardinal rule of never letting Gabriel out of your sight. You just hope it's a decision you won't regret.

"Enjoying that snow, little guy?" Mel teases as Gabriel eagerly stuffs his mouth with a handful of the white fluff. "Careful, you might get a brain freeze." Gabriel giggles, some snow dribbling from his mouth, while Mel concentrates on assembling a little snowman just outside your apartment.

 "I'm not sure toddlers should be eating snow like that," a deep voice comments, causing Mel to fumble and drop the snowball meant for the snowman's head. She looks up, scanning for the source of the voice.

A striking man stands there, tall and imposing, with a dark blue winter coat that hints at the powerful build beneath. Slicked-back dark hair contrasts with the most captivating shade of red eyes Mel has ever witnessed. "And you'd be the expert on toddlers?" she inquires with a playful smile.

"No, but I am a father of two," he replies with a hint of sternness, his gaze shifting to Gabriel.

To Mel's astonishment, Gabriel's eyes light up at the sight of the man. The toddler abandons his snowy treat and dashes towards him. Caught off guard, the stranger momentarily stiffens.

Quickly, Mel scoops up Gabriel. "I apologize. He doesn't usually act this way. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

The man offers a curt nod. "It's fine. Just... keep the snow-eating to a minimum." As he begins to walk away, a heartfelt cry of "DADA!" from Gabriel stops him in his tracks. 

"Apologies again. He's taken quite a liking to that word recently," Mel says as she notices the man returning, drawn by Gabriel's continuous 'dada' chants. 

"Would you mind if I help with the snowman?" the stranger asks, catching Mel off guard. Why would a stranger want to make a snowman with a woman and a child unless he has other intentions? Maybe he's interested in her? Gathering her confidence and a dash of flirtatious playfulness, she replies, "Quite the knight in shining armor you are, offering to help. And here I thought chivalry was extinct." 

"Definitely not a knight." Without another word, he starts forming a small snowball, handing it to an elated Gabriel. The child's joy doesn't waver as the stranger settles beside him.

"Then who might you be, if not our knight in snowy armor?"

Mel inquires, with a teasing undertone, trying to uncover a bit more about the handsome stranger who'd seamlessly inserted himself into their snowy afternoon.

The stranger's dark crimson eyes briefly flit to Gabriel before returning to Mel, an unreadable emotion crossing his features.

"Not important."

Mel nods, storing away the information.Well, the lack of information. “Well okay mysterious. I like that. So let's get this snowman built, shall we?"

The trio gets to work. Mel gathers snow, crafting the middle part, while the man starts on the head. The handsome stranger's hands are deft, moving with a surprising grace that contrasts with his brooding exterior. Gabriel seems inexplicably drawn to him. 

At first, the toddler pats at the snow with his little mittened hands, but every so often, his bright eyes lift to watch the stranger. Whenever he moves to fetch more snow or adjust the snowman's form, Gabriel eagerly toddles after him, mimicking his every motion with endearing clumsiness.

There's a curiosity in Gabriel's eyes. He reaches out multiple times, trying to touch the mans face or grasp his hand, seeking a connection. To Mel, it seems as though the baby is yearning for the recognition of the stranger and he feels an inexplicable bond with, though she can't quite put a finger on.

The handsome stranger, for his part, can't seem to help himself. He bends down often to adjust Gabriel's scarf or hat, taking every opportunity to interact with the child and help him in a very protective manner, Mel notices.

He smiles softly when Gabriel's tiny hands try to shape the snow, occasionally guiding them with his own much larger ones, demonstrating how to pack the snow just right. At one point, when the snowman's body is nearly complete, Gabriel gives an excited laugh, dropping down to sit in the snow. 

The stranger follows suit, sitting beside him. The two of them start creating a tiny snowman just for Gabriel, the man showing him how to roll the snow and place the pieces together.

As they craft the mini snow figure, Gabriel, with his tiny voice, attempts to communicate with his limited vocabulary, pointing at the snow and then at the stranger, as if asking for validation for his creation. “Dada!Dada!” And every time, he gives a nod or a soft chuckle, providing the affirmation the little one seeks.  “Yes, you did that buddy! Great job, mijo.” 

When Gabriel eventually throws himself into the snow to make a snow angel, the man can't help but laugh genuinely, a sound that seems foreign to his usual stoic behavior. And in his excitement, Gabriel opens his mouth wide in a beaming smile, revealing two tiny fangs. Instantly, the mans eyes glint, a myriad of emotions reflected in them.

The affection and emotion emanating from him is almost touchable. The silent exchanges, the shared smiles, and the comfortable interaction between them, even in the absence of many words, speaks volumes.

Your  eyes flare comically with disbelief. "You let a stranger do what?"

Mel, in a bid to downplay the situation, waves her hand dismissively. "Relax. We just built a snowman."

"With my son! Mel, are you out of your mind? No it’s my fault trusting you with my son again! What was his name?"

"He... didn't say."

Your voice rises, "What did he say at all?"

"He's not dangerous, Sunny. He mentioned he's a father, and he's scouting for a new apartment. Asked if there were any vacant ones nearby." Mel pauses, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality. "And Sunny, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. Impossible for someone that handsome to be dangerous. I mean, the man looked like he was carved by the gods with a face even angels would envy.”

You narrow your eyes, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Enough with you sappy, dreamy nonsense. A vacant apartment? And you don’t find that at all suspicious? So you let a total stranger play with my son without knowing a single thing about him... just because you wanted to sleep with him?"

Mel gulps. "You might've done the same, given the situation. Besides, nothing happened. Why are you overreacting?"

Your voice sharpens. "Overreacting? The fact that you're still standing here and not on the other side of my door means I'm underreacting."

Mel steps back, hands up, "Whoa, calm down, mama bear. Look, I'm sorry. But... I've got something to make it up to you. I messaged Marc, that guy from the café, and guess what? He's super excited to go on a date with you! He'll be here in about..." Mel theatrically checks her wrist, even though she's not wearing a watch, "...twenty minutes."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow. "And he's okay with me bringing my son on the date? After your stunt, there's no way I'm leaving Gabriel with you. Why not set me up with that mystery Adonis you just met instead?"

Mel smirks, "Firstly, ouch. Secondly, don't let your son cockblock you. The plan is: dinner, a stop at his apartment for some dessert, and then you come back here – hopefully a more relaxed and sunny version of yourself, Sunny. Thirdly, Marc is amazing, and Mr. Greek God is off-limits. He's mine."

 "No, I’m not going."

Mel pleads, "Come on! Marc was so eager to meet you. He's on his way, so maybe run a brush through your hair? Oh, and speaking of him…" Mel's face falls as she checks her phone, "He just texted me."

She reads aloud, "‘Hey Mel, I don’t know the kind of guys Sunny's been with, but I'm not risking my neck for a date. Sorry, but that dude in front of her house was scary and very serious about his threats.’ WAIT WHAT? Who’s in front of your apartment?”

You shrug and swing the door open to check on what Marc’s mysterious message could mean, revealing Peter B, his fist paused mid-air, ready for a knock. "Hey Sun. Did your spidey-sense catch me?"

It hadn’t. Why hadn't it? Have your once reliable senses dulled with time? Before you can respond, Mel jumps in with her own theory. "Did you chase off her date?"

Peter's brow furrows with confusion. "You had a date, Sunny? Was it the guy sprinting away with a bouquet, looking like he’s seen a monster?" He gestures over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint the fleeing figure.

Mel narrows her eyes at Peter, suspicion clear in her voice. "That was her date, yes. He seemed spooked. You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

Peter B throws his hands up defensively. "Hey, deeply mistrusting stranger, I've been encouraging Sunny to get out there for years. " You're immediately reminded of the time he'd tried to set you up with Ben Reilly. “Yea, you don’t look scary enough to spook someone. No offense.”

Sighing, you interject, "Maybe he realized dating a single mom with a toddler wasn’t what he wanted. Either way, I just want a quiet evening to relax and catch up on my favorite show. So thank you both for your unexpected, uninvited surprise visit today but I am tired."

