#better work hours better office etc. but :(( she's leaving :(( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eustasskidagenda · 6 months

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anon asked: Hello you <3 your writing style is so smooth, I love it! So, I would like to ask you some smutty fruity juicy smut for Law my man, Kid (maybe it will make you accept this request more easily 😇), and Sanji. Something about how they would react after being teased all the day by their s/o, like bc she’s wearing some suggestives clothes or touching them in public etc. For a female reader, if possible. And regarding the kinks, do as you wish, I trust you with the result. Hope I made the request correctly and tysm for bringing our ideas to life <333 Oh, and you can add some more characters if you want! anon, please.

Hi there! Tysm for your kind words, I'm always a bit uncertain and unconfident when I have to write scenarios in other languages than my native one ;w; So, it means a lot to me ;w; I didn't add more characters bc you already pick two of my personal fav + my ultimate fav ♡. Anyway, the meal is ready, hope it will match your expectations, thank you for requesting!☆

☆Law, Kid & Sanji after being teased all the day by their s/o

CW (generals) : MDNI, f!reader, smut, teasing

WC : 3,3k

Law

CW : dirty talk, fingering, overstimulation, slight degradation (usage of 'slut'), panties stuffing (mouth)

What a foolish game to tease Law. You know that, don't you? Law could write a complete book about teasing and still have much to say regarding this topic, in fact. So, sure, go ahead and tease him. Taunt him with this short skirt, bend just in front of him to grab the book you "accidentally" let fall, and try to annoy him while he's working in his office. He won't show anything, always keeping his cold and serious attitude in front of others. Law is pretty good when it comes to controlling himself. But inside, oh damn, his blood is boiling with pure desire to make you pay. Law is not one to let things fall, so he wants to avenge and he will do so.

And we all know Law is the king of shenanigans. While working, he would imagine a cruel scenario that would make you turn into a moaning, whimpering, and wet mess. He would keep thinking about it the entire day, holding back a mischievous grin as you continue to tease him.

In fact, he thinks you're cute. You're putting in a lot of effort to tease him, but you have no knowledge about this topic. But it's fine, he'll teach you how it's done soon enough.

Despite your attempts to annoy him, he's still working even though it's almost midnight. Even so, you enter his office once more, sitting at his desk, throwing his papers away. And you're wearing a really short skirt, one of his favorites. Slowly, you cross your legs, showing him the panties you're wearing under: again, one of his favorites. "Law, I'm bored" you whine, with wet puppy eyes.

And now the fun begins. Law would use his DF to 'room, shamble' you into your shared bedroom. Obviously, he would also lock the door from a distance. All you can do is wait for him. He won't let you go soon. He would continue working, taking pleasure in the silence and picturing your pitiful whines.

After maybe two hours, he would finally join you, slowly opening the door to find you lying on the bed, all bored and eagerly waiting for the long wait. As you attempt to jump into his arms and say 'Law, you're here!', he would scowl mad at you and take off his hat without any consideration for you.

The aura surrounding him would only radiate anger and eagerness. "Get on the bed." And this is not a suggestion or a nice request coming out of his mouth, but an order. He rarely commands that directly, but when he does, you better obey really quickly. Honestly, you know it's not time to act like a brat anymore, so you should comply.

First thing first, Law would tie your wrists. "A naughty girl like you doesn't deserve to touch me." With that sentence, he would slowly remove his shirt, taking his time, playing with the buttons, and eventually revealing his bare tattooed chest. The one you love to fondle, kiss, bite, and even leave hickeys on.

You're already squirming, anticipating being touched, anticipating intimacy with him, anticipating his skin touching yours. "Is there something wrong, y/n-ya?" Ah, yes. He would really take his time, slowly sliding his shirt down the ground, and running his beautiful tattooed hands through his hair.

As you writhe, your short skirt goes up your thighs, revealing your panties that are already wet. "You're such a pathetic slut. You need me so badly already, y/n-ya?"

He would simply observe how your underwear is becoming more and more wet. He hasn't touched you yet. It doesn't matter if you squirm and beg, he won't care. You did that to yourself. You can try to untie yourself if you want, you're tightly tied.

"Please Law, I'm sorry! I need you so bad! "

" And you decided to tease me all the damn day to get my attention? You're such an eager slut. Now shut up and take it."

Law would love to sit on the edge of the bed, close to you, but not enough to allow you to touch his skin. He would make you feel his presence, enjoying all of your pathetic whistling. And after a certain time, finally, without a word, he would run his skilled fingers along your body, touching you everywhere, avoiding your inner thighs in purpose. The more you contort and arch your back, the more he will tease you. He loves how you crave for his touch.

As tears of frustration start to prickle at the corner of your eyes, he would roughly pinch your nipple. "Something wrong, y/n-ya?" He's tricky because if you beg for more, of course, he won't obey. And if you keep quiet, he would continue to torture your body, waiting for your answer. "That's how we tease someone, y/n-ya."

His hands would slowly, slowly, taking off your skirt and then, he would hook his thumbs under your panties, sliding them down your legs, inch by inch, revealing your bare pussy and damped folds to his eyes. "Law… I" And brutally, he would stuff your wet panties in your mouth. "Nice girls are the only ones allowed to speak."

Your muffled complains would be pure music to his ears. He would continue to tease you, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower-stomach. Finally, sliding along your slit. "You're soaking wet for absolutely nothing." Oh, he would love to watch how your dripping core is aching, clenching around nothing, before slowly rubbing his fingers along your pussy.

"You're making a mess on the bedsheets. You better clean them right after I'm done with you. "

He would push one finger into your pussy while you moan, your mouth still full of your own panties. Law is truly talented, even with just one finger. " One finger. That's all you deserved."

His middle finger, which is nicely curled, would hit all your sweet spots when he circles your clit with his thumb. He would love to watch you trying to get more friction, more of him, more of his fingers. But he won't comply.

He would be painfully slow, thrusting his finger in and out of your body at an unrealistic slow pace, before brutally pushing in, and then, nice and slow again. Yes, it's frustrating, it makes you tense yourself in anticipation, and it's precisely what he's looking for.

"See, I've told you one finger would be enough" as you cum violently all around his middle finger, making a mess on the bedsheets, with shivering thighs, shaky breath and pathetic whimpers.

"I'm not done yet."

Before sliding two fingers inside you. He would continue to rub your clit, hitting all your sweet spots, making you squirm on the bed as you try to untie yourself. But there is nothing you can do. You're sentenced to take more of his fingers, to cum again and again, your sensitive pussy aching and clenching.

Then, he would take off his fingers, licking his tattoos covered in your wetness. And if you dare sigh of relief, he would slowly run his fingers along the length of his cock through his pants.

"Oh, y/n-ya, you're here for a long, long night."

Kid

CW : Degradation, rough sex, fingering, dirty talk, v!sex, spanking, hair pulling, slight choking, Kid has a filthy mouth, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mention of anal sex

The master of rough sex.

Kid has absolutely no patience or self-control, and absolutely hates being teased. Whenever you tease him, his honest reaction is to grab you roughly by the wrist, pin you against the closet wall, and just fuck you roughly from behind. He doesn't give a damn if it's in a public place.

But today is different because he can't have his fun with you. That damn reunion for the 'alliance thing' that he agreed to because of Killer is way too long, and you're teasing him under the table by rubbing your feet against his cock. Or showing him that you're wearing your red panties, his favorite ones. The poor Kid would hold onto the table, his phalanx white due to the intense effort he's making to maintain his composure.

Don't you dare think about his thoughts right now, because all he can imagine is you being fucked roughly like the little slut you are

The moment the meeting is over, he would try to grab your hips and fuck you immediately. If you manage to escape his grip, sticking out your tongue to mock him before running to the Victoria Punk, oh, damn, you're doomed.

Kid would waste no time looking after you, with clenched fists and gritted teeth. No one would dare approach him because, honestly, his anger is wrapping him up like an aura. And we all know how Kid deals with annoying people.

He would slam the door of your shared bedroom angrily. Kid would be even madder if you lie on the bed, giggling and pleased with your mischiefs. "Think you're funny, fuckin’ woman?" The way he spits his words in your face is quite frightening. Now, you're not laughing anymore. "'Gonna fuckin' ruin ya"

That's all your waiting for, right?

With sloppy moves, he would let his coat fall on the ground, take off his shirt, and throw his boots away. Before ripping all of your clothes, including your panties, and crawling onto the bed, his impressive figure looming over you. He would shamelessly use his large metallic arm to crush you onto the mattress. The prosthetic hand would hold your upper body, with two metallic fingers around your throat and the rest wrapping around your waist. "Stay fucking still, slut."

As you squirm and start to moan, turned on by how dominant he's acting right now, he would scowl angrily. "Stop bein' so fuckin' loud" with a rough slap on your inner thighs.

He would love to watch how you look, pinned down and totally helpless. All you can do is take all of him. He would make you spread your legs, pushing your knees away, and force them to touch the bed sheets in a matting press position.

The sensation of fitting your small body between his muscular thighs would be immensely attractive to Kid. He would slam roughly two thick fingers into your soaking wet pussy without any warning or consideration, hitting all your sweet spots. The only thing you're allowed to do is take it. You won't be going anywhere. Not with his metallic hand holding you still.

As you moan and beg for more, he would laugh mockingly. "Shut the fuck up, slut." Without a word, he would take off his fingers covered in your wetness and force them into your mouth. "Suck them clean."

He would probably make you gag and drool a bit, forcing his fingers down your throat, enjoying how tears are starting to prickle at the corner of your eyes. "Thought it would be funny to fuckin' mess with me?"

After taking off his fingers, he would roughly flip you over on your stomach. "Ass up. Chest down. Now." And, as you comply, he would smash your head against the pillow, forcing your back to arch until your spine hurts.

Kid would spank you with his heavy hand. The flesh one. Leaving red marks on your cheeks and spreading them apart brutally to watch your tight pussy clenching desperately around nothing. "You're just a fuckin slut, Y/N, gettin’ soaked just for some fingering."

Quickly, he would slide down his pants, just enough to free his large cock, leaking in pre-cum, throbbing and twitching with impatience. Then, slamming his hips forward, burying his cock deep inside you, and bullying your cervix with his thick length. "Take it all." As you cry out from how good he's filling you up.

"Shut the fuck up" burying your head violently against the pillow if you start to moan. And if you continue to muffle, cry out, and whimpers, Kid would wrap his large hand around your throat, squeezing roughly, silencing you.

He would slam his cock so hard, making your ass jiggle with each thrust, his heavy balls slapping against your wet pussy, with a sloshing, obscene sound. He would make sure you feel helpless under his control, enjoying how your breath becomes shallow and labored as you struggle to get enough air through your nose. "Don't fuckin' mess with me, Y/N. Never."

He would love to watch how your inside is swallowing his cock, burying himself so deep that it feels like he's pounding your very core.

"You keep sucking me in, you like my cock that much, lil slut?"

The headboard slamming against the wall would cause the bed to creak. With his hand, Kid could either slap your ass or hold you still. And sure, his eyes would be glued to his cock, sliding roughly in and out of you, glistening, all covered by your wetness.

As he pounded into you at a breaking-spine pace, he would grunt loudly and shamelessly, sweat dripping down his face. "Cry out for me all you want, fuckin' whore."

He would pull you back onto his cock with each thrust, almost tearing you in half. He would use his exceptional stamina to his advantage, plowing into you repeatedly and showing no signs of slowing down. He won't stop if you don't use your safe word for a rough session.

"Who's fuckin' you so well?"

His ego would be immensely satisfied if you keep shooting his name.

His hand would grab your hair, pulling it roughly, almost breaking your neck, forcing you to look at him while he fucks you. Squeal for him, cry for him under his unforgiving pace. That's all he wants. "I don't even know why I'm fuckin' you. A slut like you doesn't deserve my cock."

He would continue until your mind starts to melt into nothingness, leaving bruises all over your skin. Your moans and his low, animalistic grunts would fill the rooms. As you cum all around his cock, he would slap your ass, keep thrusting, and overstimulate you. And brutally, he would cum inside of you, his body shaking with the force of his release. After a few more sloppy thrusts, he would pull out, his member sliding out of you with a loud plop, followed by a large amount of white sticky fluid leaking out of you.

"Keep it in, slut."

Slowly, his thumb would find its way to your asshole. "This hole deserves some attention too, right, slut?"

Good luck, you just awake a wild beast. He would be delighted to observe your struggle to walk the next morning. That's what you get for teasing him. No one messes with Eustass Kid.

Sanji

CW : oral sex , fingering (reader receiving), slight food play, squirting, v!sex, Sanji is talking in French here and there

Okay, but Sanji is almost always turned on by your simple presence. Our poor Sanji would struggle to even breathe if you decided to tease him. His eyes would always be glued to your every move. He would smoke more than usual, attempting to resist the urge to lift this beautiful dress and devour you.

Honestly, he would assume that you're angry with him. "Have I done something wrong today, Y/N?" With wet puppy eyes.

Poor Sanji would be even more confused if you start laughing playfuly and lift up your dress slightly, revealing the elegant lace panties you're wearing today. He would struggle to cook, almost burn the dinner for the crew because his mind would be so dizzy. Oh, he would sacrifice everything to eat you out right here, right now, in front of anyone.

Sanji would cough loudly as you continue to tease him under the table during the diner with the rest of the crew. And once everyone has left the kitchen, Sanji would waste no time locking the door and just grabbing your hips and sitting you on the table.

Let's remember the broken plates with a minute of silence.

"J'ai tellement besoin de toi, Y/N" (I need you so bad)

He would also ask you what he has done wrong today, and as you laugh and reply 'nothing, I just wanted to tease you,' Sanji would be relieved. "If my pretty girlfriend is needy, then, I have to take care of her. Je vais bien m'occuper de toi." (I gonna take care of you)

Sanji would use the environment to his advantage and cover your body with black chocolate, slowly licking your breasts covered in the warm liquid. "Tasting so good…"

He would eat and treasure every inch of your skin, sucking on your nipples, pinching them slowly between his thumb and index finger while sucking on the other. Sanji is eager to please you and is happy to finally touch you after a long day of teasing.

He's a starving person, he would never be able to tease you back or just ignore you.

Sanji would slowly slide your panties down your legs. At the sight of your bare pussy, his cock would roughly press against the fabric of his pants.

He would treat you like a queen even if you've been teasing him for the entire day. After all, you are his queen and you deserve the best.

While you remained on the table, he would ask "Are you comfortable?" and then kneel down and gently run his hands along your inner thighs. He would slowly bury his head between your legs. Being between your thighs is his favorite place. Pure heaven for Sanji.

Sanji, the oral sex king, would take his time, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs, slowly approaching your soaking wet pussy. "My pretty girl is so needy."

He would eat you out by using his skills to make you moan his name loudly. Please grasp his hair and press his head harder against your lips. When you use him for your own pleasure, he loves it. His tongue flicking against your clit, he would smoothly slide two long fingers inside of you, curling them deeply inside of you.

Sanji doesn't need anything but his skillful mouth and hands to make you feel good. Your responsiveness is something he loves. He would love to feel your legs wrapped around him as he continues to drink all of your juice as if it were a glass of red wine.

With a gentle touch, he would intensify the passion, his tongue licking harder at your clit, and his fingers perfectly curled against all your sweet spots. Although he's patient, he's also battling against his own urge to take off his pants and slide his cock deep into your hot and wet pussy.

He would look at you, enjoying how your face is twisted in nothing but pure ecstasy. "You're always making the prettiest noises for me" before returning back to his duty: making you cum.

And that's what you do, squeezing his head between your thighs, grabbing a full hand of blond hair, cumming hard against his lips and around his fingers nicely curled inside you.

Sanji would drink all of your juice, continue to eat you out, until you cum again. And again. You teased him all the day, now, he can't get enough of you. He wants more, he needs more. He would leave you with your legs shaking and turn you into a pathetic whiny mess. "Too much!" He would continue until you squirt on his face, your mind so dizzy that you can't feel your own orgasms anymore.

Finally, he would stop, licking his lips and glistening with your wetness. "Tu es si bonne, je ne peux pas m'arrêter." (You taste so good, I just can't stop.)

He would not expect you to return the favor. But it would be cruel to leave him with an uncomfortable erection. You're not cruel. Right?

If you decide to let him slide his cock inside you, he would moan so loudly and shamelessly. The prettiest moans. You just feel so good.

He would fuck you on the table, in all the positions, worshipping every single inch of your body until you're both exhausted.

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icycoldninja · 1 month

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Don't leave me (Sephiroth x Reader angst)

Summary: Sephiroth's abandonment issues get the better of him in the middle of the night, so he goes to you, seeking comfort.

---‐------------------------------------------------------------‐--------------Sleep was never easy for Sephiroth thanks to the shadows, voices, and eerie bits of music that often plagued his thoughts. His mind, when allowed to wander, was often like a bitter, wintery blizzard, with everything swirling around in one, massive, confusing, mental storm. In order to keep the storm from growing too large, Sephiroth often kept busy throughout the day, focusing his mind on productive, stimulating activities such as exercising, scheming in his office, or tracking down Cloud and his accomplices.

However, at nighttime, when his brain was exhausted and craved sleep, such activities were very difficult to complete, therefore, he turned to more ordinary practices of keeping his mind occupied, which, unsurprisingly, did not work. Math problems were easy for him, as were crossword puzzles, spot the difference games, hidden object puzzles, etc. Sephiroth could work through an entire high-school math textbook in under 2 hours and say it was "child's play". This level of genius was purely astonishing, and also maddening, as his troubled thoughts, of which there were plenty, were also very disruptive.

Sighing, the man rolled over in his bed and draped his heavy, fluffy wing over his face like most humans would with a pillow. Why couldn't he sleep?! What would it take for his goddamn brain to shut off and let him rest already?! He was so tired, he could feel his eyeballs ache, but he just couldn't rest. Why?

The swirling storm in Sephiroth's head raged on; he closed his eyes and gripped his pillow tightly, trying desperately to remember what falling asleep felt like so he could ascertain whether or not he was making progress.

Several more minutes passed, and Sephiroth felt his brain fog over. He relaxed completely, willing his consciousness to slip into darkness and finally, finally, allow him to rest. He expected to plunge into fuzzy nothingness, but was instead met with a cold, dark, empty void.

