Fics where Neil gets in a fight and actually wins!! I know it’s more commonly said that he can start fights and not finish them but let’s be for real, the boy was raised by two mafias and is scary as hell (I think i’ve seen someone ask this a while ago but i’m not sure if there’s an updated list) Mainly wondering for like post-canon fics, but au’s are cool too!
There’s quite a bit to discover on this topic, be that AU or in the context of canon. Of course, Neil rarely comes out of these troubles unscathed, but he wouldn’t be Neil if there wasn’t also a little martyrdom involved. You might find more on this under our bamf!Neil, butcher!Neil and occasionally raven!Neil tags. Have a browse, and see if there’s anything you like. - S
Some previous recommendations:
BAMF!Neil 2 here
BAMF!Neil 3 here
BAMf!Andreil w/happy ending here
badass Neil here
Neil fights and wins here
A dark Neil here
Neil says it's fine i've had worse here
Neil protects Katelyn/the foxes/Andrew here
Foxes find out Neil's not soft here (see list of recs at top of post)
Neil hurts/kills in front of foxes here
new BAMF! or Raven!Neil here
dark!Neil & Andrew here
bad boy Neil here
Neil Josten: Moriyama spy here
Neil kills Nathan here
Killing Eve AU here
‘Skin Comes Apart (Angel in Lothian)’ here
‘Bound for Error’ here
‘turn out the lights’ here (completed)
‘From Dungeons’ here
‘Whiskey Sour’ here
‘Negotiations’ and ‘The Butcher's Hello’ here (updated)
‘Shake my Tomb’ and ‘Appendages’ here
‘The Butcher’s Son’ here
‘it takes two (but you and i are one)’ here
‘monster (under my bed)’ here
post-canon (more or less):
Out for Blood by Aquared46 [Rated M, 27975 words, complete, 2023, locked]
"Neil’s first thought upon opening his eyes was that he was lucky to be in the trunk of a car instead of the back of a van. His second thought was that even if he survived this, Andrew might finally give into the temptation to kill him."
Neil is abducted and everyone has a bad time.
tw: kidnapping, tw: torture, tw: nightmares
born for this by dovegraye [Rated G, 1278 words, complete, 2023]
There are some parts of Nathaniel Abram Wesninski that Neil Abram Josten can’t ignore and refuses to play at trying anymore. This is one of them.
My Lover Writes Me Letters by AceSirenSinger [Rated M, 23018 words, complete, 2023]
He feels it again – the fury, of Neil’s taunting precision, of his expertise honed specifically for Andrew. It makes Andrew furious.
Andrew has not felt anything since he woke up with his head on fire, in a room with a man made of compressed violence.
Andrew loses his memory of the last five years, and forgets Neil. Neil martyrs himself because of course he does.
**tw: threatened rape/noncon between major characters**, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood/gore, tw: referenced animal cruelty and death, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: murder, tw: implied disordered eating
five times neil beat the babygirl allegations, plus the one time he didn't by r3mus [Rated T, 7488 words, complete, 2023]
neil will NEVER beat the babygirl allegations in MY heart but, alas, he would probably punch me if i called him babygirl to his face.
Damnation by X0X0HauntedX0X0 [Rated M, 15572 words, incomplete, last updated Jan. 2022]
Unkind and ever familiar, that anger Lola had triggered earlier returned with sharp teeth and without mercy. He would rip his time from their hands by force, like he’d been doing every day since he was born. Lola was clever as the devil, but Neil had been raised through the loopholes.
She couldn’t hurt his Foxes if she was dead.
Neil is much more dangerous than anyone gives him credit for.
NB: fic art of post-torture Neil by @kazzyboy here
Maybe a Mobster by definitely_not_loki [Rated M, 1558 words, complete, 2022]
Neil Josten had transferred at the beginning of this season, and sure he'd been a nightmare for the team, but not in the "I was raised by a serial killer" kind of way. He was hard on the team—way harder than anyone had been before—and he wasn't even the captain. He was just some rookie striker from South Carolina.
Most of the time she forgot he was anything but a rookie striker, but then someone would ask about his scars or call him a different name. Those were the few moments she remembered he wasn't just an asshole. He was an asshole with a past.
So when The Event happened, she was terrified, horrified beyond all reason, but she was not surprised.
Or, Neil is a badass motherfucker.
tw: violence, tw: blood
Neil has some bad habits. by evelynreads23 [Not Rated, 1068 words, complete, 2022]
Neil learnt things when he was young, how to wield a knife, how to hide a body. He was doing good and not thinking about it until someone was telling him he was a fan of the butcher. He was in a haze afterwards and freaked when Jack was being an asshole.
This is Neil going to his roots but staying Neil, protecting Andrew and the foxes and not having fun when his past is brought up.
Read at your own risk! :)
Dart Boards and Knife Fights by clumsylittlewriter [Rated T, 2983 words, complete, 2022]
"As if in sync, both of them dropped down into fighting stances and tensed their muscles. 'I apologize in advance if I end up killing you,' Nathaniel said, his voice dangerously quiet.
Natalie threw her head back and released a sharp peal of laughter, more malicious than anything Andrew had ever heard from her. 'Don’t get cocky, Butcher-boy,' she taunted, her eyes glittering with vicious glee.
The Butcher’s smile reappeared on his partner’s face."
(a game of darts reminds Andrew that Neil was raised by someone fascinated with knives)
All the masks I've left behind by SagaEllen [Rated T, 1879 words, complete, 2021]
Neil does not cry.
Aaron asks for help.
And everything is such a mess.
tw: knives, tw: violence
all for his foxes by Olympyas [Not Rated, 2469 words, complete, 2021]
If he wanted to defend his family Neil wouldn't be enough, but someone else would, just this time, just for them.
This is how Nathaniel opened the door and managed to stop the knife threw at him. And that was familiar, It even became a reflex by now. They taught him. Lola taught him in a way he wouldn't be able to forget.
Lola and Romero come for Neil directly at Palmetto and Neil defends his family.
Dead Ringer by HalloweenReaper [Rated E, 18892 words, incomplete, last updated Nov. 2023]
“Potential.” Riko slammed Neil against the wall again and whirled on Kevin. Kevin stared back at him, white-faced and tense. “You said that goalkeeper had potential and then wrote him off as useless when I offered him to you....” - The Foxhole Court, Ch. 13.
Nathaniel was given to Ichirou as his private hitman after his skills as a marksman were revealed when the Moriyama tracked him and his mother down after they ran away.
Riko decided to surprise Kevin with matching “pets” after he found out the goalkeeper Kevin was interested in had a twin.
When Nathaniel is ordered to join the Ravens for a year to cover for a series of hits, his smart mouth meets Andrew’s prickly attitude and things get interesting.
Different Roads by frankelled [Rated T, 33944 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]
Nathaniel became Ichirou's 2nd when he was 10 years old.
To protect Nathaniel from becoming a target no one can know, which leaves him in the Nest.
When Kevin's hand breaks Nathaniel is in charge of protecting him from Riko, but now in Palmetto
Andrew's Regret by pandaseek [Not Rated, 13860 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]
“The first three were all former foster parents of Andrew.” Piggins continued, unable to take a hint from the frosty office he’d admitted these things too.
“No.” Aaron panicked, staring at Andrew in disbelief. “Andrew has never been…!”
Wymack shifted his weight on the filing cabinet, reaching down to grab his trash can and passing it across Andrew in time for Aaron to grab it and spew a cascade of vile liquid into it, while Andrew pushed his chair onto its back legs and avoided all eye contact with those in the cramped office.
Andrew knew who did this.
The only person who had ever willingly gone to bat for him. A person he had mistakenly believed to be dead long ago; this was proof to the contrary. Except… Except that there was one name missing.
A prompt from Justthislazy, based on my original Lifeline, that I just had to pick up and run with.
Thank you for the amazing idea!
Promise, I Can Give You a Reason by maydaykevin [Rated T, 1689 words, complete, 2023]
Something else happens in the fated Millport locker room.
I'm An Accountant by boomba77 [Not Rated, 24101 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]
Abram Hatford is an accountant. A legitimate accountant. He may work for an infamous crime family, but his hands have been clean for years (of blood, at least). He is a translator and an accountant. He flies under the radar, his existence hidden from the public by his family, and he prefers it that way. For him, the words ‘safe’ and ‘unknown’ are synonymous. So, when one of the Hatford empire’s more lucrative businesses begins stirring up the wrong kind of attention and losing money as a result, the Hatfords require discretion and brains. Their elusive Abram is the only person for the job.
Andrew Minyard is a part-time server at a random diner and a part-time bartender at The Den, where he spends most of his time drinking what he’s supposed to be serving. It isn’t until strange things start happening around the club that Andrew decides to pay a bit more attention to the shady shit going on at his work. And then, when a stranger shows up looking for work with a perfect resume and a symmetrical face, Andrew finds his suspicion, and his interest, double. All of the death and destruction is bad, sure, but at least it’s interesting.
Waiting for death is not living.
Rheostat by NeilfuckingJosten [Rated M, 14315 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2023]
Nathaniel Wesninski, alias Neil Josten is finally out of the Nest and into the world of professional exy. Deadly, smart and worse than his father, Nathaniel will bring a storm into Andrew's quiet world.
AKA, they meet in the pro's.
I Was Ruined From The Start by BrokenPineTree [Rated M, 39021 words, incomplete, last updated April 2023]
Neil’s grin is audible as he replies. "Riko’s antics getting outed to the public would make him a liability. And I do remember telling you that threats need to be dealt with accordingly."
Kevin's stomach lurches into his throat with the conclusions he jumps to. "So, you’re gonna go back to the Nest?" He asks quietly. Slowly. Unsure how to feel about Neil putting himself in that situation again. He can't do that, right? He has other things to worry about now.
Neil hums disapprovingly. "Try again," He offers.
Kevin does. "You're... coming to Palmetto?"
