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honestsycrets · 10 months

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Stung | [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs.

❛ tags | NSFW, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity, spanish is not translated, sexual memories.

❛ sy’s notes | my obligatory ABO-sex pollen fic for ATSV. i usually make a ABO/Sex Pollen piece per fandom I write in, so here's one for Miggy 🐝

“All done!”

You slipped out of HQ’s packed infirmary with a jaunty bounce in your step. Crispy, coppery blood was matted onto your forearm concealed behind a hastily tied bandage. You weren't concerned about it. It would resolve within the hour. Likely less. As would your elevated body temperature. Despite the doctor's prattle about the benefit of further testing, you found their concern to be a non-issue. These things were virtual non-issues, even if the doctor and your man thought otherwise.

The hallways at HQ were like any other day in your city. Congested with the coming and going of spiders in their daily lives. A glimpse at any group might reveal decadent flirting and haughty laughter. Some were in a rush to their own worlds, but most were completing work assigned by the Spider Society. The one you were looking for reclined against a wall with his arms interlocked one over the other. His displeased rumble prompted you to his presence above all other voices in the crowd.

“You should have let them run the tests.” His voice was teased with concern but became mild, little more than a drab sigh at your refusal. You blew off his concern with a shake of your hand, gone yellow and bubbly behind a bit of ineffectual gauze. His eye glazed over the wound. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask, but you didn't need to. You only needed to convince him you were right.

“It’s stopped bleeding, Miggy. It’s just a scratch,” You held up your arm, flicking it with emphasis. His eyebrows raised for a moment, then flattened, staring at you with a dull rictus. “It was just a brief malfunction of the discus.”

Technically it was more of an impalement, but if Miguel wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to invite him to delve deeper. Otherwise, you might spend the next few hours of your life fixing a wound that surely would have closed up by the time results were back. The injury site mildly itched. That was all. Never mind, the slight, honey-colored rash migrating from the puncture site to your elbow. Or the referred pain. Minor things.

“You’re being stubborn.”

“You’re the one to talk.” You snapped the discus free from your sash and chucked it toward Miguel. He caught it with an unsurprising amount of ease, claws clicking in unison against the ineffectual metal.

“¡Qué problema!” he mocked, his voice dry and absent of discernible emotion.

You closed the distance between your bodies to slide your arms around his broad neck. His other hand came to your lower back. It was warm, the way he touched you, from the bundles of affection that fluttered in your belly to the heat dappling across your chest. You missed this every day. It made fleeing the infirmary all the more worth it.

“I put the anomaly in another discus. One that actually works, no thanks to your programming.”

“That’s what happens when you take things without asking.” He flicked the discus between his thumb and index finger, waggling it for emphasis. It was true that there had been nights that went with banging, clacks, clatters, and the occasional outburst when things weren’t quite going his way. There were a few discuses on his desk. You just so happened to take the one that malfunctioned. “I was working on it. ¿Qué era?”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Just some stingy bees. What harm could they do?”

His eyes roamed your wound. You couldn't help but look down too, both horrified and fascinated by the way the rash had moved in just a brief few minutes. The colour had begun to fade. You glanced up, flattening your mouth into a slight, forced smile.

“Fine. If you're sure.”

To be fair, you secured many anomalies with and without the help of others. They all went into their cozy, temporary forcefield homes until they could be fairly redirected to their appropriate dimensions. In the downtime, you could help or hinder Miguel's progress. Then, your watch would alert you to another disturbance and the cycle would continue.

Until that morning.

Your watch blared, and blared, and blared some more. The early morning sun began to rise and cast offensive beams of light into your room. Usually, it didn’t bother you. But this morning, everything offended you from the scratch of silky sheets on your naked body to Lyla illuminating what darkness was left, all golden and cute. You wondered if that was how Miguel felt when you forgot to pull the curtains, strung out on the bed after he finished with you.

“Woah! Oops!” she turned, covering her eyes with her spindly fingers. A growing ache throbbed between your legs. It wasn’t quite the same dull soreness from Miguel’s late-night visit last night, either. “Sorry, sorry. Miguel--”

“He can handle it,” you bit out, snappier than you intended. It wasn't like you. “Or-- Jess. No, Gwen. Gwen can do it, she loves--”

“He asked for you.”

Of course, he did. You scrunched a pillow over your head. Your Miguel couldn’t see you this. Absolutely not. You debated getting up, ignoring what you called a negligible ache that was quickly morphing into a terrible pounding. You can't believe how quickly the thought fell apart, pushing yourself to sit up in bed. The ghost of his scent floods your nose, flashing memories of the night before.

Something at work set him off. Something that commanded no intimacy, but the mechanical release of his rage that wouldn't destroy precious resources. He sat on the edge of the bed, driving your mouth onto his cock with the aid of your hair bundled around his fist. You recalled the shakiness of his thighs under your fingers, his firm legs spread wide fucking your mouth with cold abandon. He chased his own orgasm selfishly, needing the release, needing to see your body painted by whips of his cum sprayed across your exposed breasts. He pulled you off in silence, inspecting the drool and cum that spilled down your chin and throat in rivulets. "What--"

Your face tightened, glancing down at the growing tension in your belly. Everything began to annoy you, especially the scratch of the sheets against your skin, your bed empty of his presence. How could you tolerate that uniform plastered to your ass? You buried into the offensive bed. This was fine. This was normal, recalling what you'd done last night. Surely, the burn had to do with the whole being launched through not one, but two crumbling buildings the day before. The dust and rubble. Were you close to your cycle?

“Tell him I’m dead,” and without another word, you resolved the call. Within seconds she popped up again, bent at the waist because this was your life now. Never could you just… take a day off. There was always something. You muffled your screams of protest into the mattress and dug your feet in, kicking off the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, all of it.

“Is this a fit? You’ve never had a fit before,” Lyla noticed. A fit? She thought the burning of your body was a fit? Damn AI. Resolve.

Resolve. Resolve. Resolve.

It became cathartic after a good while. Or it would have been if not for your senses hyper-fixating on every minor change in your body. Despite your apprehension, you knew. What was once a dull pain radiating from your forearm morphed into something much worse. Something you couldn’t blame on the rather average experience of being pelted through the average event of windows and concrete. It was more than a tingle. It burned as it coursed through your body.

You stumbled over the bundle of bedding into the bathroom. It was there that you realized that to your horror, you weren’t just lubricated, now you were soaked. Your fluids coursed down your thighs as you dabbed the region clean with a bundle of tissues. It did little good. Touching the area exasperated the issue. Maybe you needed an orgasm, maybe ten. An hour or so later, you slammed the heel of your palm into the mirror, fracturing it into shards of terrible glass that crumbled onto the countertop. Beads of blood dabbled onto your reflection.

“If you d--” resolve.