All around him, he could hear laughter. Deranged laughter; laughter he'd heard almost all day of every day during his childhood. How he hated that laugh. Sephiroth turned around, only to find that same man standing before him in the familiar, pristine lab coat that he knew so well.

Hojo.

He was glad he couldn't speak; to utter his name aloud would have stained and corrupted his tongue. He glared at the man with contempt, wishing he would just leave already. He'd seen enough of that cruel bastard, he didn't need to see any more. Hojo smiled at him, his thin lips twisting into a devious smirk. Looking at it made Sephiroth's blood boil. Where was Masamune? Now would be a perfect time to use it.

Hojo's smile slowly faded, his expression turning from evil glee to disgust. He was regarding Sephiroth with disgust. How dare he?! Sephiroth watched as he turned around and walked away, shaking his head. Good riddance, he thought. He never wanted to look at scum like Hojo anyway. Turning around once again, Sephiroth came face to face with a being he never expected to see in a place like this. His own, beloved mother: Jenova.

Now Sephiroth was beginning to wish he could speak. He wanted to tell his mother how glad he was to see her here, how much he loved her, how thankful he was to her for his mere existence. He tried to reach out to touch her, but she recoiled, frowning in repulsion. What was wrong? What did he do to make her feel this way? Sephiroth was at a complete loss; all he ever did was for his mother, so why wasn't she embracing him? Why....why didn't she love him?

Panicking slightly, Sephiroth extended his hands in her direction once again, but Jenova stepped back. Shaking her head at him, just as Hojo had done, the entity whom Sephiroth had dedicated nearly everything he did to turned her back on him.

Now he was scared. The darkness was more than just that; it was an all-consuming maw mace of his own twisted, fearful thoughts. He didn't want this; he hated being alone like this. Why did everyone leave? What did he do wrong?

The stormy void closed in around Sephiroth, surrounding him in a cloud of fear. He didn't like this, he didn't want to sleep anymore, he wanted to wake up!

And he did, springing upright in a cold sweat, panting heavily. His wing flapped loudly against the bed, shedding feathers everywhere. He looked around and saw he was the only person in the room, this notion terrifying him even further. In a fit of frenzied hysteria, Sephiroth flung the covers aside and stumbled out of his room, not caring that he was bashing various body parts against the door trim. He ended up in the living room, where you were still awake, working on the couch. As soon as he appeared in the darkened room, you stopped what you were doing and turned to him, confused. His legs, clad only in pajama shorts, were visibly and violently trembling; an unusual occurrence.

"Seph?" You asked, standing up and walking towards him. "Are you alright?" He shook his head, nearly collapsing into your arms. You cradled him for a while, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, waiting patiently to see if he would explain the reasons for his distress. After a few moments, he began to sob.

"Don't leave me," He croaked, clinging onto you tightly. "Don't leave me too...." You sighed softly, before taking hid head into your hands and kissing him.

"I'm not leaving you, ever," You told him, running your hands through his long, silky locks. "I'm gonna be here forever. Don't be afraid." Sephiroth nodded, then sniffled and wiped his tears away. "Come on," You said, taking him by the hand and leading him back to his bedroom. "I'll stay with you tonight."

Needless to say, Sephiroth fell asleep easier than ever that night; the comfort of your presence, and the knowledge that you would never leave him lulling him into peaceful slumber.

#Ffvii #Ff7 #Final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #Sephiroth #Fvii sephiroth #Ff7 sephiroth #Final fantasy 7 sephiroth #final fantasy vii sephiroth #Sephiroth x reader #Fvii sephiroth x reader #Fanfic #Angst #abandoment issues #Sephiroth x reader angst #Angst fanfic #icycoldninja writes

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elliots-an-idiot · 1 month

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Heloooooooo!🙌 How ya doing? I hope you’re having a *lovely* day! Seeing as you’re opening your inbox, I’m just gonna…leave this here ;)!

*leaves scroll*

What do you reckon the Dimis would think of forms of affection? Hand holding, kissing, cuddling, quality time, etc. do you think they’d approve of such displays in public, or just in the privacy of their room? A bit of good old fluff. Feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t take your pick!🙌

See ya :)!

🧁- anon

Hiii! This is an amazing ask :3 I love them so much and EAUGH I WANNA CUDDLE ALL OF THEM!!!! You said the dimis so I’m gonna include alcina :3 this is pure filthy fluff heheheheh :333

Content warning for minor (sfw) knife play. Also blood drinking…. They’re vampires.

The Dimitrescus preferences on affection with their s/o

Alcina 🍷

She enjoys being able to hold you, whether it’s on her lap while she works, or cuddled into her chest while you sleep.

Her hands are… well… gigantic. Which makes “regular” hand holding difficult. But she loves it when you intertwine your fingers with hers during particularly aggravating calls with Miranda.

She is, obviously, the big spoon. Which neither of you mind. She always holds you close to her while sleeping, she likes the feeling of protecting you. Shielding you from any dangers that may lurk outside of her arms.

She prefers to keep anything longer than a peck in private however. Unless of course, she’s showing someone that you’re hers. In which case you can expect to be lifted/pressed up against the nearest wall for her to make out with you.

She loves having her hair played with/her head scratched while laying with you, especially after a long/stressful day. She also likes having her back/shoulders massaged

She isn’t clingy like her daughters, but she loves being able to have you near her. When she’s working she likes to have you in her lap. You’re like a stress reliever to her.

She loves being able to lift and hug you, or lean down to press kisses to your head. She likes the way you look up at her after, it makes her feel like a goddess.

She loves it when you dance with her, you’ll often have dates in the castle, and her favourite place to bring you is always the opera hall. The two of you dance for hours, just basking in each others presence.

She always makes sure to reserve time in her day to be with you, no matter what. She even hung up on Miranda once after she “took too much of our time”

When she gets thirsty (not like that you horny bastard) she pulls you onto her lap and gently tilts your head to the side, she always peppers kisses down your throat before drinking from you.

She loves you so much, and makes sure you know that. Whether it be through words or actions, you always know how much you mean to her.

Some pet names she likes to use for you are dragâ (darling), iubire (love), little one, and pet.

Bela 📚

She, like her mother, loves having you with her while she works. She says your presence calms her during especially stressful days, your scent specifically helps.

She likes to have you on her lap, not during formal events or dinner of course. But when you’re reading together in the library she’ll pull you onto her and wrap her arms around you.

She loves it when you bury your head into the crook of her neck to press a gentle kiss to her throat, which normally leads to her squeaking and getting flustered. Only when you’re alone though, she thinks it’s “improper”.

She absolutely loves having her hair played with. Untangle her hair with your fingers? She’s a blushing mess.

She loves massages, getting them and giving them. You better believe homegirl is practically a professional at them.

She likes sitting next to you whenever possible, she always intertwines her fingers with yours. She loves being able to hold you, even if it’s subtle.

She has a busy schedule, to the point that she often forgets to eat. So when you walk into her office after a long day and offer up your neck? She practically melts, before hugging you tight and telling you how much you mean to her.

She normally hates giving you anything more than a gentle peck when in public, but please expect to be pushed up against the nearest surface as soon as you’re alone.

She loves it when you rest your head on her chest, or vice versa.

She’s bad with words, especially when you first start dating, but she always shows you how much she loves you. Her favourite way to do so is by taking care of you, bringing you a snack when she smells you getting hungry (blood sugar maybe?), or reading to you when you’re sad.

She loves calling you little one, darling, dragâ, and dove.

Cassandra ⚔️

Cassandra hates doing anything that could make her seem weak or soft in public. So hugs, hand holding, cuddling? Absolutely not.

She can and will push you up against the nearest wall to make out with you. She likes knowing that other people see, so that they know you belong to her.

But in private? You can’t convince me she wouldn’t love having her hair played with, and if you scratch her scalp? She will moan.

She’s not used to gentle displays of affection, especially at the beginning of your relationship. But after she warms up to it? She loves it, privately of course.

She especially enjoys having you sit in her lap while she’s sharpening her weapons. Often using your skin to test if they’re good enough, if she doesn’t smell blood as soon as she presses it up against you it’s not sharp enough.

She loves your blood, everything about it, so when she comes home from a particularly annoying hunt and finds you on her bed with your neck exposed for her? She growls before swarming right on top of you.

After drinking from you, she likes to lay on top of you and bury her face in your neck savouring your scent and taste.

Normally, if you’re alone, she likes to intertwine her fingers with yours or pull you onto her lap.

Shockingly, she’s incredibly clingy. Not so much as Dani, but still, very clingy. So if you’re especially busy or have to make a trip into town on any given day she’ll whine and complain until you get back.

She loves it when you trace her scars, she’ll often tell you the stories of how she “won” them to calm you down if you’re upset. She often tells you stories of her hunts, not only to introduce you to that part of her, but to analyse your expression for any hint of fear.

She often falls asleep on top of you, she likes how warm you are, and being able to protect you.

Cass is horrible with her words. Like. Horrible. Before you started dating she called you her blood bag… to flirt. She is b a d with expressing how much she loves you. So she shows you. She often kills maids who are rude to you and gifts you certain parts of them. After the fourth pair of eyes you had to explain to her organs weren’t exactly a gift you could keep. So she started bringing you teeth.

She likes calling you pet, little one, doll, morsel, snack,and (sigh) blood bag

Daniela 💌

She absolutely loves physical affection, and she truly doesn’t care what other people think. She constantly has to be touching you, or she will whine until she is.

Obviously, she’s the most clingy of her family, and the best cuddler. Like, are you sad? Bonk, Dani’s got ya.

You can’t convince me she wouldn’t love to sit in your lap to read, she loves it. She often reads aloud to you when you’re upset, and loves the same being done for her.

She loves it when you hold her, whether it be her hand, or her thigh, she constantly wants your hand on her.

She loves hugging you, like, absolutely loves it. She loves feeling your arms wrap around her and hold her to you, she says it makes her feel calm. I swear to the gods a hug from this girl could probably cure my depression.

She wants to spend as much time as physically possible with you every single day, which often leads to you not finishing your work.

When she’s particularly hungry, she loves pulling you against her before burying her head into the crook of your neck and inhaling as much of your scent as she can. She always marks you up before drinking from you, to show everyone you’re hers.

During the colder months, she enjoys nestling under a pile of blankets with you. Often giggling when you squeak at the feeling of her freezing hands against your sides.

She loves kissing you, it doesn’t matter to her who sees, all that she cares about if being able to feel your lips on hers.

She loves being treated like a princess, bow for her or twirl her? She is squealing and giggling in delight.

She loves spending time with you while reading, but, (when it’s warm enough out for her to go outside) she often drags you out to the garden to make flower crowns together.

She loves sleeping curled into you, with her arm flung around your waist and her head buried in your shoulder.

She like calling you more cheesy and romantic pet names, and expects the same from you. She calls you things like my love, dearest, sweetheart, little human, and her Knight. (If you call her princess she will melt)

That’s all! I hope you like this :3 thank you for my first ever ask :3

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #🧁 anon

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pleasingforharry · 2 years

Text

Moans and Elevator Music

SUMMARY: Y/N is in a rush for an interview at her new job, but her luck gives out when the elevators shut down due to a sudden power outage. At least she isn’t alone.

WORD COUNT: 8.4k

WARNINGS: heavy sexual content ;)

slow burn at first. sorry i got carried away with the actual story ahah

I wasn’t nervous, I was fucking scared shitless. I've heard numerous stories from people who were turned down a job the moment they stepped into his office. He wasn’t playing around, and he wasn’t afraid to make you feel like an utter fool. It was considered a reckless move to follow in their footsteps and apply to work under him. But I wanted that job so bad that I was ready to buy a pair of clown shoes.

Harry Styles was the CEO of Pleasing, and the biggest asshole known to man. I haven’t done any research on him because the less I knew about his asshole-y-ness, the better. I didn’t even want to know what the man looked like. It was best if I went into my interview with a clear, open-minded head about my potential new boss.

My interview was at 12:45, and I was outside the building half an hour earlier to ease my overwhelming thoughts of being late. I sat in my car and practiced how I’d sit across from him, the professionalism in my tone, the polite stretch of my smile, etc. It was pathetic but I was scared shitless.

When 12:30 hit, I decided to head inside so I had approximately fifteen minutes to find his office and, hopefully, have a minute or two to spare. Maybe he’d find it impressive and wouldn’t fire me as soon as I walked through the doors like I’ve heard happen to many people.

I was wearing a business casual outfit in hopes of showing off my personality and how I didn’t overthink things, no matter the circumstances. It was simple, it was neat, it was professional, it was perfect.

As I walked through the glass doors of the Pleasing building in New York for the first time, I realized how much it replicated the brand. It was colorful but not overpowering. Stone backdrops aligned with bright—due to the glass panels all along the front of the building—white wallpaper took over the main lobby. It was the furniture and different fonts of Pleasing that brought out the colors.

“Whoa,” I gasped with a wide smile. It would be amazing to walk into that building every day.

“Whoa, indeed,” a voice repeated behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find a tall curly headed man, dressed in black blazer and pants with a pink dress shirt, walking closer to where I stood. “It’s nice in here, right? The best lobby I’ve ever seen. It’s just so welcoming.” I nodded in agreement, subtly staring the man up and down.

“I love it, a lot actually. These people are lucky to work here all the time,” I sighed, tilting my head up to the high ceilings. I spun around to attempt to make out the pattern that scattered from the ceilings to the pillars holding them afoot. The man took a step closer as my feet twirled me away from him.

His hands were behind his back as he leaned down to reach my shorter level. Even with heels, his legs stretched him to somewhere around six feet.

“You don’t work here? I was wondering why I haven’t seen you before. I definitely would’ve remembered you,” The man spoke to me. I finally looked back at him and smiled shyly. I couldn’t tell if that was a hidden compliment, or he just had no idea who the fuck I was.

“Hopefully I’ll be working here soon. That’ll be the dream,” was all the information I gave him. I wasn’t parading the fact I had an interview with the CEO in a few minutes because I could’ve been walking right back through the front entrance jobless and absolutely humiliated.

The man suddenly smirked at me as he stood straight up again. “Then hopefully I’ll see you again soon.” I nodded in agreement and pulled my gaze away from him in search for the reception desk.

Leaving the man lone, I walked farther into the building and easily found an older woman behind a desk, typing away on her computer. I approached her and waited for her to look up before speaking. I assumed she was doing something important because of her squinted eyes focusing on the screen in front of her. I had the time to wait anyway.

“Thank you for your patience, darling. How are you? What can I do for you?” She finally looked up at me and smiled.

“No worries, and I’m great. It’s actually my first time here and I’m coming in for an interview with Mr. Styles. I just needed to know where his office is?” I explained.

“Oh, let me just check you in real fast,” she went back to her computer and typed away. I used that free time to look around the lobby.

From the reception desk, I noticed another open room off to the side of the lobby. A soft squeal escaped my lips as I realized it was a Pleasing shop for whom I assumed was solely for the employees. They were the only ones in there, using their Pleasing branded tote bags to shop. The walls were a vibrant yellow with a white flower print. I knew I had to go shopping there and get my hands on some of that merchandise.

“Okay, Ms. L/N, I have you checked in, but you are actually a little early so you don’t have to go up right now.”

“Oh, I know. I came early just to make sure I wasn’t late.”

“Mr. Styles likes people with that kind of mindset,” She gave me a thumbs up. “You’re already on the right track.”

I sighed in relief with a nod.

“You can find Mr. Styles’ office on the top floor, and as you walk down the hall, you can’t miss his glass-stained double doors,” She explained. I thanked her multiple times as I backed away to the elevators.

The employees that filled the building made themselves obvious through their work attire. The men in colorful dress shirts under their patterned blazers. The women in floral dresses and skirts. Every person’s nails were painted, some with added designs. It was exactly what I wanted to look like.

I sucked in a nervous breath as I realized what was at stake. I had to get hired, I had to get this job. I wanted it so bad. To be surrounded by the brand that took over my life in the last year. Its skin care to makeup to clothing line had me in a literal chokehold.

When I found the elevator corridor, I wasn’t surprised by the ambiance. Bright, quirky, and fun. It had a wide smile taking over my lips. I went to press the upward arrow button in hopes that one of the six elevators opened within the next minute. I knew there were a lot of floors containing a lot of people that were too high in the matriarchy to use the... stairs.

Answering my wishes, a ding and a flash had lit to announce an elevator was on its way to lead me to either my dream or doom. I was beginning to shit bricks. I looked over my shoulder, noticing I was the only one in need for the elevator.

As the doors slid open, I walked inside and pushed the thirty eighth floor button quickly. Having those few moments alone were more than useful. The wall on the other side of the elevator door had a slim mirror with a sign in cute handwriting that said, ‘You look Pleasing.’ I covered my mouth with the back of my hand to laugh as I stood in front of the mirror and adjusted my outfit.

Right when the doors warned to close, I heard a voice call out, to which I assumed towards me, “Hold the doors!” I suddenly panicked and quickly slotted my hand between the closing doors for them to open back up again. The voice sighed as a familiar face appeared, twisting to his side to walk inside. It was the man from earlier that approached my side to take in the beauty of the building. I would’ve thought he’d be upstairs by then, heading to whatever department he worked at, already. “Thanks, love.”

“No worries,” I shrugged. It was then when I realized the accent. He was British? My thoughts matched my face with a tilt of my head and a slight drop of my jaw. He stared at me confusingly for a moment before looking at the buttons listing all the floors.

His expression only grew more confused as he said, “Top floor, too? What are you doing up there?” I was taken aback by his almost offended tone, like I wasn’t worthy to have any business up there.

“I have a meeting with Mr. Styles,” I answered simply. He ran his hand through his hair as he glared at me. “What?”

“Do you know who that is?” He squinted his eyes at me.

I nodded, “Obviously. He’s the CEO of the company you currently plant your expensively looking shoes on.” I decided to turn away from him and face the closed doors as the elevator lifted us to the top. My fingers fiddled with each other as they worriedly waited for them to suddenly open.

I felt the man, I still hadn’t caught the name of, walk up behind me before shifting to lean against the wall next to me. “Another question then. Have you met him before?” I shook my head, nervously brushing at my skirt. “Okay?”

“Is something wrong?” I glanced at him beside me.

“Not at all, darling,” He smiled sincerely, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “You look great, by the way. Trying to make a good first impression?”

“Something like that,” I gazed down at my outfit and sighed proudly. “I could ask the same thing, though. You look very—” I motioned to his outfit, unable to find the right word.