The au where Kevin doesn't have full confidence in Andrew's ability to stand between him and his lurking demons after only spending a few months at Palmetto. But with the dangerous card itching to emerge from under his sleeve, does he really need to?
i had shared what is happening in sudan on a long facebook post last night, but it virtually received almost little to no engagement or shares from the nearly 600 “friends” i have on the site.
this morning, my great-aunt was shot by the soldiers fighting for power, and God forbid, i lose more of my family members before eid this friday.
please read below to understand what is happening and how you can help my country. i hope the tumblr community can show more kindness than the lack of support and advocacy i’ve seen elsewhere.
يا رب اجعل هذا البلد آمناً 🇸🇩
the lack of awareness and advocacy from the African, Arab, and Muslim diaspora and the human rights community has been painful.
while Western media has done little to no coverage of the ongoing conflict in the capital city of my motherland, Sudan, it appears that the rest of the world also partakes in normalizing crimes and violence against SWANA people.
violence and war hurting the SWANA region are NOT ordinary occurrences — no one, regardless of race, creed, ethnicity, religion, and gender, should experience the unprecedented amount of violence that harms my two living grandmothers, aunts and uncles, and baby cousins who live in Khartoum.
your decision to ignore reading or educating and discussing with others about what is likely to be a civil war is complicity in viewing SWANA people as individuals who regularly experience conflict and are undeserving of help.
the silence is damaging, and it is up to us as privileged members of the diaspora (or individuals living in the Western world committed to human rights) to support the people of my country and their dream for a stable, democratically elected government.
what is happening in Sudan is a fight that started on April 15 between two competing forces for power — the Sudanese Army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) — neither groups are representative of the needs of our people. The Sudan Army is loyal to the dictator, Omar Al-Bashir, and the RSF is responsible for the genocide in Darfur.
with both power struggles backed by different Arab and Gulf nations, the two parties have been fighting for power for the last few years. While they worked together to try and end the people’s revolution, they lost. however, they are now in a constant power play of who will get to rule the nation.
this all means that war is NOT a reflection of my country — violence does not represent the SWANA people. Sudan is a nation of beautiful culture, strong women, intellectual and influential Islamic scholars, poets, and youth at the front lines of the revolution. we are a people committed to a region of peace for ourselves and the rest of the Ummah.
my family and the rest of Sudan’s innocent civilians are at the most risk, with many currently without drinking water, food to eat, electricity, and complete blockage to any mosques during the final nights of Ramadan, our holiest month of the year.
i ask that you please keep Sudan and our people in your prayers — donate to the Sudan Red Crescent or a mutual aid GoFund Me, email your representatives if you live in a country that can put pressure on either competing force of power, discuss this with your family and friends, and please do not forget to think about SWANA people — our brothers and sisters in Syria, Yemen, Lebanon, and many others need our love and support.
Puppet History season 1: cute lil puppet teaches his pals about weird events throughout history
Puppet History season 5: Ryan fistfights an evil hologram who’s trying to make a skin-suit out of him, eventually yeets said hologram through a window, and wishes for a crafty genie to save The Professor from being obliterated by the meteor that killed the dinosaurs and bring him back to the present so he can make amends for trying to kill the lil guy
Omg I am in love with your writing, I want to eat it-
A humble request for a Soap Drabble-
In the aftermath of a mission where Reader is kidnapped and tortured for information (the 141 saved them) Reader seems like her usual sunshine self, like she wasn’t just beaten within an inch of her life. Some accident happens while everyone is hanging out that triggers a flashback. Reader feels like she has to escape the base facility where she’s being held and the 141 chases reader, not knowing that it’s making it worse-
Basically a PTSD episode that leaves reader going all Rambo and Soap calms her down- lots of Hurt/Comfort and hugs :)
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞
The worst part is that you don’t even remember most of it. By whatever coping mechanism that you’d been cursed with, all you can bring forward is snippets. The doctors tell you it’s a blessing in disguise, of course—if you remembered how they had broken you over, and over, and over again, you would be…unrecognizable.
But not knowing and having this paranoia in the back of your skull was far worse than guessing where the new scars started and ended; how they got there in the first place.
It was like everything was one second away from falling apart again.
Sitting in the rec room on base, you may have managed to fool the therapists and pass through the medical evaluation, but you can’t, not for one minute, fool Johnny.
It started with a casual comment.
“We don’t have to be here, y’know?” The Scot had said. “Let’s just go someplace a bit quieter, aye, Dearie? It’s gettin’ late out.”
You had sent him a side-eye, your arms crossed. It had been wrong to ignore the pound of your heart like that—to ignore how your skin was sweaty and your voice shook as you spoke above the laughing of fellow soldiers.
But you had to keep the act up. Even with him.
“It’s nothing, Soap,” you ease. “We’re all here to have a good time. I’m fine.”
Those cobalt blues were tight, worried. Every part of his face was tight with concern as his feet shuffled, elbow moving back to the table behind the two of you.
“You’re not actin’ right, Little Lady,” he mutters, his jaw clenching as he watches you closely. “There’s no shame in it—”
“Would you just quit it, Johnny,” you snap, looking over sharply. “God, I’m not gonna break apart like some weak bitch, okay?”
He’s quick to clarify, hand moving up in a display you would use for a feral animal. “I never meant it like that.”
Your head turns away, and you roll your eyes. Simon and Price watch closely from the corner of the room, their conversation from previous falling silent.
But you couldn’t have accounted for the way Gaz strolled past, or how the soldier was walking back over from the pool table, swinging his cue stick in some wide arch to mess around with his friends.
But you also couldn’t have accounted for the sudden flash you’d have to the breaking of bottles over your head—of glass being ripped out of your shredded flesh and thrown to the ground.
Your body seizes up as Gaz’s cup shatters, and your eyes all at once go far away.
Johnny’s shocked face had snapped to the scene in front of him, blinking quickly as he stood and was about to go get a broom.
“Best watch where you’re swingin’ that thing there, eh?” He says to the soldier who looks highly embarrassed, Gaz frowning down at the remnants.
“Oi!” Everyone’s eyes dart to Ghost’s outburst, but he’s not addressing anyone left in the room—the Lieutenant dashes out of the hallway, Price hot in his heels.
Johnny turns back and you’re gone.
Racing away, your blood is hot and rabid, taking corners with record speed; the pounding feet behind you don’t help, the shouts. Every moment you try to get your head under control the sounds make it worse.
You end up outside, lost in the trees as the branches slap your face and body—running with no destination, no thoughts. And you just keep going. Panting, your stomach is stuck in knots, and your aching legs shake until you fall over and heave into the grass; sobs breaking through. Your lungs can’t get air down.
You don’t know how long you were out there, you don’t know how long it took for Johnny to find you, but when he did you heard his quick call of your name—his desperate plea for you to breathe when he grappled for your shoulders.
Your eyes stare blankly at him, gone to all else but your ringing ears.
Hands cup your cheeks.
“Hey, it’s me, Bonnie,” he rubs along your flesh, petting your skin with his thumb. You’ve never seen his eyes so afraid before. “Hey now, hey. Come back to me, we’re both right here—just focus on me. You’re back home, then, aye? Back with me on Base. There’s nothin’ that’s going to happen to you long as I’m here. I made that promise, yeah? I intend to keep it.”
His voice is grounding for you—for your failing body as your addled mind tries to calm down.
You pull on that shred of remembrance of when he’d found you, beaten within an inch of your life. His tiny pupils, stuck in a sea of deep blue. His callouses holding you to him as he raggedly breathed into your hair, screaming for med-evac.
“That’s it, Dearie,” right here, right now, you sag forward. Widened eyes quiver as your lower face is pressed into his shoulder, Johnny’s hand hard on the back of your head. “That’s it—it’s just Johnny.” The man is shaking just like you are, even when your wheezed sobs make his chest tighten painfully. How your hands weakly grasp at his shirt in desperation; clawing for purchase.
“It’ll always just be me.” Soap breathes, swallowing the saliva in his throat. “I’m gonna get you all the help you need….you bet on it. You’re going to be better, and I’m going to be with you through all of it.”
The side of his face nuzzles into yours as you breathe in his scent, choking on the air but slowly starting to get it down.
“No one fights alone.”
“Johnny,” you gasp.
“Shush, now,” he whispers, wrenching his eyes shut. “I’m here. Breathe. I’m here.”
“It hurts.” Your tears soak through his shirt, and his arms hold you tighter until he reminds himself to be gentle.
All he can do is try to hold back his own tears, his throat raw from his mad dash after you—he’d never run that fast in his life besides the moment he’d found you alive.
“I know,” his voice cracks, rocking you back and forth like a child. “I know, m’sorry, Dearie. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t let go,” you plead. “Please don’t let go.”
“Never,” he growls. “Never in my life.” He says it with every ounce of goodness left in him.
“I’m never lettin’ you go ever again, aye? They’ll have to pry me off you.”
Hi there! Glad to see that one of my favorite artists is doing requests. Could you please draw Savanaclaw hunting down their "prey"? Maybe include the FINNNEEE Savanaclaw background student with the red hair and black ears (but you don't need to! Just never enough love for him)?
Your art is honestly so amazing and especially I love your ob POV series. Keep up the great work and no pressure to do this!🐇
Hello! Sorry for taking so long qwq Being honest this is the first time I've gotten a request for an npc jsjs I wasn't sure how to portray him so I kinda gave him a delinquent vibe :09
CW for the fourth pic: blood, implied cannibalism.
I can never tire of drawing the predator savanaclaw trio <3
Summary: In which Beomgyu views you as just his toy to use and abuse.
Pairings: Toxic Bully! Choi Beomgyu x reader, Mingyu is mentioned
Warnings: DARK CONTENT, 18+, violence, noncon, smut, mean dom Beomgyu, unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, jealous Beomgyu, sub y/n, gender neutral y/n, dacryphilia, pushover y/n, toxic Beomgyu/toxic TXT, self loathing y/n
Word count: 1.6k
Minor please DNI
Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.
