#rhetorical question pls don't answer
Text
is it worrying that daydreaming and media consumption are my only hobbies
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
so. how many of you would hate me if i started posting my fandom opinions and such here again
#it's a joke rhetorical question pls don't answer this#i should be more unhinged about fandom stuff again i think it's good for me#sky sez
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
sheesh, why can't a guy and girl be friends without people thinking they're in a relationship? it's annoying.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Futile Devices
Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader
Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.
Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)
Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!
Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.
Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!
MDNI pls.
...
It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.
Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.
You had to be extra careful.
You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.
"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."
"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.
“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”
“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”
“I’m different.”
“I doubt it.”
He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”
“Me.”
“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.
Yeah. Something like that.
You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.
"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.
Fuck. That was close.
You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.
You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.
"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"
Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.
"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."
"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"
"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.
"That's not gonna work, honey."
"So let me in."
"Promise to be nice?"
"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"
"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."
You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.
"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.
You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.
Life progresses. People change.
“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.
He didn’t answer.
“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.
The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.
“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.
You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.
“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.
“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.
"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"
“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.
You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.
You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.
“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.
“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.
“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”
“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”
“That's not the point."
“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.
"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"
"Mhm."
"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"
"Uh-huh."
You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."
"I'm listening, HR."
"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”
“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.
He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.
“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.
"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”
Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”
“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”
“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.
“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.
“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”
“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”
“For food?”
“Yes, for food. They want options.”
“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.
“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.
“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.
“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.
“What is it?”
He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.
You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.
“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”
…
He loves it when you ride him.
His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.
Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.
"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.
"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"
Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.
Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.
You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.
"F-fuck! Miguel!"
"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.
"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.
He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.
His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.
“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.
You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.
Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.
His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.
“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.
Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.
“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.
Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.
…
A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.
He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.
You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.
“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”
“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.
"You could've just taken the elevator!"
"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"
"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.
“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”
“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”
“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."
You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."
“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.
“What can I do for you, Peter?”
Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.
“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.
You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.
”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”
“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”
"Asked?"
"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”
You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”
“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”
“He's making you do that?”
“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”
You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”
"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."
Well, that was true.
You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.
Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.
But he was never just some guy to you.
You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.
A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.
He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?
You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.
It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.
“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”
“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.
“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”
“And who’s supposed to help you?”
“I don’t need help.”
“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”
“Very.”
“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.
"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.
"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.
"What?"
“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.
"What?"
"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"
You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."
...
"So you think I need help?"
Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.
You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.
So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.
"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.
"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.
"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.
“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.
He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”
“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.
“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.
You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.
His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.
"Is it good?"
“Mhm.”
You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.
Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.
Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.
"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.
"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.
You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.
It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.
And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.
The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.
You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.
Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.
"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.
It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.
You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.
You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.
So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.
He fucked you from behind.
It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.
"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."
"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."
"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.
"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.
"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.
"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.
He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.
The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.
You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.
“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.
It was too much.
“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”
“Cum for me.”
That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.
“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”
“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”
You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.
You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.
Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.
As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.
"I have to go."
“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”
"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.
You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.
His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.
You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.
You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.
...
“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.
“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.
“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”
“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.
“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.
“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.
“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”
Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.
“Fine, boss lady.”
Satisfied, you handed him a plate.
“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.
“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”
“My dad can’t.”
“…why?”
“He’s Irish.”
“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”
“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.
You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.
You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.
“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.
“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.
“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.
“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.
“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.
“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.
“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.
Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.
“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”
“Miguel’s being mopey.”
“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”
“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.
“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”
“What?”
“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”
“How?”
“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”
“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”
“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.
“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”
“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”
“You caught him off guard.”
“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”
“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.
“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”
...
You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.
The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.
What were you even doing there?
You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.
Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.
It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.
You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.
No more keeping your window unlocked.
You took a breath and tried again. No luck.
Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.
“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.
Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.
“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”
“Uhh, thanks?”
“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.
“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”
“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”
“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.
“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”
“What? How am I supposed to do that?”
Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.
You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.
It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.
“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.
“What do you need?”
“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.
“About?”
“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.
“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”
“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.
“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”
“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.
“Yeah. I did. Still do.”
The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.
You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.
“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”
“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.
“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”
“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?
“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”
“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.
“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.
“I’m not.”
“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”
Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.
“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.
“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”
“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”
“You’re pissing me off.”
“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation
“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.
Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.
You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.
“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.
He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.
“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.
“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.
He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.
“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”
“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.
“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.
“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”
“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.
As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.
He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.
“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.
“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.
You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.
You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.
“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.
“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.
With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.
“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.
You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.
“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.
“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.
You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.
In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.
“Te amo.”
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#spider man 2099#atsv#across the spiderverse#spider verse#spiderman across the spiderverse
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
big spoon, little spoon | boo seungkwan
SYNOPSIS. in which ask your boyfriend if he wants to be big spoon or little spoon.
PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader
GENRE. fluff, established relationship
WARNINGS. kissing (in the dark lmao), one curse word, terms of endearment, just boo being rlly affectionate :<
WORD COUNT. 1.2k
requested from anon: congrats on 2k lovely!!! ❤️❤️❤️ for ur event may i please req seungkwan + #6 list one? thank u ahhhhh and congrats again
- #6: "I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms."
notes: thank u my love !! i hope u enjoy <3 i had too much fun writing this pls 😭😭
join the 2k celebration!
"Okay, so big spoon or little spoon tonight?"
Seungkwan just freezes from where he stood in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still dangling at his lips with bits of foam at the corners of his mouth. You're literally staring at him like you're waiting for him to answer and that it wasn't actually a rhetorical question.
"Are you asking me𑁋okay, wait." He marches back into the bathroom to hastily spit and rinse out his mouth, before coming back out with determination in his step. "Are you asking me if I want to be big spoon or little spoon?"
There's a playful lift to your lips as you sit down on the edge of his bed, and Seungkwan can very much see that slight mischievous look to your features. He can already feel the heat of the moment shoot up towards his ears, and he prays that the room is dark enough to hide it.
"Yeah, I am. Since, you know, we always sorta switch around every day," You say, nodding with a teasing grin. "And, well... I'm being considerate, as your partner and all. I gotta know all your preferences..."
God, Seungkwan feels like he's sinking into quicksand at his feet. Are you really at his place every day? He hardly ever thought about how often you were here, like how these nightly rituals had practically become routine now. He swears his heart does a little happy flip-flop at the thought.
It all started with movie night dates that bled into you two eating breakfast together, dinner dates that turned into you helping wash dishes at three in the morning, and then that particular comfortable silence that settled completely at this point. Every day, there always seems to be another reason for you to stay a little longer, another excuse to linger until the streetlights cast an orange glow through his curtains.