“Sexy? It’s definitely the eyes, right? Think Styles would be jealous?” He smirked, and I threw my head back to laugh. “I’m surprised he hasn’t made me the public face of his company. Do you know how many more clients we’d get if this face was plastered everywhere?”

I rolled my eyes at his obvious narcissism. “I think you just proved why Mr. Styles doesn’t need you as the public face of Pleasing. Keep dreaming, though,” I teased, patting his shoulder. The man chuckled, swatting my hand away as he stood upright.

Right as he was about to speak, a sudden thud and pause of the elevator caught his words in his throat. The lights strung along the walls of the elevator instantly shut off, leaving us in complete darkness. My instinct had me grabbing the man’s arm and hugging it as I braced for impact. He was on the same page as he wrapped an arm across my collarbone and held my farther shoulder, pulling me against him.

When nothing followed the complete shut down of the elevator, I fluttered my eyes open, but was met with pitch black. Just great.

The man and I stayed frozen in our spots as I listened to his slow breathing. “What’s happening?” I whispered-asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“I think it’s a power outage,” He muttered in an annoyed tone, “Un-fucking-real. How the hell did that happen?”

I knew he wasn’t asking me, but I was too panicked and frantic to not answer, hoping to get my mind off the fact I was trapped in an elevator, in the dark. “They happen all the time, it’s probably nothing, right? It’ll come back on in a few minutes. Definitely.”

“Hey, are you okay?” He slowed down his words, moving himself so he was standing in front of me, and both of his hands held my shoulders. I couldn’t see his face and it started to terrify me, making the unfortunate situation more real. I was stuck on a fucking elevator in the pitch black dark.

“Besides having a fear of getting stuck in an elevator and complete darkness, I’m fantastic,” I laughed, copingly. I couldn’t hide in the quiver of my voice that I was on the verge of tears. My day was starting to turn to shit. But at least I wasn’t alone.

I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a hard sigh. The man had let go of my shoulders and walked away as he mumbled incoherent curses under his breath.

“This building isn’t allowed to have power outages. We are too fucking successful and busy as hell to have power outages. This is bullshit,” He started to grumble. I heard his shoes aggressively pace around the wide elevator, back and forth, behind me.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, letting my legs give out as I fell to my knees and sat back on my heels. I covered my eyes and focused on calming down my fast beating heart. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be fine,” I sighed to myself, with a slight laugh in disbelief.

I heard the man approach me again and kneel down in front of me. He gently touched my thighs and rubbed his thumbs against them. “Hey, listen to me. We are gonna be just fine, I promise you that. I’m right here, you’re not alone,” He assured me.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to stay calm but this is just really fucking unfortunate.” He laughed and hummed in agreement.

We were quiet for a few moments and it started to feel like I was alone, so I reached out for him. My hands laid on top of his own on my thighs. He turned his hands over to hold mine and I sighed in relief.

“I left my phone in my office. I just came downstairs to meet someone for a quick second. Do you have yours?” He suddenly asked.

I widened my eyes and reached into my handbag for my phone. “Why didn’t I think of that? Should we call someone?” I asked, finally able to see the man as his face hit the light of my screen.

He shook his head. “There’s no reason to. We can’t go anywhere until the power is back on. But they know people are on the elevator, and we are a very busy business, so we have to be up and running as soon as possible,” He explained. I turned on the flash and scanned the elevator, already forgetting what it had looked like.

“That’s a little comforting,” I tried to smile. The man easily returned one and rubbed my shoulder.

“Good,” He nodded, before taking my phone from me to place it in the corner so the whole elevator was lit. We both turned to the back wall to find our shadows crawling on the ceiling. “We have some company.”

“The more the merrier,” I chuckled, pushing my hair behind my ears.

“That one over there is kind of cute, though. Think she’s single?” He pointed to my shadow with a sly smirk. I darted my eyes to him and laughed.

“I think she is actually. Think you got the guts to talk to her?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. And she’s totally my type.”

I shrugged, “Maybe you should then. I mean, who could say no to the possible public face of Pleasing?” It was his turn to laugh as he threw his head back.

We both fell silent again and I didn’t realize I was still smiling until my cheeks asked to be relaxed. The man brought his hands up to play with the multiple rings on his fingers as his lips spoke words that didn’t leave his throat. I watched him quietly, hugging myself as the realization of where I was kicked in again.

I turned back around to the front of the elevator and stared at the dead buttons. I started clicking each, falsely hoping one would light up. I glanced over my shoulder at the man to find his back facing me.

I realized that his name was still a mystery to me. He was occupied in his own head so I tapped his back to get his attention. He swiftly turned around and raised his brows at me.

“This might be a weird question to ask right now, but what’s your name?”

The man chuckled, before answering, “Harry, and no worries, love.”

“Thank you. I’m Y/N,” I blew out a breath. He repeated my name softly before smiling.

“I like that name a lot, it’s beautiful,” He nodded to himself. “And thank you for joining me in this unfortunate situation, Y/N. I’m grateful to have you here.”

“Same,” I chuckled, “just can’t believe this is happening. I’m supposed to be in a meeting. Not stuck here. The last place I want to be.”

“Hey, wait a minute, I’m not so bad.” I felt a soft push to my shoulder. I laughed and did it back to him.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Harry,” I rolled my eyes. “I just had this day planned for weeks. I was ready for this day and now... I’m stuck in an elevator.” My face fell and I quickly turned my head away before he could see it. He was trying his best to stay calm, so I wanted to do the same.

Harry suddenly grabbed one of my hands and led us to the elevator's back wall. "Sit," he said, sliding down the wall. I followed his orders and sat down next to him. He scooted close enough that our arms brushed each other, but neither of us minded. “We’ll be out soon and I’ll talk to Mr. Styles afterwards to make sure you still have your interview.”

I smiled widely, “Thank you, Harry.” Then I frowned. “Wait, I didn’t even realize you guys have the same name. Isn’t that cool, right?”

Harry stared at me as his face went blank. I thought back to my words, wondering if I said something wrong.

“Sorry?” I mumbled with a raised brow. “Did I say something?”

“No, nothing. But it’s no problem. It’s the least I could do,” he shrugged, brushing off whatever I said wrong. And so did I.

We were back to our original silence, besides Harry keeping up his grumbling curses at the power outage. I chuckled under my breath at the way his accent changed the tone of his words. He suddenly stopped, and I felt a pinch on my thigh. “You laughing at me, Y/N?”

I shook my head, “Not at all.”

“You sure, I felt a little vibration coming from you. Something you want to share with the elevator?”

I rested my head against the wall, but let it turn to the side to face him. “I just think you’re probably more upset about the power outage than Mr. Styles. I didn’t think it would make you this angry,” I shrugged.

Harry didn’t answer at first, only staring at the elevator doors. “It’s just… I know how pushed back we’re gonna be now. It’s probably mayhem on every floor.”

I nodded, “Makes sense. Mr. Styles probably loves your dedication.”

“He does, I’m his favorite,” he smirked as he turned his head to meet eyes with me. I gave him a bored look before rolling my eyes. “Wow, you don’t think so? You don’t even know him, apparently.”

“I can’t imagine you being anyone’s favorite anything.”

“But I am your favorite ‘stuck in an elevator’ buddy, aren’t I?”

“Do I really get a choice? This is a first,” I shrugged. Harry laughed and smoothly slid his arm around my shoulder with a soft sigh. Without much thought of it, I leaned my head against his and closed my eyes.

I was just hoping Mr. Styles would still consider my interview that day. Harry did say he’d make sure it would happen, and I wanted to take his word for it. I was almost desperate.

To break the silence, Harry asked, “Where are you from?”

“Here, born and raised,” I answered simply. “You?”

“England.”

I chuckled, “Shocker,” as if his accent didn’t give it away. He poked my cheek and I swatted his thigh. “When did you start working here?”

I felt him shrug before humming in thought. “Don’t remember when but I was one of the firsts hired here.”

“That’s amazing. Congratulations.” I set my hand out in between us, and he snorted before taking it and accepting my firm shake.

“You got the shake down, very business ready, I see.”

“Think Mr. Styles will be impressed?” I asked. My head turned towards him with a smirk plastered on my face. “He might even like mine better than yours.”

Harry rolled his lips inwards as he stared back at me. I lifted my brows, waiting for a snarly remark from him, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes drifted across my face before landing on my lips.

He started to speak, but suddenly stopped himself. I frowned, reaching to flick at his nose, causing his prominent dimples to spread. He quickly grabbed my finger and brought it to my own nose to flick.

“I feel like we’ve been here for more than an hour,” I whispered because he was right in front of me. His eyes wouldn’t leave my lips, which made me a little self conscious. “It’s probably been like twenty minutes, right?”

“Time is a little tricky when you’re stuck in an elevator,” He joked, “but I’d say about that. I don’t know about you, but I’m quite enjoying my stay at Le Elevator Pleasing.” He attempted a pretty good French accent as he shut his eyes to speak.

I chuckled and clapped in amusement.

“Thank you, thank you,” He slight bowed. “Do I get a kiss or something for my performance?” My eyes widened at his brave request, but he only smirked and flicked my nose again. My words got caught up in my throat as I tried to come up with a slick reply, but that really threw me off.

Instead of answering, I glanced down at his lips and bit the inside of my own.

“Oh, love, now you’re just asking for it, yeah?” He groaned, leaning closer to my face. I kept my eyes where they were, letting my free hand fall on his thigh.

“Do you want one or not?” I whispered with a sudden new found confidence. Harry’s smile grew tremendously wide as he nodded.

He shifted his body in my direction and used the arm that was around my shoulder to bring me closer. “Are you sure, Y/N?” His voice dropped, sending all kinds of shivers down my spine. His eyes didn’t know where to look as they shot all across my face.

I nodded at his question, but he shook his head. He reached his free hand to tap my lip. Words, his eyes darkened. “Yes, please,” I let out a helpless breath.

“Good girl,” He groaned, our noses finally touching. He knocked mine softly to angle my head to the side. Our lips swiftly grazed each other and I could’ve gasped by the softness of his.

“Yes,” I repeated, grabbing the back of his head and tangling my fingers in his tight curls. I could tell he wanted to tease me again as his hand ran up my hip before digging his hand into my side.

Without letting my mind overthink it, I simply connected our lips and unconsciously moaned softly within it. Harry quickly accepted and took over.

I had only known this man for… however long… and I trusted him more than any man I know.

The kiss got sloppy and desperate. Our tongues fought and our teeth clashed. Harry’s low groans and my whimpers as he sucked on my bottom lip every so often played as elevator music. His arms moved to hold my waist and pulled me fully onto his lap. My skirt rose to my hips as my knees sat on each side of him.

I was the first to pull away with heavy breaths. His lips rested on my forehead as his hands traveled down to my ass to grope them unabashedly. “What did we just do?” I frowned as I lifted my head up to him. I expected him to be as surprised as I was but he simply smiled. “What?”

“I’m waiting for you. I’m not done, baby,” He leaned his head back against the wall, keeping his large, ring cladded fingers on my cheeks. “I love these panties, by the way. Fucking hot.” I glanced over my shoulder and arched my back to see my ass, forgetting about the set of undergarment I threw on that morning.

“It’s just black?” I looked back at him as he sighed a soft moan.

“Don’t arch like that, Y/N. Fuck me,” He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. I suddenly yelped at the hard slap to my left cheek. “Come here, baby.” His other hand came up to my jaw to pull us back into an intimate kiss.

It was a little slower than before, but definitely hotter. His hands guided my ass to rock on his lap at a slow pace. I felt short shocks between my legs as my heat would occasionally brush the new obvious dent in his pants.

My hands reached for the two buttons on his blazer and quickly slid it off his shoulders. His lips moved down to my neck as I moaned out at a specific spot he sucked at. I tried to quickly deal with his dress shirt, but my hands began to shake at the feeling of his pointer finger secretly running up my slit.

I threw my head back, giving him more access to my neck, which he hummed as thanks. His lips slid to my jaw then my ear.

“You’re so fucking hot, Y/N,” He whispered. “And you’re already soaking your panties. Who is it for, baby? Tell me.” He hooked his finger into my panties before letting it snap against my cunt. I gasped, tugging at the curls my hand was tangled in. His finger came up between us to display the pad coated.

“Please, Harry,” I whimpered, unbeknownst what I was specifically asking for. His eyes locked with mine as his tongue darted out and his wet finger entered his mouth. My lips fell apart as I watched intensely. My cunt squeezed against nothing and my toes suddenly curled.

Harry hummed as his lips wrapped around his finger before sliding it out clean. “Fuck,” his slurred. “You taste so good, Y/N. I’m gonna need more.”

Oh my god.

I started pulling at his shirt that I desperately wanted off of him. He glanced down and smiled.

“You never answered my question, darling,” He shook his head in disappointment. “Who has you fucking soaked like this? And you haven’t even been touched. Who?” What an ass. I wanted to roll my eyes, but his finger that slowly traced my heat over my panties allowed it to pass in the moment.

“You, Harry. God...” I groaned, my head falling on his shoulder.

“Good girl,” He hummed, easily unbuttoning his shirt before pealing it off his skin and throwing to the side with his blazer. I was at awe at what hid under his shirt. Unexpected tattoos sprinkled around his body, like the huge butterfly that sat dead center of his stomach. “Your turn.”

I sat back up to allow him to untuck my blouse from my skirt and throw it over my head. My hips didn’t stop rolling over his pants as I let out a small gasp. As soon as Harry caught my almost naked chest, his lips immediately latched onto my breast that were basically spilling out of my matching bra.

His hands went wild, grabbing at me everywhere. My hips couldn’t stop as I bucked deeper in his lap. He let out a single groan through his lips that were pulling down my bra to latch onto my nipple. When I pushed down against him again, his hips thrusted up, causing my hands to hold onto his shoulders for balance.

I needed him. Bad.

“Take off your pants,” I begged him as he ripped my bra off and immediately went back to sucking at my breast harshly, definitely leaving a dark mark later. His eyes were shut as his arms wrapped around my waist to hold me close to him. I arched my back like earlier, earning a whimpering moan and another thrust of his hips against my cunt.

It was getting hot as our bodies molded together, desperately needing to be close. My hands reached between us to blindly search for the zipper to Harry’s pants. He showed no intention of letting go of my nipples as his lips would switch every few seconds to suck on the other.

“I want to see you, Harry baby. Please let me see your cock. I can feel you against my clit and fuck… my cunt is so fucking tight and hot. I need you in me,” I leaned down to his ear to whisper before kissing it.

I don’t know who was more surprised of my sudden dirty talk, Harry or myself, but I was so needy for him. It was the only way to get him to let my breasts go.

“Your cunt needs to filled up, huh?” He pushed my hand away to quickly undo his pants. I lifted myself off of him to let him slid them all the way off and towards the pile of clothes. While he did that, I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it before placing myself back on his lap. By then, it was only my panties and his boxers keeping us apart.

Harry peppered kisses along my jaw then trailed back to my lips. They brushed against each other as we both breathed roughly. My arms tightened around his neck to bring us closer.

“Can I taste you first, baby? I’m so hungry for more of you,” he asked, letting his hands fall back down to my ass and massage them. I nodded rapidly, kissing him softly. “Lay down for me, beautiful. I’m gonna take such good care of you, okay?” I smiled and moved off his lap.

Before my back hit the floor, Harry reached for his blazer and placed it under me. I thanked him and finally laid back. Harry didn’t waste any time moving between my legs. I leaned up and propped myself on my elbows to watch him.

Harry laid down on his stomach and ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he stared at the wet spot on my panties. He brought his nose closer and breathed in a satisfied hum.

“You smell so good, Y/N. Are you gonna let me eat you out? Let me play with your clit?” He asked, rubbing his finger harshly over my panties. Words got stuck in my throat as I gasped at his finger swiping over my clit. “Answer me.”

“Yes, please, Harry,” I whined, my hands running through his curls. He smirked and hooked his finger into my panties to let it slide down my legs. He didn’t move his eyes from my heat as he threw my panties behind him.

His eyes stared at my opening with an agape look, and I wanted to immediately close my legs to hide it because I didn’t know what that meant. “I know it’s not the best looking, but—“

“Shush,” Harry darted his eyes to me. “It’s so fucking beautiful that I don’t know where to start first,” he breathed before biting his lip to hold back whatever threatened to come out his throat.

“Oh, okay,” I nodded shyly, glad it wasn’t the latter.

Harry smirked, finally gliding his pointer finger along my whole vagina, flicking at my hole, my walls, then my clit, causing my hips to thrust against it.

I groaned and tugged at his hair, begging for more. His other arm circled my thigh as he brought his face closer to where I was basically dripping for him.

His sole finger finally pushed itself into me and instantly curled to hit just the right spot. I harshly bit my lip to hold back the loud moan that was about to leave my mouth. “Oh my god, Harry,” I hissed at him. He chuckled under his breath as he continued to thrust his finger at a quick pace.

His mouth decided to join him as his tongue met my clit with a long strip. My back arched off the floor, and I pushed myself against him with my hips. He quickly kitten licked my clit as he hastily added another finger, stretching my walls.

“You weren’t kidding about being tight, baby. Can barely fit my fingers? Don’t know if you can take all of my cock,” Harry groaned against my clit, coming out a little muffled. I wanted to respond, but all that came out were loud moans.

His mouth was skilled as his tongue flicked along my whole cunt then sucked and kissed my clit. His fingers pulled out of me before spreading my lips and replacing with his tongue. He plunged straight in a couple of times, slightly swirling to hit my walls. I slurred a groan and bucked against his mouth.

I continued to squirm in his hold, but with just his one arm around the thigh, he was able to keep me right where he wanted.

His thumb reached up to circulate my clit with rapid flicking as his tongue worked faster. “Fuck Harry, I think I’m—“ I hissed, pulling his head closer.

He paused his movements and planted gentle kisses against my lips and clit before finally looking up at me with dark eyes and a wild smirk.

“Not yet,” he spoke, sitting up on his knees and lifting my thighs up to his lips to line kisses down the inside until he reached my calves. “I’m gonna need you to come on my cock, darling.”

His eyes were hooded and drunk as he stared down at my completely naked body. His hands ran up my sides to my breasts and used both hands to grope each. He hummed as he leaned down to kiss both nipples and suck harshly.