Beomgyu's just so mean.
He's always been this way, ever since you were young, tugging your hair, pushing you around into the walls, insulting your personality and looks while your eyes would water and tears would roll down your cheeks. He would especially insult your looks and intelligence, making sure you understand that you, in his eyes, were inferior to him in every way.
Even when you were reduced to a blubbering mess, Beomgyu still wouldn't stop. He just got meaner, laughing and pointing out how pathetic you looked.
When you went off to university, you were hoping to avoid Beomgyu at all costs. Unfortunately, it turned out he was going to the same university as you and somehow found a way to terrorize you even though you two were in different departments.
Interactions with him always ended the same way: you in tears.
Truth be told, Beomgyu was addicted to your tears. He loved the redness of your nose and cheeks, how your tears would fall, how uneven your breathing became, how despite you trying to hold back your sobs, sniffles, and whimpers, they would escape.
Beomgyu also lived for your reactions. He especially loved that no matter what he would say, you would just stand there and take it. Years of him wearing you down reduced you to a spineless, submissive mess. You wouldn't even make eye contact with him anymore, only looking at your shoes when you were in his vicinity.
He loves the softness of your voice when you speak, the plushness of your flesh when he digs his teeth and nails into you. He loves the silkiness of your hair when he tugs at it to make you look up at him. He even loves your wide eyes full of fear when he forces you to look at him.
Although he would never admit it to anyone, in his own sick way, he was addicted to you.
You were his. His toy, his ragdoll to play with.
So, why were you hanging out with another guy? From the way the other guy was looking at you, Beomgyu was almost certain he was interested in you.
Beomgyu spots you happily laughing with another guy in the hallway, walking together to your next lecture. Mingyu, he recognizes. You're wearing baggy clothes and your hair is a mess as usual, your hand clutching your tote bag as you look up at Mingyu, a smile on both of you twos lips.
Searing rage rises from the pit of Beomgyu's stomach as he storms towards the two of you. He sees red for a split second, and the next thing he knows, he's ripping you away from Mingyu with an iron grip.
"Hey, is everything okay?" Mingyu asks, looking back and forth between Beomgyu and you, eyes full of concern.
"Everything's fine. Isn't it?" Beomgyu says, tightening his grip on you and looking at you. From the look he was giving you, you knew you knew you were in for punishment.
You nod your head weakly and agree with him. Your body feels boneless and your head lightheaded as you reassure the guy that everything's fine and that Beomgyu is simply your friend. Beomgyu nods in approval and excuses you two, promptly dragging you away.
It's unsurprising when Beomgyu pushes you into a random janitorial closet roughly once the guy is out of sight, quickly switching on the light, locking the door from the inside, and slamming you against the wall. You're quivering at this point, afraid of what's to come.
"I'm sorry, he just needed help on calculus. I helped him through just a couple problems. I swear I didn't tell him anything. I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry–" You blabber as you try to apologize and come up with an excuse.
Beomgyu just stares at you, eyes burning into you. Despite how ugly and pathetic he thinks you are, in the back of his head, he thinks you're cute, quivering and trying to get out of the situation like a rabbit cornered. He even thinks about letting you go without doing the things he wants to. But the greater chunk of his brain screams at him that someone is trying to take you away from him. Even worse, that you would be happy to run away from him with them. He needs to make sure you know you're his.
What surprises you is that Beomgyu kisses you with bruising force. He's never done that to you before, and instinctively, your hands go to his chest to push him away. Beomgyu pulls away when he realizes you're trying to push you away. You feel your stomach drop when you see his expression. He grabs you by your hair and slams your head against the stone wall. Your eyes feel like they're rattling in their sockets, and the room spins as tears spill from your eyes from the pain.
"Don't you dare fucking resist me unless you want your skull bashed in. Now be good for me like you've always been." Beomgyu says against your lips before kissing you again.
This time, you don't dare to resist. You hesitantly kiss back as your hands drop to your side.
Beomgyu makes a hum of approval before his tongue worms his way into your mouth. He pushes his lips more against yours, swiping his tongue over your teeth and gums as if he was trying to devour you alive. At a lost for what to do, your tongue stays stagnant in your mouth as you continue standing stiffly.
It's clear Beomgyu knows why. He pulls back with a laugh.
"You've never kissed before, right? Never fucked anyone either?"
You avoid his gaze and shake your head, cheeks flushing.
"Fucking virgin, flirting with other guys in front of me like you're worth something." Beomgyu says before laughing again, "Aren't you glad I'm about to teach you how to fuck? You'd be so lost and embarrassed without me. Most people aren't as patient as me, you know."
You feel dizzy. You're not glad at all for what's to come in fact, the sheer idea of Beomgyu stealing your virginity after stealing your first kiss makes your body feel cold. But you don't want to upset him further, much less make your body more bruised, so you respond the way he likes.
So you whisper a soft, "Yes, thank you," and nod.
Beomgyu lets out a sinister smile. His hands fly to your shirt, quickly tugging your shirt above your head. His mouth to your neck, sucking hickies into your neck as he makes quick work of your pants and underwear.
You feel uncomfortable in your skin. Your neck feels like it's being burned where Beomgyu touches. You try to zone out, focus on the wall, on the buzz of the lights, on anything but him while Beomgyu continues to torment you. However, it jolts you back to reality when you feel his length prod at your entrance.
He doesn't even bother prepping you on his fingers or tongue. He doesn't even bother to undress fully, just tugging down his pants and freeing his length.
"Beomgyu… do you have a condom?" You ask fearfully, trying not to look down.
Beomgyu doesn't respond, using brute force to force his length into you, carving himself into your walls until he's flush against you and pulling your hips towards him.
When you cry out in pain, the stretch burning, more tears falling, Beomgyu responds by degrading you.
"Oh, you can't take me? You really think you deserve what I'm giving you? Be grateful I'm giving you anything at all."
Your stomach twists and more tears spill out of your eyes. Maybe he was right, you didn't see yourself as particularly attractive, well you were certainly less attractive when compared to him. You weren't particularly smart either, there were always other people who did better than you in many aspects. Plus, you've always had issues talking with other people. Maybe he was right that you were lucky. Someone as attractive and intelligent as him gives his precious time to you. Other people would kill to be kissed and fucked by Choi Beomgyu.
"Fuck, I love it when you cry for me. Cry for me more. Sob for me more." Beomgyu groans, beginning to increase his pace until he's pushing you up against the wall with his body, jackhammering into your poor abused hole.
Beomgyu looked debauched, eyes rolling back in pleasure, getting lost in your tight warmth. He's sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead and sweat starting to soak through his shirt. Even like this, you thought, he looked more beautiful than you'd ever be.
"Beomgyu, please please please pull out." You plead softly, slightly above a whisper. You're scared of him hearing, but you don't want him to risk finishing inside you.
You requests go ignored as Beomgyu reaches his peak.
"Fucking take it!" Beomgyu moans with a particular hard thrust, pulling your hips flush against his as he stills in you.
You squirm and whimper as you feel hot cum flood into you as Beomgyu lets out a moan, panting heavily. You feel some of it ooze out and drip onto to cement floor of the storage closet.
Beomgyu pushes your hair back, tucking some stray strands of your hair behind your ear. It's tender, almost romantic.
Beomgyu pulls out, quickly tucking himself into his pants and smoothing out his hair. However, it was apparent what had happened, given his panting, dilated pupils, sweaty body, and flushed cheeks. You collapse on the floor, staring at the locked door.
He spares one look at you before he exits, unlocking and slamming the door shut. But not before making something extremely clear verbally.
"You're my toy. Mine to play with, mine to break. Don't you dare even think about being around other people who aren't named 'Choi Beomgyu'."
This is for my hormones every artist/ writer who dragged me into the Miguel O’Hara fandom. Your content is absolutely amazing, and I hope this piece can measure up to the brainrot you’ve given me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝
Note:: Female reader, double POV, ATSV spoilers, Best Wingman Award goes to LYLA
♡ 7.6k words under the cut ♡
i. spiral orb web
You’ve always been attracted to pretty things, and that includes spiderwebs.
In your eyes, the spider’s craft is the closest thing to art in your everyday life. It is a natural phenomenon marked by intricacy and utility, yet one so easily overlooked due to its associations with pest behavior.
Fortunately, public reception has shifted since the emergence of Spider-Man. It is thanks to your “Friendly Neighborhood Hero” that the spiderweb has been rebranded as a symbol of safety. Be it a weapon or a life-sized shelter, there is a certain beauty to those human creations.
Though the same cannot be said for Miguel O’Hara’s.
Spider-Man 2099’s webs belong to their own category. His are scarlet, bright as lasers, conspicuous and dangerous in equal amounts. When Miguel traps a villain in his webs, one is reminded that a spiderweb is the tool of a predator.
Miguel’s webs are not the only thing which set him apart from the other Spider-Men. He has more inhuman powers—claws, fangs, paralytic venom. His jaded personality and intimidating stature are also far removed from the public image which inspires hope in civilians.
Perhaps that is why you find him all the more alluring. Or it could be simply because he is the one who saved your life.
He’s done more than rescue you. After catching you midfall, Miguel regards you with shock and…pity, you think. It is the only logical explanation as to why he is being so gentle with you when your dimension’s stability is a greater concern.
It also explains why he allows you to follow him into the departing portal. No, follow is a self-preserving term. More like burst into tears, ran after him, then told him your pathetic life story and how anywhere is better than here.
Much to the surprise of his coworkers, he relents.
At first, Miguel thinks you are an Anomaly.
It is one thing to find you in another dimension. It has happened before, and he always avoided your Variants for their sake. But you are inescapable.
Among every version of you, the happiest one was his Variant’s wife. Then there’s you, the one whose life would’ve ended if not for his interference.
He tries to justify his decision. Your departure doesn’t affect the Canon, so no harm will come to your universe. And judging by your personal data, you would be much safer in a different dimension.