So not a reaction to your average bee sting. Correction. A great, big, fat colony of hissing, buzzing bees. The act of recalling information was like jamming your hand into fluid water to snatch a tiny hair tie. No matter how many times you tried to recall the information, you couldn’t quite grasp it. It was there, floating around your head, but inaccessible. Your mind traveled back to Miguel. How gentle his lips could be, trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder when you rode him in reverse. How deep he'd go.

"Fuck off!" Your watch blared again. Its beeping filled your bathroom, echoing over and over. You reached behind the door to pluck a silky white slip from its hook and dragged it over your head. You were about to resolve the call again when the hot timbre in his warm voice saying your name gave you pause. Your Miguel, popping up in a golden haze. You found yourself gazing at his full lips, full and plump. If only he was here. He could have his lips on your--

“What are you doing?”

Lost in thought, you failed to realize that Miguel had been calling you by name again. You shook your hazy mind free of the thoughts that formed a swirling cloud over your head. You slumped down the wall and onto the floor.

Help was what you failed to say. As your mouth opened, nothing came out. The words were not wording. The vulnerability of asking for help was palpable. You soothed yourself by shifting your hands underneath your skirt. What would he think if he saw you here-- ripped asunder by your own biology? Whore. Miguel lowered his gaze, his eyes squinting at the sweat dabbling down your neckline as he looked you over. He wouldn't want you anymore.

“Are you listening? ¡Coño! What is wrong with you!?”

Resolve.

You resolved him. Your Miggy-- resolved. Oh, you swallowed dryly. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. It wasn’t a matter of if Miguel would come for you. It was a matter of when. When he had time to separate himself from trashing-- whatever was the closest object to him in the lab-- to take out his rage on you. You reached for your medicine cabinet. You had more important things to worry about. First on the list? The searing heat.

Your watch was better off tucked away in a chest in the closet.

Night came with no solutions. You crouched on your window sill, chest rising and falling. You sought to stare at anything but the mindless buzz of the tv screen inside. Even with light pollution, some stars winked in the distance. Your body was a bundle of warm heat, buzzing with irritation after a fruitless day of soothing your body. You grew accustomed to your pert nipples against your silky slip, the lubricant coursing down your leg. At first, denial. Now, acceptance. You thought tomorrow might be better.

You felt his presence before you heard, smelled, or saw him. Through the sea of scorched sensations battering your senses, there was one that stood apart. A tickle that niggled at the back of your head. It could have been anyone, but you didn’t have to guess to know who it was. “Lyla."

“You haven’t called him all day,” Lyla squeaked.

“Called all-- I answered his call!” Your dress was matted to your body, cloaked in an abhorrent amount of sweat. It was only minutes ago that you retrieved your watch confident that you could bullshit something, anything, for a few days of reprieve. You jammed your shaking finger to resolve the call.

“Not all of them. Miguel was worried.”

“Worried! Lyla, that is not worried,” you spat. That was your Miguel, scaling the side of your apartment. His talons cracking the siding of your apartment. The reverberations spiraled up your legs, sending waves of anticipation lapping at your core. After your long day, you weren't sure how you were still somehow upright. With every crack of his talon into the brick siding, you were running out of time to come up with an excuse.

In a bid to escape, you fell into your room. The hard floor knocked the breath out of your dry lips. You stumbled onto your feet and supported yourself with a bookcase of less than half-read books. “Lyla, he can’t see me like this!”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” she popped back up. “C’mon, you can tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

If her tone was playful in some half-baked attempt to neutralize your fight, the threat was imminent. Your hand connected with the top of the window, applying pressure to close the window. A hair too late. At the same time, Miguel’s clawed hand curled around the bottom of the window sash. You were too slow for the man who excelled with power, speed, and efficiency. You weren't going to win this fight. Not with your body threatening to crack at the very sight of your man's strength.

Though you saw him nearly daily, he always took your breath away. His sinewy body was always a sight, his suit accentuated his thick and fine cut. You moistened your lips, longing to run your fingers through his thick dark brown hair as you did every night. You caught his sharp gaze a second longer than you should have.

“Open up,” he whispered coolly.

He was a distraction. The wind was not on your side either, blowing wisps of his scent into your overwrought senses. His natural musk mixed with the sweat of a hard day's work. Somewhere in there, bitter blood. You could smell the caramelized scent of the flaky, buttery empanadas and hot coffee you shared the day before. It gave you pause, his intoxicating smell and the sultry trill of his voice. But you couldn’t let him see you, not like this.

“Oop, there he is. Just checking on you,” Lyla chittered. Resolve.

“Miggy, please go away,” you sobbed in frustration, shifting to shoulder the window. “Why are you so stubborn!?”

“It’s who I am.”

The window cracked all at once. With mere milliseconds to respond to the sash careening into the upper rail, you whirled past the bedroom door. Miguel broke into a run behind you with long strokes of his legs. He made contact, sending you barreling into your lazy sapphire couch from the impact. You saw stars for a fraction of a second before you lurched on your palms and elbows, scrambling off of the couch and across the floor. His hand caught your ankle and dragged you underneath his body.

“¡Ay!” you bit out. “No, no no no. Miggy!”

“¡Callate!”

His hand wrapped tightly around your throat to force complacency, pinning you back to the hardwood floor. Your palms slammed onto his chest, drawing lines down his chest. Bits of pathetic electricity fizzled on his broad, muscular chest, a consequence of your fading focus. That focus was eviscerated when Miguel threw his hips flat against your core. Your frantic fidgeting against Miguel soothed some of the terrible, buzzing pressure rattling between your legs like warm honey on a sore wound. The ache for his relief became more important than the impulse for substantial breaths.

“Don’t move. Why are you--”

“I can’t help it,” you cut him off, straining against his large palm to stare at his crotch. His gaze fell on yours, following the path to his soft cock. His eyes widened with the sudden attention. Tears threatened to spill over from your eyes, pricked with spikes of pain. "It's too much!"

You ate your shame with his body crouched between your legs and his large palm choking the air out of your throat. The influx of air not only brought your scent, but your day-long desperation to fix what you believed was wrong. He could smell it now. He could see it now. He could hear it in your voice. He knew why you failed to answer his calls. The violent jabbing of the resolve button. Throwing your watch into your cramped closet to ignore the calls. The pheromones that soaked your apartment. It was unavoidable.

“You can’t help it,” he repeated. Miguel considered you with razor-sharp eyes, nearly as sharp as the talons that rescinded into his arms.

"I'll see about that." His hand left your neck to reveal bundles of bumpy shivers that soared across your skin. He raised his finger to wipe away the wet tears that fell from your flushed cheeks. Then dropping lower, Miguel chased the thin straps of your gown with his claw and slid the offending fabric off of your breast. The nub was as hard as it had been hours ago when you twerked the nipple between your fingertips and dreamed of Miguel.

“You’re...” he cupped your breast in your palm and massaged your nipple with one sharp twist of his thumb. The gasp that left your lips wasn’t one you were proud of. Your undulating hips that ground down on his cock weren’t entirely unwarranted. You needed it. "Hot. As if you're in heat."