And Seungkwan knows he won't ever get tired of it𑁋he won't ever get tired of having you around. Not now. Not anytime soon. Not ever.
He runs a hand through his hair, feeling whatever embarrassment he had in his chest start to dissipate and replaced by a rush of warmth.
"Okay, well, as your very considerate and caring boyfriend..." He crosses his arms together. "what do you prefer?"
You purse your lips together, as if deep in thought. You didn't mind being either little or big spoon, but the thought of Seungkwan having his arms around you right now𑁋if you could describe it𑁋felt like being wrapped by a warm cloud, a feeling of pure, weightless security that chases away all possible worries.
But it isn't just about the comfort, although it's certainly a big part of it. It was the feeling of being safe and cherished, completely enveloped in his embrace. It was the feeling of home.
A slow smile graces across your face.
"I'll take little spoon," You answer gleefully, already crawling more onto his bed and tucking yourself under the covers with a little wiggle. Whatever façade Seungkwan had been putting up crumbles completely at the sight. A blush creeps up his neck, barely visible in the dim light, but his smile widens.
He chuckles softly as he joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. After flicking the lampshade off, he carefully maneuvers himself right beside you until he feels your warmth hit his skin. Then he slowly circles his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body, with your back meeting his chest. A low, contented hum leaves his lips as he simply holds you.
You wriggle in slightly, and he adjusts his hold, letting an arm curve over your stomach and the other one under your body to pull you even closer, fingers momentarily brushing against the hem of your shirt. You feel your legs entangle together under the blanket, and you swear the world gets smaller, quieter.
Seungkwan thinks you fit perfectly in his arms; it's like you've always belonged there.
"Comfortable?" he asks, voice muffled against you.
Your chest rises up and down with a soft sigh. "Mhm..."
The moments that pass are purely silence as he continues to hold you. You could probably fall asleep at this second, yet you feel the way Seungkwan's hand drifts lower from your waist, tracing gentle circles on the fabric of your shirt above your stomach. It's light, just barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.
And then you feel him moving around behind you, breath tickling your skin, before his lips press a brief, tender kiss to the nape of your neck.
Maybe you can sense the small smile to his face right afterwards, too.
"You're so soft," he mutters, but there's a bit of tentativeness to his tone.
Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. "I𑁋Aren't we supposed to be trying to sleep?"
"Sorry," Seungkwan apologises, but you can still hear the smile in his voice. He presses another gentle kiss to your neck, then draws back, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "Just like holding you like this."
The giggle that leaves you is shaky, nervous, as if there's a small, timid butterfly trapped in your ribcage struggling to take flight. He can probably hear the way your heart is pounding like a damn drum right now, but he doesn't comment on it. Thank goodness.
A thought crosses your mind, and it takes you a minute to cave into flipping yourself over to face him. A groan escapes him from the sudden change in position, but he quickly settles. The two of you can't really see each other that well since the room was basically suspended in darkness, but you can clearly feel his presence beside you, all comforting and familiar.
"I like being held by you too," You confess quietly, each syllable laced with your own hesitancy. "I... I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms, to be honest."
The sound of Seungkwan's breath hitching echoes throughout the room. Are the walls closing in? He's not hallucinating or imagining any of this, right? He wishes he could pinch himself, but he's busy holding you, and you're the only thought filling his mind right now.
He leans in closer, ever so slowly. He can see the faint outline of your face thanks to the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains.
But just as his lips are about to meet yours, you feel a sudden contact at the tip of your nose. You flinch a little, scrunching your nose up for a second, and Seungkwan pulls back immediately with a gasp.
"Oh my go𑁋did I just𑁋" He stammers frantically, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..."
"Baby," You call out affirmingly, aimlessly bringing a hand up to cup his face through the darkness. Then you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, or specifically... the corner of his mouth. Close enough, anyway. "There we go."
Seungkwan just blinks, eyelashes batting furiously as he feels you shrink back into his hold. This time, you place your head at the crook of his neck, breathing fanning against his skin and making him shiver in your hold, even though he's supposed to be the big spoon.
"Let's go to sleep," You murmur lowly, and if he wasn't used to how pretty your voice sounds when you're tired by now, he should really get his shit together.
And so, Seungkwan just secures his hold around you, but not before mouthing a set of three words that he knows you can't see in the darkness, but hopes you can feel in his embrace.
taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @etherealyoungk
#wheeboo's 2k event!#k-labels#caratsland#caratlibrary#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#seungkwan imagines#seungkwan fluff#seungkwan x reader#seungkwan fic#boo seungkwan imagines#boo seungkwan fluff#boo seungkwan x reader#boo seungkwan fic#svt imagines#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt fic#svt#seventeen
405 notes
·
View notes
Text
A blush and try to hide but B take their before they can
Sae x reader
Fluff
m.list
request are open, take a look at the rules if you're new here :)
I hope you enjoy!
Sae was really talkative for once, not that he rarely talks around you - you literally live together - but it was still something that doesn't happen as often as you prefer to admit. He just got on some new exercises and he felt the need to talk about it to his s/o. Sweet.
Little did he know, you were focusing on something else at the moment, which happened to be another thing he doesn't do much : cooking without his shirt on. Like, you get that it's the middle of the summer, that it's really hot in Japan during this period and that cooking makes you hot even more. On another day, you could easily pass through it and listened to him mindlessly. Today wasn't one of them.
You were a little too busy scanning the way his muscles tense at each move, noticing new ones every once in a while and you kinda were fascinated by it.
But he's not an idiot. He knows you’re the talkative one, so once he noticed your lack of answer he stole a glance behind him, and found you mesmerized by his back.
"Are you even listening to me," he asked rhetorically, not turning around yet.
"I am." your voice is low, you answered in a dreamy way which is enough to know that you weren’t.
"Quote me what I just said ?" Turning around to face you, you don’t look up immediately to answer. Instead you replied with another question.
"More importantly, did you always have that scar on your smaller back ? I've never seen it before..." escaping your zone out state when you realized you weren’t looking at the same thing anymore, you catch his blue eyes piercing throughout your body like she just did. He was leaning on the counter, waiting for you to snapped out.
"I do. I got it from a fight with Rin. Another question ? Or can you answer mine ?" You were left speechless and you mouth opened. Sometimes you forget how handsome he is. By the time you took to answer, he already guessed you won’t answer. Taking a few steps to meet you, both his hands laid on the counter you were sitting on. He tilt his head, his hand a little too close to your thight.
"Next time, ask your question then listen to me. Alright ?" His tone is commanding and you couldn't help but get turned on.