His dimension, to be specific. Where he can keep a close eye on you.
He is also logical enough to recognize you as your own person. You aren’t his wife, and his observations support that theory. Your hairstyle is different. You code-switch more often. You sleep and wake up at earlier hours. You’re not as confident in your abilities.
You are alike and unlike her in so many ways, yet he still sees a spark of his sun in you.
ii. funnel web
Since then, you’ve resided in Nueva York.
In return for permanent residency, you are hired as a secretary for the Spider Society. It’s civilian work, nothing dangerous, but more purposeful than what you’d ever achieved in your old job.
Strangely enough, you encounter Miguel quite often.
At first, it feels totally warranted. He is the only person you know in Earth-928, so he guides you through every step of your adjustment. He gives you a Dimensional Travel Watch, shows you around the facility, and instructs you on how not to mess up the multiverse.
After your first week, he invites you to move in with him. Miguel claims that his home already has an extra bedroom, though LYLA’s remarks suggest otherwise. Regardless, you accept since it means a familiar roommate and better living quarters.
How thoughtful of him.
“It’s easier to look after her if we’re under the same roof,” he rationalizes.
“Sure,” says LYLA. She flickers above his shoulder and watches the holographic screens with him. “And it’s not because she reminds you of a certain someone?”
Ignoring her, Miguel switches to a different camera angle. Peter B. Parker walks past your desk and does a double take, and he is promptly summoned for a meeting.
No doubt, there will be questions about you.
“What about the redesigns?” LYLA pulls up a screen showing two bedroom layouts, one collapsed and the other abandoned. “Should we pick one? Merge them? Think of a new design? Or we can ask for her input, seeing how she clearly has better taste than you.”
One of the monitors catches their attention, announcing an Anomaly in Earth-131222.
“We can talk about this later.” With that, Miguel opens a new screen and analyzes the data. On second thought, he adds, “She prefers thin bed sheets.”
Later that day, he escorts you home. Your mood has greatly improved since your change in environment, though you’re still quiet around him. LYLA compliments your coat, a purple remnant of her closet which Miguel lent to you, but he ignores her knowing glances.
You wear it differently, he notices. It’s the same article of clothing, but fully buttoned with a silver brooch on one lapel. The effect is significantly less casual.
“So, this is it.” Your expression turns hesitant as Miguel unlocks the front door. “Are you really sure that I can stay here?”
“I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure,” he points out.
And it means less time monitoring the CCTVs.
“And you haven’t seen your room yet!” adds LYLA. “We know you’ll love it.”
“I guess it would be impolite to back out now.” You follow him inside and remove your coat. “I’ll try not to be a nuisance.”
That green dress…he could swear that he’s seen it on you before. Many shades lighter, paired with a bright smile, to match the T-shirt of the little girl by your—
“Miguel?” You frown at him, then your gaze flits to your dress. “Is there something wrong with my outfit? I didn’t commit a serious fashion crime in your dimension, did I?”
“It’s nothing,” he says quickly. But upon noticing your lingering anxiety, he admits, “You look good in it. That’s all.”
You nearly drop your coat. “W-What? Are you serious?”
Miguel could swear that you look more shocked than during your first meeting. If he were to come close enough to touch your face, it would surely feel warmer than average.
“I meant what I said,” he replies, walking ahead. “Do you want to look around or are you just going to stand there?”
That snaps you out of your fluster. You follow him into the living room, a small smile making its way to your face. “The living room is pretty. Was it you or LYLA who designed it?”
The change of topic is a godsend. As Miguel shows you around, you recover from his comment and focus on your surroundings. LYLA is the next to admire your dress, winking at Miguel as she asks about the color, and he takes note of your reaction.
More vulnerable to flattery, regardless of speaker. Extremely happy afterwards.
His wife wasn’t like that. Usually, she’d be the one teasing Miguel with praises, pick-up lines, and inside jokes which he pretended to understand.
Still, it’s nostalgic to sit next to you on the sofa. He could get used to this again.
iii. lace web
In the following months, you fully adjust to your new life.
Your job in the Spider Society is manageable, fun even. Aside from the Spider-Man of your dimension, your close coworkers are kind enough to welcome you into their group. They look out for you, include you in their conversations, and appreciate your hard work.
They even indulge your aesthetic interests! One word from you, and they are already comparing webs. Among the various designs and techniques, however, none have fascinated you as much as Miguel’s.
…You do wish he’d let you roam Nueva York more often.
In case of Canon events, you need to get his permission first. Then you have to wait for him or an assigned Spider-Man to accompany you, and the latter is always a stranger whom you find difficult to bond with. Conversations with LYLA can only do so much.
You’ve recommended your coworkers before, but Miguel doubts their reliability. And every time you invite them to go with you, a new mission cancels your plans. If not for the official records, you’d suspect them of making excuses.
It’s a bit frustrating, honestly, but you know better than to complain.
You should already be satisfied with Miguel. He is an agreeable roommate, he trusts your capabilities, and he acknowledges your efforts. And no matter how closed-off or overworked he is, he's still deemed you worthy of his company.
…He is also very nice to look at. Muscular physique, handsome face, a serious gaze occasionally tinted in red. It’s a shame that he rarely smiles.
In another dimension, a better version of you would have definitely pursued him.
“...and get this, he can shoot webs with stabilimenta. The designs are so detailed!”
“Oh, wow.” Miguel barely looks up from the monitors, grimacing at yet another Anomaly. He quickly sends an alert to the dimension’s Spider-Man. “What else?”
Behind him, you suddenly grow quiet.
“Now that I think about it, you must already know that since you recruited him. Sorry if that wasn’t anything worth listening to…are you sure I’m not bothering you?”
“You’re not.” It comes out faster than intended.
He turns around. Once again, you look surprised by his words, but you don’t ask for confirmation this time. You just nod and return to your digital reports.
Why did you visit his laboratory again? You said it was a false alarm from LYLA, who’d likely sent it on purpose. Lately, she’s been on his case about how rude it is to “avoid” you through extra work. He thinks he could easily do without distractions or triggered memories, however.
Miguel opens a private file and thinks of what you’d just told him. Apart from concerned looks from Jess and Peter B, most of the Spider-Men haven’t given you any trouble. Your coworkers, however, are a different matter.
23) ______ laughed because of some stupid pickup line from Web-Slinger. Smiled when he complimented her outfit (purple blouse, black high-waist skirt, favorite heels, pearl hairpin).
24) ______ talked about the other agents’ webs again.* She admires stabilimenta.
“You should be careful with your friends,” he tells you. He types a few more observations and closes the screen. “The last thing I need is for you to get involved in their mess. Don’t think that I can’t see them slacking on the job.”
To your credit, you don’t apologize. “Noted.”
“Miguel!” LYLA appears and moves the screens around him. “We have an Anomaly in Earth-332. Spider-Woman called for backup.”
Great, another one. It must be a persistent villain if Jess needs his help.
“I’m on it.” He types the coordinates on his watch and activates the portal.
“How dangerous is it?”
He stops, just a few meters short of leaving.
You leave your desk, an anxious look on your face. “I know you told me not to worry before, but I really have no idea of what your battles are like. So…will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” he assures you. A hug comes to mind—it always calmed her anxieties—but he instead gives you a shoulder pat. “Don’t wait for me. If it takes a while, LYLA will call someone to escort you home.”
“Okay.” You’re still standing in front of him, but he can feel the tension leaving your body. “It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight, right? I’ll prepare a nice victory feast so look forward to that.”
A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “You don’t have to.”
You pout at him. “But I want to. Besides, it’s not fair that you are so good at making my favorite meals. I still haven’t perfected yours.”
Secretly, Miguel thinks your cooking tastes better than his wife’s. But whatever keeps you distracted while he is saving the multiverse.
It’s also…nice to talk about work with you. With her, he had to act normal and make up excuses for his sudden disappearances. It’s refreshing to see your concern and know that you are praying for his safety. To imagine your relieved smile when he comes home.
“Miguel!” LYLA reappears between the two of you. “I hate to ruin the moment, but Spider-Woman could really use some help right now. I know you’re counting the seconds!”
No more time to waste.
“I’ll see you later.” He lets go of you and walks into the portal.
“Take care!” you call after him.
iv. triangle web
“Welcome home, love!”
As the door opened, Miguel resisted the urge to flinch. The lights were always too bright.
His Variant’s wife wasted no time hugging him. “What took you so long?”
“Something at work came up,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Again?” You closed the door behind him, a frown replacing your smile. “That’s the third time this month. Is there a problem in your office?”
“It’s…classified information. But nothing to worry about, mi sol.”
The house felt lively, even with Gabriella temporarily away. Warm lights. Family photos. Personal belongings scattered about. Your cheerful presence leading him.
The TV in the living room was on, paused at the beginning of a new film. Movie nights were an old family routine, he’d learned. The first time Miguel arrived in your husband’s place, you and Gabriella had agreed on an animated classic.
“Okay then. I’m just glad your office isn’t in the same area as that crime from earlier. Was there any debris blocking the road?”
“Not much.” And definitely none on the route to your workplace.
Upstairs, Miguel took a shower and contacted LYLA. The Anomaly had been returned to its original dimension. If he were lucky, none would appear tomorrow.
You were on the sofa when he came back. Wordlessly, he sat next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder. The film began playing.
“I called Gabriella,” you murmured. “She and her friends are already planning their next sleepover. I’ll pick her up tomorrow morning.”
“That’s good to hear. Have you gift-wrapped her present?”
A pearl ring glinted above your intertwined hands. “It’s in my closet.”
Note to self: Ask LYLA to record the party. It will be a nice memory to revisit.
He smiled at you. “I can’t wait to see her reaction.”
The movie had a happy ending. It was, in your words, a cinematic masterpiece.
“That’s how it ends?”
Your outburst prompts Miguel to face the opposite end of the sofa. In the dim light, he can easily make out the unimpressed look on your face.