Both Peter and Mel exchange shocked glances. "Sun, I came by to check on you because of... you know, what happened," Peter starts hesitantly.

You nod, taking a deep breath to keep

your emotions in check. "I'm aware, Peter. And I appreciate it. But right now, I'm doing okay. Actually, better than okay. So, I really don’t need help. Please, just give me some space. Both of you."

Mel steps forward, concern evident in her voice. "We're only trying to help here, Sunny. Please, don't shut us out."

"Look," you reply, feeling drained, "there's nothing you can do to help me anymore.You did enough today. Just let me be. My top priority right now is Gabriel. And it's his bedtime."

Peter moves closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Just remember, if you ever need anything, please reach out."

You manage a wry smile. "Not sure my phone plan covers inter-dimensional calls, Peter."

 After the gentle squeeze, Peter departs, Mel following close behind. As the door softly clicks shut, the weight of loneliness and grief descends upon you after seeing Peter, a part of your past, again. The walls of the apartment seem to close in, amplifying the echoing silence. It all feels suffocating. An emptiness weighs on your heart, and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to escape its grasp. The reminders of all you've lost and nearly lost play on a loop in your mind. 

So there you stand, in the quiet of your bedroom, leaning against the windowsill, breathing in the chilled nightair,  while the world and your little baby boy are fast asleep. Emotions threaten to consume you, feelings you can no longer lock away, fearing they'll devour you from the inside. And in this moment, you speak out, though there's no one there to hear. No one to hold you close, no one to offer comfort for your broken soul. "Are you happy now? Did you manage to save the universe? Fix up every black hole? Then why did you leave one black whole in my heart? Why didn't you fix that,huh? Why am I not worthy of being saved by you?

You might fool the people around you, they  see you as this scary untouchable figure, shielded by layers. But not me. I see through it all. Beneath that facade, you're just as shattered. I tried to piece you together, but where did that lead me? Broken, just like everything else you touch. And I won't let you near him. I won’t let you break him, you hear me? No, of course not.How could you hear me. You're universes away from me. Why? Are you afraid to get cut by the shards of the broken heart that you left?

I hate you Miguel O’ Hara. I hate you for breaking me. You left behind fragments only you can touch, and I hate you for it. For shattering me and then leaving me alone. I hate you.” 

You wiped away the tears that escaped your eyes and closed the window, oblivious to the subtle shadowy silhouette that shifted just beyond the windowpane; "I'll mend your fractured rays, mi sol, so you shine whole again.“

A whisper, lost within the night shadows, never reaching your ears.

​​The gleaming city spread out beneath, its nighttime heartbeat pulsating with a soft electric energy. High atop one of its buildings, Miguel stands, casting a shadow on the walls of the room where his son sleeps peacefully. The warm lights from the streets below give off a soft glow, just enough for him to see Gabriel’s tiny chest rising and falling.

"So, you're staying here now? Just watching over Universe 586?" A familiar voice breaks the silence, and Miguel looks up to see Jessica Drew, her red and white suit glinting under the streetlights. "I never thought I'd witness the great O'Hara, savior of the universes, now guarding just two souls."

Miguel's jaw tightens. "Go away, Jess."

She lands beside him gracefully, her tone challenging. "Are you stalking your own child? Or seeking redemption from Sunny?"

"You don't get it, Jessica."

"On the contrary," she shoots back, her eyes intense, "I understand more than anyone else. I saw how you felt about her all those years ago. And I see it now. You were afraid, weren’t you?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," Miguel replies, defiance lacing his tone. "But I am not good enough for her light."

Jessica exhales, her voice softening. "And who made you the judge of that? Because according to Sunny’s emotional outburst, you're more than deserving." He clenches his fists, the weight of regret pulling at him. "I had my shot at happiness with Gabriella, and I lost it. People like me, Jess, we don't get second chances."

She points to the window, to the serene image of Gabriel. "That's your second chance, Miguel. Right there."

His eyes well up, the gravity of his mistakes reflecting in his eyes. "I almost killed him. How can I even begin to forgive myself for that?"

"But you didn't," she whispers, her voice filled with conviction. "And you wouldnt have hurt him or else you would have done it immediately. I saw you, Mig.”

A third voice joined them, and Peter B. swings over, landing with ease beside the two. "She's right, Miguel. I watched you with him, the tenderness, the love. It was there, even before you knew who he was to you."

Miguel shakes his head, shutting both of them out. His gaze is hard, still fixated on Gabriel. "I can't go back. They're better off without me. Besides, you heard her. She hates me."

Peter stepsforward, his gaze intense. "That's utter bullshit. I know Sunny. She’s strong, fierce, and forgiving. We heard her loud and clear and this woman loves you more than anything. Don't let fear rob you of your family."

Peters words hang in the air, and just as Miguel is about to reply, a shrill,ear-piercing cry cuts through the silence. His spider-sense goes haywire, a ripple of unease running down his spine. Without a second's hesitation, he dashes toward the source of the sound, leaving Jessica and Peter behind.

Inside, Miguel finds Gabriel crying, tears streaking his small face. Instinctively, Miguel scoops him up, the little boy immediately nestling into the familiar crook of his father's neck and calms down. “Hey, my little spider. Daddy ‘s here, don’t cry. What got you so scared?” he coos, spotting Gabriel's favorite toy on the floor. Miguel retrieved Gabriel's favorite toy from the floor, a routine he'd secretly adopted every night when, after falling asleep, the little one inevitably dropped it. With practiced ease, he nestled it back into the baby's grasp.

But before he can fully relax, Miguel's spider-sense jolts him again. Looking up, he sees a familiar, dark-clad figure hovering, hands sparking ominously.

“Drop the child, Miguel.” 

a/n: Hey guys, part 4 is finally here! Thanks for your patience and all the love you've shown me. While I initially thought Part 4 would be the conclusion, I've decided to extend Miguel's character and redemption arc, so we'll wrap up with Part 5. I'm already deep into writing it, so you won't have to wait as long. I truly appreciate all your feedback and support. You've all been wonderful. Remember to stay safe, stay hydrated, and always prioritize your mental well-being. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter! 🤍

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[fantasydreamland]

Betrothed

cragen stark x fem tully reader x aemond targaryen

Summary: You have been betrothed to Cragen Stark since you were children and grew up in the North preparing for the day you would become the lady of the Winterfell. Your entire world changes when your parents decide to wed you to the cold prince Aemond Targaryen instead. When the war begins everything changes once again and you eventually find your rightful place.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smut, angst, fluff, loss of virginity

Word count: 5580

x thank you so much for this request x

Mini sequel - Mine

masterlist

You have been betrothed to Cragen Stark since you were children and grew up in the North preparing for the day you would become the lady of the Winterfell. Your parents visited often but remained occupied in the Riverlands.

Along the way, you and Cregan fell in love though neither of you would speak of it. Although you were to be wed, you were both shy about your feelings towards each other.

One day your mother and father return to Winterfell to visit and you greet them excitedly.

“There is a reason to our visit.” Your father says sternly as you hug your mother.

Your smile fades and they lead you to private room to speak. Your father explains that there was an offer from King Viserys to wed you to Prince Aemond Targaryen.

“What?!” You yell. “Absolutely not. Tell them no. I am to marry Cregan soon. That has always been the plan.”

“We have already agreed.” Your father states.

“You cannot marry me to that cold evil prince!” You raise your voice again in panic.

“Prince Aemond is an excellent match, my dear.” Your mother says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“But I am to be lady of Winterfell! That is what I have been preparing for my entire life!”

“Well, now you will be a princess of the realm.” Your mother says.

“I do not care to be a princess!” Tears begin to fill your eyes. “What about Cregan? We have been betrothed our entire lives. He is the sweetest man I have ever known and now you are going to ship me away from him… away from you.”

“We would join you if we could, my dear.” Your mother says softly.

“But as you know we have a duty to the Riverlands. We cannot always choose our duties in life.”

