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fortheloveofleon · 10 months

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BABY FEVER

⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Reader

⊱ Summary: Miguel misses the joys of being a father. He just wants you to understand the happiness a child can bring — even if he has to make you…

⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Mean!Miguel, Dark Content, Baby Trapping, Dubious Consent, Smut, BDSM (Bondage), Rough Sex, Choking, Breeding Kink, Blood Kink, Creampie, Slight Hint to a Mommy Kink At The End

You’re laid up on this lavish bed, sore hands clasped above your head in a pair of metal handcuffs. The tough material is etching into your skin, chafing and nipping each time Miguel thrusts into you.

“‘Guel,” you slur out his name, a shuddery breath escaping as he grinds into you harder, “s’ too much, I-I’m sorry.”

An angry mess towering over you, Miguel scowls at your pathetic begging. Silent but seething, the taller man merely runs his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, panting as he reaches down to grasp your face with his large hand.

Eyes locking with yours, Miguel draws his slick-stained cock all the way out of your tight cunt, just until his tip remains — then he pushes back in, hard and fast, earning a loud cry from you.

The mix of hurt and pleasure is a dangerous one, a welcomed warning that hums through your body as his speed of his thrusts pick up again.

Miguel doesn’t really care that he might be hurting you right now — quite frankly, he’s hoping you were in a bit of pain.

You deserved it.

You were such a slut, throwing yourself at all the other guys at Headquarters. He should’ve known better than to let other men get that close to you.

But of course — Miguel was insane, and delusional.

You had nothing done nothing of the sort, but only made the innocent mistake at smiling. A mere smile at Peter whilst playing with Mayday was enough to drive Miguel to this state.

He’s always been protective, obsessive, Miguel can’t even deny it.

“Ungrateful. Fucking. Whore,” he hisses, each word enunciated with a heavy surge of his hips — white fangs are bared as he leans in closer to you, breathing out a laugh at your dazed form. Tough hands find a home around your neck, clutching.

The grip is a reminder, a threat of what could always happen.

But it’s for your own good. How could a sweet girl like you survive in a big, bad world like this without him?

Your fingers grasp helplessly at his forearms as black dots speckle your vision. Eyes rolling back into your head, hiccuped moans pulse from you as his shaft slams in and out of you.

“I’m…” you choke out as a familiar syrupy warmth begins to tremor from your lower half, “I-I’m gonna…”

Your sentence is incomplete, stuttering to a close, yet it’s whole to Miguel — he knows what you need. You’re merely a finger stroke away from cumming your fucking brains out.

Miguel latches his mouth onto the side of your bruising neck, sharpness pinching your skin when he finally bites down. A sickening blend of pain and euphoria surges through you.

It’s like you hit Cloud Nine — you’re panting, whimpering, back arching and cunt clenching as your orgasm builds and breaks. Sweet, sweet ecstasy fills every ounce of you, and you can feel it so hard, it’s like you’re choking more from the pleasure than his palms.

A tangy metallic taste coats Miguel’s tongue and he can’t help but moan out with you at the taste. “Ha…mi corazón…”

A throaty chuckle vibrates against your skin as Miguel suckles at the bleeding marks, lips leading to press wet kisses. His thrusts have grown sloppy, greedy as he wants to find his own end.

The length of his cock is barely leaving your cunt, hips rolling rapidly with little rhythm as he grunts and groans.

All he wants is you.

The feeling of his body on yours snaps you of your daze as a daunting realisation comes to mind.

“Wait!” you rasp out, jiggling the cuffs above your head. “Guel, y-you need to pull out.”

Chest heaving, Miguel pauses, cock still buried deep inside you. Posted above, caging you in between his forearms, wordlessly questioning you.

“You’re not…you’re not wearing a condom,” you breathe out quietly, carefully. “You need to pull out.”

Miguel is silent, staring.

His fingers slowly brush away the damp hairs sticking to your face, rubbing his thumb over your plump lips, almost like he’s trying to remember it’s shape through touch alone.

If love had a taste, he thinks, it would be your mouth.

He kisses you, soft and gentle, and you can’t help but melt. Pulling away, Miguel cups your jaw. A ghost of a smile lingers, but refuses to show.

Sometimes, Miguel tries to consider the lengths of his obsession with you — where it stemmed from, how it started. He could never find a straight answer. But there was one undeniable truth.

Miguel is irrevocably in love with you.

He’d only accept death if you were the one holding that knife.

Miguel is in love. But he can’t say it. The last time he showed he was capable of loving something, the universe took it from him.

But he didn’t need to say anything… he could show you.

His voice is low as he shakes his head and speaks, eyes boring into yours. “You, are going to make a great mother.”

And God, the way your eyes widened could’ve killed him right there.

Without warning, he drives into your heat faster than ever, frantic and filled with a purpose once more.

“Miguel, please wait!” you whimper out.

The headboard bangs and creaks, slamming against the wall as fucks you faster than before. Every nerve of yours is aflame, overstimulated from the wave of your orgasm. Your mouth is agape, eyes tearing and Miguel only looks down with hooded eyes, smirking before a chuckle breaks from his throat.

“You’re mine,” he hisses out, hands groping your hips, plunging his cock deeper.

Miguel’s laughter mixes into a moan, soft but spiteful, filling and fucking you until he slams into you one final time, choked groans unravelling as he finally spills into you.

You twitch beneath him in that moment, legs shaking. He shifts, steadying himself so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. A few silent seconds pass, filled only with the sounds of your heavy breathing.

Like a cat, Miguel nuzzles into your neck, nipping at your skin before unclasping the cuffs, throwing the metal away. Heavy arms snake around your body, holding you captive once more. He kisses your neck.

“So,” he breathes out, “did I make you feel good…mommy?”

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel fanfic #miguel smut #marvel au #miguel x reader #dark content #miguel o’hara x you #yandere miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel fan fiction #miguel x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction

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m-arkmywords · 11 months

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"my girl is mad at me. i hope i die."

mark lee x fem!reader genre: straight smut, no plot, just thirsty for mark vibes, continuation of a previous text post for (some. unnecessary) context, minors dni or i'll tell your mum word count: 1,751

"Nah... please continue all the shit you were talking earlier" Mark's breath was hot and it tickled your skin. The hair on your neck stood up. Your mind vibrated with synapses firing crazy, making you weak and wet to his touch. He latched on to your neck with his mouth. "I'm sorry... let me make it up to you" Mark coo'd into your skin and you closed your eyes, unable to speak. "Can I?" He slipped a finger inside you, making gasp. You could feel his ring around his finger, adding to your pleasure. "Mm?" Eyebrows raised, he looked at you with doe eyes from your peripheral . "Use your words baby, I wanna hear your pretty little voice."

"Yes.." You whisper as you breathe out, barely audible.

He spun you around, taking his finger out of you and putting it in his mouth. Lightly sucking on it, he took it out and guided it in gently, in your mouth. "Love how you taste. Can I make you feel good?" Forehead pressing to yours, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. Mark had a way of making you feel calm and drown out the world with just one look. All you could do was nod, absolutely entranced by his eyes. A drooling mess. You just wanted to so good for him.

Slowly leading you to bed, he laid you down at the edge. Undressing you softly, Mark kissed down your body. "My pretty baby" He coo'd.

He placed another, damp kiss. "You're so important to me." "All of this means nothing, if I can't share it with you." He dipped his tongue into your navel, making you squirm. "God, I love having you like this. So weak.. under me.." Leaving kisses in between your inner thighs, he hovered over your core. His breath fanning over your sex. "Such a pretty pussy baby.. so shiny.. lemme show you how sorry I am" He wrapped his arms around your hips to pull you close and you, getting impatient. Grabbed his hair and pushed his head down.

Mark wasted no time, going straight for your clit. He placed his tongue flat against it, curling up the tip as he sucked on your bundle of nerves. After being together for some time now, you both have learned each others body's pretty well. Mark knew exactly what he had to do to get you to become undone. He peeked up at you to check your reaction before he placed two fingers inside you once again. Slowly building a rhythm, Mark could feel himself get lost in you. Humming, sending vibrations as his fingers worked against the spot inside you. "mmm hear that baby? listen to how wet you are.. am I making you feel good?" The room was filled with the obscene sounds of your soaking core and moans.