This couldn’t be happening. From a ball of rage to one of arousal, he released a tiny amused chuckle. You spent much of the day in different parts of the apartment with your hand, toy, ice, and water into your body to soothe this terrible ache. So Miguel wouldn't see you like this. It was this moment you sought to avoid after your long day: The moment of Miguel's disapproval. Now he laughed at you.

“Happy?” you sobbed into the forearm that kept Miguel stable. “Go away, someone else could use your stupid help.”

“Don’t you need me?” Miguel dipped his head down. Strands of his dark hair tickled your hypersensitive skin. With the lightweight fabric of his suit, pressing your cunt back against his clothed bulge felt wonderful. You bit your lower lip and watched his cock jut against its fabric. You lifted your puffy eyes to his gaze and found a wicked gleam there. He knew it wasn’t enough contact for the pressure and painful spasms to abate. Deep down, you knew that Miguel was your only hope for relief. Who else could, or would, you call in this condition? Mostly because Miguel always fixed everything.

"Miggy," you murmured. After this pitiful display, he wasn't rejecting you? Your mind flowed weightless and light. The terror of your day faded under his careful caress. In its place, comfort that he would take care of you.

“Don’t you?” His hand snaked between your folds and found it soaked wet, the low throbbing of your pussy palpable. He retracted his fingers and spread the sticky fluid between his thumb and middle finger. At some point, silence became better than an answer. Miguel brought his hand down on your cunt for a sharp slap. Bundles of nerves cried out under the abuse. It shook free a squeal from your lips, bitten raw by the pressure of the day. Your head bobbed into a mechanical nod as to save yourself from another slap.

“You know how to ask. It’s si Miguel, por favor Miguel.”

You needed the warm sensation of his cum. But making those words proved too difficult. Your canines pierced bloody holes in your lower lip. You clawed up his forearms, trying to leverage and force him closer. Miguel grabbed your shoulders and thrashed them back down onto the floor. You felt bad for the downstairs neighbors.

“Say it.”

“Miggy,” you looked into his eyes. They were blown wide, nearly fully black with a thin outline of scarlet, chasing the outline of your exposed breast. For all his talk, you realized he wasn't immune. Even with his face tight, his eyes focused on the same thing you needed. Maybe, all this time, you were baiting Miguel with half-assed answers. They were invitations. Invitations to come to fill this need you had. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t what you wanted this whole time. Finally, you had him where you wanted him.

Miguel broke eye contact first. He cupped his plush lips around your nipple, suckling the breast taut and wet. You cried out in surprise and arched into Miguel’s mouth, enticed by the fangs that grazed your nipple. As quickly as he came, he was gone.

You lurched up, palming Miguel's dick through his pants. His hips bucked into your palm. He refused to make any sound as he considered your next movements, releasing Miguel’s cock from his suit. Impatience and need coalesced into your brave movements, sliding your palm against him. He was impossibly thick and hard, dribbling at the tip. Miguel huffed a small noise as your palm ran over him. You dared to call it a moan.

Miguel sneered and shoved you back onto the floorboards. “I’ll only tell you one more time. Ask me properly.”

"You do too, don't you?" You giggled. A noise that grated his ear. With the belief you wouldn’t bolt, Miguel shifted back onto his knees. You wouldn’t. There was nowhere left to run. Not that you even wanted to, fat and hungry off Miguel's growing desperation.

"Come here." He snaked his hands underneath your knees, dragged you close, and pushed them to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later, the sensation of his thick dick sliding against your engorged folds forced them back open. It gave you just enough relief through the pulsing pain to look at him with your hazy eyes. From this angle, you appreciated how large Miguel had gotten. His round cock-head bobbed and crested over your mound as it rubbed against your aching clit. His face was trained, focused. He wasn't going to relent first.

The nagging pressure never abated. You sought something more, something better, the sensation of being filled. With every glide, you squeezed your walls in protest to his absence. Your hips protested the restriction of your movement, shimmying against the firm hold he had that kept you in place. You wanted more than that. You wanted true relief from his teasing. Miguel drew back to inspect the fluid over his fat shaft as held you down. You gave in, whining at him like a brat.

“Por,” you scratched his forearms. “Por favor, Miggy. You don’t know what it's like.”

“All fours-- face down.”

The cacophony of desire battered and overcame any other human emotion you could have. You complied, crawling onto your fuzzy indigo rug for what came next. Miguel’s gloved hand skimmed across your ass, middle finger skimming toward the center. He followed up his gentle touch by reeling back his hand and cracking it across your ass, searing the nerves alive. Once, twice, and then a third. Tears pricked your cheeks again, a consequence of your nerves being overwrought and now assailed.

“Miggy!”

He shushed you with fervor, another thwack beating the jiggling flesh hot and red. Your legs trembled under the weight of his slaps. “Ignore my calls again and you’ll get much worse.”

“I didn’t-- you wouldn't want me,” your lips parted in defense of what you’d done. Miguel dipped down to spread your folds, rolling his index finger along your pulsing walls. Your body drew him in, squeezing and urging him forward. Your swollen walls were impossibly tight, straining to bring him in more and more.

"You know I do."

The need for more devoured any other thought, any threats of what he’d do next time. You rolled your hips to ride his hand. In place of a slap, Miguel slid another finger slid in beside the first to stretch your walls open. He faltered at your next words and slid his fingers free.

“Not like… not like I need you.”

“Who decides that?” he pressed on your upper back to force it down. You complied. Miguel stumbled forward, finally pressing his thick head to your pulsing entrance. His round head pressed, just barely, into your wet hole. You clenched down, inviting him into your warmth. You weren’t sure he’d actually give it to you. It was so damn close.

“You do, Miggy,” you murmured, pushing back. He watched as his shaft slowly disappeared into your body, your apprehension of retaliation rendered you too slow to finish.

Miguel snatched your waist and forced you to take the rest, a soppy squelch lubricating his shaft. The sound that slipped from your lips was entirely uncouth, punctuated by his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls strained around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, the drag of his cock and slap of balls against your body always felt somehow like the first. It filled that ache-- the consistent burning need to have him here, inside of your greedy body, scratching something that you could not itch all day. It’s what you wanted.

“That’s right, I do.” Miguel rumbled, short, punctuated thrusts beating your clenching cunt into complacency. The pleasure ruptured through your cunt-- battering his dick in response. He let loose a sharp grunt followed by a string of curses. Your sweet release spilled over his dick and balls, dripping down your thighs. Your legs threatened to shook, but Miguel was unwilling to allow your trembling legs to give out.