“Please,” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing his body closer to mine. He placed both arms next to my head and rested himself on top of me. With his weight pressing against me, I felt his internal heat and immediately felt safe under him. His head fell in the crook of my neck and he attacked behind my ear with gentle kisses. His breath was heavy and mixed with low groans.

His hips involuntarily bucked against me, causing both of us to moan. I let one arm leave his neck to reached down between us, searching for his cock over his boxers. His lips left my neck to hover over mine. “I need to be in you so bad,” he basically whimpered, groaning with rough dry humps.

“I got you, it’s okay,” I kissed him as I slipped my hand under his boxers and grabbed his girthy cock.

“Oh god, Y/N,” he hissed, immediately thrusting into my hand. His teeth bit into my bottom lip with his eyes squeezed shut. I ran my finger down the length and was caught off guard by how long he was. “Are you clean? I am.”

I nodded, “Yeah, and I’m on the pill.” Harry hummed in response before kissing me once more. I pulled Harry’s cock out of his boxers and slowly stroked him.

He had to take a sharp breath to control his incoming moan. “You’re killing me, baby.” I snorted, kissing his cheek that popped out a dimple.

Harry swiftly slid his boxers off of himself, leaving us both completely naked in the half dark. My hand never stopped stroking his now fully hard cock that dripped with precum. I swiped my thumb over his tip to collect the juices, earning a puff of air on my shoulder.

“You ready for me, baby?” He asked, taking himself into his own hand and teasingly running his tip against my heat. I gulped, grabbing his shoulders and nodding. “Use your words, Y/N. I need you to tell me. Let me hear you.”

“Yes, I need you so bad. Please, I can’t take it,” I moaned, lifting my hips to attempt to suck him in, but he was quick to pull away.

“I guess so because you asked so nicely,” he smirked as he finally lined himself up with my entrance. “If it hurts, you tell me stop immediately, understand?”

“Of course,” I smiled and petted his lips with my thumb. He kissed it softly before smiling back. “Thank you, Harry.” We shared a sentimental stare for a few comfortable seconds in silence.

Harry cleared his throat when he realized what we were just about to do. He looked down between us and slowly pushed himself in. I sucked in a breath as I instantly felt him stretching my walls but in all the right ways. He wasn’t just long but thick. And he was veiny. I felt every inch of him as he continued to enter me slowly.

His head picked up to watch me with his jaw dropping and brows furrowing. He moaned loudly and connected our lips to swallow my own.

My arms tightened around his neck, and my fingers twirled in his hair, ready to tug as the pleasure increased. I felt him completely fill me up, and I knew I'd remember that feeling for the rest of my life. He was the first to have my walls clenching so tightly that I felt like bursting already.

“Tell me how it feels, Y/N. Let me hear you,” Harry demanded, eyes meeting mine. His arms slithered under my body to hug around me, holding my upper back as it arched.

I threw my head back as he leaned down to kiss along my collarbones. “You feel so fucking good. You’re so big, Harry, I can feel you in my stomach,” I groaned.

His knees finally bent to start a faster thrusting pace. Our skins slapped against each other loudly as a replica of the elevator music. My legs wrapped around his waist tightly due to my shaking legs. I was already close from him fingering me, but his cock quickly pounding my cunt was making it very hard to hold it.

I suddenly felt a wave of pleasure when he changed the angle, hitting a specific spot. My nails dug into him as I gasped. “Right there… fuck. Please don’t stop, please. God Harry,” I cried, unable to control the moans that left me.

“Right here? Did I find your sweet spot, baby? I knew I could figure you out quickly,” he whispered in my ear.

My breasts bounced roughly against his chest, feeling his warmth all through my body. It got hot very quickly in the big elevator. And loud.

Harry’s thrusts got sloppy so I knew he was getting close. His head fell back on my shoulder as his breath stuttered. His hips went faster, pushing deeper than I thought he could ever reach.

My legs tightened around him so I could rock my hips into him, brushing my clit against him, forming a new found pleasure. It was unbelievable. I knew I was close and wouldn’t be able to hold back, even if he demanded me to.

“Close, so fucking close,” was all I could breathe out as all thoughts disappeared from my mind.

“Yeah, you’re gonna milk my cock, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” I nodded. “I can’t hold it much longer, you feel so good.”

Harry pushed himself into me even faster, knowing how to get me off, though it was our first time. His lips found mine again and our tongues swirled together messily.

It felt like a balloon inside of me was slowly being poked by a needle. Only a few more seconds and I was gonna burst. “I’m coming, fuck,” I whined, holding Harry even tighter.

His thrusts continued at the same brutal pace and he reached between us to thumb at my clit. “Come for me, Y/N. Let me feel you all around my cock. I can’t wait any longer.”

That was all I needed for the balloon to finally pop. I had to cover my mouth to silence the surprising noise that left my lips. A wave of euphoria traveled all through my body as I finally let go. My body paused but Harry kept pounding in me, chasing his own release.

His hips push into me one last time before he spurts himself deep in my cunt, coating my walls. He groaned softly, dropping himself on top of me. A layer of sweat formed along his forehead and I took the initiative to wipe it away.

We both breathed loudly in sync, waiting for the energy in our bodies to come back. I suddenly felt embarrassed as I realized I was still naked under him. My arm slid between us to cover my breasts as I looked off to the side. Harry immediately noticed and grabbed my jaw to bring my eyes back to him.

“What are you doing? Don’t hide from me,” he frowned before kissing me.

“Sorry,” I blushed, “I always get like this when I’m naked, even when I’m alone.”

“Well don’t do it in front of me. I’m obsessed with your body, Y/N. Look, I’m already hard for you again,” he motioned to his cock growing against his stomach.

I gasped before laughing, patting his cheek. “Cute but I’m spent.”

“That’s fine, love. Let’s get dressed because I can’t control myself for much longer when you’re looking like that.” I nodded and waited until he sat up to scurry to the pile of clothes and change into my outfit.

I tugged at the end of my skirt once more and pushed my hair off my shoulders while inhaling a confident breath. A few words of encouragement had me knocking on the double doors of the office I should’ve been at thirty minutes ago.

I had already rehearsed my apologies for my tardiness even though it clearly wasn’t my fault. One rumor that passed around about the CEO of the company was that everything was your fault. No matter what it was.

As I waited for a voice allowing me to enter, I realized that I never received one. My brows furrowed as I knocked again. The frosted glass doors made it impossible to see if anyone was even inside. I would’ve thought Mr. Styles was on the top floor during the outage and already back in his office before I got there.

“Waiting for the big boss?” A tall silhouette hovered behind me. His hands met my hips, pushing himself against my back.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s here. Must’ve left to figure out the means of the power outage,” I assumed, turning around to face the man I literally had between my legs not even ten minutes ago.

His aura felt different from before. He seemed more predatory as he watched me intensely. I chuckled as his sudden change of demeanor.

“You okay, Harry?” I asked, brushing my hands down his suit, noticing the lint it must’ve picked up from being on the elevator floor.

“Of course, darling. Just waiting on someone,” he smirked, moving to the wall next to the double doors and leaning against it by his shoulder. His hand held out for me and I instantly took it. He pulled my body against his and let his hands wander unabashedly. I nodded at his response, letting him roam his hand down to my ass before giving it a teasing pinch.

“Do I still look okay? I mean, for my meeting? Does it look like I just got brutally fucked in an elevator?” I joked, scrunching my nose at him. He threw his head back to laugh before shaking his head.

“I can’t even tell. All I see is a beautiful, confident, meeting ready woman of my dreams,” he sucked up, leaning down to kiss me. “I hope this isn’t the last time you’ll let me kiss and touch you like this. I quite enjoyed today. I enjoy you a lot.”

I instantly blushed, “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t think it’ll be very professional to treat my hopefully future coworker like this. I’ll have to ask my potential boss,” I joked, hugging him by his waist. His finger nipped at my lip as he hummed. “Who are you even waiting for? I just know it’s chaotic downstairs after everyone being put back due to the outage. Don’t you have to get back to work?”

We both turned our heads down a hallway that emitted loud and quick clinks of heels. As the noise approached us, I instantly dropped my hands from Harry and fixed my posture. He continued to lean against the wall nonchalantly, so I furrowed my brows at him but he just pinched my hip.

“Stay professional,” I quickly scolded him before the pair of heels finally revealed a tall lengthy woman with her hair flying behind her as she took far steps due to her stretched legs. I could only wish for that kind of body.

“Oh great, thank god I found you. Things have gone to complete shit,” the woman blurted to Harry while frustratingly pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s like everyone forgot how to do anything.”

Harry chuckled, standing up straight to outgrow her. He glanced at me and smiled. “I figured, but I can’t worry about that right now. I have an interview.”

“Oh right, Y/N L/N, right?” She nodded before turning her attention to me. “And you must be her?”

I blankly switched my eyes between the two of them, trying to comprehend the little information I was just informed of. I was utterly confused, and still mesmerized by that woman’s body. It was surreal.

“Wait, I have an interview with Mr. Styles. The CEO of the company,” I pointed out, motioning to double doors we all stood outside of.

Harry continued to smile as the woman gave him a confused look. He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a single key. He turned his back to us to fiddle with the door as the woman looked at me.

“Miss L/N, I think you must be unaware, but he is Mr. Styles, the CEO,” she tilted her head as she laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Have you not seen a picture of him on magazines?”

“Wait, you’re Mr. Styles!” I gasped, poking at Harry’s back. “Like the Harry Styles?” He didn’t answer, so the woman did.

“Yeah, he’s everywhere. Did you seriously not recognize this man?” I shook my head, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “Well I hope you haven’t said or done anything to him that you shouldn’t have. He could be your potential boss.”

Harry finally opened the door to what I assumed was his office then turned to face us. He brought his attention to the woman first, and I made her out to be his assistant. “Can you cancel my 1:30 meeting and 2:15 lunch with Hank Rivers? I’ll be busy.” The woman instantly nodded and looked down at the iPad that hugged against her chest. Harry quickly sent me a single wink.

“Done and done. I’ll leave you until then.”

“Okay, thanks Amanda,” he said as she turned on her heel and walked back to where she had came from.

I didn’t noticed my mouth was hanging agape until Harry used his finger to push my jaw up. “You seem surprised?” He motioned for me to walk into his office, and as I passed, he pinched one of my ass cheeks.

“I just can’t believe I fucked the CEO that was supposed to be interviewing me for a potential job,” I sighed, rubbing my hands over my eyes. “Listen Mr. Styles—“

“What happened to Harry?” He walked past me and sat on top of his desk, in front of the two leather seats for guests. He motioned for me to come over and stand between his legs, which I shook my head at. “Don’t get all shy with me now, Y/N.”

“You’re the CEO of the company I wanted to work at, Mr. Styles, and we fucked in the elevator. This changes things.” I hugged myself as I shifted the weight of my legs from one to the other. “I messed things up now. You knew I was here to be interviewed by you and still let us do all that shit in the elevator, you sly fucker.”

“What would you like me to say? I’m not sorry about it, and I definitely want to do it again if you’re up for it,” he smirked, sliding his blazer off his shoulders before rolling them back to stretch his muscles.

I shook my head and took a step towards the doors. “No, never again. This isn’t right. I—“

“Y/N, calm down. I’m just messing with you, baby,” he raised his hands up in surrender. “I'll forget everything that happened, which I'd hate to do, and we can start over for the sake of this interview. Will it make you feel any better?" He raised his brows at me.

I bit my lip and shrugged with uncertainty. I didn’t regret what happened because it was really good, but the whole situation wasn’t right. I blew out a breath and ran my fingers through my hair.

Harry hopped off his desk and stalked over to me. His hands instantly grabbed my jaw and held me into a long and slow kiss. I moaned within it, holding his hips.

“I really hope you don’t want to start over because I’m already obsessed with you, Y/N,” Harry pulled back slightly to speak. Each word brushed his plush lips against mine.

I shrugged, “I don’t want to, but I feel like I have some sort of advantage now. I wanted to interview for this job like everyone else and get it with my own strengths.”

Harry smiled, kissing me once again. “That’s fair, I love that actually. I’m gonna have Amanda, my assistant, come back and do the interview. She knows me very well and would know if you’re worthy. How’s that sound?” He asked, poking my nose with his thumb as his hands stayed cupping my jaw.

“I would like that a lot, thank you.”

“Good.”

Harry pulled me in for one last kiss and landed a hard slap to my ass.

Fuck that took forever, I’m sorry ahahshah

PART TWO ;)

#harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x yn #harry styles blurb #ceo!harry #harry styles au

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hightwers · 6 months

Text

TEACHER'S PET ─── ANAKIN SKYWALKER

summary: anakin skywalker, sorry the teacher's aide anakin skywalker. teachers and students aren't supposed to be this close, right? it's a bad idea, right?

warnings: smut, gaslighting, coercion and manipulation. themes of student/teacher relationships are present. mdni, 16+. fem reader, usage of the word cunt, cock, pussy, etc. talking you through an orgasm.

Everyone knew Mr. Skywalker; he was the young teacher's aide. He was fairly young, couldn't have been more than 23.

And he was kind, charismatic, and helpful. He was often seen helping other students during office hours, staying late to grade and correct assignments.

It was said that he had a favorite student, but that's neither here nor there.

It was the first time she had failed a test. A big one. Fuck. This was avoidable had she actually taken the time to study.

And she didn't. Instead she decided to fuck around and get drunk with several people from her class. To be fair, it had been fun in the moment.

And much to her dismay, Mr Skywalker had asked her to stay after class.

Not wanting to leave anyone hanging, she did.

"Hey! I didn't think you'd stay! Cool, as you know Matt didn't stay today, sorry about that, it really should be him talking to you about your exam," he apologizes profusely as if that makes the situation better.

She sits there, quiet, and nodding along. "No, I mean its fine, you're his aide, you know just as much as he does,"

"Right, right, right," he says with a laugh. "So, what's up? You never score anything lower than a 94, and this time you have a 37, what happened?"

Ah there's the question. "And I understand that things happen, but are you okay? Everything okay at home? Was the material too difficult?"

She shakes her head. "No, I just... Long weekend, didn't prepare enough,"

He nods in understanding. "Well, you are young, so," he laughs understandingly. "We'll give you a retest, just come back in a week. Study the material, if you can't understand it, come find me and we'll work on it together, yeah?"

She nods. "Thank you Mr Skywalker," she replied with a slight smile.

"Anakin, we're not in class at the moment," he corrected.

Her smile widened. "No, I suppose we're not," she agrees, her fingers intertwine with her own.

"You know, you don't have to take the retest, there's. . . something else you could do," he offers hesitantly.

She perks up. "What's that?"

His eyes glimmer with excitement and he presses his lips together. "Oh, its uh nothing, nevermind,"

She deflated just a little. "Aw, what's the matter? It's not like you need a friend, right?"

He shifts uncomfortably in a chair. "Uh no, but really, its fine,"

She moved closer to him and leans over his desk. "Why? Its not like I'm gonna beg to suck you off," she joked. "Unless you ask me to,"

His eyes glimmer. "I'm not sure that's an appropriate. . . suggestion," he whispers. "But. . ."

She rises from her chair. "But?" she asked, leaning against the desk, sitting on the edge.

He glanced at her. "If. . . " he begins and shakes his head. "No, its not right," he muttered to himself.

She glanced at him. "I'll do anything," she whispers. "I swear, please,"

He shakes his head. "Morally its just not right," he says. "You understand, right?"

"Mr Skywalker," she pleads. "I'll do anything,"

His lips quirk at her comment. "Anything?" he asked.

She nodded.

"On your knees, sweet girl," he whispers and his eyes flicker with excitement as she does. "You have to be quiet sweet girl," he whispers.

The pet name fills her with a warm feeling, it courses through her as she kneels in front of him, her hands reach for the buckle on his pants and he swats her hand away. "Patience is a virtue, Darling," he whispers.

She moved closer to him, carefully unbuckling his pants and belt, tugging his pants down slightly, and leaving him in his boxers.

There's a tent in his pants, aroused to the point of wincing when her fingers brush him through the thin cloth. "God," he moans softly.

She's pleased with the reaction and her hand slides into the briefs, her fingers rubbing at the slit on the head of his cock, causing a soft and low moan to escape his lips.

A part of her knows that she needs to stop, that she needs to draw a line but the other part of her knows that she'll never have this opportunity again.

Her hands make the motion to tug the boxers down, leaving him standing at attention and then it hits her. "I should stop," she whispers.

He shakes his head. "No, please, don't stop," he begged softly. "We don't have to talk after, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to,"

She looks at him, he looks desperate and he's shaking from all the feelings stirring within him; she falls to her knees again and pressed a kiss to his tip, swirling her tongue around him.

Her mouth engulfs him, her hand working whatever doesn't fit in her mouth. She allows herself a small laugh as his fingers tangled in her hair, grasping and tugging at it as he raked his fingers through her scalp. "Please," he pleads.

She groans around his cock as he begins to thrust himself into her throat, she controls his pace with her hand and head. She can tell that Anakin was trying to keep his moans and groans to himself as she rakes her teeth along his cock. His sharp intake of breath spears through her like a jolt of electricity down her spine and throughout her body as she licks the bead of his salty seed.

Anakin makes the mistake of looking down, her eyes were on him as she works his length with one hand, her full lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around him and he nearly whimpered from the sensation.

She enjoys watching him in this desperate state. He's basically whimpering for her at this point and the minute its all over, with his seed dripping from the corner of her lips, she pulled away from him, her throat raw and abused from how his shaft forced itself down her throat.

He's begging her to keep this a secret, begging her to never speak of it again.

She won't, but she'll never forget how he begged her to, and how he promised her that she'd never speak to him again.

It was a one time thing, just to get her grade up, right...?

authors note: part two? let me know!! this was also... taking me forever to write. this originally started as a concept on tiktok because of @ioveanakin's edit.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #saia's library.#saia's thirsty thots.#hayden christensen smut.#saia writes things.#saia's anakin.

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galacticspaceguy · 10 months

Note

May I ask for Peter B Parker and Miguel O'Hara with a platonic, teen, gender neutral or male reader who's wary of adults because their parents and most other adults in their life were horrible to them? It's okay if not <3

You were constantly on edge with these two.

One man grieving his recently lost child, and the other obsessed with his recently gained child.

Jess had a child on the way, but she got the memo that you wanted to be left alone.

You were not comfortable with the idea of parents, at least not at the moment.