You nodded your head, obediently "Uh huh" "My favourite sound.. I been thinking about this all day baby" You felt a knot, forming in the bottom of your stomach. Your thighs constricted around his head and he enjoyed every second of it. "I'm gonn-" Before you could finish your sentence, Mark looks up at you with a smirk, face perfectly drenched in your wet, glistening. "Yeah? Breathe baby.. Deep breaths for me, cum for me." his fingers picked up the pace a little and he went back to sucking on your clit. You felt your body get hotter, breath heavier and your eyes shut tight. Energy travelling up from your root, to your sacral.. you were close. You were gonna snap. Your thighs started to shake and your grip on his hair got tighter. Mark pushed his face into your pussy, moving side to side as your moans gradually got louder and the coil of energy inside you snapped. Your hips thrusted back into his face and Mark matched your rhythm. Refusing to let you go, he kept going, making you see stars, letting you ride out your high. His grip softened on your hip once you were done. His big calloused hands rubbed your hips up and down cooing, "You still mad?" Mark licked his lips, using his other hand to help him up off the floor. He lightly smacked your ass, getting between your legs. He freed himself of clothing. Fucking into his fist a couple times, he aligned himself with your entrance.

Your left leg went up in the air as you placed your foot on his chest, lightly pushing him away. "Nope" you said, popping the "P" sound. You got up and pushed Mark on the bed, now switching the roles. You crawled over him, straddling him. "Still mad."

"Babyyyyyyyy" Mark whined, squeezing your thigh, letting you know he needs you. "No. You actually don't deserve to cum." You move, rubbing yourself on his dick. He hissed from the contact but continuing to dig his fingers into your flesh. He enjoyed marking you. "Ah!" He puts his right hand to his chest and faked getting hurt. "My girl is mad at me. I hope I die." He announced, making you both laugh and you grabbed him from under you. Stroking his length, painfully slow, you stuck your tongue out to drop some spit onto the head of his dick, watching the spit trickle down his length. You both watch in anticipation of your next move and you sluggishly work his length. "Babyyyy.." he let out a big sigh. "You're driving my crazy" he moved his hair out of his face. "I'll be good for you, please." He pleaded. Tracing your fingers over his head, you made his body shiver to your touch. "Ok.. Ok.. That was funny. Maybe I'm changing my mind.." You lift yourself up and align Mark with your entrance, once again. You feel him twitch under you and you laugh, at his desperation. "Not so soon" you whisper, bringing your hand up to his jaw to hold it.

Using your tongue, you opened his mouth to give him the sloppiest kiss of all time. A mix of your spit falling down his torso, made you almost give in but you had to be strong. You had to get him back. You slowly sunk down onto his tip, making him squeeze onto your thighs once again. "Please" Mark shuddered at your action. "Need to feel you." He begged, now growing distressed by the minute. You once again, moved yourself up and off him, leaving him cursing under his breath and sulking. "Y/N are you trying to kill m-" mid-sentence, you sunk down, one more time. Sooner than expected, taking all of him in which made him throw his head back and let out a moan.

His pleasure is soon short lifted though as he realised that he was now inside you but you refused to move. He lifts his head up to look at you, to silently scream through his eyes, hoping you would get the hint and move. "Oh, hi! Can I help you?" You teased him, pecking his nose. "So.." You begin and he groaned. "What did you eat today?" "Well, I had this sandwi-" mid-sentence, you moved again. Mark's breath got caught in his throat and he cursed himself for falling for it again. You continued to sink down and then back up at an excruciating speed. Your warmth inviting him in, making him roll his eyes. "Yeah?... What was in it?" You continued to ask him questions, casually and as he described his sandwich. Your movements got harder and so did his grip on your hips. "A..nd some lettuce" he let out an airy moan, bringing you to an hault yet again. Mark was becoming a sweaty wreck by the minute and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He felt dizzy, as if he was going to pass out if he didn't get to fuck you.

He let out a deep breath by making a pout with his swollen lips before transitioning into the the smuggest smile on planet earth. "You know what.. f u c k t h i s" He moved closer to you and stretched out his words.

Before you could even process what's happening, Mark had you pinned under him with hands above your head as he pounded into you. He had been getting so worked up that he bottomed out instantly, making you clench around him from the shock. Mark groaned into your mouth, as you did the same. He held down your hands with his right hand, whilst he brought his left to your throat for the second time. His eyes now, looked glazed over knowing he has you at his mercy. Nothing mattered in the world right now. It was just you and Mark. Unable to differentiate where his hair ended and your's began, bodies and skin intertwined with one another. He melted into you. Mark let go of your hands, giving you the freedom to wrap your arms around him as he pushed back your legs, propping them up on his shoulders. "God, y/n, you're so wet" he scrunched up his face as moans and curses rolled off both of your tongues. He was mesmerised by the way his body affected yours. How he could make you feel and how you good you felt around. As the universe felt like it was caving into you both, in the best way possible. Mark put his lips to yours, sloppily kissing your tongue as if his whole life depended on it. His movements became more focused and you felt him twitch inside you, pushing you closer to your orgasm too. "I can feel you baby.. jesus.. you feel.. so good. cum with me y/n." He let out an airy sentence, before you felt him throb inside you. Both of your moans grew louder and your legs shook once again. You both reached climax together and Mark let your legs go, as he fell onto you, face in your neck. Trying to catch his breath.

"Remind me to fuck up my schedule more often please." He teased and you playfully punched his arm. "But, honestly baby.. I am sorry. Won't happen again." He pecked your lips once last time, before settling into your chest and in your embrace.

#mark lee fanfic #mark lee #mark lee x fem reader #mark lee smut #nct 127 #nct dream

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inklore · 1 year

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desperately need him to tell me to be silent

fool me twice

pairing: joel miller x f!smuggler!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: eighteen+ content, piv, mean!joel (more frustrated than anything), dirty talk, public sex-ish, small mentions of hair pulling and biting, thigh riding, orgasm denial, established enemy’s with benefits.

note: yeahh you didn’t ask for this but i couldn’t help myself because i’m addicted to this man and i need him in every way possible!! special thanks to my darling @psychedelic-ink for beta reading this ilysm bby.

part of this world but you don't have to read it to enjoy this!

You could play dumb, tell yourself lies, and wonder how you ended up with your back to a dirty building's brick, out past curfew, playing a game of innocence with a man who can read bullshit from a mile away.

A fact everyone knew.

Or comes to learn if you decide to test that scowl and glint of cruelty in his eyes that many mistake for miserableness.

Facts you’ve come to learn from your own foolishness—and the countless times your boss has sent you to deal with a fuckup he made. Because who’s going to mess up such a pretty face. His words, when you had told him to do it himself. But his cowardice won out, and you had to grit your teeth and refrain from familiarizing your fist with his jaw.

Smuggling, stealing, and scavenging were preferable to cleaning up shit or burning corpses until the stench of burnt hair and skin embedded in your own flesh lingered far beyond any crevices murky bucket water could clean.

And besides the few assholes you had to deal with, the job wasn’t bad.

Joel could be put on that asshole list. He was definitely on Robert’s. But to be fair, if you too had gotten a handful of blackened eyes and bruised ribs from Joel, you’d send a lackey to do your job to cover your ass for having screwed the man over once again.

Unlike the other assholes he sent you to deal with, dealing with Joel was more of a pleasure than an inconvenience.

Even if he could read through your bullshit. Maybe that’s why you liked him so much. Why these meetings went so easy, you could lie through your teeth and he could decipher the truth through your smirk and tone so easily that you barely had to try to be believable because you knew he already knew the truth.

But that didn’t mean you still didn’t try to come up with your best lie. to prod at that scowl until it thinned out, his jaw clenched, sick of your shit before the game even started.

Playing dumb had no room between the two of you because there was a lack of it. Not when his chest is pressed to yours, pushing you further into the wall, making your lungs gasp for the air he’s forcing out of you.

“You gonna keep me here all night, or are you gonna make this easy for both of us?” His tone stern, rigid, threatening.

And you’d be scared if you couldn’t feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your inner thigh. If the two of you weren’t used to this. This little game—the play before the third act—that has curses and nails digging into each other's skin.