"Ah! Miggy!" His fangs punctured your shoulder to force you to stay in position, his pelvis stuttering against yours. His growl punctuated the warm, soothing cum that soothed your walls like warm honey over a wound. Your walls milked him free of his cum, spasming in response to his orgasm. He pieced himself together against your back, pulling his fangs free and settling a soft kiss over the burning wound on your shoulder. As if he hadn't been the one to tear his fangs into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not letting go,” he hummed in annoyance. He turned his attention down to your ass, ghosting his fingers over the healing bruises over your backside. You squealed, jerking forward. He followed you forward, punching a hole in the floor by your side. “Fuck, don’t move!”

You cast your attention back toward Miguel. He huffed forcefully out of his nostrils. He motioned toward your ass as if it were obvious-- your walls were clamped over his cock, unwilling or otherwise unable to let him go, as if he had any more cum to give in that current moment. You took it all.

“I. I didn't-- I can’t--”

“Yeah, I know. That Bee venom does that. Mine should neutralize it.”

At some point, you murmured. It sure as hell wasn’t doing it now, keeping him seated into your cunt that bubbled with the mixture of his and your release. “You knew about it? I could have died!”

Miguel chuckled.

“You wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn to die,” he sighed, fiddling with his watch. The tests-- that you never had ran. Ones that he suggested. Ones that you refused quite openly. “Why would I deny myself the fun?”

His cock slipped free. Your hips dropped and fell slack against the floor. You weren’t proud of the cum that oozed out of your ass over your decimated room, nor the fact that your useless neighbors hadn’t called for help once. Not that you needed it-- but still. You palpated your stomach, slightly distended. Miguel bent down and gathered the mixture of your bodily fluids on his fingers, suckling his own fingers dry. You watched his wet tongue swirl around his fingertips. It wasn't fair.

“Fun? What fun!? Do you know how long I-- You’re a mean man, Miguel O’Hara.”

He lurched over, his breath tickling your lips. He kissed you, salty and sweet. Your nose scrunched up, pouting against his lips. He left the room for the kitchen, fetching a wet cloth to clean his body with. He zipped himself back into his suit shortly after and dropped the sodden cloth by the cum puddling under your ass.

“Never said I wasn’t.”

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #Miguel ohara/reader #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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hippityhoppityicantrhymegoaway · 2 years

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Y’know what I find interesting? I’ve seen a lot of posts that start with “cheers to the girls who” and then it follows with how the girl doesn’t like heels, dresses, or makeup. How they’d prefer sweaters, converse, and a tub of ice cream while they sit in their room reading and/or binging tv shows instead of going out to party’s or going to the gym. And that’s great that people are happy to be their selves but that doesn’t mean my best friend is a sheep, or controlled by society because guess what? She is a skinny little shrimp who looks good in everything, is really athletic, she wears heels, she rocks eyeliner, and does cheer. Y’know what else she does? Sits around in sweats eating ice cream, big watching tv and listening to music, she pulls on jeans, a t-shirt, and a sturdy pair of boots and goes fricking bear hunting with her dad, and she’s got a great aim. And she does this for herself. To make herself look great while she drives around in a truck. So I guess my question is why is can’t she dress nice without being called a puppet or wear sweats without people calling her fat and sloppy? Why does my big sister get up two hours earlier than her friends to pick the perfect outfit and then not wear it anyway in fear of standing out to much? Why does my second to youngest sister change out of her Godzilla v.s. King Kong shirt and her vans with sharks on them into a pink shirt and sparkly sandals before she goes to play with the neighbor kid? She’s seven. Seven years old and she’s terrified of being made fun of. I know I sound like I’m just over exaggerating about everything but it’s true as heck alright? And it’s not just girls ok! The oldest of my younger brothers is really strong and acts tough but when he comes home he watches my little pony, and when a friend comes over he calls it stupid and says my sister turned it on and made him watch it! My youngest brother is a tiny little thing but he’s 8 years old and gets picked on, when he’s at football practice he’s afraid to do the exercises because he doesn’t want to stand out, he doesn’t want to be different and that’s ok. I don’t want to be different but my brother doesn’t want to get picked on anymore. He’ll throw fists at his friends if they start to be rude to him because he’s afraid it’s going to happen again. Someone will find a reason to make fun of him again. And you know what sucks even more? A lot of people will read this and just go back to criticizing the little things in the world because they’re to scared to change the big things. I don’t even care if you think I’m just a nutty protester/feminist/pick me! Because I put myself through to much crap trying to cheer up my siblings because Avery’s mom told my sister her outfit wasn’t lady-like, to deal with people who don’t care about my post. If you hate me, what am I gonna do? Throw a tantrum because some one didn’t share my same opinion, who would do that?

#Feel free to hate me I don’t really care!#I’m happy to discus if you actually do care

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ratcash-wasgud · 3 months

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・❥・Loser!Mizu Headcanons・❥・

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Firstly, I'd like to apologize for how deranged this came out towards the end, so mdni pls pls. Secondly this is a Loser!Mizu x Rebel!Reader typa shit, so it will get specific at times. My requests are open, btw.

Okay, enjoy ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

I stand by the fact that Mizu would be a huge loser. Like girlie grew up not really interacting with anyone but her mother and Eiji and doesn't really like meeting new people (Ringo for example)

She'd get shy, and you can't change my mind. She'd blush a lot, especially on her nose. Blud turns into Rudolf the moment she's embarassed.

She'd be the type to dress like literal Adam Sandler, then try to casually pull her shirt's sleeve up to flex her muscles.

She'd say shit like "Oh, these? I dunno, they just...spawned here." All while knowing damn well she spends half of her life at the gym.

She'd still wear shades all the fucking time, but not to hide her eyecolor, but because she thinks it's cool, and because she mained Johnny Cage in mortal kombat.

She'd listen to corny ass music like Joji, Hozier, maybe Mitski or even The Front Bottoms and bop her head agressively. Then she'd deny the whole thing and say that she was listening to Playboy Carti or Drake.

She'd be in the basketball team, but would be horrible at teamwork. She wouldn't pass, she'd just go for it everytime. She'd miss 20% of the time, and then yell something like "It wasn't my fault, this bitch was breathing down my neck!" or just groan loudly out of annoyance.

She'd be very drawn to water. She'd visit the beach very frequently, but the local aquarium even more often.

Mizu was standing before a smaller aquarium, looking at the spotted, green fishes' quickly pacing around between the glass walls. She came here right after basketball practice, so she was quite sweaty, and tired but being here, for some reason, always charged her energy. Her hair was in it's usual bun, but her shades were now closed, and were hanging from the neck of her shirt. Her eyes were shining in the dim blue lighting as she slowly placed her fingers on the glass. Suddenly, she almost jumbed backwards when she finally realized someone was standing next to her. She turned her head to the side and saw you. It was fucking you. It could've been anyone else, but no. You.

You and Mizu had a couple classes together, and you were one of the most prettiest girls Mizu has ever seen. She saw you on campus a lot, smoking in the parking lot, yelling at one of the fratboys because he parked his dumb car in a way that your motorbike would get stuck next to it, or literally running from one of the professors. She never talked to you though. She never had the opportunity, or at least that's what she told herself. In reality, she was just a coward.