It was an understatement to say your parents were the worst. They constantly fought. With you, themselves, the neighbors.

Being around them was like walking on eggshells, which made being Spider-Man half of a blessing. It gave you a reason to leave, to get away.

It didn’t help the fact that your parents hated Spider-Man, bashing the hero whenever they were being talked about on tv.

They either ignored you, or belittled you. Bad grades, not doing the dishes, being in peace? No, no, that wasn’t allowed.

You tried your hardest not to blame it on them. They were stressed with bills and work, leaving them agitated all day, everyday.

But they didn’t get that you have bad days to. School was a living hell, even if it was keeping you out of the house. The teachers were no help, labeling you as lazy, troubled, rude, etc etc. The other kids at school watched this happen, and believed it.

Parents of kids at school, neighbors and people you knew from taking your route to school and back, seemed wary or uninterested in you, given your parents were always causing other people problems.

But, there WAS this one guy.

His name was Ben.

Ben was old man who lived across from you in your apartment complex. You sat for his three pet cats once, and your friendship bloomed from there.

He was widowed and alone, so having you around brightened his day. You helped water his flowers, make tea, clean his apartment, all for the exchange for his company.

You had actually gotten bit by the radioactive spider while water some plants of his.

He helped you with homework, but mostly your mental health. He was a 100x better than both your parents combined.

But you couldn’t save him.

Green Goblin had destroyed your apartment complex, killing Ben.

Your home was destroyed.

-and your parents home was also destroyed.

You had been living within a program for recently homeless families that suffer from the villain attacks. Your parents were now miserable to live with.

Sometimes you would just run away for hours, not that they cared much, sometimes they didn’t even know or care that you were gone. They only seemed to care when a police officer had escorted you back.

But this time, you actually ran away.

You spent most of your days in the spider society, practically living there. Yeah, you kept tabs on your universe, but you really only spent around a few hours there.

You’re pretty sure Miguel was ‘almost’ getting concerned with how often you’re here. One time he found you sleeping on a cough way after your schedule. You were supposed to be in your own universe, but instead you made yourself at home.

You watched as Peter B. Parker and Miguel O’Hara talked. Peter was trying to get him to hold Mayday, and Miguel, like always, was refusing.

You observed from a distance. Peter was a good dad. The concept was just very strange to you.

Miguel noticed you, and used you as an opportunity to distract himself from Peter.

“Y/N, you’re off your schedule, you’re supposed to be in world-###, your world.” He said, turning to you. Great, another scolding. “I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you this. Go home.”

He turned back to the dozens of screens.

“I would if I could.” You mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?” He called out, but you had already walked away. When you were out of the room, Miguel turned to Peter.

“If you are gonna be so enthusiastic about kids, go take care of that.” He pointed in your direction. “Go make sure Y/N is actually going to the going back to their universe.”

“Oh, I’m sure the kids fine-“

“Go.”

Peter threw his hands up. “Alright, alright, geese man, you need to lighten up, no wonder the kid doesn’t talk to you.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed.

You had in fact, no gone home. You were sitting on the edge of the giant skyscraper in world 2099. You sighed, leaning back and breathing in the fresh air.

This was so much better then your life back home.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a baby’s laughter.

“Hey, kid.” Peter strolled in. How did he find you secret hiding place? He looked around. “So this is where you do to get way from Miguel, nice.”

“How did you find me?” You said, a bit distraught.

“Oh, I just followed the scent of angsty, rebellious teenager.” He took a seat next to you. Mayday giggled as she looked over at you, holding her arms out.

Peter hands her to you, and you hesitantly take her.

“So, why don’t you wanna go home, kid?” He asked, leaned back. “Don’t get me wrong, Miguel’s place is alright, but being at homes a lot for comfortable.” He laid down, arms folding behind his head. “Been here for an hour and I already miss my bed and fridge.”

You tried coming up with some excuse, but every time you try to speak, nothing comes out. You just wanted to be left alone.

“Don’t you got, like, a bedtime, or something? Your parents are probably worried out of their minds about you.”

You let out a empty laugh. “Yeah, right.” Your grip tightened around Mayday’s little body as you held her close. Your cheeks burned. You didn’t mean t let that slip, but you can’t go back now. “They probably don’t even care I’m gone.”

Peter’s usual smug smile fell, and he sat back up. “What do you mean?”

You looked away.

“They don’t… like me… that much.”

“Lyla, did Y/N return home?”

“Nope.”

Miguel sighed, and mumbled a few words of frustration under his breath.

“They did leave their phone here though, so you should probably return that.” Lyla pointed out. She was correct, your phone was laying backside up on a nearby table.

Your phone was going off the hook, beeping with messages and missed calls.

Miguel groaned and picked your phone up.

A bunch of messages, calls and voicemails from your mother, with a few from your father.

Miguel’s brow furrowed as he saw he quickly the messages were coming in.

“Lyla, open this.” He held the phone out in her direction, and she did her work. Your phone unlocked.

Miguel was expecting messages from a pair of concerned parents, but no. He read through the most recent messages.

“Lyla, find Y/N. Now.”

“They don’t… like me… that much…”

The words were a pain to get out. You grimaced, refusing to look his way. Mayday, in all her baby wisdom, somehow knew something was wrong. Peter took her back into his arms.

“It’s better if I stay away. They tolerate me more when I’m not in their way…” You said, almost in a whisper.

He looked at you for a long moment.

“Kid…”

Suddenly, realization hit you.

“Where’s my phone!?” You looked around, hoping it was laying around.

“This phone?”

You turned around and Miguel was leaning against the wall, holding your phone up in one hand.

You webbed your phone out of his hand.

It was open, and on messages.

You throat suddenly hurt, and your eyes began to water.

“I need to get back.” You hurriedly got up, and were about to make your way back inside.

“You don’t have any place to stay.” Miguel said. Oh, great, so he read all of the messages, wonderful.

“I’ve got money.” You brushed him off.

“The money your parents claimed you stole to try and get you arrested?” Miguel countered, crossing his arms, silently daring you to walk away.

Peter looked at you with the concerned, pitiful expression you hate.

“Why do you care so much?” You choked out. “You want me out so badly, so I’m going.” You were on the verge of tears and it was so… embarrassing. “I’m not your problem anymore.” You breath hitched, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

Miguel placed two hands on your shoulders, holding you in place.

“You’re not a problem, kid.”

You couldn’t stop yourself. You let out a sob, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Just let me go home.”

“You are home, kid.” Peter placed a hand on your back. “And it’s gonna be ok”

You close you eyes as Peter pulled you into a side hug. You could feel Miguel staring down at you. Through teary eyes, you watched as Miguel knelt down, taking your hand in his.

“You’re gonna be ok.”

#spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #x reader #y/n #platonic #atsv

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lovelaetter · 9 months

Note

you mentioned dollie wony a while ago and omg :( sweetest girl who is a prototype for realistic sex dolls, with nerves and feelings etc- literally humans but programmed. wony who is her creator’s first successful dollie and somehow ends up becoming sentient and refuses to be sold to someone else- running to her creator and sobbing, grinding on her lap while moaning how she wants to stay and be her little slut instead :( and how could you refuse that offer? especially when wony is so good :((

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

she breaks in your arms after hearing you say that she’s perfect, ready for sell :( what do you mean by ready for sell? she isn’t enough for you? skilled enough? pretty enough? don’t you love her? poor thing begs you to let her stay, saying she will let you make any adjustments in her if it means that she gets to be perfect for you! and how stupid of you, thinking about selling your best creation, the doll you made out of the image of the girl of your dreams!! how could it even come across your head that there’s any other person that deserves her more than you? needless to say that seeing her there kneeling in front of you, gripping at your clothes, weeping and begging to stay breaks your heart in million pieces :(

the way her eyes shine when you tell her “it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t cry. you will stay, baby, i would never give you away, my perfect girl” :( getting up and throwing herself at you, forcing you to take her in your arms and carry her to the closest seat cause she wouldn’t let you go. such a baby in your lap, arms around your neck and kisses all over your face, repeating “thank you, thank you” while you caress her back… poor thing can’t help but grind on your thigh, tho :( it’s only part of who she is, a sex doll, she can’t help it, feeling your hands on her body does thing to her doesn’t matter the situation.

keeps saying how she will be the best, please you, will do everything for you and how you won’t regret letting her stay, all while moaning and holding your shoulders to balance herself, hips back and forth, bare cunt leaving a shiny wet spot on your pants :( so desperate, goes back to thanking you when she’s close, almost crying, so pretty :(

best dollie wony who keeps on her promise, doing anything she can to please you, loving when you praise her :( work is so stressful sometimes, she was your first doll so she has been there since the beginning, she knows how it is, so she is more than happy to spend hours and hours inside your office making sure you’re happy, either by kneeling under your desk and eating you out, gracing you with the view of her touching herself, riding your shoe or just bending over and letting you do whatever you want with her holes. sometimes she just sits with you gives her opinions on whatever project you’re working on, she’s a very smart doll after all!

i also love the idea of her being jealous of other dolls. like, maybe there’s this one who was requested for you and you’re really focused on making the best product for you customer that you end up spending a bit too much time working on the said doll and then you turn around and wony is standing at the corner like 😤😤😤 it’s just cute, you always make sure to say things like “princess, i would never create something better than you” but still, she’s silly 😭

#asks #ive smut #wonyoung smut

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year

Note

Dumbification with sub!larissa?

Ofc she’s been overworking herself, she’s always on top of everything managing the school, handling the students and planning events, she’s always the one in charge, it would be so nice to have night where she can just let go and take orders instead of give them for once

Heyyy anon! I may have gone a bit overboard on this one… (: hope you enjoy!

Fuck Me Dirty ~Sub!Larissa Weems xWife Professor!Reader

Mommy…Master List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, kisses, fingering, masturbation, sexting, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dumbification, strap fucking, teasing, sub!larissa, blindfold kink, praise kink, degrading kink, etc…

Longer Fic

Enjoy (;

It was exam week for students. Which meant lots of work for the staff. Lots and lots of grading.

Which meant Larissa pushed herself extra hard in her work.

She was planning the end of year celebration, managing the schools needs, handling student discipline, dealing with parent conferences, and much more.

You both had been sleeping in her private office quarters the past week, because Larissa had so much to do, she couldn’t even apparently drive home.

You were woken up by Larissa rousing from the bed at 4am.

She had come to bed at like 1:30 last night…

“Ris?” You sleepily mumbled.

Larissa startled from your words, turned to you as she got dressed for the day.

“I’m so sorry, Darling. I did not mean to wake you.”

You sighed, picking yourself up and leaning against the headboard.

“You’re working too much…” you mumbled.

Larissa chuckled in self-pity at your words. She knew you were right.

“The semesters almost over, love.” Larissa reassured you, leaning over the bed to cup your face and give you a peck on the lips.

But as she went to retract herself and go to the door, you caught her wrist.

“You need a break.” You decisively stated.

“Darling, please. I have work that needs to get done.” Larissa insisted.

“Ok, but on one condition.”

Larissa chuckled at how you were suddenly awake, “What, love?”

You bit your lip in anticipation and got up to grab a new toy you had gotten for you to try.

You displayed the small toy in your hand to Larissa.

“You’ll wear this.”

Larissa looked at you stunned for a minute.

“Y/N…” Larissa unassuriedly said.

You both had never taken your sex life past the bedroom.

“Please…? Be a good girl and try it for me?” You came up to her, invading her personal space.

Larissa gulped at the shift in your tone, “Ok… How does it work?”

You grinned at her agreement and dropped to your knees, moving her knickers aside, and placing the device into her folds.

“It’s like a vibrator. Except I can control it with my phone. And you’ll wear it all day.” You explained, your face plastered with a grin cheek to cheek.

Larissa heart dropped a bit at that, her breathing began to shallow.

She simply nodded and went to leave, but you grabbed her wrist once more.

“And you can’t come.” You warned her.

Larissa’s face went for a loop at that, but she didn’t say anything against it.

She knew better…

“I understand.” Was all Larissa said, before pecking you on the cheek and going into her office.

From there, you restructured your entire day so that you could watch Larissa slowly lose her grasp on reality.

At this point, you were fully awake, so you decided to read for a while in Larissa’s office before making your way to your own classroom.

Larissa’s torture began the moment you entered her office with an innocent look and a book, plus her favorite short skirt of yours…

You both sat in the room, silently doing your own things.

But Larissa had a nagging thought of when you were going to try the toy…

You sat there for hours, and around 7, you decided to go to your classroom and grade some papers.

“I’m going to go now, love. See you at 10 for the staff meeting.” You purred, and before you left the room, you turned on the vibrator onto a lower setting, making Larissa jump and squeal on your way out.

You chuckled as you closed the door and made your way to your classroom.

Oh, today was going to be fun…

For the next few hours, you worked and taught two classes before the staff meeting.

But the entire time, you had that little toy turned all the way up with intensity…

Going at a tortuous slow pace…

But always seeming to stop right before Larissa could go over the edge…

And then resume the whole thing all over again…

When the staff meeting rolled around, you made sure to sit right next to Larissa, which wasn’t that unusual as you were married.

But Larissa of all days found that today, you weren’t doing it innocently…

Not after the tortuous morning she’d had…

Making phone calls and having to bite back moans…

Talking with parents and having to cough to cover her yelps, and having to state she was sick from all the sweating and her glazed over eyes…

You sat down and you were met with a delicious sight.

Larissa was sweating, her breathing was shallow, her eyes glazed over, her legs trembling, her knuckles white from what you presumed to be her clenching them.

“Are you doing alright, my love?” you mock innocently asked your wife.

Larissa gave you a side eye, but couldn’t even manage a well formed response.

Then you turned the little toy off, and Larissa let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

She took this as a sign of pity, and whispered “Thank you, baby…” before standing up to begin the staff meeting.

But now the fun was really starting…

As Larissa spoke and ran down her agenda, you turned the device back on, but with a tapping pattern now.

At that, Larissa lost her balance for a minute and red flushed her face.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Let’s continue.” She desperately tried to salvage what was left of her stature.

For the entire meeting, you randomly turned the vibrator on and off, switched patterns, ramped up the intensity.

You watched in glee as Larissa was finding it harder and harder to make her way through the meeting.

She was starting to get frustrated with you. She didn’t mind some risk, but this was now interrupting her ability to do her job.

And that was exactly your point…

And when Larissa sat down, you would creep your hand up her thigh teasingly…

You’d play with her knickers, but never touching her where she desperately needed you most…

Finally, the meeting ended.

And Larissa was a panting, leg wobbling, lip trembling, whimpering, needy mess…

“Professor Weems, please stay behind.” Larissa gritted out, after dismissing the rest of the staff.

You had a devilish smirk on, which you had quickly adopted when the staff had gone and Larissa had locked her office door.

You dampened down the little vibrator.

“This has to be quick, my love. I have a class in a 10 minutes.” You purred with mock innocence as you went to go sit in the chair opposite her desk.

But before you could, Larissa had grabbed you and pinned you against the wall. Her eyes full of lust and need.

“That was unacceptable.” Larissa spat out, “It was completely unprofessional.”

Your face turned into one of taunting-surprise, “Oh My! I think someone has forgotten their manners…”

Larissa gulped at your tone of voice, she knew what it meant… punishment…

You took Larissa’s moment of realization as a chance to ramp up the vibrators frequency and intensity.

Larissa let out a whimper and a light sob at the continuing edging.

You continued, “Now… Are you going to be a good girl and unhand me? Or do you want to continue to act like a desperate slut whose begging to be put in her place?”

Larissa’s eyes went large at your words, and she immediately unpinned you and backed up.

“I’m sorry. Please… No more…” Larissa begged in a whisper.

“Hmmmm, im afraid you have to work, love.” You taunted, throwing her own words back at her.

Larissa audibly whined at your words, “Well then maybe I’ll just do it myself…”

She had not just done that…

You cocked an eyebrow at her.

You grabbed her neck as if you were going to kiss her, but instead brought your lips to her ear.

“By the end of the night, you’ll be my dumbified cum slut. It’s your choice whether that’s my cum or yours…” you tauntingly jeered.

You then let go of her and made to the exit.

You turned around one more to time to see Larissa in her desperate state and purred, “See you tonight!” with a wink, leaving Larissa whimpering and trying to fight the ruthless toy working her cunt.

For the rest of the day, you periodically sent students or teachers to Larissa for some reason, and you would purposefully ramp up the vibrator every time you sent someone.

At lunch time, you sent Larissa a little video of you skillfully fingering yourself under your desk while you whispered dirty obscenities and with a text that read…

Be a good girl and this will be you (;

When Larissa got that text, she gave up on working entirely. She couldn’t focus on anything but you and the fucking little device which was fucking edging her like it was your own skilled fingers.

Larissa spent the rest of the day, mindlessly rutting against nothing in her chair and falling apart more and more every time you pushed her to the edge again and again.

By 5 o’clock, you had sent your last student to her and Larissa couldn’t even speak.

She managed to croak out “I’m sick… sorry…” before closing her door, her legs failing her and her body collapsing against the door.

When you had finished your grading a couple hours later than you expected, you practically skipped to Larissa’s office.

But when you entered, all you found was her office in a chaotic mess…

You grinned at the disorganized state you had put her in.

You then went to the side of the office to enter her private quarters, assuming she’d be in there next.

Before you could enter, you heard a muffled plea.

Your heart spiked at the idea of Larissa disobeying you and touching yourself.

You barged into the bedroom.

But to your surprise, Larissa was doing nothing of the sort.

Instead, you found Larissa fully nude, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

Her hair had been pulled down from her up tight bun…

Her eyes were stained with mascara and brimming with tears…

Her whole body was trembling and swaying back and forth…

And she was mumbling and whimpering incoherent nothings…

Your still had the vibrator going mercilessly against her pussy…

You made sure to turn around and lock the door.

You cupped Larissas chin, for her to look up at you.

“Well would you look at that… My pretty slut can be a good girl.” You purred.

Larissa’s lip pouted and she whimpered in response.

“Please… I’ve… good, please…” Larissa mewled, desperately grasping for any touch you would give her.

“Say again, slut?” You tauntingly purred.

“Ive been good, please…! I didn’t touch” Larissa cried out.

You cupped her cheek, “You have been a good girl and already stripped for me and presented your beautiful body to me… Maybe I shouldn’t edge you on the rest of the night?” You teasingly purred.