You once attempted to retrace the events that led to this situation that the two of you frequently found yourselves in—touches and grazes that only occurred during these meetups. Your eyes avoided each other in crowds and on the street when you weren’t in this alley. When you weren’t making a show of threats and being pissed off.

The anger was always real for Joel, though. Always truly pissed off at Robert’s need to be a slime ball. The anger never faltered, even when he was buried deep inside of you. You paid the price, that would usually be a punch, a bruise, with a hard fuck and not being able to sit down the next day without wincing.

And in the sickest, filthiest way, you loved it. But that is what this world creates—ways to survive and sustain. To cover up the ugly with something that stings and burns with safety and life. A reminder that what you’re doing isn’t as bad as what's beyond the walls. You can still feel bad, hurt, and fuck because you're alive and not growing fungus.

“It wasn’t–”

The tight grab of your jaw, his fingers digging into your heated skin, make your words die on your tongue. “No matter how many times you repeat it, don’t mean I’m gonna believe it. What did Robert do with the battery? Bullshit me and you’ll regret it.”

“That a promise?” Your smirk lasts all of a few seconds before you’re wincing from the marks he’s leaving against the skin of your jaw. A silent threat. A look of rage in his eyes; a fire you know you won't be able to extinguish no matter how many jokes and lies you tell tonight. “He sold it to someone else.”

“Who?”

“Ahh, I don’t know.” Your nails dig into his wrist as you try to pry it from your aching jaw. His brows raise a warning that this is your last chance. “I swear.”

There’s a low growl in the back of his throat as he releases you, but he makes no move to remove his closeness. His chest still stealing your air. There’s a slight look of anguish laced in his curses and lowered brows. It makes you feel bad, and it's annoying.

Robert was a piece of shit, but it wasn’t your fault he fucked up this deal. So why should you feel bad? Take on those feelings when it wasn’t your deal to begin with. It’s not as if you and Joel were anything but warm bodies to take things out on. He didn’t need your pity, and you didn’t have the energy to give it to him.

What you did have the energy for, though, was making the inside of your thigh unbearably hot. That heat trailing up your body and embedding itself in the ache between your legs that housed your desire for Joel.

It’s why you don’t think twice about rocking your hips forward at the right angle so the seam of your jeans rubs against the top of his thigh, giving you the friction your throbbing pussy needs—your own thigh rubbing along his hard cock.

The shudder your body gives from the motion, the repetition of it, makes your insides melt even more when Joel’s glare burns a hole through you. He makes no move to stop you. Just watches you, eyes flashing between your lips and the way your hips move against him.

“Joel,” you whine. The noise is more of a demand than a plea for him to touch you. To get to the best part of your night before FEDRA catches you coming on his thigh and the two of you get locked up.

“What? You don’t need me to get you off; if you want it, take it.” His palms splay outward and bracket around your head as he puts them on the dirty brick, encasing you completely now. Shielding you from the darkness around you, all you can smell is him—musky, burnt coal, wood—in the same breath as all you can feel is his weight on you.

“Joel.” Your hips stutter to a stop. You refuse to beg him; you didn’t beg. Neither before nor after the world went to shit. You were not going to start now, even if the outcome would be in your favor.

Was this your punishment for the fuckup? “Are you really punishing me right now?” You want to laugh, want to berate him, and feed him more bullshit so he can’t see the disappointment that’s slowly seeping into your chest.

He doesn’t answer, just pushes his leg up and moves it along the crotch of your jeans. "Go ahead,” his mouth comes closer to yours. "Take what you want, isn't that what you do anyway? You take and take,” his movements match his words. "And there's no consequence," he says, as your nails dig into his shirt and your hips move involuntarily after each drag and pull. “Not for you, why would there be? You’re just the messenger.” His teeth bite at the skin of your chin, causing you to whimper.

You let out a soft cry when his fingers dig into your hair, pulling the strands so your neck is on display for him. So he can bite and lick the sensitive skin with roughness, “So take what you want. Do your job.”

The closer you get to coming, the harder he pushes up against you. The more your legs shake from the stance and strain, the more your knuckles and fingers burn from gripping the fabric of his shirt. His mouth is everywhere but on yours, where you dumbly wish it was. Where you refuse to beg him to go.

But you don’t need them to get there. To tumble over that precipice and see stars behind your lids. All you need is more, just a little bit more, and you’ll be com–

Your body feels cold and stilted in time when he pulls away. Leaving your hips to follow nothing but air, your whimpers and moans turned into puffs of agitation. Whines swallowed down your dried throat.

Joel doesn't give you a chance to reprimand or lament the orgasm you were about to have. To gather yourself enough to jab him with a brash comment covering up your need. His hand on your forearm squeezes and maneuvers you so your back is to him instead of the wall. His weight encases you once more, your cheek pressing into the cold brick. The tip of his boot kicks at your feet to spread your legs; your body moves on instinct and desire as your back bows and you push your ass out to him.

The drag of your jeans and underwear feels chafed and tight just below your ass, where Joel lets them rest. Where he’s too impatient to push them further down, giving himself enough room for him to push inside of you.

His fingers brush against your ass as he pulls himself from his jeans, wrapping a hand around his cock to bring it to where you’re soaked and pounding for him. Where all your heat is concentrated from how badly you want this.

Your nail beds scrape against the caked-on dirt of the building as the tip of his cock crests your entrance. A moan rips through the back of your throat, loud and raw, as your walls stretch and burn to accommodate his girth.

Your chest heaves harder as Joel's hand moves to cover your mouth, eyes screwed shut as he bottoms out. Nudging at the part of you that has you squirming against him, your thighs scraping against the building.

And when he delivers the first thrust, hard and slow, those delirious black stars line your vision. Pleasure shooting through your spine in a way that has desperate and pathetic noises falling from your lips and to the rough skin of the palm encasing them.

"Since you’re so good at keepin’ things quiet for Robert.” He grunts against your ear, venom poisoning the words so they sound harsh and heavy-handed. “Let’s see how quiet you can be for me," his hips snap against your ass. Jostling your body against the brick and back onto his cock as he fucks you hard and unrelentingly.

Your mewls against his palm are louder than they should be. Your teeth sink into your lip in an attempt to muffle more of your noises. Your insides are already burning with pleasure from the gasps he's eliciting with each rough drag of his cock. That you crave. That only Joel feeds to you without remorse or mercy because it’s what you both need.

He’s tired of getting screwed over by the world, and you’re tired of putting on your tough act, of not being able to be weak because you’ll be preyed upon by the monsters this world has created.

Joel’s breath is hot and heavy against your ear; the two of you screwed if anyone were to look down here. If a lone soldier were to shine his light and find his prisoners for the night, but neither of you seem to care. You never do, not when you’re both feeding off each other like your own sick versions of the clickers outside the wall. Taking and tearing each other down until you’re spent, panting, and covered in the others mess.

He makes you delirious. Weak. Heady. All things you’re not allowed to be, to feel, in this place.

You’d happily let Robert fuck over Joel a million times if it meant you’d end up with his cock in you, his mouth on your skin, filthy words and threats etched in bites and licks, all completely consuming you. Turning you into a moaning mess barely able to stand, his arm wrapping around your midsection to keep you in place. To keep your ass pressed to his pelvis so he can continue his hard strokes.

Building up your climax again. Bringing you back to that precipice ten times more earth-shattering than before.

There will be marks on your cheek in the light of the day tomorrow. Stings from the reminder of being stretched. Marks on your skin that will be missed by the blind eye but will make a jolt of electricity burn through you when your fingers absentmindedly move across them.

“D’you enjoy it?” He asks, “Paying what’s owed to me with your body?” You can taste copper against your tongue from the bites your lower lip is taking. Your head nods in the confirmation you can’t give with the moans trapped behind your bloodied lip.

Joel hums and groans into the skin just below your ear. His forehead pressed into your temple. His words tighten that coil inside you the more he speaks, the more your wetness coats the inside of your thighs from the way he drags his hardness out, only to push it back in even harder. “Christ you’re so filthy. My filthy fuckin’ girl.”

His girl.

Only in these moments.

Only with heat against you—from within you.