“But father please-“

“There is no negotiating.” Your father speaks over you. “We have already promised the king. You should be grateful to earn such a title.”

“…When?” Was the only word you could choke out through your increasing tears.

“We will escort you there tomorrow.” Your father says.

“Tomorrow?!” You cry. “That is hardly any time at all!”

“Your mother and I need to return to Riverrun, we have no time to delay. I suggest you begin packing.” Without another word, your father storms out of the room.

“I’m sorry dear…” Your mother whispers to you as she follows behind him.

You collapse to the floor in tears. It feels like your entire world just went up in flames. You did not want to live in Kings Landing, you wanted to stay right here in the snowy North you had grown to love. You did not want to marry the prince, you wanted to marry Cregan who you had also grown to love.

‘Oh Cregan…’ You think. Breaking this news to him would be heartbreaking.

You pick yourself up off the floor and take deep breaths to steady your still shaky breathing. Once you have composed yourself you rush to find Cregan.

Cregan was standing alone in the Godswood looking to the tree before he turns and spots you approaching with a red nose and puffy eyes.

“What is wrong (y/n)?” He asks concerned.

You throw your arms around him and begin to sob again. He hugs you tightly as your tears dampen his fur cloak.

“Shh, it’s ok.” He pets your hair, causing you to cry harder, his tenderness being a reminder of what you would lose soon. “Tell me what is going on.”

“I h-have t-to leave.” You choke out before you begin crying again.

“What do you mean you have to leave?” Cregan pulls back to cup your cheek and look into your eyes.

“My father- he…” You can barely get words out between sobs.

“Take a deep breath darling. You’re ok.”

You do as he says and take a deep shaky breath before continuing.

“He is marrying me to prince Aemond. We leave tomorrow.”

You bury your face back into his furs as you cry harder. He hugs you tighter than he ever has and for a moment does not say a word. The shock of everything fogging his thoughts.

“Please say something…” you whisper.

“How is this possible?” He finally speaks.

“I do not know…” You sniffle as you lift your head. “But my father said it is already decided.”

“But…” He cups both your cheeks in his hands and looks into your eyes with intensity you have never seen from him. “I can not lose you… I- I love you.”

“Cregan…”

Before you can respond he crashes his lips against yours. You kiss him back with all your passion. The kiss is filled with so many unspoken feelings between you. You had dreamt about kissing him many times before but never in sad circumstances like this. You continue to kiss each other like it is your last day in this world. Which for you, it would be your last day in his world. Your lips finally part and you can see tears in Cregans eyes.

“I am so sorry, my love…” You whisper.

Cregan kisses your forehead and takes your hands before placing a kiss on each of them.

“He better treat you how you deserve. Because… you deserve the world (y/n).” Cregan chokes back tears as he speaks.

“You are my world…” You whisper, looking deep into his grey eyes.

“And you are mine…” He whispers back before pressing his forehead to yours and sighing.

You could not bear another minute of this heart shattering goodbye so you excuse yourself to pack for the trip. Tears stream down your face as you organize your belongings. Sitting on your dresser was a beautiful wooden horse your father gave you the day you arrived at Winterfell.

You run your fingers along it, remembering your excitement when you saw snow for the very first time. Your father had said it was to remember that although they were in Riverun they would always be by your side to support you in the North. You scoff at the thought of your father’s words and chuck the wooden horse into the fire.

You did not leave your room the rest of the day as you finished packing. You had no appetite at all and could not bear to see Cregan or anyone else for that matter. After sobbing in bed for most of the night, sleep finally pulls you under.

—

The next morning your things are being loaded onto the carriage. The snow fell gently, snowflakes landing and melting in your red hair, for the last time. You spot Cregan coming to wish you farewell. You run over to him and he wraps you in a tight hug. You both remain there for a long moment, not wanting to let go. He knew once he let you out of his arms you would be gone for good.

“I do not wish to speak the words since I am leaving… but you know my feelings for you.” You sniffle against his shoulder.

“I know…” He says as you finally part. “Me too.”

Cregan held back the tears in his eyes while yours streamed freely down your face. He holds your hands in his and places a final kiss to your forehead.

“Farewell, (y/n).” He says quietly. “I wish you good luck.”

“Farewell, Cregan.” You sniffle, barely holding back from bursting into tears again.

As your hands slowly part you could literally feel him slip away from you. You rushed into the carriage, choking back sobs. As the carriage takes off you stare through the window having one last glance at Cregan, one last moment admiring the beautiful white snow, one last moment in Winterfell. You watch as everything you have grown to love fades into the distance.

The ride is long, and silent, your parents barely speak a word and you were constantly focused on keeping yourself from crying. When you reached a far enough distance the air becomes warmer, forcing you to finally take off your favourite furs made for a lady of the North. After an agonizing few weeks of travel you finally reach Kings Landing.

—

You follow behind your parents as a guard leads you to the throne room where the king and his family await.

“Lord and Lady Tully.” The guard announces your arrival. “And their daughter, (y/n) Tully.”

You greet the king as he welcomes you and your family. Your eyes meet Aemonds as he stares you down, his face cold and unreadable. He was even more handsome than you could have imagined. You break the eye contact with the one-eyed prince and look down nervously.

The guard escorts you to your new chambers and leads your parents off to their guest room for the night. You did not want to see or speak to them ever again. When the guard returns to escort you to dinner you refuse despite his insistence. You knew it would be taken as an insult to the king but you did not care. You hoped it may even encourage him to deem you unworthy of the prince and send you back home.

Not long after someone bangs at your door, startling you. You approach the door and cautiously open it to see Aemond holding a plate of food.

“It is a great insult to refuse the kings welcome feast.” He says as he pushes past you and lets himself in.

You scoff as he places the food on the small table in your room.

“Forgive me for insulting the king, my prince. I did not have much of an appetite.” You say firmly. “And frankly, I do not care to see my parents again before they abandon me here.”

“You need to eat.” He says in a stern tone.

“What I need is to go home.” You snap back.

“This is your home now.” He states, unphased by your attitude.

You simply huff and cross your arms.

“You need to eat.” He repeats. “I know that you must be hungry by now.”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs before heading toward the door. “Goodnight, Lady (y/n).”

He bows slightly before closing the door behind him. You stand there with your arms still crossed before your stomach starts to grumble. You sigh as you sit down and tuck into your food, silently grateful he brought it to you.

You change out of your dress before curling up into the large canopy bed with red and golden curtains. You felt like a trapped bird in a royal golden cage. Your thoughts swirl around in your mind like a tornado. Your entire world has been flipped upside down in the matter of weeks. Everything you had envisioned for your life has just gone up into flames. Now you were stuck here with these strangers, forced to marry a man you did not know or want. You sob into your pillow until exhaustion finally drags you into a restless slumber.

—

The next morning you sleep in and take your time dressing. You had no intention on intending breakfast either and having to see your parents before they depart. Once you’re dressed you sit at the vanity and brush your hair in the mirror. Suddenly, there is a loud knock on the door.

“Come in.” You call, placing your brush down.

The door opens and Aemond appears with a plate of breakfast food. He walks over and places it on the same table as before.

“I assumed you would not be at breakfast with your parents in attendance.” He says flatly. “But you should eat.”

He says nothing else as he turns to leave.

“Thank you.” You say as he goes to close the door.

“Mhm.” He nods, turning his head to look at you before exiting and shutting the door behind him.

You sit down to the plate full of a variety of foods from the breakfast table. His caring gesture felt so confusing when he acts so cold towards you.

—

You finish doing your hair before looking through the small bookshelf in the corner of your room. Most books seemed to be about boring histories until you find a book about dragons. You pull it from the shelf and spend the rest of your day reading through it. You had never even seen a dragon but now you were about to marry someone who has the biggest one in the world.

That evening you plucked up the courage to attend dinner. You would at least not have to see your family anymore but you worried for how the this family would treat you, especially with how you had isolated yourself away from them.