You could feel a hot feeling on her cheeks but wasn't ready to face him or the truth. Turning your face away, ashamed of your body’s reaction,and you nodded. You were quite sure you would get away with it yet you soon felt slander fingers grabbing your chin and turning it right to face him again. His eyes staring deep into your soul making you shiver.
"Understand ?" He asked once again, not breaking eye contact.
"Yes."
"Good." With that, he pecked your lips, moving on and getting back to cook while you were still processing what just happened.
I'M CRAZY ABOUT THIS MAN YOU DON'T GET IT. ask anything I'll do it. Pls request stuff or hc about bllk
#blue lock x reader#blue lock#blue lock headcanons#blue lock hc#bllk x reader#bllk hc#bllk#bllk fluff#sae x reader#sae fluff#sae hc#sae itoshi
322 notes
·
View notes
Text
eddie munson x fem! reader
Here's some mean!eddie crumbs cause I'm a whore. Happy Halloween!
cw: mean!eddie, use of a toy, overstimulation, edging, humiliation, dirty talk, orgasm denial
18+ minors dni pls!!! smutty smut smut below the cut!!
You have an issue.
Not one of titanic proportions, not one you'd, like, debate life or death over. It's a bullet- sized issue nestled in the pocket of your panties.
It feels like it's been rumbling against you for hours, while your boyfriend sits next to you on the couch watching some dumb game show. He isn't even paying attention to you, whilst you whine and cry and beg him to turn the finger- sized issue off.
And each time you utter a weak and teary please he yanks at his belt, which he used to bind your hands behind your back after you'd tried to claw your way into your panties and try to turn the toy off at just about after the second time you came.
At that he tutted, a bit mean, a bit pitiful "I told you to keep your fucking hands still. Guess I have to do everything myself, don't I baby?" and boy did he.
He had you bent over the couch, your legs on the comfy cushions (he was mean, not evil) and your upper chest rested on the arm rest, feeling yourself leak through your leggings.
The pressure had let up, providing you with a bit of relief from the constant, almost painful, stimulation that came from sitting down.
Unfortunately, he noticed, just because every once in a while he'd press two fingers right against the seam of your leggings, laughing like a maniac at your screams, keeping the pads of his thick fingers there for a few minutes, wait until your wails become cute little uhn noises. Then he lets up.
"Ed please" you had mumbled the first, second, third time.
"You gotta make up your mind, baby I thought you said no more" and he chuckled at that "Cumming's too much for my little crybaby, huh?" it was a rhetorical question, but even if he wanted you to answer, you wouldn't have been able to.
Words were hard for you, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you settled your head on the armrest and began drooling.
He had been doing that for the past hour.
"Keepin' count, baby?" he says, acknowledging you for the first time in twenty minutes, taking a swig of his beer.
"Ed...oh.. I- uhn! You didn't- didn't tell me!" you cry, as you feel his free hand trail up the inside of your thigh, to the side of your butt, then smack. His ringed hand delivering a harsh slap right on the right side of your butt.
At this point you're crying. Edging? Overstimulation? Humiliation? It could have been all three or none of them at the same time.
"C'mon, honey, you're so smart" he coos and caresses your head, almost as if he wants to take a look at your brain, the mechanics of what's got you acting so dumb all of a sudden.
"How 'bout this" he adds, and you feel the cushions shift, trembling. Your ears still only hearing the loud buzz of the bullet nestled between your legs. "How 'bout you give me a... I dunno, an approximation. My big brainy slut, aren't you honey? Y'know what that word means" His chest was against your back now, his hair tickling your cheeks, hot breath directly into your earl, gripping the "leash" end of his belt for dear life.
Every one of his words makes you tremble, and you think you might not make it out of this alive. Think. If it'd been an hour since your last orgasm then--
His knee presses right against your cunt, and you scream. "C'mon spelling bee, thought you had it, saw the few cogs in your brain turn a little" his taunts only make you want to grind back into his knee, chasing the release he's ben so cruelly denying you.
He lets up again, and you breathe.
"I- I think it- It was" and his knee is pressed up right against you again and it's moving. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up-
"What was that, honey? Thought you said something" he laughs again. Cocky little shit.
"Ed- Ed... uhn" and that was his cue to remove his knee.
"Didn't think so. Does my little mathlete have a number now?" he kisses behind your ear and it's wet, needy kisses.
Fuck it, you just decide to guess. "I uh- seven?"
"Lucky number seven" he says, and he lets go of his belt. Suddenly you don't feel him on you anymore.
He's grabbing at the sides of your leggings and you swear to god you hear him gasp.
"Holy fucking shit, baby, you're soaked through" he thumbs at the material of your panties, once again pushing the bullet right against your clit.
His thumb rubs up and down, and with him the bullet toy, which you're surprised is still alive.
He gets you close again, and you let out a weak "Eight," once again slumping on the arm rest.
"Good girl" he says, groping your ass and giving it a couple well- timed smacks, making you jump from your haze. You whine.
"Ed can I please cu-" and you feel him move your panties to the side, reaching for the offending toy and turning it off.
Shit. Shit. Now's the time. He's gonna make you cum.
Instead he slowly unravels the belt from your wrists, slowly massaging the tender flesh. He's pulling up your leggings again and with one last kiss to your cheek, your mouth flung open in shock, he sits back down.
"Eddie! What the fuck?" you plop back down on the couch, the slick between your legs is uncomfortably wet "You're an asshole, y'know that?" you dare say, and all he does is chuckle.
"That'll teach you about being a smartass while I'm watching Jeopardy."
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#eddie munson fanfiction#stranger things au
354 notes
·
View notes
Text
in your arms i feel at peace | look after you, tz11
in which trevor is your shoulder to cry on
don't let those super fluffy pictures of z fool you, this is sad as fuck (and dialogue heavy)
when i first started this account i figured i'd be doing mostly nsfw and look at me!!! every character i write has mommy issues :)
also send in for this au pls and thank you ill give you a vital organ
"someone's in a good mood," trevor mumbled behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you made breakfast for the two of you. nobody else was awake yet, and it was nice to just have some quiet time with him.
in just a couple weeks you’d become great friends, and you found yourself glued to him or to a book all day every day
“my mom asked if i wanted to go shopping with her today, it’s been a while since we’ve done something like that,” you explained, not clocking the look of worry on trevor’s face
you were over the moon that your mom wanted to spend time with you, one on one. this was your chance to bond with her now that you were closer to being an adult
your chance to fix things and have her treat you as an individual
you figured your mom saw today the same, that she might change. maybe she wouldn’t undermine your issues, compare them to her own
maybe she’d offer you help rather than argue that she was worse off
maybe she’d buy you things you actually like rather than force you to dress like she wanted - professional and proper so that you would be taken more seriously
trevor could tell that you thought today would change some things, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it
he knew your relationship with your mom wasn’t great. he knew your relationship with your whole family was less than ideal, actually.