Larissa vigorously shook her head, “No no please no I’ll be good please no more!” Larissa cried out, still rutting her cunt into nothing.

“What does my good girl want, hmmm?”

“Want you to fuck me please!! Want to cum so bad please!” Larissa pled with tears rolling down her cheeks from the overstimulation of the toy.

You smirked and purred back, “good girl…”

Then to Larissa’s great relief, you finally removed the toy from her soaked, throbbing, and puffy pussy.

At that Larissa collapsed backwards on the bed still panting heavily, “Thank you…please need more” she whimpered, looking up at you with lustful, needy eyes.

You chuckled at how lost Larissa’s composure already was.

You then began to take your own clothes off, but at an agonizingly slow pace.

Larissa whined at how long you were taking with your pants, but a stern look from you put her right back in her place.

Finally, with all your clothes off, you crawled up slowly to meet Larissa who was a squirming mess beneath you.

She looked up at you with puppy dog eyes and a pouting lip, while desperately grinding her hips up to find any friction from you.

“You wanna be fucked?”

Larissa nodded eagerly, her eyes lighting up that she might actually get what you’d been denying her the whole day.

You brought something out from behind your back, an with a smirk presented it to Larissa.

Larissa’s eyes lit up with anticipation at the sight of the blindfold in your hand.

“Will you be good and let me blindfold you?” you purred.

“Yes please” She immediately responded with lust coating her voice.

You tied the blindfold on Larissa and then proceeded to get off of the bed.

Larissa whimpered and bucked her hips at the loss of contact.

“Hmmm, that doesn’t sound like a good girl…” you taunted as you found your largest strap and started to put it on.

But all Larissa could give you now was more incoherent sobs and beggings.

You sat yourself in between her spread our legs.

“My poor thing can’t even speak anymore huh? Want my dick so badly?”

Larissa nodded desperately, grabbing onto you and trying to pull you closer.

You tutted her away, and placed Larissa up against the headboard, pinning her in.

Larissa could feel the strap your were packing ghosting against her puffy and soaked folds.

“What’s the safe word, love?” you gently reassured.

“Red…” Larissa whimpered, “please…”

“Good Girl.” You whispered, before thrusting into her aching cunt.

You began to pound into Larissa at a decent pace, Larissa holding you close as She spurted incoherent moans and cries of pleasure.

Her first orgasm came within minutes, and Larissa fell over the edge with cries of obscenities.

But when you didn’t stop, Larissa’s whole world flipped upside down.

You continued to pound into her, drawing out orgasm after orgasm from the overworked blonde.

Larissa had become puddy in your arms as she screamed in pleasure and overstimulation at her latest climax.

You helped her down her high and then gently pulled out of her. You then gently removed the blindfold from her face as well.

“You did so good, my love. So good.” You praised Larissa, as she came into your chest to snuggle.

“Let me clean you up, hmmm?”

Larissa couldn’t do anything but whimper and nod in response.

“Awww, have I fucked my baby dumb?” You lightly teased as you got up to take the strap off and go grab a washcloth from the bathroom.

Larissa simply murmured in response, unable to form a coherent word anymore.

You lightly chuckled, as you came back with the washcloth.

“May I?” You asked for her permission, which Larissa immediately nodded to.

You carefully spread her legs and cleaned up all the cum that had dripped down her thighs from the day.

With one final swipe through her delicate folds, Larissa lightly moaned out.

“Sorry, Baby… Did I go to far?” You asked with genuine concern.

Larissa shook her head and merely made grabby hands for you to embrace her.

You smiled and embraced her, you both falling into sync in the bed.

“Get some sleep, Rissa.” You whispered into her ear, “I love you so much.”

“Love you too…” Larissa mumbled as she dozed off in your arms.

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allysunny · 10 months

Text

Holo Heart | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsys: Haunted by the loss of his wife, Miguel decides to take matters into his own hands, and grant himself the second chance he's been wishing for.

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Angst, sad Miguel, mentions of blood, character death, suggestive themes (just a smidge, really), do mention if I've missed anything!

A/N: Hey guys! So, I've been mostly a reader in here, but the other day I was doing dishes and this idea sort of popped in my head, and I thought about sharing it with all of you! English is not my first language so I'd like to apologize in advance for any mistakes. I also have not spoken Spanish in a few years, so, once again, I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

I haven't written in a while, and this is my first tumblr fic, so please be gentle! But I'd love to read your thoughts and criticism in the comments :) I also tried to make this super inclusive, so aside from the reader being a woman, there's no specifications of hair, skin tone, ethnicity, etc. I hope you like it!

Miguel has always prided himself in being a smart man, one who always made sure to achieve his goals, and do it efficiently.

He created the Spider Society, made sure the canon was intact, and carried the weight of the world in his shoulders. It was hard, but he made it work. In fact, he had to. He’d already lost so much; he couldn’t afford to lose more.

Which was why he couldn’t take risks. Every task was carefully calculated, every mission was deliberately planned, every meeting brief and straight to the point. The more time he could spend inside his office, planning, scheming, strategizing, making sure everything went exactly according to plan, the better.

But unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple, and human nature had other plans for him.

All those late nights working all by himself with no one other than Lyla and at least half a dozen coffee cups beside him were taking a toll on his mental health. As much as Miguel enjoyed spending time by himself (it was impossible to spend time in the company of other Spider-People for more than a few minutes before the need to excuse himself and sigh became too strong. Do not let him get started on Peter B. Parker. Please.), he was starting to miss human interaction more and more.

But not just any human interaction.

Looking over at his watch, Miguel registered the glowing light that alerted him of his loneliness once again. 03:47 am. Working late until exhaustion had become a frequent occurrence after the accident. It was his own way of dealing with the pain, with all the grief. It made him forget, and the everlasting numbness in his chest heart go away, if only for a few hours.

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his face. His muscles felt tight, the knots in his back and shoulders ever so present. He slumped back in his chair and leaned his hair back, taking all of the exhaustion in.

“You okay boss?” Lyla asked, flickering right beside his head. The AI could get on his nerves more often than not, but Miguel was glad it seemed to care about him. Well, sure, he’d programmed it that way, but occasionally even he needed a small check-up. It kept him sane.

“Yeah, sure,” His voice was just above a whisper, and yet it was still as commanding and assertive as always. “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Oh wow, you think? They don’t call you a genius for nothing!” Miguel winced at the perkiness of her voice. Sometimes he forgot tiring Lyla out wasn’t a possibility. She was an AI and therefore had energy to spare. He waved her off quickly, and with a small salute, she flickered away, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts once again.

After a few quiet moments, he turned to the black screens in front of him.

“I shouldn’t…” Was the thought that crossed his mind. He knew it was wrong. He knew what happened whenever he turned those screens on, when he turned them on with the purpose of reliving old memories.

But before he could even acknowledge what he’d done, the whole lab was engulfed in bright lights, accompanied by soft surrounding background noise.

Defeated, he looked up at them, eyes filled with something between longing and adoration, a mix reserved for only one person.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Nueva York, look who it is!” Although the phone’s camera was turned to him, it was your voice making itself heard. The voice he adored so much, the only voice he could stand to hear for hours on end, the voice he would give anything to listen to once again.

The Miguel in the video was dressed in a fine black suit, an emerald handkerchief adorning his breast pocket. His hair was neatly styled back, allowing for his “godly sculpted cheekbones” (your words, not his) to be shown in all its glory. He was standing inside your old bedroom, fixing his attire in front of a wall length mirror.

“Cariño, won’t you turn that off?” He grumbled softly, turning to face the camera. Although his voice had a tinge of annoyance to it, his lips were quick to betray him, curling up in a soft smile.

Your angelic chuckle boomed through the room, and Miguel’s breath hitched.

There you were.

Draped in a light-coloured green silk dressed that perfectly flattered your figure, hugging you in all the right places, your hair carefully brushed to the side. You smiled, positioning the phone on top of your vanity, making sure it wouldn’t fall. Once you were sure of its security, you made your way to him, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s not my fault my husband is so devilishly handsome!” Your hand reached out to hold his arm, nudging him towards the phone’s periphery. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be tired of your antics, but his arm snaked around your waist instinctively, giving it a gentle tug. A reminder that he was there with you. No matter what, he would always be there.

No matter what.

“Don’t you look dashing, Mr. O’Hara?” Your smile. Miguel would give anything to see it in person again. He’d do anything to have you smile at him like you always did one more time. Like he was the only person that existed, that mattered. Your smile had always been capable of lighting up a whole room. In fact, you were capable of that, all by yourself. Your kindness, your optimism, your drive and ambition. People were naturally drawn to you – the fact you were nothing short of stunning was only a bonus. In fact, you had made Miguel experience what jealousy felt like for the first time. The ugly feeling had gnawed and gnawed at him, eating him up from the inside every time a cheeky coworker got too close for comfort, complimenting your “beautiful eyes”, or bold friends pulled you close by the waist, trying all sorts of plans to get their hands on you.

But you’d never really needed him to call him out. You could take care of yourself just fine, and that’s one of the things Miguel most loved about you. Sure, he relished in the feeling of protecting you. Of putting his arms around your figure and engulfing you in his presence, his hold being the only place no harm could ever even get a glimpse of you. But he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled up his face whenever you rejected any other men’s advances, swatting their hands off you and giving them dead stares.

The him on the screen chuckled, pressing you close against him, his frame towering over you. He bent down slightly, nuzzling his face against your hair. Another gesture he did without thinking – it was something that brought him peace. Your scent felt like home, the sweet aroma of your favourite shampoo bringing him instant relief.

“Si alguien aqui es diabolicamente hermosa, eres tú, Mrs. O’Hara.” Screen-Miguel brought his lips to your ear, and the way your whole body shuddered made him chuckle. That, and the way your cheeks took on a soft glow. “Now, what is all this?” He glanced at the camera once again, quirking up an eyebrow.

“You know my Spanish isn’t that good yet…” The pout on your lips was just too adorable – it took Miguel (screen one or not) all his strength not to whisk you in his arms and capture your lips with his. “Anyways, just wanted to capture this moment.” You shrug, hands wandering around to pinch his side. Your husband’s squeal would have been unnoticeable by anyone else – but not you. Not you, whom he showed his softer side to, not you, whom he showered with love and tenderness, whose ground he worshipped. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you know.” One would almost miss the way your voice cracked, but a slight waver was enough for Miguel and his screen counterpart to frown.

“I know… I’m sorry corazón. I really am…” Screen-Miguel turned you towards him, brushing the hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. Staring into your eyes, Miguel could swear you had this magical ability to make him lose all track of time. In fact, he could swear that was true in about everything you did. When you got dressed in the morning, when you cooked his favourite empanadas, when you told him off whenever he was too hard on himself or others around him, when you cried out his name so nicely, his lips on your neck-

“But today’s all about you, alright? I’ll make up for it. I promise.” His lips brushed your temple, not only a promise to you, but himself. His work in the Spider Society had been piling up. Anomalies on top of anomalies, mistakes after mistakes, and only himself to take care of everything. He’d left you waiting for him more than once, and more than once he’d found you asleep by the time he got back. It hurt him deeply every time it happened. In fact, the last time it happened, your pillow had tear stains on him.

To say such sight had broken his heart was an understatement.

“Technically today’s about the bride…” A soft chuckle from you.

“You were my bride once.” A wink from him.

“I haven’t been a bride in a long time.”

“You’ll always be my beautiful bride.” And with this, Miguel brought you even closer, one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek. His breath fanned your cheek and suddenly, his lips were on yours. You smiled into the kiss, standing on the tips of your toes to lovingly cup his cheeks with both your hands. While your fingers traced his jaw exactly how you knew he liked, his hands got a bit busier, leaving your body to tug on the straps that held your silk dress together.

Once you figured what he was up to, you pushed him away, quirking an eyebrow as you tried to hide a smirk.

“Nuh-uh mister, we have a church to be at in 20 minutes, and it’s a 10-minute drive!” You asserted, shaking your head at him. It didn’t matter that the room’s temperature seemingly shot up, and your husband was looking truly tempting – you were not going to let your horniness get the better of you. At least, well, not today.

“No se darán cuenta de que llegamos tarde, te prometo que seré rápido” Miguel mumbled, lips pressing hot kisses against the crook of your neck, hands still dexterously tugging at your dress.

“No Spanish skills necessary to know you’re telling me a big fat lie. You’re never quick with me.” You laughed loudly, and the sound was enough for both Miguels to fall in love with you all over again. A pair of hands were on his chest, and he was softly pulled away. You fixed the straps of your dress and flattened your attire before standing straight. “Time to go, Mr. O’Hara.”

“You’ve never complained about me not being quick.” Was his muttered response, accompanied by a smug smile. But for all the adoration and desire he felt for you, he was even more whipped for your resolve. If you said it was time to go, it was probably time to go. So, he quickly adjusted his suit, turning to face the phone’s camera once again. “Vale, vale. Ya es hora de irnos, muñeca.”

Your figure got closer and closer, and at once, the video had ended.

Miguel stared at your smiling figure in his screen for a few minutes, and then shut everything off, the reflection of his own tired face staring back at him. It wasn’t until he felt something wet on his hands that he realised he was crying.

He missed you.

Constantly, continuously, perpetually.

You were on his mind at all times. When he roamed the halls of the Spider Society without you by his side to keep him company, when he went out for those cafeteria empanadas that could never compare to yours, when he worked himself to exhaustion without your deft fingers to work on the knots on his back, without your soft kisses to calm him down after he got mad at the world.

And everything around him reminded him of you.

It was impossible to walk around the streets of Nueva York without being distracted by the colours, the sounds, the sights, the people. It all brought his mind back to the love of his life, the person he found it impossibly hard to live without. The florist near your old apartment, the one he’d buy flowers from every other week, the pizza place that was “so bad, Italians surely had to be crying” according to you, even the goddamned dogs on the street reminded him of the way you’d kneel down and act like an excited child every time you saw one.

It was absolute torture to live without you.

But the worst of all, was waking up in the morning.

Some days, he swore he could feel your touch. The way your fingers traced his jaw and slowly made its way to his hair, playing with his brown locks. Your touch was soft, comforting, a small gesture to remind him he was safe. You often expressed how much you adored watching Miguel when he slept. “You look so relaxed. No furrow in your brow, no scowl in your lips. You look so peaceful.” Was what you told him every time, and there was no way he could ever not grant your every wish.

And then it was if he could hear your voice. Your sweet, melodic voice, telling him “Good morning, my love” in that sleep-laced voice he adored so much. And Miguel would close his eyes and try his best to remain in that place not yet tainted by reality but not entirely claimed by dream. “Wake up, guapo” was the next thing you’d say, your imperfect Spanish-skills manifesting. You’d been adamant on learning Spanish for your husband, and fuck if it didn’t make Miguel’s heart swell. The way his wife (then girlfriend) was so willing to learn the language he grew up with in order to become closer to him made him feel all kinds of positive emotions, and Miguel could swear his love for you grew more and more each passing day.

And then, you’d say it.

“Te quiero, mi amor.” It was the one phrase you used repeatedly, and the one he loved hearing you say the most. It fell from your lips naturally, as if you had been saying it your entire life, with a sweetness reserved for him and only him.

Your touch felt so real. Your voice sounded so real.

So, he would stay still, hoping that remaining motionless would grant him just one more second with you. Hoping that his immobility would be enough for you to return to him, even if just for a few brief moments.

But it never was.

Seconds would go by, and your touch would waver. Your voice would become distant, your feeble existence flittering away, leaving him with nothing but the painful reminder that his sheets would forever be cold, his place in his bed would always be empty, his life would no longer have the warmth and serenity your love brought to him.

Miguel would glance at your delicate figure once again, his mind trying to memorise you right then and there – and just as quickly as you manifested, you would disappear.

Deserting him of all he ever loved.

He was tired of being alone. Tired of waking up besides cold white sheets, of not having your sweet praises to assure him he was doing the right thing at HQ, simply tired of leading an existence without you.

There was no way he could bring you back – hell, he knew first hand that toying with the multiverse was a bad idea. But it did hurt him, going on without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he could go on if you weren’t there, next to him.

All he needed was your presence, your company. All he needed was to apologize and hear your sweet voice again, and damn it if he wouldn’t be thankful.

And that’s when the idea came to him.

This was a prototype Miguel had been developing for a while.

It was like Lyla, the only difference being the AI’s purpose. Lyla was there to assist him, to help him out with missions, anomalies, and the management of the Spider Society. The project he was working on served another goal. It was more of a companion than an assistant, it was to always remain by his side, to cure him of his loneliness, of his anguish and despair.

The screen in front of Miguel lit up after he configured the final few settings. A tweak here, a little adjustment there, some fine tuning over there. Should this work, Miguel would no longer have to have his thoughts plagued by the heartbreak your loss so constantly granted him.

“Good morning,” Like magic (or better yet, technology), a figure materialised before him. It was hard to explain just what it was, or what it looked like. It was as if a transparent person had solidified into existence in his presence. While it had the form of a human, a head, a torso, two arms and legs, the figure was devoid of any features. No eyes, no nose, no lips or ears, no hair. It was almost like a hologram of a mannequin, a blank slate of a person he would later shape according to his vision.

Miguel stared back at the figure, not completely convinced, at least not yet, of what he was doing. Sure, he’d worked day and night for the past few weeks, he’d foregone sleep and adopted coffee as his only meal in order bring his project into fruition, but now that it was there, right before his eyes, the possibility of achieving his goal was terrifying.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure of talking to?” The figure inquired, its voice devoid of any emotions.

After a moment of silence, Miguel spoke up.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” He began, “I am your creator.”

“Greeting, Miguel O’Hara.” The program answered back. “I am the Cognitive Operations and Machine Personalized Interface for Nurturing. Or rather COMPANION, for short. I was created to act as a colleague, a confidant and friend. As my name implies, my goal is to provide a nurturing presence to whoever is controlling me.” Having said this, it looked up at Miguel and something flashed in its visual panel – the closest thing this body had to a pair of eyes – and the words AUTHORISE SCAN? flashed on the main screen before the entity spoke up once again.

“Would you like me to scan you, Miguel O’Hara? By scanning you, I can take a look at your vital signs, your physicality, and even run a scan of your psyche to provide you with a companion that would, according to my calculations, be the best possible match for you.”

But Miguel did not want a tailored companion. He did not need to be looked at by any AI to be told who or what would act as the best possible match for him. He did not need any technology to figure out what could possibly be the best person to keep him company.