The guard leads you to the dining hall where the royal family were seated for dinner. You were surprised by the warm welcome as the king offers you a seat. You did not say much as you ate looking down at your plate. The light conversation was mainly between the king and queen. Aemond sat across from you and kept his eye on you the entire time.

When supper was finished Aemond offers to escort you back to your chambers. You say goodnight to everyone before taking his arm. The air was tense as you walked down the halls in silence.

“I would like to take you on a walk through the gardens tomorrow.” Aemond says once you reach your chamber, the offer catching you off guard.

“I… um, I’m not sure.” You respond looking down.

Aemond lightly lifts your chin with his finger, making your eyes meet his. The contact made your heart race before he casually drops his hand back down.

“You must be bored remaining alone in your bedroom.” He questions.

“No.” You scoff. “There are plenty of books to keep me occupied.”

“What are you reading?” He raises a brow.

“Why do you care?” You glare at him.

He simply shrugs and slightly smirks at your attitude.

“I am not sure the title… it’s just a book about dragons. I thought it sounded interesting.” You shrug.

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” His smirk grows.

“No…”

“Would you like to?”

“I am stuck here in Kings Landing for the rest of my life… I am sure I will see one sometime.” You cross your arms.

“I have a better idea than a walk in the gardens. I will meet you here midday tomorrow.”

“But-“ You begin.

“Goodnight, Lady (y/n).” He says over you as he bows and leaves you.

“Goodnight, Prince Aemond.” You say under your breath once he’s out of ear shot.

—

The next morning you attend a quiet breakfast. You pretend not to notice Aemond observing you the entire time. Midday you are reading in your chambers when there is a knock at the door. You answer the door to Aemond, as expected.

“Ready?” He asks.

“For what? You never told me where we are going.”

He lightly chuckles, the first time you have heard him laugh, and offers his arm. Without further questions you take his arm as he leads you through the castle.

You follow him into the dragon pit. You stop in your tracks when a gigantic dragon comes into your sight.

“There is no need to be afraid. She will not harm you unless I command it.” Aemond reassures you.

“And what if you did command it?” You question.

“Then you would be a pile of ash.” He smirks. “Lucky for you, I would not want to destroy such beauty.”

You blush at his response. He was acting so differently than the coldness you expected.

“Here.” He offers his hand to you.

You place your hand in his and feel instant sparks as he looks into your eyes, clearly feeling it too. He clears his throat before leading you over to Vhagar and moving your hand up to stroke her. She grumbles which startles you and you feel Aemond chuckle again behind you. He slowly removes his hand from yours as you continue to pet Vhagar.

“She seems to like you.” He says. “And she does not like anyone.”

You smile to him and see a rare smile on his lips. Not a smirk, a genuine smile.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” He asks.

You look to him with shock in your eyes as you contemplate the question. The idea terrified yet excited you. Not many people get the chance to ride a dragon in their lives and you could not pretend like you have not dreamt of it before.

Aemond seems surprised when you agree and then a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Very well.” He smiles.

You watch as he climbs atop Vhagar before reaching his hand to you, gesturing to climb up. You pull yourself up the ropes before grabbing Aemonds hand. He hoists you the rest of the way so you are sitting behind him. You were certain he could feel your heart beating rapidly against his back.

“Hold on tight.” He smirks.

You wrap your arms tightly around him, your body pressing up against his. The heat in your cheeks rise as you realize this is the closest you have been to him.

You don’t have time to dwell on the thought as Vhagar begins to walk out of the dragon pit before taking off. Your breath catches as you are lifted up into the sky. You close your eyes and squeeze Aemond so tight you were surprised he could still breathe.

“Open your eyes.” Aemond says, somehow knowing you closed them.

You open your eyes and for a brief moment you worry you had fallen off the dragon and died. The way you soared above the clouds was a sight of the heavens. After that you don’t shut your eyes for another second, taking in the sky around you and the lands below you. Aemond circles back around and you squeeze him tight again as he begins to descend. Once you’ve reached the dragon pit Aemond jumps off and helps you down off Vhagar.

“How did you enjoy your first dragon ride?” He smiles to you.

“I- I- I am hardly ever speechless.” You say with a beaming smile. “That was indescribable.”

Aemonds smile remains as he kisses your hand. You gaze into each others eyes for a long moment before you lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips. He smirks to you before taking your hand again and leading you out of the dragon pit.

You and Aemond were both more lively at supper than usual, talking of the dragon ride you went for earlier. Once the meal is finished Aemond escorts you to your chambers for the night.

“I had a wonderful time with you today.” You say to Aemond as you walk down the halls. “That was honestly the first time I have felt true happiness since being here.”

“I am glad. I quite enjoy your company here. So I hope I can continue to make you happy.” Aemond responds.

“Well, now you have the rest of our lives to do so.” You playfully nudge him, making him smirk.

Once you reach your chambers you look to Aemond.

“Thank you, my prince. For everything.” You think back to the meals he first brought you when you refused to leave your room.

“Of course, my lady… Soon to be, my princess.” He takes your hand to kiss.

You gaze into his eyes with a heartfelt smile. He smiles back at you before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to your lips. When your eyes meet again there is a strange tension in the air. You watch him glance to your lips again before he suddenly cups your cheeks and brings your lips back to his. The kiss quickly turns heated as you wrap your arms around his neck and his tongue dips into your mouth. Your heart races against your chest as he grabs your waist and pulls you closer against him. The desire between you both is electric. He pushes you up against the wall and you feel his hardness press against your hip, making you gasp into his mouth.

When your lips part you feel yourself almost lean back in, like a moth to a flame. You look at each other with wild eyes as you catch your breath.

“Goodnight, my lady.” Aemond places a kiss to your cheek.

“Goodnight, my prince.” You say bashfully.

Once you enter your chambers you let out a heavy breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. You get ready for bed, your thoughts full of Aemond. You did not expect to develop any feelings in this new marriage but now he was all you could think about. The fire between you was indescribable. You fall into a peaceful sleep as you begin to imagine your wedding and future to come.

—

The next day everything changes. King Viserys passed away overnight. All the small folk are gathered to witness Aegon being crowned as the new king. Your family had pledged fealty to Rhaenyra when she was first crowned heir. You panic and worry for what may come from the throne being usurped.

The next few days pass by in a blur. You hardly saw Aemond and when you did there was never private moments to talk. He even stopped escorting you from meals. You could tell it pained him greatly but he could not find the time right now with everything going on.

One night a knock on your door startles you awake. You rush over, hoping to find Aemond on the other side. Your face drops with disappointment when instead you find a guard standing there.

“What is it?” You ask sleepily.

“Please keep your voice down my lady.” He says as he hands you a hooded cloak, making you arch your brow at him. “Your parents received a raven regarding this treachery. They asked I bring you home.”

“Home? What are you talking about? This is my home now... And why would they ask a gold cloak to take me away from kings landing? Why would you agree?” You babble.

“I will explain everything on our way to Winterfell. Please, my lady. We haven’t much time.” He says, peering over his shoulder.

“I would need to collect my things…” Your brain was hazy from sleep trying to comprehend what was happening.

“There is no time, my lady. Please, we need to leave now.” He begins to panic.

With no time to give it thought, you simply nod and put on the cloak to hide your vibrant red hair. He leads you cautiously through the castle through hidden passages you had never known were there. Eventually they lead you to the streets of Kings Landing. There was a carriage waiting for you just outside the city gates.

Once you are on the road you finally have a moment to process your thoughts. Your heart sinks and your stomach twists at the thought of Aemond discovering your disappearance. Tears run down your face at the thought. You did not want to leave Kings Landing, you did not want to leave him.

The next weeks of traveling was even more dreadful than when you were going to Kings Landing. Multiple times you considered jumping out of the carriage and running back to the Red Keep.

You could hardly eat with your stomach in knots. Aemond blurred all of your thoughts. All you could think of was him. The intense kisses you shared, the amazing dragon ride, his acts of kindness. It broke your heart to imagine how much you must have hurt him by leaving. You had disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving all your things behind. You worried how he would think you chose to abandon him, or worse, think you had been stolen in the night. Which in a way, you had been.