he was a little nervous to see where the day went, but for now? you were excited, and he loved that for you
that excitement didn’t last long
he had a feeling he’d be left picking up the broken pieces of your heart whenever you got back
the feeling was right
but, he didn’t think it’d be this bad.
you were yelling as you walked through the door, your mom poker faced and unimpressed, almost rolling her eyes as she told you to calm down
“would you quit being a brat? there are other people in this house!”
trevor watched from the bottom of the stairs as you paused, laughing to yourself
“right. other people. you know what, mom?” you left space for her to answer you despite the question being rhetorical, but she just crossed her arms
challenging you to say what it was that was on your mind
“i don’t want to be your daughter anymore. from here on out, i am a stranger to you, i am the other people you’re so worried about looking your best for” you smiled softly
your moms face fell from amused to confused, thinking you’d do what you normally did - cry, and then accept any offer to rekindle your relationship in hopes that this time, she’d be a mom to you.
“you’re a pathetic excuse for a mother and i was just a kid. i didn’t- i don’t deserve to be tangled in this stupid, one sided vendetta you have against me for just existing,” your tone was level, you weren’t yelling anymore
your mom scoffed, trying to hold up a cold exterior while facing the reality that she was losing the only person who’d do anything for her
the person who, at seven years old, helped her move out of your dads house after the divorce
the person who didn’t question that you were moving in with a man you’d never met before
the person who cleaned the whole house regularly so that she wouldn’t have to stress about it
the person who helped her with laundry because her boyfriend refused
the person who defended her when he was drunk
the person who let her cry on your shoulder when owen wanted to stay with your dad for some time
the person who didn’t do the same because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings
the person who offers to do anything and everything for her because you know she works a lot
the person who forgives quickly and tries to forget, cause that’s your mom and you believed she could be better
the person who shuts up when you’re feeling down because you don’t want to put more things on her
the person who drops anything you’re feeling cause when you bring it up, suddenly she feels worse than you about that same thing and she needs you to lean on
the person who after seventeen years, has finally given up
you’ve given up.
“don’t you think that’s a little dramatic, y/n?” you smiled with a shake of your head, a tear falling down your face
“that’s kinda the problem, isn’t it? if i was any less emotional you might have me checked for psychopathy.
my whole life you let owen walk all over me. demean me over and over, and of course i cried, i was eight years old.
every time i tried to say something you’d tell me i was too emotional, that he treated me like shit on the bottom of his shoe because it was easy and i reacted too much
that wasn’t the truth. you just didn’t want to deal with it. you were annoyed that i was crying.
regardless i believed you because you were meant to be my mother
the bullying never stopped but every single time i just walked away and suddenly i wasn’t emotional enough for you
i was uncomfortable in my own home and that meant i was rude and blunt and i needed to smile sometimes cause i seemed like a bitch
you made me into that and i think it’s time someone lets you know so you can get the fuck off your high horse, cause we all know you think you’re a great mother”
she clenched her jaw and opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off
“i’m not done.
news flash, buying me things at the mall just to soften the blow of you being a massive cunt doesn’t make you a good mother
putting a roof over my head and feeding me doesn’t make you a good mother, it just allows you to keep your kids.
so, again. you’re gonna start treating me like a stranger
because it’s not hard to see how insecure you are about how random people see you on the outside
you put up this mask of perfection for people who don’t even know you and never will, but you don’t give a single fuck how your own child sees you on the inside
i’m done being an extension of you to torment and compare yourself to, and i’m staying here wether you like it or not.
i’m here as a friend of quinn’s, now. as a friend of the family’s. this is not my family,”
the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop
“don’t be disrespectful, y/n. i do a lot for you. i bought you summer clothes today!” you bit the inside of your cheek, filing through you head to look for any memory of her that wasn’t tainted by it’s true purpose, and you couldn’t.
“you didn’t listen to a word i said, huh? figures,”
when you turned and the first thing you saw was trevor, looking at you from the staircase, every bit of yourself willed to not let the dam break until you were alone, with him.
you walked right into him, clinging onto him and pressing your face tight into his neck
he reciprocated the second you were near, taking you into his arms and squeezing you tight, cupping your head and rubbing your back
he helped you up the stairs and towards the door to his room, holding your hand until you got to his bed and he could pull you back into his arms, on his lap.
"what happened, sunshine?" he murmured, letting you comb your fingers through his hair to try and keep yourself calm
it didn't work all that well, tears already streaming down your face now that you were in the comfort of his room, alone where you felt you wouldn't be judged.
your reply was muffled by his shoulder, where you'd pressed your jaw to try and keep your cries quiet
"she wanted me to go back home."
trevor furrowed his eyebrows and traced patterns on your leg with his fingers, knowing you'd open up when you were ready.
you took a minute to calm your breathing, explaining everyhting.
that originally you wanted to spend the summer at home with your dad because you knew you'd be isolated here, that quinn had other friends and you couldn't steal him away from everyone for the whole offseason.
that you got put in your place before the drive down to michigan and told that ellen needed you there to help around the house and that you could just be helpful 'this one time'
that ellen hadn't made you touch a thing all summer, the only time you did a chore was when you made yourself and him a snack, so you knew your mom just wanted you here to be a servant
that when you met him, you were finally happy in michigan and you were actually looking forward to the summer and getting to know him, spending some more time with jack and luke now that you had someone in common
that today, the shopping trip was just a cover up, your mom spoiling you before telling you - not asking - that you were going back home to house sit until the offseason was over
that you were naive at first, that you thought your mom grew a heart and that she was giving you an out due to you wanting to stay back home weeks ago
that you quickly saw through that
that your mom told you that owen had been excited to meet the team usa guys, trevor especially, and that you were getting in the way of your brother having the offseason experience he wanted
that you were going to be miserable the whole summer, but now that you've found a happy place in michigan, you were told to go home and be miserable there instead
that she wanted you isolated all summer. that was her plan.
and after you let it all out to him, you just started sobbing, and you couldn't stop
trevor did his best to soothe you, mumbling sweet nothings and reassuring you that ellen wanted you at the lake house and that he knew she'd let you stay
"i don't know what i could've done to make her hate me so much," you croaked, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him closer
“you didn’t do anything, sunshine. there’s nothing in the world you could’ve done to deserve that, you were just a kid. n’ you’re an angel, you know? like heaven on earth, it’s not your fault,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head
you looked up into his eyes from your spot on his shoulder, eyes uncertain and still overflowing with tears
“i know you don’t believe me, it’s okay,” he slid his thumb back and forth along your hair, kissing you on the temple.