Bit still, she would be lying if she said your face hadn't popped up a couple times when she touched herself. There was just something about you that always caught her attention. You didn't know her, but she felt like she knew you. Everytime she had a basketball game, she looked for you in the crowd. You were rarely there, and even if you were, you'd leave halfway after throwing food at someone. Still, she'd do her best, trying to impress you, knowing damn well you won't give a shit.

"What?" You laugh right in her face. "Scared you? Or did the Discus' mesmerized you so much you forgot you were in public?" You say, turning your gaze to the fishes.

"E...excuse me?" Mizu manages to croak out, her eyes widening. Why are you talking to her like you two have been friends for years? It's not like she minds, but it sends her anxieaty flying. It's her first time actually talking to you, of course she's nervous. She has rehearsed this a couple times in her head, planning to quickly guide the conversation towards how good she'd be at beating people up, (because she knows how much you do that) but now that it's actually happening she's pissing her pants.

"The Discus. Rot Turkish Discus, to be specific. The fish you were drooling at." You press a finger against the glass. "Pretty cool ones, I'll give you that. They can change the pigment in their body if they're stressed or sick." You say, casually dropping a "by the way did you know" kind of fact. One she didn't know.

"Oh." Mizu looks back to the fishes, but actually she's just looking at your reflection in the glass. "You like fishes?" Great. Stupid ass question.

"Yeah, kinda." You shrug. "They're interesting, but I'm here because they have bugs on the second floor." You point up with a small, lazy grin. Mizu remembers that, but never went up there. Bugs were never really interesting to her, but...maybe today she will. She mentaly notes that you like bugs.

"Hm." Mizu hums back. "If you think about it," She starts, glancing at you to check if you're still paying attention. "Fish are kinda like...water bugs." She says, and even shrugs for good measure. She needs to look like she doesn't give a shit.

You let out a laugh. "What a genius." You roll your eyes. "There are actual water bugs though, but I'm willing to overlook that." You say, then walk past her to look at the next aquarium, and Mizu just follows you withouth even thinking about it. "Cichlid." You say, pointing at one of the pinkish fishes. Mizu realizes how little she actually knows about fishes eventhough she comes to this aquarium a lot. She just likes watching them. "A very pretty one at that too. Jewel Cichlid if I'm correct." You say, almost as if thinking out loud.

It's as if Mizu became mesmerized. She walked along you trhough the whole aquarium, then followed you upstairs to the bugs. She listened you naming all of them, then telling her fun facts like 'An ant-eating assassin bug piles its victims onto its body to scare predators' and 'Ticks can grow from the size of a grain of rice to the size of a marble'. You were someone who'd always caused trouble in school, saying it's all bullshit and how fucked the system is, but you were actually very educated. On animals, that is.

She never really cared about people being smart or not, but right now it was the most attractive thing ever.

And with that, you unintentionally ruined her life. She was fine-ish with having this little hallway-crush on you, but now that she actually interacted with you for two full hours, she's fully in love.

And somehow that makes her frustrated.

She'd walk with Ringo on campus, listening to him ramble about this new dish he cooked and how she should totally come over and rate it when you suddenly dash by her, probably escaping from some football player you made mad again. Mizu would freeze, then mutter "why the fuck is she so cool?!" under her breath and lightly punch Ringo on the shoulder.

You're so hot it makes her mad.

You two didn't really talk after that though, just casual greetings in the hallway, and sometimes sitting at the same table in the cafeteria, but that was it. Still, it was more that nothing.

One time you started a fight with one guy outside of the parking lot because "he dick rode a teacher while the teacher was making bitchass bigot jokes".

You left the guy with a broken nose, and would've made it a broken jaw too if someone wouldn't have stopped you.

Akemi recorded the whole thing, and Mizu needed to discreetly beg her to send it to her.

She couldn't help it. Seeing your sweaty form, your face scrunched up in anger, your knuckles blood stained...it wasn't enough to see it just once. She had to watch the video on loop.

She'd wonder if you'd make a similar face in bed too. She'd wonder if you're a top or bottom.

She'd wonder if you're even into girls at all. It seemed too good to be true though.

Still, watching that video over and over again made her mind wander.

"Fuck..." Mizu mumbles out as her fingers finally reach her folds under her boxers. With her phone in hand, the video of you beating the shit out of some guy playing, your huffs and groans on full volume in her headphones. She closes her eyes, and imagines you kneeling between her legs.

She had a long day. She argued with Taigen, listened to Akemi whine about this guy, Takayoshi, then Ringo kept talking about this boring ass anime he watched about a broke God, or whatever...plus, she didn't see you once today. She couldn't catch a whiff of your smell as you walked by, or she didn't hear your sharp and raspy chuckle, or saw your smug grin. Torture at it's finest.

Is she proud of it? Nah. It's embarassing as hell to masturbate to your crush who probably forgot you even existed, but hey, a girl has to blow of steam somehow, right? And you just couldn't leave her head. It gotten to the point where she can't even watch porn, unless one of the actresses look like you, which is...rare. You're too good looking to be compared to sluts like that.

She imagines that it's your hand that is slowly circling around her clit as you whisper in her ear. Things like "You're so warm...I can't wait to taste you" or "You want this as much as me, don't you? Mizu..." and it gets her to buck against her fingers.

She licks her lips as she imagines your pussy hovering over her mouth while you slowly finger her. She imagines your taste, and how'd you drip on her face before you allow her to dive in.

She'd eat. Oh, she'd devour.

She saw your ass in jeans before, and it made her clit throb in public, so she just knows it's perfect when it's bare. She quietly moans your name as her fingers work deeper, placing the phone down to only listen to the audio, her other (now free) hand moving up to tease her hard nipples through her shirt.

She slowly pumps her long fingers inside herself, her back arching on the bed. She whispers your name as she imagines you slowly lowering yourself on the strapon she has inside her drawer.

She doesn't know why she has that toy though. She has only ever been with one person, and that was a guy. It happened years ago, back when she was still in denial about her gayness, and when she was still living with her homophobic mom. But after she first masturbated to the tought of you, she impulsively bought the light teal strap on dildo, just in case you ever somehow ended up in bed. She'd fuck you just the way she imagines it right now (lies, btw, she'd freak out and cum after two seconds). But still, there's no harm in having dreams.

She'd watch your tits bounce as you ride her, her hands firmly grabbing your ass. You'd moan her name, hair falling in your face as you lose yourself in pleasure. "Fuck...so fucking pretty...loving my cock, aren't you?" Mizu coos into the air, her thumb circling her clit as her fingers move faster inside her, agressively curling into her g spot. "Yes...Mizu, it feels good..." You'd moan back as you throw your head back when she starts thrusting her hips upwards, fucking you from under, leaving you no choice but to lean on her for support, pushing your beautiful plump boobs so damn close to her lips.