You begin to shiver as you get closer to Winterfell, the air getting colder. The guard notices and pulls a fur cloak out of a small chest inside the carriage. You wrap it tightly around you and try to steady your nerves.

“We should be there soon.” He says.

You simply nod and rest your eyes. The next time you open your eyes the carriage comes to a halt.

“Are we here?” You shoot up.

The guard nods and opens the door. You’re instantly blinded by the white of the snow. Your eyes adjust to see your parents waiting for you. You simply glare at them before your eyes land on Cregan and your expression softens. You had been so worried about Aemond that seeing Cregan nearly slipped your mind entirely.

You jump out of the carriage and do not hesitate to throw yourself in his arms. He hugs you back tightly and pats your hair.

“I thought I would never see you again.” He whispers in your ear.

You nod as the tears start again. You part and he wipes them from your face. You softly smile at him and he kisses your forehead.

“My darling, we are so glad you are safe.” Your mother interrupts to hug you.

“As soon as we heard Aegon was usurping the throne we knew we had to bring you home.” Your father says.

“Yes, thank you.” You say dryly. Your father goes to respond but you cut him off. “Thank you for dragging me away from my home, my life, everyone I have ever known. Then, deciding to bring me back and steal me away in the night. I am not sure the royals even know where I am.”

“We made them aware once you were a safe enough distance that they could not go after you.” He responds.

“Now you no longer have to marry that ‘cold prince’.” Your mother quotes your words from when you were leaving.

You think to Aemond finding out they had taken you back to Winterfell.

“Do you not think they will come after us? After me? They have dragons.” You cross your arms.

Part of you feared Aemond would come for you and steal you away. Another part of you hoped he would.

“They are far too busy with the coming war to worry about a stolen bride.” Your father says.

“That is all I have ever been to you, huh? A bride to be sold off to whichever family benefits you most.”

Before your father can respond you stomp off to the castle.

—

You make your way to your previous bedroom, relieved to see it remains the same as you had left it. You sit down on the bed and cry into your hands. A knock at the door interrupts your sobs.

“Come.” You call dryly, assuming it was your parents.

Cregan cautiously opens the door and you stand from your bed.

“Cregan…” You say as you walk over to him. “I am so glad you are here.”

Cregan boldly closes the distance between you and pulls you into a searing kiss. All of the feelings you have for him come flooding back as you kiss him back passionately.

“(Y/n)… I have been so lost without you.” Cregan says lowly. “I feel like the luckiest man alive to have you in my arms again.”

“I missed you too.” You whisper as you rest your foreheads against each other.

He kisses you again, this time lifting you up and walking you over to the bed.

“My love… I don’t know if I can wait for our wedding night to have you.” He says as he puts you back down. “You are all I have been able to think about since the moment you left.”

You meet his eyes and they’re filled with so many emotions. Heartbreak, sadness, worry, relief, desire, love. You gaze back at him with the same feelings in your eyes.

“Then don’t.” You whisper.

Without hesitation, he kisses you again before moving his lips to your neck causing a small whimper to escape you. You tug at his cloak until it drops to the floor and he moves to push yours off your shoulders. You begin to underdress each other layer by layer, stealing hungry kisses in between. When Cregans upper half is finally exposed you run your fingers down his toned stomach. He moves his hands along the curves your body as you stand in nothing but your shift. You step back slightly and he watches as you slowly lift the thin dress over your head.

“You are so beautiful.” Cregan whispers before capturing your lips again.

You crawl into bed and watch as he unties the strings of his pants and they drop to the floor. Your eyes widen at his hardened length on display. When your eyes dart back up to his there’s a fire that lights within you both. He crawls on top of you before taking your breast in his mouth as his hand massages the other. You squirm underneath him as your hands move to his hair. His lips make their way back up to your neck.

“I love you (y/n).” He says lowly in your ear.

“I love you, Cregan.” You breathe.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles down at you with pure adoration.

“Are you certain about this, my love? We can wait until we are wed…” He asks, though you can tell there is only one answer he is hoping to hear.

You nod and kiss his lips. He dips his tongue into your mouth as he lines himself up to your entrance. You wince in pain as he slowly pushes into you. He moves slowly to give you time to adjust but also because he was barely holding it together. The feeling of you wrapped tightly around him made his head spin.

The pain soon begins to fade and you crave more of him. Something overcomes you as you move to push him onto his back and climb on top of him. He looks at you with wide eyes as you begin rocking your hips against his. You grind against his length and it sends sparks through your entire body. Cregan quickly closes his eyes, the sight of you above him as pleasured moans begin to pour from your mouth had him barreling towards his release.

“My love, please…” Cregan breathes. “I’m not going to last much longer if you continue to do that.”

You smirk down at him and watch a small gasp escape him as you line him up to your entrance and begin to slide down onto his cock.

You moan louder and have to remind yourself to be quiet, you two were not really supposed to be doing this before you are wed. His choked out moans as you ride him makes the knot in your stomach tighten more and more. You cry out his name and before you could even comprehend what was happening your entire body feels like it lit up in flames. Your vision goes black and pleasure clouds your mind. Cregan finally opens his eyes and watches you as you come undone around him. The sight of you instantly triggers his release and he groans out as his fingers dig into your hips and he comes deep inside you.

You collapse onto the bed beside him and you both lay there panting. Cregan pulls you in close and wraps his arms around you. You nuzzle your face into his neck as you hug him back.

“I feel like I’m dreaming, I just cannot believe I am holding you in my arms right now.” Cregan says softly. “Please promise me this is not a dream. Promise me you are real.”

You move your head to meet his gaze. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek as you smile warmly at him.

“I promise you this is real. I’m real.” You say before placing a kiss to his lips.

“I hope so.” He smiles warmly back at you as he lightly strokes your hand on his face.

—

The next few days are busy with wedding preparations as your parents did not want to waste any time. You spend most of your time with Cregan, chatting away like you used to and stealing private kisses in between.

The day of your wedding was quick to come. You were filled with excitement and nerves as you put on the last of your furs.

Snow gently falls from the sky as Cregan comes into your view. You smile to each other as you walk down the snowy isle. He takes your hand in his and the ceremony begins.

“She is mine and I am hers. From this day, until the end of my days”

“He is mine and I am his. From this day, until the end of my days” You recite together as you gaze deeply into each others eyes.

You seal your marriage with a kiss. Cregan holds your hand up to the crowd and they cheer for you both. As you smile widely to the crowd, the thought of Aemond crosses your mind and there’s a pang in your chest. You push the thought away and try to focus on the present moment. Standing side by side with Cregan, whom you loved deeply, you looked like the true lady of the North that you were always meant to be.

[back2bluesidex]

J-Hope Fic Recommendations (18+)

If you are already following me for quite some time then you should know that I am a massive masochist and I like to torture myself by reading and writing angsty stories. So, most of the stories that I recommended are angsty as well (might as well have sad endings). So please carefully read the warnings before proceeding. Have a happy reading.

And please don't expect much from me. There are several other rec lists far better than mine. The only motive I had behind creating this list to promote some of the stories, which I think are very underrated. especially angsty ones. These stories are beautifully written so.. I just wanted to let the authors know how phenomenal of a job they have done (As a writer myself I know how much this actually means). Thanks to these amazing writers and I am grateful that they decided to share their work here with us.

[Minors please stay away from my blog!]

Key: F - Fluff, A- Angst, S- Smut, Y- Yandere, *- Personal Favorite

Oneshots

1. Ash from his fire by @filmcrystal - A, implied S, cheating au

It will break your heart so please proceed with caution.

2. Forbidden Fruit by @deepdarkdelights - A, Y

This one deals with several triggering topics. Hence, read the warnings carefully. But I can say that you will love this twisted mafia Hoseok way too much!

3. Shadows by @borathae - A, exes au

One of the most underrated stories I have ever read! Yeah, it is very angsty and Hoseok is so cruel but... we all are masochist here. lmao!