you adjusted your head to get closer to him, still keeping your eyes on his
sniffling slightly, you took his other hand and toyed with his fingers, gaze eventually falling there as your tears slowed and nose cleared up
“thank you, trev, that-“ he cut you off with a kiss, catching you a little off guard
still, you pulled away with a smile, holding his jaw with the hand you’d had gripping his shirt
“that’s really sweet.” you finished, fresh tears falling from your face
he moved to wipe them, brushing his thumb against your nose gently
“of course, my sunshine,”
you hugged him, using both arms to wrap around him and squeeze tight, him returning the favour
“i’m all yours for the rest of the day, hm? maybe we can sneak off on the boat? bring some snacks, blankets n’ your laptop for movies and make a day out of it,”
you nodded happily, becoming pliant in his arms with a dumb smile
“that sounds perfect, z,”
he went to kiss you again, but the door cracked open mid lean-in and you jumped apart like it was an affair
it was ellen, now grinning to herself at the sight in front of her
“i figured you’d be in here. can we talk?”
you blushed, nodding.
“yeah, auntie el, just-“
“i’ll go,” trevor cut you off, ruffling your hair and placing a kiss on your cheek
#e’s fics#look after you au !#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x reader#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#anaheim ducks
334 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shigaraki Tomura x FTM Reader HEADCANONS
❥ Telling him that you're trans
Fluffy Headcanons.
Pronouns for reader: he/him
♡ You and him were having a chemistry, even if both never would dare to talk about this, and no one from L.o.V (except for Toga. Im sure she would shipp you and Tomura)
♡ Well, but when you noticed that you were liking him, you got nervous. So. Fucking. Nervous. You didn't know that they had a trans member in L.o.V and you were afraid of being just rejected or humiliated because of your gender.
♡ Well, you decided one night to open up to Twice about your gender, you were fucking SHAKING. Ending up discovering the trans member and that nobody gives a damn for what you identify yourself, as long as you are strong and help them, you will be respected.
➥ (If you don't like Twice, just imagine another member or you discovering by yourself that information) (pls who doesn't like him...)
♡ This information just relaxed you so much, and you just felt safe to talk about it to Shigaraki. But now how would you do it was the problem. He was always busy with his plans.
♡ But one day, you found your chance. Only him in living room, the others were outside doing different things. Doesn't matters. You took the advantage and courage (of course the courage of a few months thinking about this).
♡ You wasn't totally surprise because you knew about the member, but you hadn't seem any expression so genuinely like this. People tries to support or show that they support you, or they treat you differently (most time in a bad way). But this pookie? Nah. He was just "ok, and?"
♡ "W-what do you mean with 'ok, and?', you already knew it??" you asked with wide eyes, but at the same time you were so greatful for him not turn this a headache.
♡ "No? I mean, good for you, I'll keep calling you the same way as I always did." He said, same expression as if you just told him that you were going to sleep or something like that.
♡ "Thanks. I always feel like if I don't tell, the person will be mad or feel trapped. It happens more than I wish"
♡ "Trapped? What the fuck. Why would I?" You didn't know if was a rhetorical question or you had to answer it, but you just let a light laugh come out.
♡ "Is that all the reason you wanted to tell me you are trans?" He seemed to notice your nervous face.
♡ "Do you... Do you wanna go out with me sometime?" You felt your cheek burning like a fire "y-you don't have to accept, I was just wondering maybe we.. Uhm could-"
♡ "Yes" He coldly (or softly. You were too nervous to notice) said, turning his head away from your look.
♡ "What?" You heard it right?
♡ "Don't make me repeat myself" You thought maybe he was annoyed or impatient, but it wasn't, he was blushing as hell. And when you noticed, you made your way to tease
♡ "Whoa you're so red. Are you running a fever?" You tried your best to hold back your laugh
♡ "Im changing my mind!" His voice was slightly shaking, and you also noticed that, but decided to keep to yourself. It was just so cute seeing him like this!
♥︎ You could see a short smile on his face. Maybe you didn't need to be nervous at all. Everything went right.
Notes from Kyo ♡: Hello again! Well, my "I wanna feel safe and loved" is here, isn't? Two fluffy posts and the same character XD. Now you can suggest anything on my blog, can be anonymous too, feel free.
Here a list about what I do and what I don't:
#ftm reader#soft#shigaraki tomura#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#ftm safe#transgender#shigaraki tomura x ftm reader#x ftm reader#x male reader#sfw#league of villains
59 notes
·
View notes
Note
heyyy can I request something where sadie and female r get into an argument, and sadie says something really hurtful that causes r to run away in tears. fluffy ending pls!
⋆Soft Spot
thank u xx
warnings: sadie is a bit toxic, she's rude to reader but then she makes up for it, fluff, crying, angst, slight cursing, reader referred to as "girl" and some other petnames, reader is sensitive, implied enemies to lovers
word count: 1.5k
Sadie wasn't one to know how to control her words and what they meant, so when she was angry, it was a different story. This time, you got the short end of the stick, and she was angry at you.
You, Sadie, John, and a few others had just gotten back from a botched bank mission and Sadie blamed you for the way it went, claiming that you screwed up your little act that John suggested you do as a distraction. You all had escaped just by a hair, the law was right on your guys's tails.
When you got back, she took you to your shared tent and sat you down, then paced around before she spoke, hand on her chin, face an angry red.
"You--" She spoke, her words cut short as she thought on how to word this. She was that angry to where she couldn't speak.
"I'm sorry Sadie, I didn't mean to mess up that bad..." You stammered, and she scoffed at your effort. Sometimes she could be so angry, so mean, but so lovable at the same time. She could love you, then be angry at you for days on end if you messed up.
But you got used to it as those lines blurred, you just walked on your tippy toes around her, in a worry that if you mess up, she'll leave.
"We asked one thing of ya', and you just had to screw that up too, huh?" She had a tone, one that indicated she could only progressively get worse from here on out. You sat there on the cot and watched her clench her fists and teeth, her breathing was rapid and her face flushed red. You looked down at your hands, then you could hear a sigh come out of her mouth. "Couldn't you have done better, no?" She asked, you hoped it was a rhetorical question because you were too afraid to respond.
"Answer me. Couldn't you have saved this from going to shit, girl?" She got closer to you, almost as if to speak down to you, like you were a child, like you meant nothing.
The truth was you tried, but it didn't work, and that's what really messed the job up. A man came up to you and started to get touchy feely with you when he heard your pleas for help outside the bank. You started to get scared, and ran inside, exposing what the others were doing.
"I... Yes, I could've." You blurted out, scared, holding yourself. Its like she was purposefully provoking you, to get a rise out of you.
Sadie clicked her tongue.