She'd suck on your nipples until they're red and puffy while she brings you to your climax. You'd love her cock, she's sure. She got the one that was the same teal that was also the color of one of your bracelets. Small, almost stalker-sih detail? Yeah, but she imagines you'd be impressed.

Afterwards, she'd lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, post nut clarity hitting her hard. And the next day, she wouldn't even be able to look at you, withouth getting embarassed...and horny. Oh only if you could hold her for real.

#bes mizu #blue eye samurai #bes x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #fanfiction #mizu fanfic #bes smut #smut #bes headcanons #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu headcanons

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

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Come train with me - Sebastian Vettel x DaneOlympicAthletics! Reader

Plot: Sebastian Vettel asks to train with his Olympian Girlfriend for one day to see the difference in Formula One training and decathlon training.

Credit to wendigoactivities for the GIF

"Okay, so what do you do when I normally am on a race weekend. I want to do your training with you!" he smiles looking at you.

"Are you sure it's pretty intense!" you say, knowing that your routine could end up being a whole day thing.

"Leibling! You forget that I'm an athlete myself!" he says, pulling you into a kiss before ripping the covers off the pair of you and getting up.

"Okay, get your running gear on baby" you smile before entering the bathroom and washing your face with some water. You change into shorts and a sports bra and ended tying your hair up in a low ponytail.

"I'm ready!" he smiles zipping up his long-sleeved running shirt. You walk him down to the kitchen and pour two glasses of orange juice for the pair of you.

"Drink up" you smile and he does, pretty much taking the small glass in one long gulp whereas you slowly take it down.

"Okay, we're going out on a run 5k, and do 5 100m sprints at each 1000 bench mark!" you say as you lead out the back of your home to the woodland trail you used for running.

"That doesn't sound too hard!" he smiles, pulling you in for a kiss before you dart off starting the first 100 meter sprint. He does struggled to keep up with you during the sprint to the point you had to jog on the spot to wait for him after the check point.

He wasn't out of breath when he got to you, and both continued on with the run.

"Okay, finished that awful run, what next?" he asks.

"Go to the home gym, do some squats and lift some weights before showering and time for some breakfast!" you smile and you both walk down the trail and into the back door. Your dog, Polly comes running up to the both of you and jumps into his dad's arms.

You cheekily snap a picture of them before you make your way over to the gym.

You hop in the home gym bathroom to wash while Seb goes upstairs into the ensuite.

Once you've finished you go to the kitchen, pulling out the porridge your nutritionist and private chef made for you along with the pre-cut fruits to add to it.

You hand Sebastian the other portion which he thanks you for, he mixes his fruit into the porridge whereas you leave yours alone on the side.

"Now where do you go?" he asks.

"Well, I go to the training centre. I have two separate days when doing a decathlon and I try to train for the event I'd being doing on that day! So, we just did the 5k with the sprints in it for the 100m sprint I'd complete first. Now we'd be training for discus throw, then pole vault which we both know I'm terrible at, then we'd break and have lunch. Then my fav which is Javelin throw before rounding of with the 400m which again we class a this mornings run!" you explain the daily plan for day 1.

"Oh! That sounds good to me!" he says and you both pack up a lunch to take with you before leaving for the car.

He drives both of you to the training center. It was very large holding an athletics field in the back that had the perfect running track with a centre piece where you could do long jump, or throw javelin spears. And then inside there was things for high jump and pole vaulting.

You spend the afternoon there, taking a break halfway through for lunch where you introduced Seb to anyone he hadn't actually met yet.

"Thank you for bringing me back home!" you'd smiled at him happy to be back in the homeland.

Denmark, specifically Copenhagen always had a special place in your heart, but you'd moved to Germany with Seb after 8 months of dating.

So when he said that you guy's should get a home in Denmark it was all too perfect that you parents were attempting to downsize your childhood family home. You brought it from your parents and made some renovations a few years back but predominately were in Germany.

However, now that you were back for the summer break, on a little holiday you felt almost refreshed.

"Any-time, this is your home!" he smiles softly picking at his lunch trying so of the chicken.

"Mmmmm that's not true, my home is where-ever you are Skat!" you smile at him, pulling him in for a kiss which he kindly returns.

"I really really love you Y/N!" he says looking in your eyes holding that contact.

"Yeah? Well... I love you too" you smile, placing a kiss on his lips your fingers running through his hair.

"I know you do" he smiles.

You guys end up getting back on with the exercises and by the end he's lying on the mat needing a five minute breather.

"Come on old man, I know you've got more stamina than that!" you tease looking at his as he looks up at you.

"I think we've got to call it a day, home time?" he asks and you shake your head before nodding!

You end up driving you both home, him using the excuse that his legs were on fire after the amount of squats you'd made him do. Which you didn't mind, your husband had a fantastic array of vehicles. They ranged from a Porsche, to a Ferrari, to a Aston Martin his latest to the collection and you always loved driving his flash cars around.

You crank up the radio signing along to the radio while Seb leans his head against the window with his eyes shut lightly humming to the music.

This right here was the life you'd always dreamt off.

y/user

Liked by sebastianvettel

y/user: Showing my husband how an Olympic Athlete trains everyday. p.s he struggled :)

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sebastianvettel: I didn’t struggle! You liar! <3

6hours ago

Your Instagram Story:

another day, another run

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x you

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avelera · 1 month

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Let's Play: What's Wrong with this Sculpture?

Following in the theme of sharing astonishing moments of ancient sculpture pedantry here on Tumblr, based on my brief undergraduate stint as a T.A of ancient art history, I thought I'd share one of my other proudest moments of being an absolutely insufferable know-it-all about ancient sculptures.

In the process, I hope I can also share some of the sort of largely useless (from a practical perspective) information that Tumblr tends to glory in, so buckle up buttercups.

This question was posed to me on a walking tour of the Capitoline Museum in my ancient art history class while I was living abroad. Our professor, a delightfully curmudgeonly Belgian, stopped in front and asked us to figure out why this sculpture is just plain wrong.

I intend to walk you through the process of how I got the right answer and, after gaining my teacher's rare approval, glowed with enough serotonin to power a small nuclear reactor.

So, let's return to the original question: what is wrong with this sculpture?

Because if you are truly eagle-eyed you should be able to spot what very famous sculpture this actually is, before an overly imaginative Frenchman brought it back wrong.

Hint #1: It was incorrectly restored.

Look closely at the the difference of the patina, or color of the stone. It's a bit hard to tell in this photo, but the head was added later. It's a paler white than the core of the torso, which is what we have of the original sculpture.

Hint #2: It was incorrectly restored in the 18th century by a Frenchman (Pierre-Étienne Monnot) who made some, shall we say, creative interpretations of what's going on here.

You can tell it's by an 18th c. Frenchman because the facial features are so delicate. Ancient statues tend to have less narrow and delicate chins and noses. In general, that is a dead giveaway when something is 18th century French vs. Ancient Greek or Roman.