4. Heaven sent by @aquagustd - A, F, S, f2l au

Sexy soccer player Hoseok is just another name for perfection.

5. Bound by @explicit-tae - S, kinda f2l

Talk abut BDSM! GOOOD Sweet Lord!!!

6. Jigsaw by @sunshinejunghoseokie - A *

I remembered crying after reading this one. So damn underrated that it physically hurts me!!

7. Delta Disorder by @bangtanintotheroom Y, S, Supernatural au

I don't usually read supernatural stuff but this demon Hoseok is way too sexy to skip!

8. Systems of Touch by @yeoldontknow - S, F, tiny A, S2l au

Beautifully written! The author used 100% of their capabilities to write this one. Perfectly drawn Professor Hoseok with a very attractive character of reader. Certainly a treat to read.

9. 2:00 AM by @likeastarstar - A, fuckbuddy Hoseok

Part of a series but can be read as a standalone. and Hoseok is a dick in this.

10. Love Quarrels by @mirahuyooo - A, F, mafia au

A cold yet soft mafia husband Hoseok chases behind his angry wife... could there be anything better than that?

11. The Hook Up ft. JK by @minisugakoobies - S

A little bit of a triangle.. but not love? if that makes sense.

12. Entelechy by @drmflm - suggestive (I believe)

Can't call this one angst and neither is this about Hoseok (he is there, don't worry). This one is more about the reader and her growth and it's beautiful.

13. Orgasms on the verge of a nervous breakdown by @sluttyandere - S, Y *

This is very dark and quite triggering, so please don't read unless you can handle those stuff.

14. For the night by @aseaofyoongi - A, S

I cried. that's all.

15. We Shouldn't by @beahae - S **

Hands down to one of my most favourite Hoseok smuts ever!!! This one has a Jimin follow-up so make sure to read that too.

16. Real or not real by @nmjoo-n - A, S, F **

Again one of the most exquisite Hoseok fics I have ever read!

17. Checkmate by @sunshinejoon - A, S

This was supposed to have a sequel but it is perfect regardless.

18. Do I wanna know - @yoongiphoria - A, f2? ****

Now, MJ knows how much I love this one. I often read this story and I never ever get bored of it! I love this to the core and you should too!

19. Scrap - @silv3rswirls - A, Y, S

Dark and sexy. Read the warnings carefully please.

20. It's a Promise by @sahmfanficbts - S, A, Arranged marriage au

Just read it.

21. Three by @hamsterclaw - S

Again.. VERY UNDERRATED!

22. Wonderwall by @kiara-ish - A with an open ending

Might not be for the faint hearted.

23. Infatuated by @bangtanfancamp - F

If you like high school love au then this one is for you.

24. Constellations of You by @persphonesorchid - S, F, established relationship au

This is so domestic that my heart almost exploded while reading!!

25. Burning flames or paradise by @/yoongiphoria - A, tiny f ****

MJ does magic.... that's all I can say.

26. Alone again by @archivedkookie - A, F

I loooove these kinds of stories. Just the right amount of despair with the right amount of hope... beautiful.

27. Feeling Good by @bonvoyagenoona - A, S

Everything I write about this will fall short.. so I will just shut up and let you enjoy the goodness.

28. Distracted by @dilfhoseokie - S

Ahem..

29. Drink Champaign in my airplane by @/bangtanintotheroom - F, S, F2l

Perfectly embodies a rich hot CEO friend Hoseok... a fun read.

30. Keynote by @missgeniality - S **********

MY MOST FAVORITE HOSEOK ONESHOT TO EXIST IN THE PLANET. yeah.. (this has a follow-up but I like this one better)

Series

The thing is that I don't usually read series. I just don't have that patience. So this list is pretty small and forgive me for that.

1. Transference by @dark-muse-iris - A, S, F, S2l *********************

[Completed]

I wasn't the same after reading this. I can't talk about this trantric therapist Hoseok, 'cause I will never shut up if I start.

2. Kanalia by @xjoonchildx - A, S, f (?) *********************

[Ongoing]

Honestly, who isn't a sucker for Lord Jung? You must be sick if you are not. (On a side note.. Kanalia is keeping me alive from jumping off trains on tough days)

3. Guarded by @/xjoonchildx - A, S, F, S2l

[Completed]

Mafia Hoseok with dogtags. I think that's enough of an introduction.

If you want to read the Hoseok stories I write, you can checkout my Masterlist.

[tan1shere]

Let's Get Out Of Here

Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: the third part to the kinktober series !

Summary: Halloween parties were great and all, but you and Ellie just can't handle how good you both look.

Warnings: smut, bathroom stuff (I said sex but there wasn't any...) , oral fixation, fingering, dom Ellie, sub reader, reader teases ellie but Ellie does it right back- I think that's it !

Masterlist - Halloween ML

Halloween was the best for party season. You and Ellie had been to a few this week, surprisingly you were pumped and hardly tired. "You ready?" Ellie inquires, popping her head round the corner. "Just doing some finishing touches." You were going as Tatum and Ellie was going as Ghostface. It was actually her idea and when she suggested it to you, you were kinda surprised. Normally you came up with the costumes because shes never bothered saying., "I'll leave it up to you babe, I trust your judgment."

So when she came up with the bright idea it just made you even more excited for this party. "Ok! Done." You say coming out in a colorful skirt, green turtle neck and a black jacket. Paired with a blonde wig. "How do I look?" You say motioning to it. "Ooouh incredibly sexy." You go over to her. "Put the mask on." Ellie smirks, putting it on just slightly. Considering she can't yet as shes driving you both there. "Now how do I look?" You bite your lip a bit. "Delicious." And as you say that she grabs your throat maneuvering so your back is touching her front, holding up a fake knife to your pulse point.

"No, please don't kill me mr ghost face, I wanna be in the sequel." You then laugh as you quoted it. She takes the mask off and rolls her eyes. "What?! I have to play the part, no?" She just laughs, both of you heading for the door. Once you arrive, you both get out. Ellie puts the mask on as you approach the front door. You step inside listening to the booming music and bright lights. Most decorations were spooky looking, considering it was a Halloween party.

You and Ellie go over to get a drink. Looking at all the different costumes. Some were different, ones you hadn't seen before. And others were incredibly popular. But then again you two couldn't say much. Ellie looks at you, looking down at the skirt you had on. "You know, I wouldn't mind you wearing that, outside of Halloween." She whispers in your ear, pulling back to shrug slightly. "Yeah?" You say over the loud music. She nods, keeping her eyes on the skirt. "Maybe youd like to take it off for me later." She almost spat out her drink, fully expecting you to of just ignored what she said.

But you felt like being in a teasing mood tonight, it was a party after all. Why not let loose. You knew it'd just rile her up, and either end good. Or bad, for you. But you honestly wanted to take that chance. Your hand is placed on her toned arms, making her look at you warily. Knowing you were upto something. You then grab her hand. "Come on let's dance." Perfect perfect perfect. The best way to get her even more worked up and you thank you brain for thinking so quickly.

She follows behind you, re-situating her mask. You smirk to yourself as you move in ways. Ways that made that skirt ride up, ever so slightly. Her brow raises under the mask, catching on a tad to your antics. "I know what you're up to." - "Sorry what!? This music is just soooo noisy." You heard her. Loud and clear. But it was just so much fun to you. Your body keeps moving to whatever song was playing when you feel her arms grab you, having you in the same position as she did before you guys left the house.

"You really won't be in the sequel if you keep it up." She says. That just egged you on more. "Bite me." You then say, moving your ass against her. "Don't tempt me." She says, moving along with you. But she couldn't take it anymore, especially when it came to you and anything you did. She needed you, now. Her hand grasps yours, leading you up to a bathroom in the place. Opening and locking the door. "Impatient are we-?" "Cheeky are we?" She finishes, pinning you to the wall. "You think you're so clever." You smirk yet again, but stop her as she goes to take the mask off. "Wait- keep it on." But she doesn't listen, taking it off fully.