And when this is over, you’ll go back to being the girl who works for the guy he can’t stand. The thief. The smuggler.

He’ll go back to the remnants of his life, and you to yours, until you meet in this trash-filled alleyway again. He’ll grunt dirty words and sing praises into your skin as your body takes all he’s willing to give.

If you think about it deeply enough, it might make your chest hurt. Might make something out of nothing. But you refuse to do that because, fuck, you love being his girl, if only for a little while. As pitiful as it sounds.

You want to tell him to say it again. To tell you you’re his girl. To bite it into your skin as he fucks you harder and faster. All that can be heard are cut-off mewls and whimpers from you, though. Words failing while pleasure coats them like honey.

He knows though, can probably tell by the pulsating grips of your walls tightening around his cock. “There ya go, take what you want. Take it from me, baby. You can have it. Come on,” it’s a gruff command on the verge of a groan. That white-hot heat at the backs of your eyelids, ready to engulf your body in that debilitating ecstasy.

His name is on the tip of your tongue as you feel it growing closer and closer, until it’s gone.

Until Joel pulls his cock out of your clenching heat and shoots rope after rope of his hot come on your ass cheek. His deep groan muffled by the nape of your neck. Curses and declarations uttered without meaning in the headiness of pleasure.

Your stomach sinks when you hear the clanging of his belt buckle, the fumbling of his fingers righting himself, and the warmth of his body gone from your back. There have been many nights where he’s finished before you, when there was a time crunch and you needed to be quick. His mouth or fingers always returning the favor, bringing you there with ease and memory of how to touch you.

When you turn around and look at him, there's a half-smirk on his face, any glints of kindness dying in the fire of the anger he still clearly feels at Robert's hands.

“Really?”

“Who’d Robert sell the battery to?”

You scowl at him, “Joel-”

“Find out.” He steps back into your space. Gives you the quickest peck to your lips before he’s pulling away. “And then I’ll repay ya.”

You swat his hands away when they try to fix your jeans, a death glare making him snort, as you right yourself and storm from the alleyway.

You were going to kill Robert.

Or at the very least beat some information out of him.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #tlou smut #the last of us fic #pedro pascal fics #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #thots !

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comicaurora · 8 months

Note

What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.

That's what I've heard!

The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.

Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.

Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.

Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?

I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.

The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.

#asks #not aurora

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dazednmatthews · 6 days

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hey hot stuff i’m feeling the need to be self indulgent (feel free to ignore me LOL) but a matt headcanon with his gf in the middle of exams? late night study sesh and such🥹 i love you

- mads 🪽(@hollandsangel)

bf!matt x stressed college gf headcanons

sorry this took so long!! i had a… hectic day to say the least. i hope this does ur request justice 🫶🏾 i love u bad

-matt is the type of bf to never ever want to see you stressed

-he’s gonna do whatever he possibly can to take the pressure off your shoulders

-so when exam season comes up and you start to get kind of distant because you’re so stressed, this mf is the most attentive, doting man ever

-“i’m just so stressed. my bio exam is in three days and my english lit exam is in 5 and i have to do so many chores and pick up this stupid cake for my mom—”

-“go to the library and study. give me the time and place to pick up the cake and i’ll use my key to get into your apartment. don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart.”

-he would respect your space when you needed it and when you wanted to study alone

-“i wanna see you matt but i really need to memorize this chapter tonight. i can’t, i’m sorry.”

-“it’s okay, baby. i understand, school comes first right now.”

-you love him so much for that cause he never makes you or lets you feel guilty for the lack of time together

-he definitely brings you your favorite snacks, water, and meals to the library when you stay late

-“i’m not staying, i know you need to focus. but i also know you haven’t eaten today and i can’t have that.”

-when you do want company, he is hands down the best study partner

-he will deadass read the chapters you have memorize just to make sure he can quiz you

-helps you make color coded flash cards

-“it means… fuck i can never fucking remember this one.” you’re chewing on your pen cap racking your brain for the definition of a chapter concept you know you know. you can feel the slight hysteria building as matt sits patiently, gentle eyes pleading with you to go easy on yourself. “i’m never gonna fucking pass.”

-matt puts down the flash cards, careful not to mess up the order. he comes around to the side of his bed that you’re on, squatting down between your open legs. he’s rubbing his thumb in circles on your thighs with one hand as he removes your head from your hands with his other. “you are the smartest and most capable person i know. you have been working your ass off for this. you need to give yourself some more credit, sweetheart. cause i have no doubt you can do it.” he swipes at the frustrated tears pooling in your eyes and gives you the most honey sweet smile you’ve ever seen.

-you tend to overwork yourself a lot so he insists on breaks every couple hours

-you almost always protest in favor of getting as much work done as possible but he always wins the argument

-“baby, i can’t take another break. i’m so behind. i haven’t even done half of what i wanted to!”

-“last break we took was four hours ago y/n. you’re going to drive yourself crazy if you don’t give yourself some time to relax.”

-he takes you to get food or even just a short drive listening to the playlist you guys made together, talking and laughing about anything other than school

-sometimes you sit in the living room w all the triplets and watch them argue about something hilarious

-he’s always right and it always works

-when you finally finish reviewing all the material you needed to, you flop down on his bed with a heavy sigh

-“i’m so fucking happy i finished on time.”

-“i knew you would. you’re gonna fucking ace it tomorrow.”

-“yeah i hope. i had the best study partner in the world.”

-you spend the night before your exams in his extremely soft bed and his extremely serene arms, him kissing away the nerves that threaten to choke you. every so often he’ll whisper sweet nothings of how good you’re gonna do, how proud of you he is and how smart you are, making your heart swell.

-the day of your exams you wake up to the sweetest note with a smoothie made (he didn’t go to bed until like 7am that morning anyway)

-“you’ve got this, baby! you’re gonna fucking kill it. take your time and trust yourself. i love you -m”

-you feel on top of the world knowing the most amazing man you’ve ever met believes in you so much

-after your exams are done, you wait until you’re back at his house to view your scores online

-“you ready?” matt says, looking at you with nothing but love and light.

-“no, but fuck it. lets get this over with.”

-you of course get the best scores imaginable

-you celebrate like you won the fucking lottery, jumping in his arms and shrieking in hysterical delight

-he is just as, maybe even more excited

-“that’s my fucking girl! i knew you could do it.”

-and he spends the entire night showing you just how proud of you he really is

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo edit #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic

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ksywoo · 23 days

Text

8:30 pm / l.sm

pairing: lee seokmin x reader pronouns: not specified word count: 1.6k genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive, a little bit of angst but not really warnings: kissy kissy fic hehe, dk gets a little handsy where reader is insecure about their body but he reassures them, also.. tummy/waist kisses <3 note: me posting a fic for the first time in over a year and it's mostly just kissing ... hey guys .. also im embarassed when i write things like this so im gonna go hide al;skdjf sorry if its cringe or garbage BYEEE

masterlist

You felt the bed dip towards your feet, but you didn't look up to greet the boy, still upset about your argument from earlier. You continued reading, not acknowledging his presence.

Seokmin crawled towards you slowly, as if trying to go unnoticed, and slid under your arms and buried his face in your neck so you were unwillingly half hugging him. His body rested between your legs and his arms around your torso, trying to be as close as possible.

When you felt his lips against your neck, you got his attention. “Seokmin.” Your voice was even and stern, telling him you weren't messing around.

He froze as if you wouldn't know he was there if he just didn't move a muscle or make a single sound.

“Bold of you to do that after what just happened,” you pointed out.

He propped himself up on his elbows by your hips and lifted his head so your faces were inches from each other. He was frowning, and looked guilty. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really really am.”

You sighed, leaning forward to kiss his lips briefly, trying to express that you still loved him even though he pissed you off.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mumbled with a small smile, already feeling the last remnants of your anger fade away.

“I’m serious,” his frown deepened. “I’m really sorry.

You leaned over to set your book on the nightstand. “I know.” You held his face with both of your hands while he continued to apologize.

“How do I make you not hate me anymore?” he asked between the kisses you were giving him.

“Seokmin,” you chuckled. “I don't hate you. Never have, never will.”

“But you're mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“But I’m a horrible boyfriend who never spends time with you.”