“That will not be necessary,” he asserted, “No scan is to be run. I am to personally customise you until you conform to my exact specifications. Is that clear?”

The being nodded, its posture straight as an arrow.

“I understand. Would you like to begin the customisation process?” It asked.

Miguel hesitated. Should he be doing this? It’s not like he was doing anything wrong. He was a genius, after all, and this was just a new project. He’d created Lyla once, and look how far that got him, the good his AI did not only for himself, but the Spider Society and by consequence, the multiverse.

In fact, everything he did had helped the Spider Society in the long run. Everything he did was for the good of the Spider Society, the thing he worked on for years and years, the thing he built from scratch and ultimately led to his demise.

Wasn’t it time for him to be selfish?

“Yes. I’d like to begin the customisation process.” Miguel sat down on his chair once again, exhaling loudly through his nose. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He was allowed to be a genius scientist, he was allowed to build new things, and he was most of all, allowed to be selfish after all that he’d done for the multiverse.

“From now on,” he started, “You are to respond to [N/N].” It had been months since he’d last uttered that nickname. The sweet little nickname he always referred to you as. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a variation of your name, but it nearly brought tears to his eyes, because for the first time, you weren’t there to turn around and face him with that stunning grin of yours.

(“So, no cariño, or mi amor, or chiquita?” You’d once inquired, legs crossed as you sat on your husband’s desk, right in front of him.

“I must remain professional, [Y/N]. I have a reputation to uphold.” Was his response as he crossed his arms. If anyone else were to be on his lab, let alone sit on top of his desk, he would go feral. But he couldn’t find it in himself to berate you or tell you to move – you could do anything your heart desired, and Miguel would adore you for it.

“And you’re willing to hurt your poor wife’s feelings over a reputation?” You faked a pout, batting your eyelashes at him, something you knew he couldn’t resist.

“I can think of a few ways to make it up to my wife, actually.” And without missing a beat, you were suddenly on his lap, smiling as his lips moved with your and his hands delicately ran through your body.

Miguel did not do good on his promise. On the second day after this conversation, he’d asked you “Mi amor, won’t you please get me the prototype I left on our dining table back home?” In front of everyone else and gave up. It was physically impossible for him not to treat you with the gentleness he was so used to from you.)

“[N/N]. I understand. Is it short for anything else?”

Miguel remained silent for a few seconds, before nodding.

“It’s short for [Y/N].” The name left his lips the same way it always did. With adoration, with love, with heartbreak. He hadn’t uttered it in a long time and mentally chastised himself for doing so, as if not voicing it out loud was somehow disgracing your memory. He shook the thought away.

The entity nodded once again.

“I understand. Am I to respond to [Y/N] as well?”

“Yes.”

Lyla had been quietly hearing whatever was going on inside Miguel’s lab from afar. She’d seen him work nonstop, day and night, for the past few weeks, always being told “It’s a new project” and nothing more. Miguel had pushed her away (just as he had done with everyone else), and it was only when the little AI figure heard the new program’s purpose and your name that it all clicked together. Although she was uncapable of feelings, it upset her to see Miguel so broken. But much to her dismay, there was nothing she or anyone else could do.

The truth was, no one had seen him during those few weeks. He had locked himself and dived headfirst into this project, refusing to let anyone in, literally or figuratively, threatening to do unspeakable things to whoever disturbed him while he worked.

She shook her head and looked at him once again, wondering what he would do next.

The entity, now named [Y/N], was the next one to speak.

“I understand this is most commonly used as a female name. Would you like for me to take the form of a woman?”

Miguel nodded, and the entity’s form shaped before his eyes. It became softer, gentle. Its contours shifted until they exuded an air of grace, each line and curve seemed harmonious and supple, different from his own sharp and broad figure. And yet, it didn’t resemble any women he knew. Yet.

“Now that I have a name and your preferred anatomy, would you like to create a personality for me?” [Y/N] probed. Her thoroughness made Miguel falter. This was happening way too fast. First a name, now a personality. He hadn’t yet come to terms with your loss, at least not properly, and this whole thing was giving him major whiplash. After losing you, he hadn’t been able to process his feelings. Now he was asking himself to push all of that aside in order to create what would be his most ambitious task. Nevertheless, he pushed through.

“How so?”

[Y/N] nodded and spoke once again. Now that she had taken the form of a woman, her voice was somewhat softer. It was hard to pinpoint whether it was real or not, if it was from a real person or not, but it did not bring Miguel any comfort.

“By giving me your preferred traits, you can arrange for me a personality that will align with your exact specifications, as you put it. Perhaps you’d like me to be quieter and more reserved, in order not to disturb you too much. Or maybe you would prefer if I was loud and cheerful. It is up to you which traits I am given. I am here to provide company and a nurturing presence, so feel free to take your time until I meet your exact wishes.”

Miguel pondered briefly. What traits would he like this… this thing to have? At first, he tried to pretend, get his mind off it, try to convince himself he was merely making an AI program to keep him company. But he could not lie to himself any longer.

He wasn’t simply creating an AI companion.

He was creating you.

And after mulling it over one last time, he decided to stop being so fucking uptight and go through with the task at hand. This is why he had been working so hard. His goal was so close, it was right in front of him to just take it, and here he was, acting like a coward.

“I want you to be kind,” Miguel remembered how kind to a fault you were. Always willing to help others, always willing to cheer them up and put their needs before your own. So selfless, so ready to lend a helping hand. “And optimistic, positive. I want you to always see the bright side of things,” You had this ability of turning even the most despairing moments into hopeful ones, advising him to not let the dark thoughts get the best of him. You’d hold your head up high and remind him of who he was; Spiderman 2099, and that he had nothing to fear, for it’d work out in the end.

“I want you to be polite and cheerful. Simply… Simply happy to exist.” You’d turn even the blandest of moments into memories he’d want to keep forever. In one moment, Miguel would be laying around, holding you close in his arms, the next you’d be taking him to the rooftop of your building to “catch a glimpse of Zeus’s angry fit” whenever thunder roared through the sky. Cleaning your shared apartment could be considered a boring chore to many, but they did not have you, who made up games out of every single task, like catching socks or vacuuming. “You will see the beauty in things. And I want you to be ambitious.”

Sure, Miguel had spent countless nights hunched over his desk, trying to come up with the perfect suit, or trying to keep hold of the canon, but you were no stranger to nighttime restlessness. You’d sit by his side work on your own tasks, intent of going to sleep only, and only when you wrapped everything up. If he weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve laughed. He was once the one to wrap his arms around you, face on the crook of your neck as he whispered, “You’ve worked hard enough, chiquita. Time for bed.” Unfortunately for him, in a cruel twist of fate, the roles had reversed for the worse.

“Be stubborn,” Miguel continued, his voice, for once, not wavering. He was so resolutely determined to carry on with this venture, that for once, he didn’t feel his eyes tearing up as the memories of you crawled back inside his mind. “Especially when it comes to me. I… I tend to be quite headstrong when it comes to work. I often need a push.”

[Y/N] nodded once more.

“Remember, you can always adjust my personality to your liking. If you find you do not enjoy my stubbornness, you can change it and I will adjust my personality accordingly.”

It seemed so… Devoid of life. Sure, Miguel had given it some character traits already, but the whole thing wouldn’t be complete until he said so.

“Would you like to customise my voice now?” [Y/N] asked, “You can suggest a pitch and a tone, as well as a voice type. But I am also programmed to analyse any voice sources you provide and copy them. Which would you like to do?”

Miguel sighed. This whole process was getting harder and harder to get through it. It was one thing to give his new companion your name, your personality. But to give it your voice as well? That would be the same thing as making this being invincible, since your voice was the only one he ever seemed to obey. Even the Spider-People around him knew, with Peter teasing him endlessly about how he was “nothing more than a lovestruck puppy whenever you asked him for anything”. Miguel had always been on your beck and call, always willing to do anything you asked of him. By giving this being, this creature, this thing, your voice? He was setting himself up for disaster.

“I… I want you to scan a voice.”

The entity nodded.

“Please do provide me with enough samples of the voice you would like to copy. Preferably, samples that are not too monotonous in tone or in speech. By analysing all aspects of a voice, I can provide a more accurate result.”

Miguel had the following choices:

He could either turn on his screens, open a few folders named “[Y/N]”, and play one of the few hundreds of videos he had on you, or open his phone, connect it to said screens, and play the few voicemails you’d left him throughout your relationship.

There were a few differences in each choice, of course. The videos he kept on you were golden memories he gazed upon on lonely nights. Birthday parties, walks along the sunset, lazy mornings filled with raspy “Get this phone out of my face, mi amor”s, and bubbly “Mr. O’Hara’s a bit grumpy today, isn’t he?”s. Memories of you filming him while he set up your furniture, laughing along as you called him “Bob the Builder”, taped reminders of you cooking dinner for him, the cute little apron he so adored wrapped snugly around your hips, even a few images of when he fell asleep on your lap and you softly ran your fingers through his curls, singing him to sleep, murmuring that lullaby he so adored.

Compared to the voicemails on his phone, these videos were precious. They were worth more than what anyone could offer, in fact, they were priceless. These memories were the ones Miguel held so dear, the ones he cried over, the ones he spent months reminiscing upon after your loss.

On his phone, were 3 measly audio messages you’d left on three different instances of his life.

Usually, you never got to leave voicemails – Miguel would pick up on the first or second ring, always the attentive partner. But on the last few months of your life, that changed completely. And Miguel couldn’t help but chastise himself over it, cursing at himself whenever he remembers the hurt in your voice, the tears that he knew threatened to slip from your eyes and down your cheeks.

He didn’t deserve to use those videos as voice samples. He didn’t deserve to see you in your full glory, laughing at him, smiling and promising him eternal love and kindness. He didn’t deserve to hear your bubbling laughter once more, or fawn over your dazzling smile, he didn’t deserve to miss you. Not when he was the reason you were gone.

So, he decided to pull out his phone, intent on suffering. Intent on reminding himself of why you were gone, why he suffered so much. Miguel didn’t think he deserved to gaze at you in all your splendour. He didn’t think he, a mere, foolish, sinning mortal, was worthy of the living goddess that had once blessed his life, and now haunted his ever moment, gone forever.

“Hey Miggy!” Your voice, your voice was heard through his speakers. “I finally found the curry powder! Had to beat a lady with a stick to get it! It was almost out of stock! Anyway, why don’t you get started on the rice? I’ll be home in 10 and we can finish the recipe! Alright, that was it! Love you honey, see you home! End call. End call! End voicemail! How do you turn this thing off? End call. END CA-“ You were abruptly cut off as the call ended. Miguel chuckled dryly. He was the one to install the Bluetooth system on your phone (“Don’t want you texting and driving”, he had said.), and you had always complained about how your phone never picked up on you wanting to end calls. It became sort of an inside joke, especially since he managed to active and deactivate the system at first try, and it took you four or five to get it done.

(“It’s unfair,” You’d chided, wearing the most adorable pout and crossing your arms, “Technology loves you better.”)

Miguel looked at [Y/N] once again, hoping something, anything, to happen. But his program seemed to be patiently waiting for him to continue. One message was clearly not enough.

He pressed the second voicemail.

“Hey there, honey,” There was no mistaking the worry in your voice. It was still the one he loved so dearly, but laced in something sad, something that plagued him with terrible thoughts and churned inside him. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t worry, but you told me you’d be home by 7, and, well, it’s almost 9…” A soft pause followed, and Miguel could almost visualise it: you, sitting on your couch, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you nibbled your worries away. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know it’s probably nothing serious, but, well, you know me-“ A dry chuckle “-Always worrying about my Miggy… Anyway, do tell me when you’re on your way, alright? I have a surprise for you, so get your pretty ass back home, Mr!”

End of call.

That was the first, well, not so good voice you’d ever left him.

If he could turn back time, Miguel would do it without hesitation. He’d go back to that very same day, convince his past self to stop working, and to go home to his wife. He’d tell past-him that his obsession with work was getting out of hand, and that he should stop it while he has the time, because once he’d fully immersed himself in his work, there was no coming back.

But he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” The body in front of him spoke once again. “But these samples are not enough for me to create a voice profile. The procedure it at 74% completion. Would you like for me to continue analysing, or should I start over with another profile?”

Shit. He didn’t want it to come to this, he did not want to listen to that last voice message. He was willing to walk through fire, to go straight through hell as many times as asked of him, but that message was torture. No, it was worse than torture. Torture ended. Either in death, or in relief. But this? Whatever this was, it did not end. This message was perpetual suffering, playing in loop inside his head. Over, and over, and over again.

With whatever strength he still possessed, Miguel pressed the third and last voicemail.

“Miguel…” You had been crying. And if you hadn’t, you were just about to. Miguel recognised the knot in your throat, the lump that kept you from speaking and threatened to turn into tears. He hated that voice. The voice that meant you were hurting. The voice that meant he had hurt you. “I don’t know where you are, but… I shouldn’t have to wonder, because you were supposed to be here… Where are you?” This was when you started to cry. “Do you know how humiliated I was just now…? Do you know how stupid I felt, waiting, sitting on that exam room by myself?” You were sniffling. God, how Miguel wished he could just go back and hug you, how he wished he could dry your tears and promise you it would be alright, he would fix everything, he’d be better.

“This has to stop,” Despite the tears, you were still talking. That was just who you were, able to speak through the pain, always willing to keep pushing forward. “This stupid obsession with work, Miguel, it has to stop. I’m tired, I’m so tired. And I’m so lonely, Miguel… I’m so lonely, I go to sleep by myself, and the sheets are still cold when I wake up… I don’t see you, you don’t come home, and you push me away when I visit you in HQ…”

“When are you going to go back to being my husband? I don’t want Spiderman. I want my husband, I want my Miguel back, I want the man I love back…” You sobbed, unbothered by how you sounded. You weren’t even sure if he could make out any words, but you kept on going – if you didn’t tell him what was going on your mind now, there was no way you ever could.

“I miss you… Just… Come home Miguel… I can’t do this by myself…” He could hear you wiping your tears, and softly clearing your throat. “Anyway… The doctor said the baby was fine. But I guess if you really cared, you’d come to the appointment.” This last part was muttered, and Miguel could swear he heard both yours and his heart break.The baby. “Come home. Please.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Miguel was crying. This last message… This was the one he couldn’t help but listen to almost every day before passing out from exhaustion. “It’s your fault [Y/N]’s gone. You neglected your wife, you prioritised work over her, you couldn’t protect her.” Was what the voices in his head uttered, day after day, night after night. Every second he was reminded of how he left you behind.

He'd been working late every day, neglecting his meals, neglecting his sleep, neglecting his wife, who cried herself to sleep every night, holding tightly onto her husband’s pillow – which brought her small comfort. He would lash out at you when you tried to get him to take breaks, treating you like you were nothing but one of his Spider-People, refusing to look you in the eye and not even returning your “I love yous”.

One day, you had tried calling him, but to no avail. It was only when Jessica and Peter burst into his office, saying you’d also called them, that Miguel decided to check on you back at your shared apartment. He was hoping to find you whining, curled up on your couch as you pouted at him and told him you missed him. He thought he’d find you throwing a tantrum, too hormonal to understand how important and busy his work was.

But nothing could’ve prepared him to what he saw.

The metallic smell that permeated the room should’ve been a dead giveaway, but Miguel was too focused on returning to HQ that he ignored it, and made his way to your bedroom, where you most likely were.

And that’s when he saw you. Drenched in blood, face red and puffy from the tears that ran down your cheeks. You were laying on your shared bed, body marred with deep gashes from what he assumed was a knife. On one hand was your phone, on the other, Miguel’s first Spiderman mask. “For protection”, he once said. You always held on to it whenever you were scared.

It’s nearly impossible to describe the pain and heartache Miguel felt looking at your lifeless body. A conversation with his neighbours informed him that the entire building had been victim of a burglar, and you were the only mortal victim, unable to fight him off.

It was his fault. He’d been too immersed in his work, pushing you away, leaving you to the loneliness of your apartment, and now here you were, dead. There was no other way to say it, you were dead, and so was your child.

Oh God.

Your child.

Tears clouded his vision; irrationality clouded his judgement. Miguel was most certainly not thinking straight when he tried carrying your body back to HQ. Perhaps something could be done about the baby. Perhaps your child would live, would get to grow up, his eyes and your hair, your smile and his nose, anything that proved you still lived in something, in someone other than just his memory.

But that wasn’t possible.

That night, Miguel cried for the first time. He wept, hands hiding his face as the images of your ripped apart belly and glassy eyes tormented his thoughts.

It was his fault.

You were gone, and it was his fault.

If only he hadn’t worked so hard. If only he’d been home with you, doting on his beautiful pregnant wife like any decent husband would, none of this would’ve happened. The burglar would’ve tried to enter his house, and within seconds he’d be slammed against the wall. Miguel would have held you close that night, whispering soft “It’s okays” and “You’re fine, mi amors” repeatedly until your heartbeat steadied, and you fell into a peaceful sleep.

But that was not possible.

Not anymore.

And it was, irrevocably, his fault.

And then the unthinkable happened.

“Voice profile completed.”

It was you. It was your voice that spoke back to him. It had that sweet musicality to it that he so adored, that he once was blessed to hear every day when he woke up, that chastised him for being too stubborn, that pleaded for one more kiss whenever he had to go to work, that giggled excitedly whenever he whispered soft Spanish praises, limbs tangled with yours.

Miguel looked up. It was your voice, but the creature did not look like you at all. All it shared was a name and your sweet, sweet voice.

Mierda. Fuck this. Al diablo con la sutileza.

Miguel missed you and he was going to have you, one way or the other.

“I want you to look like her.” He all but growled, fingers angrily tapping at the screen so he could find your pictures. “There. Scan her. I want you to look like her. And stop with the formalities. You’re to call me Miguel. ¿Me entiendes?” His voice was feral with the prospect of seeing you again – or at least a construction of you. The thought was overwhelming, and he had to sit back down, his face finding purchase in his hands.

He was past “What am I doing?”

“Miguel?” You asked.

No. Not you.

[Y/N].

Miguel looked up, the same way a sinner does at the altar, praying for redemption. It was gorgeous. You were gorgeous. And looked oh, so real.

Your– [Y/N]’s eyes were looking down at his figure, lips slightly agape, the way you always did when you quite couldn’t figure out what was wrong. [Y/N] pursed her lips and exhaled softly.