Here's a good example. The first sculpture is 18th c. French, the second is the famous Venus de Milo. Note her blockier chin and less delicate features. So in the future, you can tell these sort of later additions to Greek or Roman sculptures if they added a new head because 17-19th century sculptors in Europe had tools (like finer drill tips) and tastes (beauty standards that favored more delicate men and women) that led to a pronounced difference in the faces.

Hint #3: Check out the anatomy of his lower shoulder. That's another addition, that arm should not be coming straight out of a torso where the muscle, if you look closely, is turned inward.

Seriously, that looks painful.

Hint #4: The sword he's holding up is just total nonsense for the Roman era. I mean, the restoration makes no secret of the fact that this sword is a later addition, but it's also just an absolute nonsense sword with its silly little curved cross guard. This Frenchman literally just made it up.

Here's an ancient sculpture with a sword in it that actually looks right:

From the Ludovisi Gaul, a famous Hellenistic Baroque work of Greek sculpture. Note the much blockier sword though I will admit, it could be a later addition, I don't know for 100% certain, but I'm pretty sure it's the original. Regardless, it fits the sculpture much better and let me add that sword I'm criticizing is completely made up for the sculpture we're talking about and is not there in the original sculpture that was incorrectly restored.

Ok, so those are all the hints.

Look closely at the body of the first sculpture. Cut away the arms that are not connected to the body correctly, the sword that shouldn't be there, the face that was far too delicate. When you separate those later additions out, can you tell me what sculpture that actually is?

Because here is the reveal!

The Discus Thrower, aka, the Discobolus by Myron.

The French restorationist got carried away by his own imagination, saw a twisted torso and thought it could only possibly be a warrior in the midst of twisting around to fend off a blow, not an athlete in the midst of a demonstration of skill. It's a martial, fanciful read that completely misinterpreted the subject.

This is why most restoration today employs a much lighter touch, rather than trying to reattach pieces incorrectly, they tend to just outline where the missing pieces are with a light sketch of an educated guess of what might have actually been there. Faulty restorations like the Capitoline Discobolus is one reason for this modern stylistic principle when it comes to restoration work.

When my professor asked us to identify the correct original sculpture that day on the museum tour, it was the sword that pinged me as wrong first, but zeroing in on the core of the sculpture, the torso, is what revealed the true statue underneath.

This notoriously difficult to please professor was very proud when I blurted out, "It's the Discus Thrower!" and the high-octane serotonin I got from his approval probably could have propelled me into the sun that day, and brought to you Yet Another Moment of Ancient Sculpture Pedantry.

#ancient history #ancient rome #art history #discobolus #there are very few things I'll brag about but naming this sculpture correctly is one of them #in part because there was so little to be gained lol oh well might as well make a tumblr post about it

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memospacexx · 6 months

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Forgot to out my thing on MY BAD u can now send requests i think yayaayayay

Disclaimer!! This MIGHT be OOC cause we dont really know much about mammon as of now, when we get more on him i will be updating my general headcanons for him!!!

- initially he js thought you were the one who brought the most money thats why you stood out to him(sure)

- in this scenario I’ll make it so you work under him, managing his sales and making the advertisments n shit or whatever but its up to you wholeheartedly

- a succubus????did u seduce him???😞

- he genuinely started to get hissy whenever anyone talks to you…not that anyone really knew-

-you did not know he saw that. YOU DIDNT KNOW HE EVEN ACKNOWLEDGED YOU

-tbh if he ever put his ego aside and actually asked you out it would be like this:

“Eyyy if it isnt my favorite Succubus!”

favorite?you have NEVER SPOKEN TO HIM BEFORE

“Hello Sir-“

“Drop the sir sweetheart, anyways, i was wonderin if you would accompany me to this fine new restaurant?to discus the..urm sales of course!”

Lie buzzer sound

You thought it was lies but like…u cant really say that to a sin-

“Oh, of course sir it would be an honor” was he fr is this rlly abt that

-Do people know? NO cant risk that-

-However Fizz did find out- walked into you two laughing together, and to fizz, THATS WEIRD…Mammon??being nice??making someone actually laugh without insulting them?? Time to tell ozzie(before he quit)

-also you and fizz get along. I js wanted to point that out, you managed the sales of his robo-self, thats how he found you, he thinks your funny, and when he found out you and mammon were an item he was like

“Are you alright”

“What🤨”

-yeahhh…Ozzie does threaten him with it, like blackmail, but he wouldn’t actually leak that info unless it was an actual must, he knows how it feels 🤷‍♀️

-you two cant exactlyy go on dates, cos of the public, usually you two just watch a movie in his abode🫶🫶🫶

No he wont share popcorn. Get ur own (he will whine if u dont share yours cos he finished his)

If he were to buy gifts he asks his underlings to buy it. They dont question him (he will throw a hissy fit and probably kill them if they ask ngl😭)

Speeking of underlings they hate u lmaoo

They dont like the special treatment u get smh

But they arent mean to you( mammon will kill them💀)

And they refuse to tell anyone cause the fear they have for the sin of greed is INSANE

He made it clear if they gossiped he will indeed set everything they love on fire 😋

-you mention this new dress? Woah its on your (shared) bed

-scrolling thru ur phone and you linger on a specific item? Damn how did that get on your desk

-Favorite food? Say less(he ate it and had to get another but its okay)

But imma explain your job- basically you managed the sales and in-charge of the the advertisement,making sure it reaches the…right audience

And how you met(you didnt meet him when you got the job, someone else was handling it)

How he noticed you was all on accident

(You tripped infront of him . He thought it was the funniest thing for a day then he couldn’t get you out his head for a week)

He bought you VERY high heels as a joke bc of it😭😭😭

Tho a downside of his, in any relationship, doesn’t matter how much he gives and gives, it always feels like he’s taking too. You always have to be there, but not as a lover at times since your relationship isnt public. You have to always be there when hes out, he promoted you so you could be his “secretary “ so he had an excuse to keep you on a tight leash , he might try to isolate you tbh, hes greedy, he wants you all to himself, after arguing w him abt it he doesnt, thankfully, but hes just painfully possesive, but doesnt isolate you from anyone, just demands most of your time is on him

——————————————————

I hope this is to your likingg🫶🫶🫶

@nachowtoast

#helluva boss mammon x reader #mammon x reader #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss season two #helluva boss ozzie #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #.memospace

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harrywavycurly · 13 days

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What You Deserve Part 5: Details

Masterlist: Here

CW: brief mention of toxic ex

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this update it answers some questions and shows another side of Eddie, it’s a long one and I broke it up into sections!✨

“What…are those?” “They’re called flowers.” “And who..are they for?” “They are for you…you didn’t expect me to show up to our first…date empty handed did you?” “This…this is a date? You’re calling this a date? We are on a date?” “Hey hey relax a bit please it’s okay…I just…I mean yes? I’d call this a date because it’s…well it’s when we are going to discus our…relationship so yeah…it’s a date.” “Okay…” “is that okay? It doesn’t need to be a date if it’s too-” “No no it’s a date…yeah we…are going on a date.” “Perfect…uhm do you want to maybe…get in the car now?”