“You aren't a horrible boyfriend. It’s not your fault you're so busy with work, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I should take it out on, like, your managers or something because they're giving you guys extra work, but not you.”

“But it’s my fault for not always making time for you when I’m not working though.”

One of your hands stayed on his face, thumb stroking his cheek, while the other went to his back to pull him a little closer. You could feel his muscle through his shirt and it made you wonder if he was tired from dancing all day, building that muscle.

“You’re here now though, aren't you?”

He nodded but still frowned, so you kissed the pout off his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t being good to me. I was never mad at you, just frustrated at the situation. I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He nodded again. “Does that mean you aren't going to be stern with me again if I kiss you?”

You laughed and he took that as a good sign, leaning up to kiss you long and sweet, no more of those short pecks you were giving him before.

The thing about Seokmin was he was the sweetest boy in the world and his kisses were just as sweet and innocent when he wanted them to be. The other side of him was more rare and reserved for the privacy of your bedrooms, and gave you just as many butterflies as his regular kisses.

He lifted himself up to sit right next to you, immediately tugging on your waist gently. “Come here,” he requested. You complied, shifting to sit on his lap with your knees on either side of his legs.

You reconnected your lips, letting out a shaky breath as you felt his hands lightly trail up your legs and gently squeeze your thighs. His fingers lit paths of fire as he fiddled with the hem of your shorts, softly brushing against your skin and you wondered if he even knew that he was doing it, or if he was unintentionally muddling your brain with his touches.

Shifting slightly, you ran your fingers through his hair and gently tugged as your mouth wandered away from his and made its way to his cheek, pressing one small kiss to the freckle by his nose, then to his jaw, and below his ear.

With your bodies pressed together, you could feel his breathing become unsteady as your lips met his neck. He wiggled under you, trying to not make any embarrassing sounds that would make you laugh and ruin the moment.

You started kissing one spot low on his neck that you knew could be covered by some of the shirts he owned, when one of his hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer and squeezing a specific part of your body that made you pause.

Seokmin hummed at your hesitance, turning his head to try to look at you while finding his voice. Your face was still in his neck, lips just barely hovering over his skin. “What?” he asked after a few moments of you not moving. “Did I do something?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled unconvincingly, lips brushing against him like feathers before kissing him again. You reached behind you and took the hand on your waist by the wrist, pulling it off you and back onto your leg.

“You want me to only touch your thighs?” he tried teasing, but sounded so in love it was hard to take it in a dirty way, even as he started squeezing them again.

You hummed against his neck but when he moved to hold your waist again, you pulled away, repeating your action of moving his hands before you kissed his mouth.

Seokmin pulled away more determinedly and frowned at you. “Seriously, what’s wrong? What am I doing?”

You tried brushing it off, distracting him by kissing him again but he dodged the kiss and put both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Tell me. Are you hurt or something?” he asked genuinely, looking down and lifting the bottom of your shirt to see if you had a bruise or cut that he was irritating, but you pushed his hands away, pulling your shirt back down.

He looked like a kicked puppy. The way he could change from being completely dazed while kissing you to fully alert and concerned about your health at the drop of a hat always left you stunned. How was he already able to think coherently?

He called your name softly and you blinked a few times. “What?”

“Why do you not want me to touch your side? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, I just… don’t like my waist... and hips or whatever…” you trailed off, mumbling more with each word, hands slipping off his shoulders but still holding onto his arms.

Seokmin looked so offended and hurt that you almost thought you said something negative about his body. “You don’t?”

You pursed your lips and shook your head slightly. “It’s not a big deal. Just one of those weeks where insecurities amplify, you know?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” you asked with a small laugh, moving some of his bangs out of his eyes.

“Because you don't like your body like I do.”

“You're not going to tell me I’m stupid?”

“Of course not. It’s not stupid to be insecure, you can’t control it.”

“What would you know about that, Mr. Perfect?” you teased, poking his muscley stomach through his shirt.

He frowned. “Hey, I’m insecure about things too. I just don't think about them when I’m with you because you make me feel so handsome.”

“You are so handsome,” you confirmed, kissing his nose as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He scrunched his face but broke out into a grin. “I love you,” he said honestly. “You’re perfect the way you are. Even if you change, you’ll still be perfect.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you groaned, making him laugh and capture your lips.

“Can I do something?” he asked innocently, making you narrow your eyes skeptically.

“What?”

He pulled you off his lap, repositioning back to how you were first laying, you propped up on pillows and him laying between your legs. Except this time, he was laying farther down, hands holding him up to hover over your stomach.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” you asked nervously.

“Kiss you,” he answered sweetly, as if there wasn't a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You knew what he meant. And it made your heart skip a few beats thinking about how sweet he was all the time. You nodded and he gave you one last reassuring kiss to your lips before going back to your stomach, lifting up the hem of your shirt just enough to place a kiss on your belly.

He glanced up at you, keeping his lips on your skin, and you're pretty sure you died right there at how beautiful he was. Your hands went to his hair to play with the soft strands as he slowly trailed kisses to your side, where you inhaled sharply with worries and insecurities. Your self-deprecating thoughts slowly faded away as he rubbed part of your waist before placing a soft kiss, repeating the action on both sides all over.

Maybe some of his kisses were a little harsher with a little more teeth, leaving small colored reminders of how much he loved you, but despite still not liking every part of your body, you did love how much Seokmin tried to make you love yourself. He wasn't a cure for being insecure, but he did help you forget.

#fizzys fics #group: svt #lee seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #seventeen fluff

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showtoonzfan · 2 months

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so people just gonna ignore the fact that after they finish cleaning up the new hotel and the song Angel is just gonna go back to Valentino to get abused and exploited? Why doesn’t nobody care that he’s getting abused? Why hasn’t Charlie done anything the past 6 months to help him? Why isn’t husk or Cherri helping him out? He has to stand up for himself and he and his dad boyfriend have to fight the rapist together? Only love can save him? Love is the only way to get redeemed? I hate this fucking finale. Viv said it would take a year in half or two years for season 2 but i honestly don’t trust her. She’s lies too much. Now I’m hearing it won’t be out till 2027 from that screen rant article

Yeah Angel’s whole situation near the end of the season really signifies how brain dead these characters are and how Viv as a writer ain’t the exactly brightest bulb. Just like in Helluva Boss, none of her characters use their fucking brains. If this show was smart Charlie would have spoken up about Angel’s abuse, or done something HERSELF considering she’s the most powerful demon besides her dad but oh right, Viv is an idiot who doesn’t know how to use her characters to her advantage- O-Oh I mean…….Charlie’s a doormat. Even then she could have immediately went to Lucifer and asked for help. This is honestly why tackling a very dark theme in a show like this doesn’t work because you can’t just tell us that Angel is literally trapped in an abusive relationship and can’t escape due to the contract and just…gloss it over later. If Lucifer is at the top then I’m sure he has the power to break demon contracts, at least that’s what I’m assuming since the world building for this show is fucking nonexistent.

Angel’s arc itself is a mess too but I’ll get more into that once I release my review post I’m working on.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin #reply #ask

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cainnleacghlovers · 1 year

Text

Who’s he? - MM

Paring: Mason Mount x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mason thinks Y/N is cheating. What happens when he can’t get his girl to forgive him? And what happens when Mason marks him in a match?

Warnings: Angst

Part 1/2?? maybe??

Finishing up the pasta you were cooking, you checked, for about the hmm? what time? you’d lost count. Okay, you definitely had enough protein in it. You’d asked the clubs dietician for some dishes you could make for Mason, knowing he loved a home cooked meal. Why on earth would someone need so much protein? What even is an amino acid?

You couldn’t complain, after all, you did get to reap the benefits of the muscle he was building. Whether it was a strong hand clasped in yours when you were out for a walk, or clutching his biceps while he pounded into you. Yep, you definitely weren’t gonna complain.

Trying a bit of the sauce. you were satisfied with the taste. Hearing the door creak open. You still hadn’t gotten round to oiling it yet. Shoes were thrown off, no doubts against the skirting board, and feet padded across the wooden floors, until a voice rung through the house.