“Miguel, are you okay?” [Y/N] said. You said. It was getting hard to tell you two apart, to distinguish what was creature and what was human, what was holographic entity and what was the love of his wife. Especially when you looked the same, when you sounded the same, when you looked at him with the same tenderness, the same love. You were identical. Same eyes, same smile, same hair, same figure. It was as if, before him, stood a perfect copy of you.

“[Y/N]?” Miguel questioned, too delirious to try and figure out who he was talking to.

“Yes? Is everything alright? You seem distressed…” Slowly, your figure – [Y/N]’s figure, right? – approached him. You looked down ([Y/N]...? [Y/N] looked down...?), soft apprehension clear in your voice.

“Oh, my love… Cariño…” Miguel sobbed as he looked at you – so gorgeous, so radiant as the day he met you, with eyes that could give the stars in the sky a run for their money, with lips so plush one couldn’t help but want to kiss them at all times, the love of his life, right before his eyes. “I missed you so much…”

He took you in, all softness and loveliness and so you, it almost scared you. You, the goddess, the saint, ready to rid him of his sins and absolve him, to make him a new man untainted by grief and heartbreak.

He had half a mind to touch you before a tiny voice in the back of his head advised him against it – the delusion hadn’t sunk in entirely yet, and he knew your image would flicker, a simple hologram compared to his solidness, to his existence.

But it didn’t matter.

He had given himself the second chance he so desperately wanted, and he was not going to waste it this time.

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! All headers are mine hehe I made them in PixelLab in like 5 minutes lol :) Please do not repost my work without my permission, thank you!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #spiderverse x you #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman

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wannab-urs · 1 year

Text

Build Me Up, Buttercup | Professor!Joel Miller x Student!Reader

Summary: Reader confronts Dr. Miller about her grade in his class.

Warnings: Not much yet. Reader is of legal age, no less than 22 but not specified, she's about to graduate college. She’s an English major. This is grumpy x grumpy. Lots of snark, eyerolling, etc. Not-Quite-Enemies to Lovers. And no she doesn’t blow him to get a better grade! (I would, but reader is classy).

Word Count: 1.1k

Why Do You Build Me Up

(Buttercup)

Dr. Miller’s Foundations of Architecture class was supposed to be a fun elective for you. You could learn a little more about architecture, something that has always been a mild interest for you. You like pretty buildings and you think it’s a cool subject. It’s your last semester of college and you deserve to take something fun to fill in that last elective requirement.

You certainly were not supposed to fail the fucking class.

“He’s so rude, Cooper,” you tell your friend. Coop looks up at you over their laptop, red curls springing in every direction and glasses sitting on the tip of their nose. They’re feigning interest while they hammer away at some graphic design assignment.

“One time he made a guy who said he liked 432 Park Ave leave the class. Like just kicked him out for the rest of the day! I mean that building is awful, but still!” Coop heaves a sigh and shuts their laptop.

“Is this that hot professor you told me about or is it the one who always wears really weird outfits?”

“No! The weird outfits guy is my Chaucer professor,” you choose to ignore the first half of that question. “I have words for him too, actually. He keeps-”

“Focus! Why are you failing Arc?”

“His essays are insane! Like, this is not English class, my guy, why are you grading me so hard? I’m literally an English major! You’d think my writing would be more than acceptable for a freshman level class.”

He had given you a D on your paper about gothic architecture. You’d chosen to write about the Santa Maria del Fiore in Italy and he took off THREE letter grades because they finished the construction in the neo-gothic style… which you had made a whole section of your paper about. It’s perfectly valid. It’s not like he really gave you much to go on.

“Did you follow the prompt? Sometimes your brain takes you places the question didn’t exactly call for…” they give you a knowing look.

“This isn’t a fanfic writing challenge, Coop, I can follow a damn prompt. He doesn’t give us anything to go on at all for these essays! Or for anything else, really.”

He is the least verbose professor you have ever had. It’s honestly kind of refreshing for a man to not love the sound of his own voice, but you’re also paying him to teach you something.

“The essay prompt was literally ‘Gothic Architecture’ and the guidelines were ‘12 pages, double spaced, due March 19th.’" You drop your voice into its lowest register, mimicking Dr. Miller's deep baritone. "And that’s what I wrote!” Someone shushes you from behind a bookshelf. You’re getting a little over excited, borderline yelling in the library about this infuriating man.

“Have you tried going to his office hours?” God why are they always so reasonable?

“Have you tried going to his office hours… No. I have not. He’s rude, remember?”

“Just try it! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could drop my paper down to an F.”

“And you could report him for unfair grading practices. Go. Shoo,” Coop starts pushing your books toward your bag.

“Fiiiiiine,” you relent.

Twenty minutes later you find yourself standing in the doorway of his office. Dr. Miller is sitting behind a large wooden desk. It’s very neat, the only things on it a computer, a picture frame turned away from you, and a stack of books. Dr. Miller has one of the books open and is writing something in a notebook, brow furrowed and tongue poking out between his lips.

“Dr. Miller?” you ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t look up from his work, just lifts a hand vaguely in your direction for a second and keeps writing. You roll your eyes and look around the office. There are bookshelves lining the walls with architecture textbooks in neat rows. A few covers of Architectural Digest are framed on the wall. Is he in those?

Your eyes land back on him. He’s wearing a dark grey Fleetwood Mac shirt that looks old as hell. The collar is stretched, revealing a bit of his chest. Your eyes trace a line up the column of this throat… He has a nice neck.

You had called him your hot professor at the beginning of the semester, regardless of how you felt about him now. There’s just something about that fluffy bed head he always has, like he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. And the scruffy beard laced with grey he doesn’t seem keen on trimming. And the way his mustache frames his pouty lips. And his prominent nose that looks straight out of a painting. And okay that’s enough.

“Dr. Miller, I need to talk to you.”

“M’busy,” he mumbles out, still not looking up from the textbook.

“Okay, well it’s your office hours, so technically you have to talk to me.”

“Technically, little miss, I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me? Let’s not speak to grown women like they’re children, sir.” Is he fucking for real right now?

He closes his notebook and looks at you for the first time since you walked in. Probably the first time all semester. He kind of pauses when he sees you, hopefully realizing he isn’t talking to a freshman. It wouldn’t make the little nickname okay, but it would make more sense at least.

He looks you up and down and his jaw ticks, “Sit.” His eyes flick to the chair in front of his desk. You drop your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. “So. What can I help you with?”

You take a deep breath. “You gave me a D on my last paper.”

He just stares at you.

“And considering our prompt was all of 8 words, I think- I know I met the requirements and that I did a good job. It was thoroughly researched, structured well, copy and content edited, and turned in 2 days before deadline. I would like an explanation-”

“Enough,” he cuts you off. “I don’t have to justify my gradin’ decisions to you.”

You let out a frustrated puff of air. This man drives you insane. “Dr. Miller, I’m a senior. I took this class to fulfill an elective requirement and because I like architecture. I would like to understand what is so egregious about my writing that you would have me fail a class in my last semester of college.”

He considers you for a moment, meeting your eyes. He lowers his brow, screws up his mouth from side to side, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I’ll reread it.”

Not I’ll reconsider your grade, but at least it’s something. “Thank you.” You grab your bag, moving to leave, and he stops you.

“Wait!” You pause, arching an eyebrow. “What was your name again?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“Seriously? I’ve been in your class since January. Figure it out.”

You storm out, slamming the door behind you.

A/N: This will be my first series! I'm really excited to try some actual characterization and plot, which I've never really played around with before. Constructive criticism in my DMs is always appreciated <3

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @serenaxpedro, @huffle-punk, @elvn011, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @strang3lov3, @virgogaia

#joel miller #joel miller fics #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller AU #Professor!Joel #Professor!Joel Miller

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stusbunker · 2 months

Text

Spotless: Hook

Chapter Twelve

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Charlie, Meg, many more mentioned

Word Count: 2229

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining. BACKSTORY AHEAD, story takes place currently in Dec 2017, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Dean took another sip of his coffee, the plastic lid as familiar a sensation against his lips as the warmth of the liquid flowing through it. Meg had rolled her eyes at his cup the second he arrived, but hadn’t voiced her precise annoyance about the chain coffee company, which Dean considered a small victory. They sat at a small table next to the booth where you and Charlie were camped out with your laptops and phones out, listening while you both worked. Dean appreciated the support and even supervision more than he would ever say. Especially when Meg started grilling him.

“Okay, fine, we won’t talk about ol’ blue eyes himself. Tell me about the new member of the band— Kevin Tran?”

“Kev is great— super smart and really bringing a new edge to the keys on our upcoming album,” Dean said, nodding, a small smirk on his lips because he knew Meg wanted more than that.

“And when should we expect to see this yet-to-be-named album?”

“If everything else goes as well as recording it did, it’s looking like a spring release,” Dean knew he sounded like a corporate stooge.

“You’re touring before the album is released, in this day and age that’s a bit naive, if not reckless,” Meg prodded.

“Well, we’ve got a lot of material to work with, besides, a lot of these folks are coming out to see the last album anyway,” Dean leveled his glare at her heart-shaped face, anticipating the dark glint in her big eyes.

Dean didn’t do interviews. He didn’t like stirring shit for public consumption. He would sit in a room and talk music with somebody, hell, anybody, all day long if he could. But being under the microscope was something he’d just learned to really do on himself, from Missouri. And once he’d cried in her office all those months ago, he knew he’d never get that wall back up. Wouldn’t really even bother rebuilding it because he now knew it was a prison, a self-inflicted cage.

But this wasn’t therapy and Meg wasn’t Missouri.

Luckily, Dean could read her as well as she could read him. And he knew she was dangerous.

Meg took the bait, “so, the plan is to make up for all those shows that you canceled— all the fans you let down.”

Dean nodded. “If we can.”

“And what happens if you just disappoint them all over again?” Meg pressed.

Dean shook his head, “can’t think like that. We just go out there and do what we love and let the music speak for itself.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to get on stage again. You’ve got to face them and show them you’ve still got it.”

Dean knew she was right, but he also knew a lot of things she didn’t. About hours in the studio and time spent one-on-one with each member of the band. About Kevin’s audition tapes and phone calls and hours of sitting in the den just letting the strings of his guitar knit pieces of himself back together. Confessions and penance might seem like trite concepts amongst musicians, people who do everything loudly for seemingly selfish purposes. But Dean had lived through it and he knew they were stronger for what they’d overcome.

No one else was leaving.

“Once we’re up there, they won’t have to worry about that. Trust me,” Dean said and took the final sip from his coffee.

Meg quirked an eyebrow and watched him as the server brought them their entrees. She shifted her phone where it was openly recording their conversation and her tablet where she had jotted down notes that Dean pretended not to read about his posture and his “faux confidence”.

He took a bite out of his sandwich and waited for the next line of questioning, the next stage of battle.

She delicately nibbled at a fry as she continued to look for an opening.

“Tell me about Bela, Dean. You two have created quite the stir online,” Meg was better than the obvious, so he knew she was trying to get him prickly. It was a diversion and they both knew it.

“What do you wanna know?” Dean didn’t act fazed, taking another obnoxiously large bite that would have earned him a bitchface from Sam.

“How’d you meet?”

Dean took his time chewing. Meg smirked, waiting oh-so-patiently.

“Mutual friend.”

“Fascinating.”

“Not really. Why? How do you usually meet people?”

“Tinder,” Meg replied quickly.

“Yeah, not really my scene.” Dean had never even installed the app, or any hookup app, though he knew people used them as often as they used Uber.

“But you seem to hit the jackpot all on your own. Didn’t you? She’s gorgeous,” Meg was really trying for something, Dean couldn’t say what though.

“She’s a lot more than that, but yeah, I am pretty lucky,” Dean wasn’t selling Bela out, no matter how much this she-demon wanted him to.

“Don’t sell yourself short there, Dean-o. I mean she’s a D-list celebrity no one even remembered until she showed up with you on her arm. She seems to be making out well in this scenario as well,” Meg goaded.

Dean huffed and took another bite.

“Not going to deny that one, huh?”

Dean swallowed and wiped the mayonnaise off his mouth. “No, wasn’t going to validate it with a response. But obviously you play dirty. Look, if I cared about any of that crap I would be with some Botox’d bimbo who uses followers as a way to justify their existence. Or to sell something. Bela’s not like that, she cares about people. And she really has no use for any sort of celebrity ranking system.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as me,” Meg batted back.

“Whatever, lady, believe me or not, but say what you want about me. She doesn’t deserve your bullshit,” Dean growled. He could feel you inching towards him from your perch on the booth's bench, you were his back up, but he really didn’t want it to come to that.

“Fine,” Meg snipped. “What does she even see in you, Dean?”

Dean sighed and looked around the diner before putting back on his company smile. “You’d have to ask her yourself.”

That lit her up. “Maybe I will.”

Dean shrugged and started in on the second half of his lunch. “Go for it.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Dean knew he’d won that round, especially when he heard Charlie and you start up your own separate conversation.

Meg scrolled through her tablet, while Dean continued to eat. It wasn’t the worst forced socialization he’d lived through, but it wasn’t over yet.

“Look, I was hoping we’d come to this topic more organically, but you are surprisingly stubborn, so I’m just going to put this out there: who is Cain Charles?” Meg swung for the fences.

Dean swallowed and then looked at Charlie, praying she’d look up from her laptop and reassure him. He wouldn’t look at you, that would be too much of a giveaway.

“He owns a chain of boxing gyms in Vegas,” Dean went with the more palatable answer.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Dean. I can’t do anything with what you’ve given me so far. Your publicist wants me to write a puff piece about all of your progress since your very public meltdown on your last tour. And frankly all of this smells like a very blatant cover up. I know you spent all of your free time at those gyms for almost an entire year. I know that you lost a bandmate in the middle of an otherwise successful tour. And I know you are not the squeaky clean arm candy to one of LA’s biggest philanthropists. So, tell me, one former piece of trailer trash to another. Who is Cain Charles to you?”

Dean wanted to get up and leave. He wanted to stuff Meg’s uneaten tuna melt into her smug face and tell her to get a real job. But mostly, he wished he had never agreed to this stupid deal with the label and just be a fucking musician like he was born to be. But he had made his bed, now he had to lie in it and let Meg dissect the pattern of the comforter and psychoanalyze the amount of pillows he clung to.

“You are seriously deranged, I hope you know that.”

“Takes one to know one,” Meg purred.

Dean couldn’t open that chapter of his life without it all coming out to hurt everyone in his orbit, Sam, the band, hell, even you. Everyone knew Cain was the start of Dean’s descent into that dark, rage filled hole, but they didn’t know everything. No one did, unless he told them.

Even Meg wasn’t that good.

“He tried to recruit me to do some celebrity bouts for charity, but I turned him down. I liked his facilities, but I didn’t want to ruin my pretty face, especially not on PayPerView.”

“You box?”

“It’s a good workout, plus it comes pretty naturally to us that had to fight for what we have.”

“Rough childhood, Dean?”

“Takes one to know one,” Dean tossed back at her.

Meg straightened in her chair. “Your dad was also a musician.”

“Is. He’s not dead.”

“That’s right, he lives in Nebraska. Big rock scene out in the plains, then?”

“Dad is more of a blues guy, but he doesn’t tour anymore.”

“He’s got two successful sons taking care of him, makes sense.”

Dean chuckled darkly. “He’s got a nine-to-five, smart ass. And a wife and another son to worry about. Sometimes you’ve got to settle down.”

“But he didn’t do that until you were already in high school, did he?”

“So?”

“So, must have been hard having him gone so much.”

“It’s the life, and it couldn’t have been so bad—- me and Sammy both followed in his footsteps.”

Meg finally took a bite of her lunch. “Yeah, but you don’t have kids, right?”

Dean shook his head. “Nope.”

“Do you want them?”

Dean put his soda down and balked. “I don’t know! What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Normal conversation, man, calm down,” Meg said out of the side of her very full mouth.

Dean rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, lamenting running out of coffee already. He was going to have to make Charlie stop for another round before he and Sam hit the road.

“So, what, Daddy Winchester just decided one day that he liked the white picket fence more than the open road?”

Dean glared at the reporter, because she knew precisely why John stopped touring, but she was going to make Dean say it anyway.

“You really are a sadist aren’t you?”

Meg nodded. “It’s a gift.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Mom died in 97, Dad had to hang up his ax.”

“So the wife and son?”

“He got remarried,” Dean said flatly.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t until—what? 2004? Kid’s pushing twenty.”

“You leave Adam out of this.”

“Just saying, if my dad came home with a side piece and her brat out of nowhere. I wouldn’t stick around to watch them play happy family.”

“It wasn’t like that— we were always gonna play together. Sam and me have been playing since before we could read. It’s in our blood. It’s not just some great escape or whatever story you’re trying to spin—- Besides, if you had really done your research, you would have known the band formed in 2000.”

“Oh, I know. You, Cas who-shall-not-be-named, Lee, and Sammy all were really hardcore back then.” Meg turned her tablet around to show him a picture taken at the Roadhouse, all of them were drenched in sweat from their set. He remembered that night, Ellen had let them play as long as they were out by ten so she would still get some regular bar business after the underage audience went home.

Cas on drums had never felt right, but it was another two years before Pam found them. Dean couldn’t stop staring at the kids they used to be.

“Missing the old days, huh?” Meg teased.

“Nah, but it’s fun to look back,” Dean admitted.

“Would the rest of the band agree?”

Dean frowned and really considered the question. Pam, obviously, ran things now. No matter how hard Dean fought to be the leader, if she wasn’t on board, it wasn’t happening. But that was a good thing, she kept him honest, kept them all honest. Sam seemed to like Kevin, even if he missed Cas almost as much as Dean did. And Lee, well, he just wanted to play. He’d be in a dive bar on every open mic night if Bobby’d let him.

“Yeah, we’ve come a long way from coffee shops and YMCAs. I think they’re all happy with what we’re doing now. This album wouldn’t have worked if everybody wasn’t one hundred percent in it.”

Dean looked up to see Meg looking at him like he was missing something obvious.

“What?”

“I think that was the first question where you were completely honest with me all day.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stole a fry off her plate, chomping down he asked, “what else you got?”

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Chapter 13: Canto

#spotless series #dean/reader #dean/bela #rockstar au #dean winchester fanfiction #fake dating #slow burn

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