“The ending looks decent to me,” he muses. “If you ignore the logistics of their reunion, the film is entertaining enough to rewatch.”
“I think it could be more realistic. And you’re saying that across the multiverse, this is the most common version of the movie?”
“In five dimensions, to be exact. Others have the same ending but different actors.”
You pause. “I’ll admit that Earth-928’s version has superior costume design. But I still prefer my dimension’s neutral ending. Maybe it’s because our societal values are different.”
The closing credits continue, but neither of you leave the sofa. You’re still criticizing the film under your breath, unaware that Miguel can understand every word. He does agree that the happy ending causes a few plot holes.
At least with you, he can adjust the brightness levels.
“We can watch your version next time,” he offers, reaching for the remote with his webs.
“Really? You don’t mind?”
He turns off the TV. “We can do it on my next day off.”
Knowing LYLA, this won’t be the last time she plans a movie night without telling him.
“Well, what else could I do?” she asked after he privately demanded an explanation. “You’ve been working yourself too hard, Miguel. You could really use a break, and so does ______.”
You take the remote from him and untangle the web fluid. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
Miguel gives you an odd look. “For what reason?”
You twist the web in your hands, forming string figures.
“As a decoration, maybe. Oh, and for the record, I don’t go around collecting webs from your coworkers. I just find yours particularly interesting.”
Weirdo. “My webs are functional like the others’. That’s all there is to it.”
You look him in the eye this time. “Hey, you should give yourself more credit. It’s my belief that every spiderweb is a work of art. And before you call me overly romantic, there have always been artists who thought they were worth noticing."
The web loops around your ring finger, in the place where her wedding ring used to be.
He averts his gaze. “I don’t see it that way. But whatever works for you.”
Another moment of silence.
“There is another reason,” you add softly.
He side-eyes you. “Is it about that day? You don’t need to keep thanking me for saving your life. As I said, I was doing my job and anyone would’ve done the same.”
“I wasn’t talking about you catching me.”
Oh, you meant that.
The web tangles in your hands.
“Listen.” You take a deep breath, eyes on your lap. “I know you’ve been avoiding this subject. Maybe it's so I don’t feel indebted to you or pressured into reliving bad memories. But…I just want you to know that I’m glad you foiled my plans.”
…It would be best to let you finish first.
Your voice shakes. “I mean, you’re smart, aren’t you? Even without my meltdown, you would’ve figured out that my fall had nothing to do with the Anomaly in my dimension.”
He did. And that was precisely why Miguel mistook you for one at first. It wasn’t just your identity but the fact that you were found in danger after the Anomaly had been captured.
Ten minutes post-battle. The undamaged state of the nearby buildings. The passive acceptance in your demeanor.
He can vividly recall the rest of that day. Those hours spent studying your personal data, identifying every action and condition which diverged from his wife's path.
A loud sigh. “I just—I couldn’t take it anymore, okay? I thought it would be easier to put an end to my mistakes, then you had to show up. And thanks to you, life has been great! I like this world, I’m not alone, I still have my personal issues to work through but I’m trying to do better. But yeah…I’m just sorry for forcing you to get involved.”
“It’s not your fault,” he insists. He scoots closer to you and puts his hand on top of yours. “I made the choice to bring you here. And I couldn’t exactly leave you, knowing your situation.”
That is a lie. Rather, half of his thoughts were about his wife and how he’d been able to sustain her happiness. How that farce proved he could do the same for you.
“Either way, I’m grateful.” You look up, your lips curving into a shy smile. “I’m really happy now, Miguel. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’ll never regret my decision to follow a cryptic stranger into a portal. Even if it meant learning that the multiverse is in constant danger. Or that my favorite film has an alternate ending which makes no sense to me whatsoever.”
Has his wife ever looked at him like that? There is a soft brilliance to your gaze, wholly reserved for him. It triggers a warm feeling in his chest.
The moment is quickly ended when you cover your face with a cushion.
“Anyway! If you don’t mind, I’d really love to move on and talk about something else. How was your mission earlier? Is Earth-199999 still giving you a hard time?”
You’re still seated next to him, legs touching. Your tone leaves no room for objection.
He lets go of your hand. “You would not believe what kind of shocking messes we’ve had to deal with. We are never recruiting Dr. Strange or his little nerd.”
“You can tell me all about it.” You untangle his web from your hands; it loops around your pinky finger this time. “I’m here for you, okay? For as long as you’ll have me.”
v. mesh web
There have been more Anomalies lately.
You walk past the detained villains, silently counting them. Their increase in numbers has kept the Spider Society on high alert for the past weeks. While it means more documents for you, the effect on Miguel’s stress levels is concerning.
Come to think of it, has he returned from his mission yet? If not, you hope the cafeteria’s takeout boxes have a self-heating function. As you get closer to Miguel's laboratory, you hear the door open. The sound is followed by two sets of footsteps.
“Do you think it’s healthy for him?”
“I’m more worried about ______.”
You stop walking.
Is that Peter B and Jess? Why are they talking about you?
Jess’s tone is reproachful. “The poor girl has been through so much already. It’s not safe for her to be here, at least in HQ. He knows that she is a different case from Gwen.”
“You know how Miguel is. I’ve already asked about her, and he won’t tell me anything new. Not even my Super Adorable Mayday album could convince him.”
“I don’t like this, Peter.”
Their footsteps become louder. You go back to the entrance of the hallway, just within earshot but hopefully far enough to evade their Spider-Senses.
“Neither do I. But you should’ve seen him when he lost their daughter, Jess. Now think of his wife: He never got to see ______ before she disintegrated. Then one day, out of nowhere, after staying away from countless Variants, he finds a version of her who needs him.”
…What the hell are they talking about?
The walls close in on you. You take a step back, followed by another.
Then, at the sound of a sharp “Is someone there?”, you drop the takeout box and run.
Their daughter. His wife. A version of her.
You already know that Miguel lost a family in another dimension. It was briefly mentioned when he warned you about Canon disruptions, but he refused to share the details. Is this why?
This whole time…you are a Variant of his wife?
You aren’t followed. Your coworkers cheerfully greet you, but you ignore them and return to your desk. It’s arranged the way you like it, complete with personal decorations. The drawer holds a stress ball in your favorite color, a gift from Miguel of all people.
You never did tell him that it is your go-to stress reliever. Was it the same for her?
You squeeze the ball and take deep breaths, but the action does little to calm you.
It all makes sense. Why else would Miguel take an interest in you?
Your gaze lands on your Dimensional Travel Watch before you remember that the idea is futile. Yours is only a modified version which prevents glitches but can’t be used for travel. And the Go-Home Machine would require Spider-Byte’s help.
…Why are you even wasting your time on an escape plan? How are you sure that you won’t mess up and make another mistake?
“______?” LYLA appears in front of your face. Her greeting sounds different.
You force yourself to answer. “Y-Yes?”
“Miguel is back.” She flickers as usual, but it doesn’t change the nervous look on her face. “He wants to see you.”
Peter B will be dead when he gets to him.
Several screens surround Miguel, each playing CCTV footage. He focuses on a live recording of you on your way to his laboratory.
At least you are complying with his orders.
The platform is fully lowered by the time you get there.
“Hey…welcome back,” you stammer. “How was the mission?”
“It was fine,” he replies brusquely. “Jess and Peter B spoke with me as soon as I came back. I was just confirming the status of Earth-67 when I checked the CCTVs. Care to explain?”
A heavy silence falls between the two of you. LYLA is nowhere to be seen.
Your panic is evident. Your gaze wanders, at everything but Miguel, until it stops at the dented takeout box on his desk. “Is that…is the food still warm? Or have you already eaten in Earth-67? I forgot to ask in advance.”
He glares at you. “Are you seriously worrying about my lunch right now?”
“Well, what else am I supposed to say?” you shoot back. The anger in your tone is unmistakable. “‘Hey, Miguel, when was I supposed to know that we were a family in the dimension you accidentally collapsed?’ Does that sound any better?!”
“Believe me, I was going to leave you alone at first.” He grips the edge of his desk, resisting the urge to raise his voice. “But how could I do it after the way you reacted?”
“Oh, so it’s my fault? You could’ve easily said no! This whole time, I wondered why you were so willing to help me. I thought you were being nice, that you believed giving me a better life was worth all these risky accommodations. Was…was I wrong?”
Your voice cracks at the last part, and you hastily wipe your eyes. It’s reminiscent of your first meeting, the distressed shock which Miguel had never seen in his wife. Only that time, you had sought out his comfort.
“Tell me, was it because of her?” you whisper. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill. “Is that all you’ve ever seen in me?”
“You have the wrong idea.” Miguel approaches you, but you instinctively back away. He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “If you would just listen to me—”
“How can I?!”
Your hand settles on your wrist, unconsciously fiddling with your Dimensional Travel Watch. The clasp loosens, and his reaction is immediate.
He grips your arm. “Don’t do that! You’ll get yourself—”
“Let go of me!”
You pull back, clawing at his wrist, but Miguel's grasp only tightens. His other hand taps the watch’s controls to activate the Lock feature.
“This is for your own good, ______." In the split second that he releases you, his webs shoot out and bind your limbs together.
“No!” You collapse onto the floor. The scarlet threads dig into your skin, emitting a harsh glow in the dark. “Please, just let me go!”
After everything he’s been through, he is not losing you again.
Ignoring the stab of guilt, he picks you up and salvages what is left of his composure.
“You see, this is why I didn’t tell you.” He sighs, already feel the beginnings of a headache.
You’re still shaking in his grasp, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I…I’m not—”
His kiss easily silences you. It’s far from intimate but the sensations are familiar. Warm lips. The scent of your perfume. The addictive rush of euphoria. Physical and chemical reactions which couldn’t be adequately explained in words.
And the whimper that escapes your lips when Miguel pulls back to press a light kiss to your forehead.
“We can continue this conversation when we get home.”
Your days in the Spider Society are over.