“I’m home baby!” The voice said. That voice none other than your boyfriend. His voice was raspy, probably due to the freezing temperatures in London right now. You don’t think you’d ever get used to the permanent draft that seemed to linger in ever corner of the country.

“Kitchen!” You hummed back, singing to the beat of the song currently playing. New romantics by Taylor Swift. One Mason had even grown to love, insisting the lyrics mirrored his life. ‘The best people in life are free.’

Stepping into the kitchen, he gave you a smile, before making his way over to you, and pulling you into his chest by the waistband of your leggings. He swayed you slightly, his cold breath gradually heating up against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“I missed you today.” He’d been gone, how long? 3 hours. But you two needed to spend every minute of every day of every month of every year of every… okay, you get what i mean, together. He was your best friend, and he wasn’t just your world, he was your moon and stars. He was your entire galaxy.

“I missed you too.” You hummed against his chest, hands still stirring the pot in front of you, as you slapped his hand away when he tried to take some. That boy was so bad for double dipping.

“How was your day?” He asked, refusing to let go of you.

“Boring. Lecture was absolute shite. Came home, did homework. Got bored of said homework. Made pasta to procrastinate. How was yours? Working hard?”

He laughed at your comment, as your prodded his bicep.

“Working very very hard.” He added, spinning you round so he could pepper kisses all over your face. His bearubble, as you liked to call. It wasn’t a beard, but it wasn’t stubble. It was a bearubble. It tickled your face as his lips found yours, and you melted into the kiss. The coldness of his lips contrasting the warmth of yours.

“Mason stop. That tickles.”

‘Mason stop’ seemed to translate into ‘Mason keep going’, and he began to tickle under your arms, and scratch your face lightly as you kicked your feet in defence. You were a giggling mess under him, and he swore, in that moment, he’d never heard anything sweeter.

“Mase dinners gonna go cold.” He released you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fine. You win.”

As if on queue, his stomach rumbled, and he kissed you on the cheek before reaching up to grab some bowls. As he stretched, his jumper rose slightly, getting a good look at his toned stomach. Suddenly you were hungry for two things now!

Filling the bowls, he moved you over so he could lift them. Insisting he did everything for you, even carrying your bowl.

Making your way over to the living room, yes you ate in the living room, and yes you had a perfectly good kitchen table, but both your parents had been strict with eating on the sofa, so as soon as you got your own house, by god were you eating on the sofa.

He sat down, patting his lap for you to sit down.

“Will you be able to eat your dinner without getting distracted?” Hand on a hip, as you looked at him.

“I’ll be a good boy.”

Laughing, you fell onto his lap. Enjoying your dinner, and enjoying your company.

As you went to get drinks, a phone buzzed.

“It’s yours.” Mason said.

“I think it’s your mum. She was asking me about wallpaper. I said light blue, but she sent me every light blue wallpaper in the blinkin’ place.” You laughed to yourself, not really angry. You loved his mum.

He looked at your phone, as he checked the notification. Unless he unlocked the phone, he wouldn’t be able to see.

“Well who’s it from?”

“Can’t see. Got that lock thingy on.”

Unlocking your phone, you came back in, handing him a bottle of water. The atmosphere seemed to change, as if the cold from outside had crept in.

“It’s from Martin.” He said with a monotone expression.

“Who’s Martin?” You said genuinely curious.

“I think you exactly who Martin is.”

He spat the name out, and you felt the poison spilling off of his tongue. Furrowing your eyebrows, you were confused at why he raised his voice at you.

“Right, calm down.” You said, rolling your eyes at his temper.

“Calm down? Haha, you’re a funny one Y/N.”

“Oh i’m just hilarious. Why’ve you got a stick up your ass all of a sudden?”

Opening your phone, you realised it wasn’t messages. It was Instagram.

“No no. Don’t try be all ‘I’m so innocent’ with me? Jesus, you’ve talked more than once. What is this? He’s swiping up on your stories? He’s swiped up on one i’m in? He clearly knows that you’re you know, not single? Why is he messaging you? And why is it more than once!”

He was angry now. You knew the messages he was talking about, and they were certainly not bad. He played football with your brother, he complimented you? It was innocent. Absolutely nothing in it. If he was gonna point fingers, best believe you were too.

“Want me to go find him and go ‘Yo Martin, why are you messaging me, tell me every single fibre of thought behind it.’ I didn’t ask him to do this? So don’t take something that isn’t my fault, out on me.”

The tension in the room rose, the sofa being both a literal boundary, and a metaphorical one. You two didn’t shout, and you two most certainly didn’t accuse the other of cheating.

“Well you obviously gave him some notion that this was okay? You’re probably loving the attention.” He drew out the loving, and the sarcasm was laced through his words. His final words hurt you.

“And why on earth, mars, and venus would i do that? I don’t know why he’s messaged me. He swiped up on my story, and being a decent human, I replied back! I didn’t think much of it? It’s not like I sent him hearts and kisses, and ‘omg i’m in love with you?’ You’re being dramatic.”

If he was gonna go for sore spots, you were going to absolutely kick him in the ball. Not literally, but you were considering it. He knew you hated the attention you for dating him, and you knew he hated being told he was dramatic. Two can play at that game Mason.

He did not take that well. At all. Oh no.

“I’m dramatic?! My girlfriend is messaging other lads? What am I supposed to say to that, do a happy dance, and tell all the lads tomorrow at training! No! You’re bloody entertaining him. Why’re you going it? Your own validation?”

He opened your phone, scrolling through the messages. There was no point trying to get it, it would make the whole situation, that was already dramatic, explode.

“You’ve replied to all of them? Awk come on now Y/N. ‘Looking great’ with an ‘x’ ,a fucking ‘x’ you can’t be serious? ‘Aww thank you, that’s so sweet’ with a happy face. And you didn’t think much about it? What a fucking joke. Absolute bull shit.”

Not only did he mock his accent, his intimidated yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Are you serious Mason? He said ‘looking great’ and I replied? Being nice? And if we’re being like that, yeah i guess he’s a friend. But there’s absolutely nothing in it!”

“Fuck off.” He said, phone still in his hand, as if it were glued.

“No you fuck off you bastard.”

You didn’t mean to call him a bastard, and god you hated that word, but you were angry and cross and furious and every single word that means pissed off.

“Such a nice thing to call your boyfriend. Maybe you’d rather Martin be your boyfriend.”

“I’m not even talking to you anymore you ass hole.”

Again, you didn’t mean to call him that, but you were angry and cross and steaming out the ears. He scoffed, throwing your phone on the seat, and went upstairs to do something. Who cares what he was going to do. Probably complain about you to Declan.

Slumping down on the seat, you groaned in pure frustration, not understanding how the situation went from his mums wallpaper, to your supposed cheating scandal. Kicking your feet in the air, like a child, you got off of the seat with another groan, and put the bowls in the kitchen.

—

After you’d cooled down, and your vision turned normal, no longer seeing red. You decided that you should crack on with some homework. The complex Uni stuff you didn’t even understand would distract you.

Only problem was, Uni books were upstairs. Normally that would be a problem because, who could be bothered walking up the stairs not you. Today the problem was Mason.

Walking upstairs, you seen him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Y/N.” He said softly. How dare he use that tone on you?

You looked at him, your eyes dark. You did not want to speak to him.

He patted the space beside him, looking for you to sit down.

“Come here. Please.” He added. The desperation in his voice almost made you feel bad. Almost.

“I do not want to talk to you.” You said harshly.

“Please. I wanna apologise.”

Number one rule in your relationship, someone wants to apologise, listen. Sighing you say down beside him. He moved to be closer to you, his arms stretching out to find their usual spot, around your waist. Not today though. You moved away from him.

“I’m sorry. You know I trust you.”

“Omg! You totally do. You’d never accuse me of cheating.” You said sarcastically, not even sorry that it probably hurt his feelings. He deserved it.

“I don’t know why I reacted like that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of blown up at you.”

“That’s nice.” You added, raising your eyebrows. Listening to him, but not listening to him.

Getting up, and getting your books. You made your way to the door, eager to get out of this damn room.

“Y/N come on. I know I fucked up. I’ve said sorry, and I am sorry. What else can I do baby. Talk to me. Tell me how I can be better.”