"But how will I ever eat you out?" Now it was her smirk appearing, yours completely vanishing. "Don't get excited. I might just have to give you the same treatment you gave me." "Wh-" Her finger comes over your lips. "Don't, play dumb." She knew you all too well. Making you silence easily. "Now, what if I just." She begins. Moving her finger in between your thighs. Making you gasp just a bit. "I'm hardly near you baby, you can't want me that bad." You saw what she was doing. And you wanted to push that cocky fucker off of you.

But you couldn't, your knees were completely jelly. You curse at yourself, she was like an intoxicating drug. And you wanted her so badly. Her finger moves slowly upwards but not touching where you need her most. "Ellie-" You breathe. No reply. Her other hand makes contact with your side, touching delicately. "Please.." You huff slightly. "Hmm?" Eyes close with frustration, causing her to chuckle. "You asked for this baby- I'm just returning what you gave me." - "Ellie please."

But that wasn't up to her liking. She needed you crying for her touch. Sobbing that makeup off. Her finger moves more, elicting a slight whine from you. Progress. Her finger touches the fabric of your underwear. "Ellie please just touch me-" Still not listening to your pleas, she continues to tease. "Fuck Ellie, just touch me already." She does just slightly, feeling how wet you are. "Wonder who that's for." You swallow, feeling your mouth go dry. "You- all for you.." You were going insane. "Ellieee." You whined, oh so beautifully.

And she finally listens, grabbing the hem of them and pulling them down instantly. Both pairs of fabric. Your bare and on show for her. Feeling your heart race as she stares. Her face immediately going in for a first lick. You grip her head, hand slowly linking in her short hair. "Please.." You pathetically plea, making her smirk against you. Her tongue dances on your clit, moving to the beat of that same loud music. Your head felt dizzy with all that was going on. Her movements speed up, having your legs turn into a puddle.

"Faster, please." You knew if she did you'd be approaching that bliss feeling, so she slows. Earning an annoyed whimper from you. "How cute." "Ellie!" You whine out, more so than before. It was music to her ears and she couldn't help but dive back in. Sticking her tongue into your needy hole. It pulsed around her tongue, sending a moan straight to your cunt, and your mind. It vibrated against you. Increasing your release. "So close-" She makes speedy work. Done with that teasing and needing the taste.

Her tongue moves back up to your clit as her fingers plunge into you. You let out pornographic noises as she does. Feeling your orgasm come crashing down, and doing so on her tongue. You felt weak, but she didn't stop. You were having to push her head at how sensitive you got. But she really wasn't done.

"Let's get out of here."

[chrysanthemumgames]

And with that...

...FoA has officially been submitted to HG. Thank you so much to everyone who wrote in with continuity errors, typos, and suggestions, both in this last editing push and in general. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you.

Please note that the game is now unavailable at all hosting locations, and will remain so. I hope you will consider supporting me by purchasing a copy when it eventually becomes available.

In any event, I'll be taking about a week off now, and then launching into Blood of the Living (the sequel to FoA). There won't be any early access or BIP for that this month, for Patrons, but everything will resume on schedule in June.

I'll get around to updating the blog eventually; now that I've almost completed one go-round of this whole thing, I think I have a much better idea of how I want to be doing everything.

[pickingupmymercedes]

It always points South - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Around 6 requests have come through with that cardigan and compass tattoo. I love it that you guys know what that tattoo does to me.

It's not a sequel/prequeal but it has the very same motivation I want South

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, (p in v)

Also, wrap it before you tap it

wordcount: +1K

a/n: It's not proofread. I don't think I've ever written a smut that fast, but it had to be done, blame Eric and Lewis.

a/n.2: Thanks anon that suggested Y/n using his cardigan for everyone to see, it's chef's kiss at the end.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

You stretched your back as you sat up on the edge of the king-sized bed, careful not to wake Lewis. The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was always a whirlwind of activity, and today was no different, but normal life was still happening, and you still had meetings to attend and errands to run, leaving Lewis to enjoy a few extra hours of sleep before his media obligations.

You kissed his forehead softly, whispered a quick "I love you" as you watched he stir and hug your pillow before tiptoeing out of the bedroom. Hours passed in a blur of meetings and phone calls. It wasn't until you had a moment to breathe that you checked your phone.

Notifications flooded your screen, all centered around one particular post.

There it was: a photo of Lewis, looking effortlessly cool and undeniably sexy in a sheer blue Dior cardigan, his chiseled chest, familiar compass tattoo on full display and a nostalgic caption that seemingly looked like had been written for any other post.

You couldn't help but laugh. Leave it to Lewis to try and deflect with heartfelt nostalgia and high fashion his own touch of cheekiness.

Without much thoughts, you shot him a quick message: “Babe, that paragraph on your Instagram doesn’t excuse how you’re showing your goodies to everyone in that Dior see-through.”

His reply came almost instantly: “What goodies?”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth as you changed the possessive pronouns to tease him. “My compass tattoo”.

The rest of the day passed by in a series of meetings and errands, but your mind kept drifting back to Lewis’s tattoo. You always had a soft spot for it, especially given how you often found yourself choosing "south". You wondered if he thought about it as much as you did.

Later that evening, you were back at the apartment, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing out your hair. You had just slipped into a robe, preparing to shower before the sponsor's party you were both attending.

The door creaked open, and you saw Lewis's reflection in the mirror, leaning against the doorway with a smug grin plastered on his face. “So” he began, his voice low and teasing “your compass tattoo, huh?”

You turned to face him, feeling a flicker of desire in your eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you were doing with that outfit” you teased back, your voice sultry. “You’ve got half the internet drooling over you”

Lewis chuckled, crossing the distance between you in a few strides. “And the other half wondering how I managed to land you” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You laughed, playfully pushing at his chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Hamilton.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss. “Is that so?” he murmured; his breath warm against your skin.

You pulled back slightly, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t think this means you’re off the hook. That cardigan was basically nothing”

Lewis’s grin widened. “It’s fashion, love.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your smile gave you away. “You did look incredible.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, and you melted against him, the day’s stress evaporating in his embrace.

“You know” he said thoughtfully, in between kisses “we don’t have much time until the party.”

You glanced at him, a playful glint in your eye. “I guess it’s a good thing those motorhome quickies have made us pros at time management”

You sneaked out of his embrace, letting your robe slip from your shoulders and fall to the floor as you made your way to the shower. The sight of you, completely naked and inviting, had him mesmerized. He quickly shrugged off his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours.

As you stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading down your body, you gestured for him to join you. “Aren’t you coming?” your voice a sultry whisper. “We’re going to have to multitask.”

Lewis didn’t need another invitation. He stepped into the shower, the heat from the water mingling with the heat between you two. He reached for you, pulling you close against his body, his hands trailing down your back, savoring the feel of your wet skin under his fingertips. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine, despite the warmth surrounding you.

“Missed you today,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

He kissed you, deeply and hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth with a mix of urgency and passion. Your hands roamed over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles and the familiar compass tattoo that had occupied your thoughts all day.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice low and teasing as he kissed along your jawline.

“All day,” you admitted, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he nipped at your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you and that tattoo.”

“Yeah?” He grinned against your skin, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he lifted you slightly, pinning you against the shower wall “What about it?”

“How it always points south” you said with a smirk, wrapping one of your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes darkening with desire. “Good thing south’s my favorite direction.”

He adjusted his position, one hand braced against the wall, the other guiding himself to you. When he entered you, the stretch was as overwhelming as ever, a mix of pleasure and urgency that left you breathless. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move.

“Love, you feel amazing” he groaned, setting a fast, intense rhythm. “So tight, so perfect.”

“Just like that, Lewis.” you breathed, your voice hitching with every thrust.

He kissed you again, swallowing your moans as his pace increased, each movement driving deeper, harder. The water pounded against your skin, mingling with the heat of your bodies, creating your own sauna in the shower cabin.

“Do you like it when I wear things like that?” he asked, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “Showing off for everyone?”

“Maybe,” you teased, your hands tangling in his wet muscles. “But only because I know you’re mine at the end of the day.”