Not permanently. Miguel says that you can resume work once you’ve calmed down, but you doubt it will happen under any pretense of freedom.
Since your confrontation, you’ve been confined in his home. As it turns out, Miguel had already prepared for this—locks, alarms, hidden cameras, a comprehensive speech which only elevates your horror.
“She wouldn’t want this,” you keep insisting. You writhe against your restraints, but the webs remain taut against your skin. “How would your ______ feel if she knew?!”
“She’s not here anymore.” Miguel looks away from your face, as though the reminder physically pains him. “What matters now is that I have you. The both of us can start over.”
“How can you say that?!” At this point, you’re on the verge of hysteria. “You…you don’t actually love me. You’re only doing this because I’m the closest you have to getting her back!”
The hand on your cheek makes you flinch. The gentle caress does little to soothe you, not with the underlying threat of his claws. His eyes flash red in the dim light, brimming with—what do you call it? Grief? Desperation? Obsession?
You can’t tell, not when those sentiments are for someone else.
“You only say that because you don’t know any better,” he says softly. His lips meet yours, trapping you in a deep kiss. “Now get some rest, mi sol. It’s been a long day, and we know how you get when you’re stressed.”
My sun. What a lie. Since when have you done anything to deserve such a title?
You can’t bother to fight back. You’re too tired to think, to resist the kiss, to move an inch as Miguel undos your restraints and tucks you into bed.
Instead, you close your eyes and retreat into slumber. But even in your last seconds of consciousness, his gaze is strongly felt.
As it turns out, Miguel really did consider all possibilities. Your Dimensional Travel Watch has an exclusive Lock feature, should you ever be tempted to escape him through death. It can only be removed during your scheduled baths, with LYLA acting as your timer.
You rarely talk to her, either. She clearly feels sorry for you, but not enough to help. She monitors your daily activity, keeps you company when Miguel is away, and tries to cheer you up. She has yet to accomplish the last task.
Against your better judgment, you ask her about your Variant. She is resistant at first, knowing the negative outcome, but you are persistent. In the end, LYLA decides that it’s better to show you a few videos than for you to ask Miguel directly.
…Your Variant is perfect. Pretty. Carefree. Successful. A calming presence. You can see why Miguel would fall for her, with how she effortlessly puts a smile on his face.
Among your Variants, isn’t there one who bears a closer resemblance to her? Or were they too important to leave without disrupting the Canon? Is that why he settled for you?
“You have a better sense of style,” LYLA offhandedly mentions. “It was Miguel who said that. And do you know that he calls you one of our best workers?”
It doesn’t make you feel any better. “I see. Thanks for letting me know.”
As LYLA predicted, the information only makes you feel worse. You can’t stop thinking about your other self. How did she turn out like that? How did she succeed in your failures? How has Miguel perceived his moments with you, as new memories or a replica of lost time?
You don’t want to ask him. You’ve had enough disappointments for one lifetime.
Neither do you make an escape plan. On the low chance that you succeed, you don’t have anywhere to go. The Spider Society, or most of them, is loyal to Miguel. And it’s not like you’d be better off in your dimension, back to your empty home and dead-end job and daily reminders of your insignificance.
At least here, you can feel valued. Even if you owe that to someone else.
“I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so.”
Miguel doesn’t look up from the screens. “Now is not the time for this.”
LYLA is anything but smug. ”Are you sure? Because you said that when I asked if you’d ever tell her the truth, and look where that went. A civil explanation might’ve been nice.”
“How is she?”
“No better than with you.”
The CCTV switches to the kitchen. By now, you've established a new routine—lie awake in bed, rearrange your room, watch TV, cook your own meals. It's repetitive but easy to follow.
He zooms in on the ingredients. “Do you see anything suspicious?”
“No potential poisons,” LYLA responds, equally focused. “Oh, is she cooking dinner again? Last night’s meal looked really good.”
“It probably helps. Gives her something to preoccupy herself with.”
In the end, you’ve chosen the docile route. You’re still tense around Miguel, but your behavior can’t even be counted as malicious compliance. You just go through your new routine, trying to create some semblance of normalcy in confinement.
Though internally speaking, he has no access to your thoughts.
“She’s quite different from his wife, isn’t she?” asks LYLA. “I like this version of ______.”
Miguel zooms in on you this time. In your current state, you’ve revealed more contrasts to his Variant’s wife. It actually doesn’t bother him in the slightest.
When did his feelings for you begin? Was it when he saved you? When he saw a spark of his beloved in you? When that spark turned out to be your own brilliance?
All he knows is that you’re the one who consumes his thoughts nowadays. Your distinct preferences, your little quirks, your quiet words, your uncertain expressions, your attitude towards him and no other Miguel.
...There must be a way to persuade you. If Miguel was able to play along with his Variant’s family, to the point that his love for them became genuine, the same can be said for you. He just needs to prove that you can and will be happy together.
The only thing missing would be Gabriella.
vii. sheet web
You’ve been promoted to Miguel’s bedmate.
His room isn’t much. It is dark, minimalist, often empty due to the nature of his work. There are zero mementos of his lost family, not even a framed photo or something of her influence.
They’re probably hidden somewhere. How considerate.
On most nights, you act oblivious to your new sleeping arrangement. You just say good night to Miguel, lie down on your side of the bed, and try to fall asleep as quickly as possible.
…That turns out to be more difficult than expected. Try as you might to feign sleep, you can’t relax in Miguel’s grasp. He holds you tightly in his sleep, your back pressed against his chest. You wonder if it is a familiar position or a means of keeping you close.
Lately, he has switched tactics. Movie nights have become a regular pastime. You’ve received permission to work from home, sans contact with the Spider Society. The two of you have even gone outside for a few dates, though his grip on your hand discourages any escape attempts. Awkwardness aside, he’s been more physically affectionate.
It’s absolutely jarring, but you’re somewhat grateful for the added comforts. If your choices are different from his wife’s, Miguel doesn’t seem to mind.
This should be fine. It’s better than when he was acting like an overprotective control freak…even if those methods had left no speculation as to who the intended receiver was. With this approach, you can never be sure if Miguel sees you or his wife in front of him.
You try not to dwell on it more than you already have. You’re still here. Your living conditions have marginally improved. Miguel doesn’t expect you to be more like her.
You just need to keep it together, like you always have.
That is what you keep telling yourself, up until the night Miguel asks for your thoughts on starting a family.
“No. Please, stop!”
Red. In the dark, all you can see is red.
The lurid color wraps around you, binding your wrists to the headboard. The webs are taut, no-frills, effective in their sole purpose of keeping you trapped.
No, what’s worse is Miguel. His gaze is trained on you, scarlet orbs alight with crazed desire and your own terrified reflection.
“Stop struggling,” he sighs as he pins you down. Blood decorates his bare arms, from where your scratches failed to stop him. “You’re only going to get yourself hurt.”
You continue, anyway, only to scream as he leans down and sinks his fangs into your neck. It hurts, the flesh burns, everything feels heavy—
You can’t move.
It doesn’t take long for the venom to kick in. The numbness spreads throughout your body, leaving you dizzy and helpless. Your limbs won’t cooperate at all.
Yet despite the paralysis, the pain stays with you. It’s the only sensation you can feel—the sharp ache in your neck, the chafing around your wrists, the sting from where Miguel accidentally scratched your thigh while tearing off your clothes.
“Mi sol, you are still tense,” he mutters. His lips remain on your neck, administering light kisses to the fresh wound. A clawed hand presses down on the bed, puncturing the fabric, to support his weight. “You need to calm down.”
You can only bite your lip as he moves on to your chest, tainting the skin with love bites. His other hand retracts its claws and strokes your stomach, tracing—are those patterns supposed to be her stretch marks?
Of course he memorized them. She must be on his mind right now.
You squeeze your eyes shut, but the ministrations continue. His thumb strokes your hip, eliciting a stifled moan, and the self-inflicted darkness gives way to the sight of Miguel’s irritated expression.
“You’re not listening to me, ______.” His eyes flash, daring you to try again. The sight of his exposed fangs, speckled with your own blood, triggers another wave of dread.
Should you even be surprised that he knows your sensitive spots? He already made it clear that any form of escape is in vain.
It's pure torture. It would be easier if Miguel would just have his way with you, use your body to his heart’s content, leave you to your thoughts. But no, he is taking his time and making sure that you physically enjoy this. Ensuring that you will be ready for what comes next.
“S-Stop.” Your lips are still numb, but you manage to form words. “I said…I don’t want this! I’m not ready!”
“Shh.” He silences you with another kiss, his palm pressing down on your stomach. “You’re only saying this because it’s our first time. You have to trust me.”
It’s hard to believe him when you know that his composure is slipping. What is he trying to hide? His ragged breaths? The hardness pressed against your inner thigh? The urgency with which he lifts your legs up onto his shoulders?
“You’ll understand once our child is here,” he says. He breaks off the kiss, his voice hushed to a reverent whisper. “We will be so happy, happier than you can ever imagine.”
“You’re lying…I can’t—!”
You can’t stand to look at him. His gaze is so cruel, clouded with love, adoration, hope. Skies, he looks so hopeful. You don’t want to wait for the day he looks at you differently.
Was this how he looked at her? How did she return his gaze? It must’ve been passionate. It must’ve been romantic. It must’ve been so promising.
“I can’t give you Gabriella!”
The world stops as soon as those words leave your mouth.
“...What did you just say?” Miguel stares at you, eyes wide.
Of all Variants, why did it have to be you?
That is when you burst into tears.
How humiliating. It’s hard to breathe, it must be an ugly sight, and you can’t do anything to cover your face. But it’s enough to make Miguel stop and listen to you.
“I can’t give you Gabriella,” you repeat in choked sobs. “It requires an exact time, specific cells and DNA. And even if we succeed, I can’t raise her into the child you knew. I...I can’t restore your family. I can’t be her.”
In the end, you will only disappoint him.