“I know you said sorry, but I just don’t wanna look at your right now. Never mind talk to you.”

He sighed knowing you weren’t gonna give in. You pursed your lips, and prepared for you long, super long, night of studying. Yay!

—

Checking the time, and seeing it was 1:30 AM. You decided you’d have enough. Valuing your back over a fight with Mason. You were not sleeping on the coach. You made your way up the stairs.

—

Getting changed, you turned away from him, and he knew every single detail about you. From the time you wanted to be blonde, till the clothes you slept in. So of course, he noticed that you didn’t wear your usual bed attire. His t-shirt, and shorts. Instead opting for your own top, and a pair on long bottoms. You got in bed, not even looking at him, ad you stared aimlessly at the wall.

Better to go to bed angry than to rush an insincere apology.

“Night baby. I love you.” Mason said, and you heard him move to face you. Instead of being met with your pretty face, he was met with your back. He still thought it was pretty, but it wasn’t your gorgeous eyes.

“Night Mason.” You said coldly.

“Are you still coming to the match tomorrow?”

“I’ll see. I have a lot of work.” It wasn’t a lie, you did have a lot of work.

“But you never miss my home games.” He moaned. It was true. 4 years of dating, 4 years of home games.

“Mason please. I don’t wanna do this. Go to sleep.”

You felt him turn away again.

“Sorry. Night. I love you.”

Ignoring him, you soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

—

Waking up that morning, you notice Masons gone. You knew you put him a bad mood, after ignoring him last night, but he hadn’t been cross enough to let you freeze. The blankets had been pulled over you.

Rolling over, you rolled your eyes. Reaching for your phone. A message from Kai lit up the screen.

Kai: “what’d you do to him? worst fucking mood ever.”

So Kai got the blunt of it. Lucky him.

You: “he thinks i was flirting with Martin Ødegaard???? so i got pissed off. like really. called him a bastard…😬”

You watched the three bubbles appear as Kai typed.

Kai: “In short, he fucked up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. The German really fit the stereotype. Blunt as hell.

You: “hmm.”

Kai: “You coming to the game then??? Sophia’s been eating my ear off about seeing you. Both them on the same pitch, roughhhhh😳”

Your heart dropped. Chelsea were playing Arsenal. Forgot being fucked, you were double fucked. No, triple fucked.

You: “Fuck off. no way you’re playing Arsenal.”

Kai: “We are indeed.”

You: “fuck my life. good luck later then!!”

Not that Kai needed it, he was a phenomenal player.

Kai: “thanks Y/N🙌🙌”

—

You decided you had to go to this match. Getting ready, you decided you didn’t hate him enough to not wear his jersey, but decided on a jumper over the top. The jumper could come of, the jumper could stay on. You’d see how you were feeling.

—

Getting to the match, you showed your pass, and they let you in. Making your way up, you spotted Sophia. Greeting her with your usual hug.

—

As the match progressed, Mason was extremely aggressive. You’d never seen him play like this. He always insisted that a dirty player, meant they weren’t secure in their ability. He fouled Saka. Surprising you. He had a lot of respect for the young boy. Singing his praises often.

“Jesus Mason.” You muttered, watching as Christian pushed Mason back, looking like he was having a serious conversation with him.

Sitting beside Sophia, you both cringed. The fouling was unnecessary.

“Did something happen? He’s really angry.” She commented, and you let out a dry laugh. You didn’t have the energy to explain what happened, even to one of your best friends. The girl you say on the floor with giggling like teenagers over your boyfriends.

“Fight last night. I didn’t wanna apologise. He thought I was cheating.”

Her eyes widened, she was genuinely shocked. The whole world knew how much you two adored each other. If you wanted the stars, he found a way to give you the whole universe.

“No way. What a dick.” She commented, making you laugh.

“Worst part is. Number 8. That’s who I apparently cheated on him with.”

—

Mason had the ball, and he was plummeting towards the goal. He tore through the defence like they were just made of feathers. Booting the ball, he found the back of the net. Running over to the corner of the field, he slid across on his knees. Lifting his top up.

He had ‘you look great x’ wrote across his under shirt, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re right Soph. What a dick head.”

Half time came and done, the tension in the pitch spreading to the stands. The fans were tense. The coaches were tense. The players were tense.

You were tense.

The boys came back out, and before you knew it. A commotion broke out of the pitch. Mason pushing Martin. He obviously did not appreciate that, and shoved your boyfriend right back. Christian ripped Mason away, and Martin shouted something.

I seen the anger rip through his body, coursing through his veins. Mason stormed over to Martin, grabbed his shirt, and threw him to the ground. Martin hit the ground, his team matés absolutely furious with what happened. The referee wasted no time showing him a card, as Kai dragged him away. Trying to talk some sense to him.

No surprises, he got subbed off. He stalked off the pitch, kicking a water bottle that was on the grass, sending it flying into the dug outs. He stormed into the changing rooms, or so you thought. That’s the general direction he appeared to be going in.

You and Sophia gave each other the look.

All she did was pay your shoulder and laugh.

“Good luck.”

—

Sick of his attitude, you walked into the changing rooms. Taking a lot of convincing on your behalf to the security guard to let you in. Eventually he did.

You got to the door of the changing room. Doing an awkward dance, jig type thing, as you prepared to go in. Your tongue became sandpaper, and you had to give yourself an internal clock to convince yourself to knock.

“Mason. It’s me. Are you decent?”

Waiting for a response, you cringed. Not sure what you were embarrassed over. The whole situation probably. Hearing a grunt back, you assumed that translated into something like ‘Come on in.’ Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

Sitting away from him, you looked at him. He refused to meet you eye. There was no point sugar coating what he’d done. He’d messed up. Again.

“What was that about? You’ve bebe bebe booked for aggression.”

“Jesus, let me breathe. You’re going to tell me how I shouldn’t of done it either. I’ve heard it from Kai, i’ve heard it from Christian. I don’t wanna hear about it.”

He ripped his boots off, throwing them into the shoe locker. You never understood how they got new boots every match. 100’s of pounds for one game. Seems like an awful waste.

“I’m sure you’ve heard it enough, but yeah, you shouldn’t of done it. Pushing Bukaya as well. Come on Mason. What got you so pissed off? Other than the obvious.”

“Nothing.” He said bluntly. This was like talking to a brick wall.

“Mason.”

He raised his head out of their position between his hands, and his hair was messed up from gripping it. He threw his head against the wall, groaning in frustration as he sighed deeply.

“He called me an arrogant son of a bitch. Said I think this big tough lad, and i’m not. Didn’t even say that much, I was just cross and he was an easy target.”

He sighed, obviously regretting what he’d done.

He looked at you, finally. His eyes sad, and dropping from tiredness. You knew yourself, how eyes look when they’re about to cry. Your Uni work enforcing this feeling so often. You couldn’t help but feel bad.

“It got me thinking. Maybe I am an arrogant son of a bitch. And I know I don’t deserve you. And don’t tell me ‘Oh Mase don’t listen to him.’ or ‘you know i love you.’ After what I said yesterday, you deserve someone better. You deserve more than me.”

His eyes scanned your body, noticing his name wasn’t on show. You were still mad, but you had all the time in the world to be mad. Mason needed you.

Moving close to him, you tugged your jumper off. Turning your back so he could see his name, looking over your shoulder to see him smiling a little.

There it was. Your beautiful boys smile.

“I’m very proud. To let everyone know. That the handsome, talented man, that is the Mason Mount, is my boyfriend. My boyfriend. My man.”

He smiled, putting his hand out to pull you closer, pulling it back a little when he remembered you were still mad. Doing his job for him, you moved closer. Head resting on his shoulder. The whole fight seemed silly now, but you knew you still had to talk about it.

“I’m sorry for calling you a bastard, and an ass hole.” You joked. You definitely weren’t sorry, he didn’t have to know that.

He laughed, and you felt a weight lift of your shoulders.

“No I deserved it.”

“Yeah, you did.” You laughed.

You two sat in silence, the only thing breaking it was the cheers of the crowd. Who scored? You don’t know. Did you care? Not one bit.

“And I love you.” He smiled at that, his arm resting around your shoulder, rubbing lightly up and down.