"Y'make me hurt," She murmured out and then cursed under her breath. "Go." She said louder this time, and you didn't budge.
"I'm sorry, I can make it up to you, please." You said almost silently but desperately, in order to make Sadie happy with you again, you sounded incredibly desperate, but it was all or nothing, and you couldn't loose her.
You realize that not even John was angry at you, and if he was, he wasn't this angry.
Maybe you were sensitive, as a little girl, that's what most people called you. Your father was a bit harder on you, and your mom didn't even try to discipline you. You were laughed at because of how easily you cried when being yelled at.
You had an incredibly easy-to-find soft spot, and every time it made you seem lesser than the person yelling at you.
It lead you to think that messing up was this horrible thing, all you could do was apologize and hope they wouldn't get angry at you. Hence this, you'd mentioned it to Sadie, and here she was.
When she realized you weren't moving, she got a bit more vocal. "Can't you hear me?" She said angrily, "I don't want you to act all fuckin' stupid and clueless like you usually are, go!" She yelled over your attempt to apologize, and you're sure that whoever was around heard it. How forceful it was, how it made your nose burn and tears enter your eyes, It wasn't a sob, they were silent tears. You angrily wiped them away, getting up and running off. You could feel someone staring at you as you ran out, and it was embarrassing.
You ran to the nearby river bank and sat down, hiding your face, sobbing loudly. Your tears dampening your pants as your legs came to your chest, the hot sun beating on your exposed neck, making you uncomfortable all around.
You loved Sadie so much, and you knew she loved you too, but it hurt to love her so much.
Meanwhile, Sadie sat on the cot, thinking about what she'd said to you. Thinking about it deeply. She remembered how scared you looked, and how you mentioned the treatment you were dealt when you were just a little girl.
You needed someone, and she felt like a jerk for not being that for you. For scolding you like like a bad dog. She could feel the anger washing off of her, being replaced with regret and hate for what she just did to you, how she yelled at you without a care in the world. What made her feel worse was how easily she could treat you like shit.
She got up and put on her brown hat and walked out in a search to find you and apologize to you.
After minutes of trying to find you, she sees you balled up, crying by the river bank. She stands over you, watching you for a moment before she kneels down and puts her hand on your shoulder, rubbing it ever so slightly.
"Darlin'," she speaks softly, a contrast from her usual voice.
You didn't dare look at her, not even move, you wiped away your tears, you can hear her start to speak but then retire. "I.. er, I'm sorry." She mumbled out, and you could tell she was trying, but not yet would you give it up to her.
"I jus' wanna hear ya.. please talk to me, honey." She sounded desperate, and at once, the tables were turned. She leans her head against your shoulder, slightly nudging you. "Can you just look at me, please?" She begged, a slight tremble in her words, but her accent still clearer than day.
You slowly rose your head from between your legs and looked up at her. It all hit her at once, she felt like the bad guy, like the shitty person. But you still didn't speak to her, instead you let her do the talking.
"Will you forgive me? I know I messed up real bad. I remember what you told me 'bout your parents- how they treated you."
"That man was getting weird with me and you still take it out on me, I don't know Sadie." You admitted, and she nodded seeing where her faults lie.
"Yeah. I know this ain't your fault, it never was." She put her hand behind your neck and brung you closer as you two sat on the grassy area, she stroked your hair, trying to soothe you, she could feel you shake a bit. Sadie never understood how hurtful her words could really be, until now. "m'too hard on you," she said softly, grabbing for your hand and taking it, rubbing your knuckles. "I need to learn to love you better."
You nod and look at her, your watery eyes clearing up, but it's not like you weren't still hurt by her words, that was a given. But the way she looked at you made your heart hurt, you knew she meant it. "Yeah," was all you could muster out.
"Come here," she said, her arms were open for you. "Please?" She watched as you look at her and hesitate for a moment before you hugged her. She pulled you into her lap and hugged you tightly. "I'm sorry." She repeated again.
"I know," you said, nodding.
"Can I kiss you?" She said, in an attempt to make you feel better.
You nod and the tears start to fall again, and you feel bad. She kisses your cheek and softly speaks, "don't cry." She reaches up and wipes away the tears that stained your cheeks, using her thumb to wipe them off your lips and she pulls you in so she can kiss you. You feel like a mess.
It made you feel slightly better, the way she was trying, and that was all it took. She hugged you like you were all she had, and really, you were. When you two first met, you couldn't stand her, and she couldn't stand you, but somehow it's what brought you two together. You don't exactly remember how she ended up loving you, but you knew she was the first to fall and since then, it's been a ride with her.
You do remember that you tripped her up one time after she took all your coffee beans, and another time you got her back by eating her food that was meant for her, and she got angry, but it made you happy to see her angry.
Now, you were in her arms and she was comforting you. Neither of you could ever imagine hating each other again, even when stuff like this happened.
#sadie adler#red dead redemption 2#fluff#sadie adler x reader#sadie rdr2#rdr2#rdr2 fanfic#Sadie Adler x you#angst with a happy ending#angst
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wait that was KENTA??
Summary: Kenta makes progress in feeling comfortable around x-hunter. Very heavy on Alan being a supportive and perfect. (Its rush pls don't judge to harsh I beg)
3rd pov
After everything that had happened X-Hunter and friends more or less taken Kenta in. While he had contributed to the terrible things Tony was doing it was pretty clear that he never actually wanted to and at the end of the day he was a good person forced to do bad things.
Kenta was appreciative of the fact that they were so keen to have him around but that didn't mean he didn't struggle to be comfortable. He couldn't bring himself to do or ask for anything if it could potentially even slightly inconvenience someone.
He didn't doubt that they were happy to do things for him or even just be there for him but he had never been allowed to want and asking Tony for something usually had its consequences. He felt as if he still wasn't allowed to ask for anything not that he would even know how.
He also didn't feel right joining in on the way they all teased each other. The playful jabs that would be met with a light hearted sarcastic comment. What if they took him as actually being mean? What if he just wasn't allowed? He just couldn't risk losing what he had with them.
Fortunately he had a new family that was very stubborn.
Kenta pov
"North and Sonic are gonna go to the store tomorrow to stock up the pantry at the garage is there anything you want them to grab for you?" Alan asked me. I've been working there doing paperwork since everything calmed down and I really enjoy how kind everyone is here.
"No it's okay I don't need anything," I tell him. This is true while I do have snacks and drinks I like I don't actually need any of them. I know that's not the answer he wants but that's all I can bring myself to give for now.