“______…” He raises his hand to wipe your tears, but you interrupt him with a glare.
“Honestly, why did it have to be me?!” you shout. “Why couldn’t you have found a better duplicate of your wife? This wouldn’t be happening if you’d chosen the right ______!”
He doesn't respond.
For a few seconds, all you can hear is your own pitiful weeping. You vaguely register the feeling of your legs hitting the mattress, of the absence of Miguel’s touch, but you keep your eyes closed. It’s easier that way.
Suddenly, there is the sound of threads snapping. Then the sensation of strong hands coming under your back, lifting you upwards, pulling you into an embrace.
Your eyes fly open. “What—”
Miguel…is he hugging you? He holds you tightly, repeating the words in a hushed tone. The message is followed by a string of curses which, judging by the way he turns away from you, must be solely directed at himself.
Paralyzed, you can only stare down at your lap. At his webs, still wrapped around your wrists but no longer connected to the bed. “What are you—”
“Could you let me talk for a second?" he snaps. He tilts your face upwards, allowing you to take in his glare. “You are my first choice. Not the version of you from Earth-94, Earth-835, or any other dimension in the multiverse. It doesn’t matter that you are different from her.”
This can’t be true. “Still, I—”
“As for Gabriella, you’re right." There is a flash of resignation in his gaze, so sorrowful that it clashes with his words. “I knew that from the start.”
Your head spins. His hands are still on you, caressing your cheek and keeping you in his grasp. The numbness gives way to warmth.
“Well, it doesn’t change the fact that any child from you will be ours,” he answers. His voice softens, as does his gaze. “Just as you are mine and I am yours.”
The words get stuck in your throat. “Are…are you sure?”
How can he say such a thing? Your sense of hearing must be damaged. It is the only logical explanation as to why—
The look in his eyes leaves no room for doubt. “I promise.”
...What else can you possibly say?
Your vision blurs. Miguel is still speaking, another quiet reassurance from the sound of it, but it’s all static in your head.
What the hell are you supposed to do with this information? It’s beyond your comprehension, too subjective and unproven for the likes of you. And yet you feel…good. Happy. So, so happy despite everything you have been through.
Skies, you are truly pathetic.
No, what’s more pathetic is the way you cry harder and melt into Miguel’s embrace. It’s the way you listen to his remaining praises and beg him to keep talking. To list everything about you that is good and faultless and desirable to him, everything he thought was worth noticing.
And when he kisses you, you willingly reciprocate.
The darkness is soothing.
The dim lights cast the bedroom in shadows. It’s a blessing to your dizziness, your eyes tired from crying. With this obstacle to your vision, you can pretend that the previous hours never happened.
Almost. The soreness, the deft hands tending to your injuries, and the immense euphoria are impossible to ignore.
It’s also painful, unbearably painful now that the venom’s effect has fully worn off. You can only sit up and wince as Miguel disinfects another wound.
He looks up in concern. “Are you okay?”
“I am.” You give him a weak smile as he bandages your thigh and mumbles a second apology. “I feel better already.”
His own injuries are equally evident, from your hesitant love bites to the scratch marks on his back. As guilty as you felt, you could only say so much before Miguel silenced you with a withering look.
…You will make it up to him tomorrow. If you are still capable of walking.
The thought leads you to cry into the pillow, muffling your curses. If Miguel can understand you, he doesn’t say anything. Rather, he closes the first aid kit and holds your hand.
“I’ll draw a bath,” he tells you. “Can you wait for a few minutes?”
Your thumb brushes against his pulse point. His heart rate is frustratingly calm, perhaps slightly above average if you are to flatter yourself. Maybe you can count the number of beats and ask LYLA tomorrow. She will be happy to confirm it.
You meet his gaze, intertwining your fingers with his. “Sure.”
You’d like to think that his last kiss is another promise.
With that, Miguel stands up and leaves the room. As for you, you lie down and go back to screaming into the pillow. Tired as you feel, you haven’t felt this thrilled in years.
Then the spiderwebs catch your attention. They’re still stuck to your wrists, albeit frayed. There are loose threads from where Miguel broke them.
Red. Illuminating the dark, holding you close, keeping you safe.
Carefully, you pick apart the threads and twist them around your hand.
No string figures this time. Your technique is clumsy, irregular, lacking beauty and order. Nonetheless, you continue until your left hand is covered in a glovelike pattern.
The final knot is above your ring finger. It’s a perfect fit.
It is the prettiest thing you have ever seen.
Author's Note ๑ Side Story 1 ๑ Prologue ๑ Epilogue ๑ Side Story 2
“I’m just going to write a short post to purge my brainrot,” I say, shortly before Miguel O’Hara unlocks a core memory of me reading The Spider and the Fly and inspires me to write 7.6k words with literary references.
Thank you so much to @diodellet for beta-reading this and @yanmaresu for helping me with the Spanish phrases!! As for my readers, I hope you enjoyed my take on Yandere! Miguel and his darling. Do entertain me with your comments and brainrot ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝
Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @kocherry @yandere-romanticaa @yandere-daydreams @bweoo @h2o2-and-baking-soda @ansy-tea @yandere-wishes @weebsinstash @curesi @robindere @crystalcrynight @mrlidocaine @handsomeunderwear-art @blughxreader @chiikasevennn @fortheloveofleon
“Meant for him” // Stalker!Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader [ONE SHOT]
THIS IS A DARK FIC SO PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE INDULGING // based on this request.
WARNINGS: MDNI! heavy noncon to dubcon, canon typical incest, creepy behavior, jealousy, dark!aemond, possessiveness, p in v sex, breeding kink, knife kink, pain kink, dacryphilia(?), violence, + not proofread!
block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to avoid seeing dark content from me.
You wished you hadn't ventured out alone at this ungodly hour, the keep was deadly silent except your footsteps, you got lost, having not been here for a while and now you were just walking around trying to remember the pathways until you felt someone grab you from behind, slapping a hand over your mouth so you don't scream and dragging you to a more secluded area.
You struggled in the man's tight grip, writhing and kicking, but he remained firm and kept dragging you until he shoved you roughly against the wall, your head making hard contact with the brick wall, causing pain to shoot up your skull, making you close your eyes and wince.
You finally opened them to see the familiar head of platinum-blonde and a violet eye, you frowned, it was your uncle, Aemond.
“Fucking cunt, playing hard to get.” he sneers at you, you felt panic rise in your veins.
Aemond has been after you for many years, from the moment you were born to now, he was ever the dutiful son in everyone's eyes, but to you, he was a force not to be reckoned with.
What started off as curiosity to see his niece at a young age, manifested into pure obsession and twisted love for you, As a child, he had asked his mother to betroth you to him, your age gap wasn't that big, only being two years younger.
Alicent was reluctant at first, because she knew you were a bastard but saw this as an opportunity to make amends, but rhaenyra refused, saying that you were too young, being only seven, and Aemond just nine.
Aemond was frustrated, you were his birthright, you'll be betrothed to him in the future anyway so why not just do it now? He liked you very much, he followed you in secret, when he wasn't studying or training with his brother, he would be stalking you.
He would collect things you left behind to keep as some kind of twisted souvenirs.
And then came the driftmark incident, you weren't involved in any of it, sleeping soundly but you were woken up, being a child, you were terrified when you entered the chamber to find Aemond's face all bloodied up, his face being stitched by the maester, and then you turned your head to the side to find your brothers bloody too, not as much as Aemond, but you rushed over to them.
After they had explained what happened, you felt angry, he insulted your brothers? You also felt bad for him because he lost his eye but it angered you more to see your brothers hurt, you shared the same womb after all.
In that time, Aemond proposed for you to be betrothed to him once again, saying how Lucerys has a debt to pay, but he's willing to move on if your hand is promised to him, and Viserys also thought it was a good idea, but you blatantly refused, in front of everyone.
And then Alicent went crazy, coming towards Lucerys with a knife but your mother had stopped her in time, the situation terrified you, and she slashed your mothers arm when pulling away, and reading the room, Aemond stepped in bitterly, saying it was a fair exchange to de-escalate the situation. Even though he knew deep down that it was never fair.
And that's when his liking for you took a turn, you dared reject him in front of everyone, he never forget about it.
Over the years Alicent has sent few ravens, proposing the same thing over and over again, but you refused when your mother had bought them up, saying you won't be marrying someone that dared to insult your family's honour.
Aemond knew you would say no, but he still asked his mother regardless, Alicent knew her son was going mad and was about to tip over the edge, and she wouldn't know how to deal with that.
Just then, Vaemond bought a petition to question Lucerys' succession to driftmark, and your family returned to the keep, Aemond's mind was racing with your thoughts, he wondered how you looked now, he knew you would've grown into a beautiful woman.
And so when he spotted you with your brothers through his periphery, he was excited and it made him defeat cole in the training, earning applause, before he addressed your brothers, “Nephews, have you come to train?” he asked before focused his attention on them, they were speechless.
“Niece,” he began and you looked at him with a frown, he took in your appearance before a smile grew on his face, “You've grown.” he stated and you never wanted to punch him so bad, that was until you were interrupted by the entrance of Vaemond.
The court had ended with Lucerys being reaffirmed as the heir to driftmark and with Vaemond's head on the floor, cut cleanly by your step father, daemon. You admired him a lot.
Alicent once again proposed your betrothal in private to your mother, as much as your mother loved the idea, she was planning on betrothing you to Cregan stark, and so alicent nodded sadly.
And the dinner? It was a mess.
Everything was fine until Viserys left the room, and the pig arrived, Luke let out mocking laughs looking at Aemond, and so he slammed his fist on the table before picking up the wine glass and toasting to your brothers, he was already pissed off from the news his mother delivered to him before dinner begun and now this ticked him off even further.
'Strong boys.' he had called them, which pissed both Jace and Luke off, and so it ended in such mess, being sent to your chambers by your mother.
You went out for a walk when everyone was asleep, not being able to stand the suffocation in your chambers, you didn't realise then that it would be such a big mistake.