“Always” he murmured, his voice full of promise. “Only yours.”

You clung to him, your body arching into his with every movement. You moaned in tandem with his thrusts, your sounds a desperate plea as you felt yourself nearing the edge. He growled in response; his pace relentless. “Come for me, babe” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let me feel you.”

The tension coiled tightly within you finally snapped with his pleas and you came undone around him. “Lew” you cried out, your nails digging into any skin you could find.

“That’s my girl” he groaned, following moments later, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself inside you. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Breathless and sated, you stayed wrapped around each other for a few moments, savoring the closeness, breathing into each other. The water raining down on you, washing away the evidence of your passion, but never the memory.

When Lewis finally set you down gently, his hands lingered on your hips. “We really are pros at time management” he said with a breathless laugh. You smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. “We should get ready before we’re late.”

He nodded, stepping back to give you space, though his eyes remained locked on you, filled with admiration and desire as you finished showering. “Can’t wait to see you in that dress,” he murmured, his voice full of promise.

As you stepped out, you caught sight of Lewis toweling off, his muscles flexing with each movement. The sight giving you a renewed wave of desire, suffocated on the knowledge that there wasn’t time for another round.

As you finished your hair and makeup, you started to apply lotion to your skin, aware you got that Lewis watched you from the corner of his eye, his gaze appreciative and heated. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’ll never make it to the party,” you teased, slipping into your dress.

He chuckled, fastening the buttons of his shirt. “Trust me, I’m tempted.”

The white linen dress you’d chosen clung to your curves in all the right places, you turned to Lewis, giving him a twirl. “What do you think?” His eyes darkened with lust and admiration. “You look absolutely stunning”

As you looked at yourself in the mirror a thought popped up, and the glint in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed as he watched you reached for his bags by the bed.

“Would you mind if I borrowed that?” You muttered already adjusting the blue see-through cardigan over your dress, his eyes sparkling with lust at seeing you wearing his clothes for the world to see.

“Love, everyone’s going to be looking at you tonight and I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you.” He whispered as he checked your reflection in the mirror, arms wrapping around your waist.

You turned into his embrace, placing a hand on his chest. “We’ll just have to be patient, won’t we?” He held your gaze, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed just below your ears “I’ll do my best, but no promises.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[svtiddiess]

Nom Nom: The Revenge

Synopsis: You’ve had your fun with your boyfriend; now it’s his turn to have fun with you.

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: suggestive, mini-series, established relationship

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: biting, marking, nipple play, boob play, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is a direct sequel to Nom Nom! It's very highly recommended that you read that before this!

Thank you so much to my second favourite menace @tusswrites for beta reading!

@brownsugarbaybee your part 3 is here baby.

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

"I've let you have your fun, but now it's my turn."

You look up at your boyfriend, who has you pinned against the bed. His pupils are blown out, his lips are red and swollen from kissing, his hair is dishevelled, and his chest is littered with love bites made by you.

Your breath catches as your eyes fall on the initials you bit into his chest, framed by a heart. You can’t help but admire the striking contrast of the red and purple marks against his pale skin.

Seungcheol grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, puckering your lips.

"Did you enjoy torturing me, princess?" he scoffs.

"A little," you giggle through your puckered lips. He lets out a strained chuckle.

"Well, let's see how much you enjoy this," he smirks before reaching down and removing your shirt, leaving you in your red lace bra, he growls at the sight of it. You shiver as the cold air nips your bare skin.

"Cold princess? Don't worry, I'll warm you up soon," he purrs before diving into your breasts.

You gasp and bite your lip as he starts nipping and licking your breasts. You squirm in place from the ticklish sensation on your skin.

"Stop moving," he growls against your skin, and you immediately freeze in place.

He runs his tongue over your bra-covered nipples, soaking the fabric. You whine and tell him to stop teasing.

"Ah, ah, no complaining princess. You're going to sit there and take what I give to you like a good girl," he smirks.

You pout at him and arch your back to press your breast against him to which he chuckles.

"Such a brat," he murmurs before unclipping your bra and throwing it behind him.

You sigh in relief at the feeling of your chest being free of the restraint. Without missing a beat, he dives in and takes a breast into his mouth, sucking on your perked-up nipple. You squeeze your eyes shut and moan his name out loud. He uses his hand to knead your other breast, not leaving it neglected. After taking his time relishing your breast he moves to the other one, giving it equal attention. You can feel your already soaked panties get even more soaked, and it sticks to you like a second skin.

He releases your breast with a pop and looks down at you with a smirk.

"Since you got to mark me, it's only fair that I mark you too princess," he purrs.

"But I'm not going to mark you here," he teases as he squeezes your left breast, eliciting a gasp from you.

"I'm going to mark you…" he murmurs as his finger slowly trails down your torso and stops at your pelvis, right above your core.

"Here," he growls with a smirk.

He proceeds to leave bites and kisses trailing down to your pelvis, his hands firmly holding you in place to keep you from moving. You let out shaky breaths and whimpers, feeling your body heat up at his actions.

He looks at you as he slowly peels your pants and panties off, discarding them somewhere behind him. You shudder as the cold air nips your dripping core. He slowly starts nibbling and licking the skin right above your core.

"Ch-Cheol, please," you mewl, frustrated at the teasing.

"Hush baby, don't make me gag you now," he warns.

You let out a whimper in protest, but he only smirks in reply. He looks into your eyes as he starts marking his initials into your skin, just as you did to him. Your toes curl, and you whine at the feeling of him sucking the sensitive skin. Too shy to maintain eye contact, you close your eyes. Seungcheol grumbles in response and bites down a little harder, causing you to yelp and look down at him.

"Look at me while I'm marking you," he growls against your skin. Your cheeks flush, and you bite your lip as you watch him continue to paint your skin with blotches of red and purple.

Finally satisfied, he sits up and admires the marks he’s left on your skin, gently tracing over them, making you shiver.

"You look so pretty marked with my initials, princess," he smirks. You mewl and buck your hip, desperate for him to finally touch you where you want.

"Such an impatient princess," he chuckles. "Weren't you having fun when you were teasing me? Why're you whining now?"

"I'm sorry Cheollie, please, just fuck me," you whine, tears of frustration pricking the corner of your eyes.

"Not yet, princess. I'm still not done marking you," he states with a gleam in his eye.

He then trails wet kisses down to your inner thighs. At this point you're so wet you're sure the sheet underneath you is soaked. He chuckles when he sees the wet spot forming under you.

"Such a needy princess," he mumbles before gently blowing air into your core.

"Ch-Cheol!" You gasp and jerk your hips, making him chuckle.

Instead of giving you what you want, he starts leaving love bites on your inner thighs. You instinctively try to close your legs, but he holds them open with his calloused hands. The rough texture of his skin feels ticklish against the soft skin of your thighs.

Your thighs tremble in his hold as he relentlessly bites and licks them. Soon, both your inner thighs are painted with bite marks and saliva.

"Cheollie, please. I can't take it anymore," you whine out in frustration. If he continues with the teasing, you might actually end up crying. He chuckles as he sits up, his knees positioned outside of yours.

"Almost done princess. I need to take a picture of my masterpiece, don't I?" he cocks his head and smiles slyly as he reaches for his phone.

He looks down and almost moans at the sight. Your hair is spread across the pillow, perfectly framing your face. Your pupils are dilated, lips red and swollen from kissing, and your body adorned with purple and red bite marks, along with his initials etched into your skin right above your core, and your core is glistening, coated with your arousal.

He licks his lips as he takes multiple photos of you, making sure every detail is captured. The pictures would definitely come in handy when he's off on tour and needs something to jerk off to.

"Cheol," you plead, wanting him to finally fuck you already.

"Princess really can't wait for my dick huh?" He playfully mocks your pout, putting his phone away. You nod eagerly, pouting and giving him puppy eyes, hoping he’ll finally give in.

"Don't worry princess, I'll make sure to fuck you until my dick is the only thing you can think about."