"Kenta that's not what I asked and I know that it's hard for you to ask for things and I also know that one conversation is not going to fix that but I promise you that we all want to be there for you. We want you to join in on the jokes. If we didn't we would not have welcomed you here so for the love of god please just tell me what to add to the list for you," Alan lectured. I noticed he was like that, always making sure everyone knew they were cared for. He was genuinely the kindest person I've ever met. Not that it was much of a competition.
"Uhm... I really don't know, maybe just some sports drinks," I was so caught off guard by how blunt he was being. Even though I did believe him I still couldn't breathe as I scrambled for something to request.
"Okay good, you can text me or one of them if you want a particular brand or flavor or if you think of anything else."
I nod before he turns to walk out the door probably to keep asking around.
"And Kenta, I'm proud of you for asking I'm sure that took a lot but that is what we are all here for. We are family here and we really hope that you will see us as such when you are ready," Alan said and slips out of the room with a smile.
Oh-
*1 year later*
Alan pov
It's been a slow day at the garage which to most people would mean calm. People idly doing their work at a comfortable pace in no rush to get a million things done. Not at X-Hunter though, not for me.
Slow day means that means that everyone is running around and being loud. Not for work but just enjoying themselves as they work. I absolutely love these days just my boys without weight on their shoulders just free to have wreckless fun.
Unfortunately today I got to be the central target for any teasing and wrestling. I would absolutely never tell any of them but I kind of enjoy it, they would never let it go.
I had spaced out watching them chase each other around when I suddenly have someone lunge on my back to start wrestling. Of course it was North ever the problem child.
"Why must you do this to me while I was minding my own business," I ask him more of a rhetorical tease than an actual question.
"Because it's fun duh," North retorts as he tries to put me in a headlock.
"Careful old people's bodies are sensitive you don't want him to throw his back out do you," a voice behind me speaks casually.
"Hey I'm not that o-" I start as I turn around. Wait was that Kenta?? He didn't even look up and just continued filling out paperwork but he had a noticeable smile on his face.
The entire garage was quiet from shock. Everyone had turned around to check that they heard it right too. If it wasn't for the smiles across everyone's face they might be mistaken for being upset.
"HOLY SHIT KENTA IM SO PROUD!!" North shouts as he runs to hug Kenta. Me too.
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
I have naughty ideas but I need to know how we feel about overstimulation and bitting lol
Hey m0m!
...Or can I just-
Like, I have this very strong urge rn to just-
(fondly) Hey gay!
(I just had to I´m sorry, do tell me if that crosses the line for ya pls. 🙈)
Aight ahem, back to business.
Oh my, these are some naughty questions indeed. 😈
(Naughty ideas are what I´m HERE for so pls DO lemme know them all.)
Now, as far as biting is concerned I think we ALL know the answer to that. It's part of who Maggot Momma is, it's in her very (feral) nature. I mean, there IS a difference between biting someone´s eyeball out or bite someone to, yknow, try and get them going even if it does the exact opposite because someone thinks they might get eaten alive any moment now and they´re being so dramatic-
Okay so, biting can imply many things when it comes to Maggot Momma. For one, I like to imagine it´s a form of communication for her - the way she expresses herself. Just like wolves do that air bite thing to assert dominance - it basically says don't test me (and yes, that´s defo what happened in my pee-post, did you spot it? 😈) - or the chittering of teeth when she´s excited in a very special way.
But those teeth aren´t just biting air...no. They´re the perfect tool - a weapon she´s gonna use on anything that moves and once she´s got them hooked there´s no escape. When she gives chase she gives her all and goes after them with everything she got, with ANY part of her body. That´s what she lives for after all, it´s what she´s made for.
...Except when it comes to a certain someone.
And I think this is what you truly wanna know, ain´t it? 😏
Okay so - yes, defo. It comes just as natural to her as biting someone´s eyeball out - someone that is not her precious Drama Queen ofc. Not them, never them but anyone else can just rot in hell-
So, when it comes to a certain someone those teeth turn from a deadly weapon to a slightly less deadly weapon - all for her paramour - and she just can´t help it, there´s always this urge to bite down on something, anything - to mark what´s hers.
Listen, she uses her teeth to get them going. To set the mood. To stimulate. To hold them in place because they can be such a slippery little thing-
And, sometimes - depending on the mood she´s in - she also likes to use them to see that flicker of fear (it´s a flame tbh) appear in their eyes because that´s what gets her going, no matter the soft spot she has for that certain someone.
So, I guess you could say what she MEANS to do is get her darling Drama Queen ready and willing...but, well-
OH but also, I´ve been thinking about whether or not Maggot Momma can choose to "turn" someone or if they gonna turn no matter what. Both theories have their appeal because if she was able to choose to turn someone that would mean she simply decides not to. As in, there must actually be something about that certain someone.
But I think I prefer the second one because can you imagine the restraint it takes her to not just clamp those teeth down in the heat of the moment? To not just squeeze that throat a tad bit too tight and accidently break skin with those claws? It´d be so easy, like muscle twitching. That´s yet another thing I like to focus on in my posts because, while she does have some human tendencies left in her, I´d say about 80% is all instincts and urges and the line between excitement and killer-mode is very, very thin indeed.
And just ALSNFSALDNFSALLKASDNF is there ANYTHING sexier than evil ancient entities with the power and strength to obliterate armies...but showing actual restraint when it comes to their chosen one? And seeing them actually struggling quite a bit to do so??
(That´s a rhetorical question ofc, cmon.)
Aight so, that leaves only one question...does Momma do overstimulation? Is her deceased, rotten brain even capable of fully grasping the concept of it?
Hmm, that´s a tough one actually. I think the rational part of her brain (burried very deep down) that´s responsible for anything related to human behavior/interaction does understand the meaning of it. Like, when it comes to overstimulation there´s pretty much two possible outcomes: showing mercy because the poor thing or going even harder because the poor thing. I think we all know which outcome is more likely with Maggot Momma. 😏
Now, seeing as her behaviour depends more on stimuli than rational thought I think the main part of her brain - the feral part - doesn´t necessarily view it as "overstimulation". It´s more like she reacts instinctively to what she sees. If she sees someone other than her precious Drama Queen absolutely legging it, running for their life, it´s like instant killer-mode, farewell, game-over.
When it comes to a certain someone however it´s like a song´s playing on loop, like a mantra of-
Her demonic brain switches into another gear entirely, all her focus is on them, them, them like tunnel vision and everything she does is with a clear intent, serves a sole purpose: smother them, get them going, crawl into them so they can be one now and forever, make them hers because it´s meant to be they exist for HER only-
So really, I think Maggot Momma is the definition of overstimulation and she doesn´t even realize it because it´s normal for her because why shouldn´t it be when it´s so obvious to whom they belong she has every right-
Actually, I think my pee-post is a pretty good example of what overstimulation might look like when it comes to Maggot Momma. Like, as soon as her deceased brain registered there´s a reaction from a certain someone she was a goner (even more than usual), driven by instinct, hell-bent on scratching that itch no matter what-
And no matter that all a certain someone wanted was to take that fucking pi-
So really, it´s not about overstimulation with Maggot Momma. It´s simply what instinct tells her, it´s her duty and she takes that duty very seriously indeed no mercy-
...But tbh, even if it WAS about overstimulation I don´t think it would make much of a difference to Momma. Needs must when the devil drives, after all...