“Holy shit.” “What’s wrong?…are you cold? You can wear my jacket if you’d like?” “Sorry I’m fine it’s just….I didn’t get a good look at you in the car because I was distracted by the flowers but…seriously…do you always just look like…this?” “Uh…yes?” “You…you look like you just walked out of a magazine and…well I look-” “Amazing…you look amazing…now unless you have anymore questions…we do have a reservation that we are almost late for.” “This place looks nice…you come here a lot?” “Oh yeah…I take all my first dates here.” “I can see why…” “you…do know I was joking right?… I’ve actually never been here before.” “Oh yeah…yeah I knew that.”

“So…uhm what are some things you…don’t want me to do?” “Oh right to the point huh? Can’t even let me order you a glass of wine first?” “You want to order…for me?” “Oh forgive me….I didn’t mean for it to sound like you can’t order yourself a glass of wine I know you’re more than capable of telling people what you want.” “It’s okay I’ve just…never had someone offer to order for me before.” “Well I’m more than happy to if you want…” “thank you…so-” “hi welcome to Enzo’s what can I get you to drink?” “Hello…I’ll have a glass of your house red and a water to start.” “Perfect…and for you dear? What would you like?” “Uhm…uh…there’s a lot of uhm choices…uh-” “if you’re not sure I can just come back?” “Uh Eddie can you-” “I’ve got you sweetheart…she’ll have a glass of your white wine and a water with lemon please.” “Excellent choice…I’ll get those right out to you.”

“So you asked easier what are some things I would prefer for you not to do…and that’s actually a tough question to answer because I don’t want you to feel like you have a set of rules to follow because you don’t…” “Okay…well there are uh some things…that uhm I’d like if you…didn’t…do.” “Such as?” “I don’t like being around uhm…men when they drink too much so…if you do want to go and get drunk please just…don’t invite me along or…show up at my house banging on my door or yelling my name from the front porch.” “Has…that happened before?” “Yes…several times…and each time it ended…badly.” “It ended badly?…do you mind explaining what that means?” “I don’t want to ruin…the mood by talking about what an asshole my ex is.” “Understandable…so what else would you like for me not to do?” “This one might sound a little odd but..I don’t like being called babe…it just…I don’t like it.” “It’s not odd…we all have names we don’t like to be called…is there anything else?” “I don’t think so.” “Well if you think of anything else…just let me know because I don’t want to do anything or say anything that’ll upset you.”

“How was your dinner?” “It was great…that place was really good and so cute I can see why you picked it for our…uhm first date.” “I’m glad you enjoyed it…do you mind taking a walk with me? I know we have a few more things to…discuss.” “A walk sounds nice…oh you’re a hand holder? I didn’t see that coming.” “Really? Why? Do I not look like someone who likes to hold hands?” “No you look like a…shove my hands in my jacket pocket type of guy or…let me act like I’m busy on my phone so no one bothers me kind of guy.” “I see…well your hands just looked too good not to hold.” “I have been told I have nice hands once or twice.” “You know what? I actually believe that…so I was wondering if we could talk more about what we both want out of this…and maybe set up some…boundaries of some sort?” “You start…what do you want from all of this Edward?” “Ah back to Edward are we?” “Oh shit sorry Eddie.” “It’s okay…well what I want out of this is just…to spend time with you doing things as simple as this…a walk around downtown or more…extravagant things like trips to wherever you’d like to go…but most importantly I just want to make your life easier.” “And…all of that would make…you happy?” “Yes…it would.” “I just don’t see how spending money on me will make you happy?” “It’s not necessarily about spending money on you…yes I have the money to spend but it’s about having someone to do things with…and knowing you’re not stressed or worried about things that I can…easily take care of for you.” “Okay…that kinda makes sense.” “I have managed to build this wonderful life for myself and…I just want someone to enjoy it with me that’s all.” “And that someone is me?” “If you want it to be.” “Okay…but you just have to know this is going to take some getting used to.” “I understand…you’ll have to be patient with me as well because I’m used to doing things alone.” “So we both have to be patient with one another…that can be one of our ground rules.” “Okay…if we are making ground rules let’s add honesty to that list…that’s a big one for me because I don’t have time for games…just tell me the truth…even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings.” “That’s a good one!”

“So…what about you? What do you want out of this?” “I just…I just want to know what it feels like to be…treated well.” “I promise you I can do that.” “Oh trust me…I know.” “Is there anything else you want or…need from me?” “There is one more thing.” “What is it?” “I need you to save Dave.” “You…need me to save…Dave?” “Yes because he means a lot to me and I just…I need you to save him.” “Okay sweetheart…I’ll save him.” “You promise?” “Yes…even if it means he gets a whole heart and brain transplant…I’ll save him.” “Oh thank god…I was so worried you’d tell me you can’t do it.” “Why wouldn’t I be able to do it? You don’t trust my abilities as a mechanic? That hurts…that actually hurts.” “Oh no no I’m sure you’re great with your hands and…getting dirty and…stuff i just…thought maybe you’d say it was a waste of money or something.” “I’ll be honest with you…I could buy you a new car for what it’s going to cost me to fix Dave but…I get it…he means a lot to you.” “Thank you Eddie.” “Anytime.”

“This…was really nice Eddie…thank you.” “I’m happy you had a good time.” “I just…I have one more question.” “I was waiting for this one…go ahead and ask it.” “What do I call you now that we…have set up the ground rules and are actually…moving forward with…this.” “What would you like to call me? Besides Edward.” “I…don’t know? What…do you want to call me?” “Is it wrong that my first instinct was to say mine?” “You…want to call me…yours? Like…like…I’m…yours?” “I would…but if that’s too assertive or makes you uncomfortable-” “I’d like that.” “You would?” “Yes…uh I…would.” “Okay…well you can call me whatever you’d like.” “Uhm does…that include like…boyfriend or…something?” “Sure…whatever feels comfortable.” “Okay…thank you again…for everything.” “You’re welcome…have a goodnight sweetheart…don’t forget to put those flowers in a vase with some water.” “I don’t own a-” “I’ll bring one by tomorrow.” “You don’t have to do that.” “I know…now I have a question for you.” “What is it?” “What time do you normally get up in the morning?” “Oh uhm…like nine or so on weekends.” “Perfect…I’ll be here at ten then….goodnight.” “Goodnight…uhm can you uh text me when you get home?” “Sure…can’t have you up all night worried about me.” “Exactly…” “You’re going to have to go inside or I’ll stand out here and find an excuse to keep talking to you all night.” “Oh..right…goodnight Eddie.”

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