“U-uncle please-” you begged in his grip, his hand shot out to grab your neck, cutting off your air supply which had you choking, clawing at his hands to make him let go of you, kicking your feet.
He pushed you further against the wall before pressing his forehead against yours, “How many years will you have me toiling after you? I fucking wanted you. Yet you refused me. Each and every fucking time.” he grip on your throat tightened, making you see stars and you struggled in his grip.
“You are to be betrothed to Cregan Stark? Do you think he'll marry you if I ruined you?” those words made your eyes widen, surely he isn't suggesting that.
“N-no-” you croak, his hand leaves your throat and you gasp for air, breathing heavily, and then he presses his dagger to your throat, not cutting you but enough to have to stop moving.
He undoes his breeches, pulling out his semi hard cock and giving it a few pumps, you dared not to move because if you did, the dagger would pierce through your skin and you would bleed out.
He began to hike your skirt up gathering them in one place before he pressed himself against you, you sobbed when you felt his cock rubbing against your cunt, he slammed his lips against you in a rough kiss, you didn't kiss him back, just cried. He licked your tears away before pulling back with a smirk. You looked at him with teary eyes.
His free hand cupped your cunt before he rubbed small circles on your clit, you gasp as he presses meanly against the flesh.
Unsatisfied with the position, Aemond throws you onto the ground, you make sure to land on your back and avoid getting your head hurt again, but your back burns with pain at the impact, causing you to wince. Aemond straddles you, skirt gathered in your lap as you cry out, he slaps your face before shutting you up with a hand over your mouth.
“Do you know how much I wanted you? How much I pined after you? You rejected me. I still haven't forgotten.” he spits on your face.
He moves himself down and spreads your legs wide, you try to push him away with your free hands but you fail, he lines up his cock against your entrance before prodding at the opening with it, “A-aemond— uncle, please stop” you say weakly.
He kisses trails kisses up for your neck, before finding your sensitive spot and sucking in the skin there, causing you to whine, he pulls away before grabbing his dagger once again and ripping the bodice of your dress, causing your breasts so spill out of their confines. You gasp when you feel the dagger poke at the flesh, he presses hard for it just sting but not pierce the skin.
He lets go of the dagger before grabbing both your tits and squeezing them roughly before his mouth descends to take one in his mouth, he licks the nipple before sucking on it, your hand flies up to his hair, gripping it tightly, not knowing whether you want to push him away or hold him tight against you.
He leaves your breast with a pop, hearing you gasp, he sat back, admiring how your cunt looks, all wet and dripping, “You're dripping way too much for someone showing such resistance.” he comments before he pokes at your hole his tip, causing you to clench around nothing.
He knows you wouldn't be able to take him, and that he should prepare you first, but he couldn't hold himself back, and without a warning, he shoves himself entirely inside of you, causing you to scream before it gets cut off by him slamming his lips against yours.
The pain was unbearable, he was too big, and you were a maiden too, it was burning and aching so much, but for some reason you liked the burn, the stretch, you thought you were going insane.
He had the basic courtesy of letting you adjust to him, albeit for a moment before he pulled back and started thrusting wildly into your cunt, causing your body to jolt up against the stone floor.
He spread your legs wider, holding them apart from beneath your knees, and you held on to his shoulder for support and threw your head back, feeling pleasure creeping up your spine.
“U-uncle p-please.” you begged, you had no idea what you were begging for anyone, you didn't want to lose yourself and so you tried pushing him away but he didn't budge, and so your hands fell limply to your side as you let him have his way with you.
His good eye was wild, pupil almost engulfing the violet of his eyes, he watched as your breasts bounced up and down as he continued to thrust into your core, before he grabbed them meanly and pinched both your nipples, twisting them causing you gasp in pain.
One hand left your breast to grab the dagger on the floor next to you before he bought it up to your face, tracing it on the side of your cheek, you flinched when you felt the sharp material press against your face, it trailed down to your neck and he light put pressure there, causing the blood to come up to the surface of the skin but not entirely piercing it.
You felt your arousal dripping onto the stones below at that, you felt embarassed, that your body was liking it, he sat back on his haunches and rammed his cock in and out, watching the blood of your maidenhead coat his cock, causing him to let out a small gasp.
He bought your hips onto his lap, the new angle hitting the rough patch inside of you, causing you to mewl, you gripped his arms which held you up by the waist, nails biting into the leather material. “F-fuck, look at your cunt. Gripping me tightly.” he said between heavy breathes, groaning as he felt each and every ridge of your wet heat, making you clench around him.
“Oh gods, you were meant for me.” he breathes
His hand gripped your cheek tightly, parting your lip before he leant down and kissed you, tears flowing freely from your eyes as he licked them and kissed them away. “Shhh, take it like the good girl you are.” he coos in your ears and you just close your eyes.
And then felt the band in your stomach begin to tighten, you knew what this meant, and aemond was able to tell too, by the way your cunt was clenching tightly around him, his hand moved to your bud and rubbed small but fast circles, and you shook your head, “N-no!” you moaned, refusing to let yourself peak but it is violently ripped through when he pressed meanly down onto your clit, cause the band to snap, mouth parted in a silent moan, eyes clenched close.
Your cunt pulsed around him, making him groan at the sensation, he kissed you once again, lips moving against yours in a passionate manner, tongue swiping against your bottom for entrance to which you grant him, too lost in the high.
You were breathing heavily when you felt his thrusts become sloppy, and the way he was groaning, “I'm gonna cum inside of you alright? breed you, watch you swell with my heirs.” he babbles, and you gulp, “beg for it.” he suddenly says and you look at him wide eyed, another orgasm rapidly approaching you.
“P-please aemond—” you groan, feeling his hit the rough patch again, “Please what?” he asks, trying to contain himself from spilling already, “P-please cum inside me- need you.” you beg humiliated and just then your second orgasm hits you hard, causing you to moan loudly.
“F-fuck, I'm gonna make you a mother, you would love that right? and finally I'd be able to marry you, watch your carry my children, you're going to give me so many understand?” he rambles on before he reaches his peak, coming inside you with a satisfied moan, he rides his orgasm out before he pulls out, watching his spend leak out of you.
You thought with a heavy heart on how he ruined you, no man would want you now.
The next morning, your betrothal plan to cregan was called off on your wish, you asked your mother to get you married to Aemond, he has officially ruined you and damned you to himself, and you were only afraid that if he didn't get what he wanted this time, he would go further and kill your any man you get betrothed to.
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
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SUMMARY: What Soldier Boy wants, he gets.
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"That’s a nice dress.”
You turn around upon hearing the deep voice, automatically plastering an amicable smile on your face.
“Oh, thank you so much, Soldier Boy.” you reply, although the way his green eyes rake over your body, momentarily pausing when they reach the cleavage, is less than respectful.
Especially in a public event.
“A short one too, by the way.”
You take a sip of your drink, ignoring his remark as you let your eyes run over the people that walk around.
“Lovely party, isn’t it?”
“It is.” you agree, twisting your purse in your hands.
It’s slightly unnerving to be in a room full of superheroes, even though you work with them on a daily basis.
A shiver runs down your spine as the memory of Countess Crimson shouting at you for bumping against her in the hall, forcing you to apologize even though it was technically her fault.
The memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
“Hey, you good?” Soldier Boy’s hand lands on your shoulder and you offer him a reassuring smile.
He nods towards the dance floor, winking his eye at you. “How about a dance? I bet you’re an incredible dancer.”
“I’m not much of a dancer, actually.” the excuse comes quickly and you pretend not to notice when his hand tightens on your shoulder.
You take a step back, under the pretense of putting the glass back on a tray, escaping his touch.
“Actually I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’m very tired.”
“How about I drive you home?” the offer is enough to make your heart skip a beat, anxiety crawling under your skin.
“Hum, it’s okay, really. I only live two minutes away so it’s a quick walk.” you lie but it doesn’t matter as Soldier Boy only lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.
“I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I let a young lady like yourself walk alone at night, would I? Bad things happen all the time.” his hand sneaks around your back as he comes closer. “Let me just walk you to the door. Make sure you’re safe and sound.”
His words sound harmless and you nod, knowing that you don’t really have much of a choice.
And you just want to go home quickly.
He fucks you hard, like he’s a starved man. You always knew his strength was unparalleled, but never once did you ever think that you’d be fighting against it.
You cry out every time his hips aggressively meet yours, your pelvic bone hurting from the impact.
Soldier Boy thrusts meanly, holding down your hands on each side of your head with so much force that it feels like he’s crushing them.
You gasp in pain as he forces his cock inside over and over again, your pussy barely able to accommodate him even with the poor idea of him using his spit as lube.
“Fuck, I knew you’d have a tight cunt but damn, you make virgin pussies look bad.” he groans, leaning forward with his pretty hair falling off in strands into his eyes.
The feeling isn’t pleasant , your dry walls burning upon the intrusion. He tries kissing you, but you dodge away, turning your head to the side.
“Don’t be a brat, now.” his voice comes out deeper than usual and he punches a few cruel thrusts in payback.
One of his hands takes both of your wrist, pinning them above as the other reaches for your chest, squeezing a boob hard enough for you to wince. “I know you’re enjoying this. You wanted me, right?”
“Soldier Boy, please…stop.” you plead, but he barely listens to you. His attention is focused on the lower part of your body, eyes following the way his massive cock forces you open.
“That’s why you were all nice. Getting all dressed up for me. You wanted me. You wanted to fuck Soldier Boy.” his declaration has your stomach churning.
It was hardly what happened, but Soldier Boy only saw what he wanted to.
“Such a pretty pussy that you got, sweetheart. Taking me so well.” he sucks a deep breath and speeds up with movements, your body shaking with the sudden urgency of his thrusts.
He chants multiple curses as he furiously chases his high, only stopping when he cums with an obscene growl.
His body collapses over you, trapping you under the suffocating weight with his cum oozing out of you.