Thanks a lot for that delicious ask. I hope I did it justice. 🥰🤭
#evil dead rise#ellie evil dead rise#maggot mommy#deadites#alyssa sutherland#evil dead rise...but gayer
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
I just watched that Once Upon a Studio short everybody keeps talking about(because I was already sad and I figured hey might as well) and CHRIST I don't even identify as a Disney fan but that thing FUCKED ME UP omfg. Wether I like the company or not, they've been a constant for me, y'know? Their shows and movies have always been a part of me, wether it's their shitty sit coms like Dog With a Blog or their masterpieces like Tangled, they've just always... been a thing. I cannot stress enough, I don't like the company. The execs rn are bigotted, the live action remakes are ass, other common complaints, but just... seeing all these characters I've practically grown up with, some of which have actually gotten me through really tough times(like the Tangled and Aladdin casts), was really- it was a lot. It was nostalgic, it was melancholic, it was familiar, it was my childhood. And I can't NOT get emotional over it(especially considering how horrible my mental health is rn omfg)
Also Iago getting a Single Line made me happy he's my favorite :) though I thought Barrett Leddy was his new official voice so idk what's up with him being played by some guy I don't remember the name of. They didn't use archived lines from Gottfried like they did for Genie and I assume other characters who's VAs have passed on so idk- how does replacing official VAs even work- Okay I'm rambling now I'll shut up...(also pls don't answer these questions they're all rhetorical skfnfkekfke I'll prolly just look it up later if I'm still curious /lh)
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh and I do have some questions!! I don't even think you can answer any of this but I will ask just to put my thoughts in order
Was Other Max referring to Lance being the PoD when he said David cried for eleven days??? If so, ouch :)
Was Leviathan also referring to this when he thanked Mallory for "doing everything that needed to be done"? If so, fuck you Leviathan!
How did they knew Kincaid was the Crimson King???
If I did the maths right (not expected) it has been 21 years aprox since last chapter?
What happened with Max, Other Max and David???
What does Anjali do now?
Why is Camilla so beautiful?? (That's a rhetorical question. She had Rosewood genes, of course she is gorgeous 😍)
The flower was from Lance, right?
I probably have a thousand more questions, but this is what I remember for now...
And not a question, but like....
Arthur, who was in Exile and ever the curious, had run to Idris. Kincaid, who was tired and terrified, had tried to run away from it.
They had met in the middle. They had fallen in love.
Arthur was a rainbow in Kincaid’s black and white world.
....WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO BREAK MY HEART WITH SO LITTLE??
Ah queshauns! I think I can answer most of them hehe.
Yes. We'll actually see those bits and get more clarity in part 5.
Yep. Leviathan basically wanted Lance to be born so Lucifer would wake the fuck up. Bitch really played the long game huh.
Victoria and Kyle didn't. When Lance was born, everyone realized he's PoD and not David. So, everyone (people who knew) assumed the Crimson King would be similar in age. Victoria and Kyle who juuuuust had a baby hoped it would be their son. And then they found out when Kincaid started feeling those burns around Lance. The others actually don't know. They just assumed it because Vyle be acting super sus. They'll find out when something happens in part 5 hehe. And Kincaid and Lance look very much like th boys in the mural.
Yep it's been 21/22 years.
This you'll find out. But Other Max visits David every day for 52 minutes. And Regular Max knows about it.
Anjali *brace yourself* runs Devlin Corp. (and no they don't produce weapons anymore) She is a bad bitch and billionaire.
ROSEWOOD GENES!
Yes. He is such a dork pls.
Also I love that whole scene you mentioned. It's like the first bit i wrote about these two and i kinda fell in love with them. Because both their aesthetic is 'sunshine boy and cinnamon roll' and we need more of that okay!!!
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
Please wtf was that I just saw😀🥰🖕
-🍁
Idk but now I have the sudden urge to burn my eyes
Wtf was that and where the hell did you find it
... That was a rhetoric question don't answer that pls
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey bean!! could you do 1, 29, 50, 73, and 95 from the book recs ask game pls <33
mayaaaaa thank you for asking!!! i love you <3 also mood about wishing to have a million years to read whatever you want 😩 my TBR is so long hahaha. (the answers to this rec list happen to be very childhood-reads heavy, so grain of salt this! i might have some rose tinted glasses haha)
1) a book that is close to your heart: i answered this one here, but i will answer it again!!! Hatchet by Gary Paulsen. rhetorical question, but are you even Alaskan if you don't read Hatchet in elementary school and come out of it with a highly unfounded sense of confidence that you could survive in the wilderness for two months on your own? it's a common denominator with the majority of my friends who also grew up here and read that book in elementary school lmao
29) your favorite YA novel: okay i'm definitely cheating here bc i'm answering with a series and not a single novel, but the Darkest Powers trilogy by Kelley Armstrong. i LOVE that series. i read and reread it a lot in middle school
50) a book that made you cry a LOT: the first and only time i have ever launched a book across the room because it made me cry SO hard was when i read Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson for school 😭
73) a good book with an awful cover: okay. okay so the real answer is subjective and i'm saying any of the books in the Game Changers series by Rachel Reid because they're good books but the covers are all just half naked very abs'ed up men BUT i'm actually going to talk about the newest printings of the Twilight series which is. not really a great series for how much it had a grip on me and everyone else in the late 2000s BUT look at what they did to these covers. i HATE it. i hate it!!! WHY DID THEY DO THIS????? WHY ARE THEY CUTTING UP LETTERS??? AND LEAVING THE SERIFS ON THE PREVIOUS LINE????? WHAT IS THIS I HATE IT THESE ARE AWFUL.
95) your favorite coming of age novel: Touching Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen. i read this one as a kid and since it's been while i don't quite remember all the specifics but i remember some big parts and the way it really impacted me. i should really reread it tbh
book recs ask game!
#thank you for asking!!!#this has been nostalgia hour with bean thank you for tuning in#sorry for the rant about the twilight covers. i hate them. terrible. awful. ugh#ask game#i love ask games#bean speaks#book recs
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
keptin-indy
Things That Are Awesome
lacrimedaurora
lacrime d'aurora
boo-afterlife
afterlife
slavicity
Magic