“I love you. So damn much. No, that’s not enough. I love you so much that I’d give up football for you. I love you so much that i’d let Declan beat me every time we play fifa. I love you so much that I-”

You shut him up with a kiss. The kiss was more than just two lips touching. It was full of love. Full of passion. Full of 4 years of love you’d shared with this boy. 4 years of laughter, smiles, and tears.

“No harm Mason. You absolutely stink.”

He laughed, missing your banter. Even if it was just for a few hours. He never ever wanted to stop hearing your laugh.

“Guess we should shower then.” He prompted. Trying his luck.

“Showering’s a solo task.” You said.

He stood up, grabbing the back of your thighs as he lifted you, bridal style.

“When has showering ever been a solo task with us?”

Part 2???

This was inspired by a fic I read ages ago, and cant find the author :( If you do, let me know!

#mason mount x y/n #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagine #mason mount #mason mount angst #footballer imagine #footballer angst

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jazeswhbhaven · 4 months

Text

Fa La La La La Michael's on Sale (Christmas Miracle L-Card PROLOGUE Spoilers II)

Before you proceed!!! Check out Part 1 here ->

if you've already saw that, let's dive back in for the remainder of the prologueeee

So we left off at the auction, and Daddy Mammon was being Daddy Mammon. But he also explains how he views buying stuff in general, including being forward that the "gifts" MC assumed were gifts are things that they needed for the function lmao

Damn if that's a necessity to you then a gift is like....probably very very expensive or heartfelt or something like that. At least to Mammon. He even explains his buying process to them

So how he sees it, everything in this world is already his and he's just sharing it with everyone and allowing them to enjoy it as well. When he pays the store or anyone for anything it's basically him rewarding them for keeping his stuff safe until he needs it again later regardless of the reason, he wants it for. He's adorable.

So while all of that is happening and he's trying to see what it is that MC would want to buy, Michael literally fucking plunges from the sky into the building like nothing.... Like when I tell you that's the funniest shit I've read for both prologues where the angels literally just fell from the sky forcefully and they were probably just minding their business for the day, it's Christmas so they're like meh we're chilling, gonna wait til the day after and Y E E T bam down the hell for whatever reason lol

So here's a couple rumor lore for our seraph boi. Apparently out of the three, he's really cutthroat and doesn't give a fuck about it. His judgment usually ends with him killing you basically because no one is pure in his eyes. SO at this point everyone is hauling ass trying to escape before he gets murder happy.

He notices that MC is there and acknowledges their presence, and his forever crying eye because he's always like that is dripping tears (I like to make a joke he has allergies....to sin....)

So Mammon tries a sneak attack and it seems to not work against him and he's like confused, MC is confused, EYE am confused because wtf is Michael suddenly invincible???

So he's referring that Mammon is the most sinful devil king...I guess in his eyes being greedy is too much and should be punished right away. I guess he just doesn't see the potential in the other kings huh? /j

So Mike here starts shooting bolts of energy, blades of light, everything he's got toward Mammon and MC, none of it lands or hits. Everyone is watching confused YET again and Mammon is the only one that seems to get it.

A what now?????

So remember in the beginning where Minhyeok basically sat up there and wished for peace wherever MC was so they could have a peaceful Christmas? I mean canon-wise he's been to hell before and knows exactly how rough it is for MC and the others, so he made this wish thinking about that and turns out...

The rules of "Santa" work in Hell when it comes to wishes. Mammon can't attack Mike and Mike can't kill any devils for the day.

That's right buddy, no murder party for youuuuu <3

I love his angry face here, he's so pissed off lmao. But basically what happens shortly after...since he's powerless and pretty much fucking useless, the devils gang up on him and chain him up and such. Mammon threw out the idea of "wonder how much he would cost?" and now...angel boi is part of the fucking auction lol

So they're having MC 'test' out the product which in this case is Michael. Apparently in the past Solomon tested out various products before they were auctioned off and so they are having MC do the same. Honestly, the expectations put on MC are so odd sometimes. Like come on their granddaddy from centuries ago was from a different time and had some crazy magical powers and shit and so far MC has only been able to tap in like a 4th of that power. Maybe not even a 4th T^T But regardless they're eating up Michael with their eyes and he's of course being a brat about it.

It appears that during the scuffle, the devils were able to pitch together and come up with an info card, only had to use minimal chains, a golden gag (I assume he was fucking biting people lmao) and well...I'd like to think now that the angels automatically have their cock/chastity cages just by default. The design of their cages remind me of 'Dick Fight Island' hahaha. And MC is just like damn, I guess it wouldn't hurt having a little taste??? Just a small one? And it's just like yeah I'd probably figure out how to unlock that cage and tease his cock a bit... But also this is giving some pretty triggering content based on the fact clearly....Michael is against this, because he's glaring at MC like he could murder them on the spot. He was outnumbered, chained up, and now being sold as a possible sex slave. But oh take a look at his sprite!

Even his sprite is not having a great time lmao he is p i s s e d. Pretty much rabid and can go off any moment. But the reason I want his card is that in Secret Club.....I know he's going to react to our touches and he makes that delicous pleasure face like he can't help it and mmmm this is fueling angel headcanons all over the fucking place for me. I swear I gotta make a self indulgent fic about how angels react to being touched after their cage is removed.

And this is so fucking cute of Mammon....MC is just standing on stage ready to doing their thing and Mammon is waving at them like "Hi sweetie, you're doing great <3 Luv youuuu"

This is why I love him. But anyways the prolouge ends with MC unbuttoning Mike's shirt and I'm just sitting here like UGHHHHHHHHH at this point I'd pay for each story that comes out as a whole just so I can skip this whole you have to unlock it in the unholy board stuff....because honestly if PB told us "hey if you'd like to buy Michael's L-card story, pass us like $30 or $5 per chapter" I'd find a way to pay for that. I just want the stories at this point, this grinding stuff is wearing me out lol

I DIGRESS though. From the prologue alone it looks like this story is going to get s p i c y and if I'm right??? MC is probs gonna make him cum in front of the audience, so it's exhibitionism, humiliation, and degradation (really for all of the angels cards it seems because they're in a public place)

So it looks like I'm done reacting to this <3 Later today I'll try to get Raphael's done. Thankuuu for sitting with me

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb mammon #whb michael #whb tartaros bois 💛#whb event #whb spoilers #screencaps #game playthrus🖤#ah yes love me a bratty angel #daddy mammon at it again tho

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hwsing · 1 year

Text

giving head

warnings/notes: 18+, reader is afab and gender neutral. includes: england (arthur kirkland), america (alfred f. jones), france (francis bonnefoy), n.italy (feliciano vargas). as always, reblogs are appreciated

arthur kirkland

while arthur can be an awfully impatient man, he’s quick to slow as he lowers himself to be eye-level with your cunt. he’s the type to nearly drool as he spreads your legs, watching your cunt spread, just for him. he’ll look up to meet your gaze before gently blowing on your clit, his cock twitching in his pants at the way you shudder.

arthur loves to go down on you. despite being all ‘prim and proper,’ he loves a mess; and so, he loves to make you a mess, too. if you let him, there are nights where he’ll give you multiple orgasms through oral alone, ignoring the ache in his cock as you moan out and clamp your thighs around his head. he’ll suck on your clit, his tongue rubbing against it before wondering lower, prodding at your hole; he’ll tongue fuck you, licking against your walls until his tongue hurts. arthur will force your legs apart, wrapping his hands around your thighs as your cunt drools; don’t worry! he’ll clean up after. really, he doesn’t mind at all.

actually, if he’s given permission to be a bit more mean towards you, he’ll tease you for making a mess — he loves to bully you a bit. he’ll even nip or slap your clit if you talk back to him! when you squeak or whine at the pain, he’ll remind you that as long as you behave, he’ll help you cum. he likes feeling completely responsible for your pleasure, and if you let him, he’ll restrain you to further your dependence on him in the moment.

alfred f. jones

while it’s not something that crosses his mind too often, when he has you laid out beneath him, spreading your legs to let him see your pretty pussy, he nearly gets light headed as the blood rushes to his cock at how soaked you are. he says something about how he’s gonna eat you up as he lowers his face, tongue quickly darting out to lick up between your folds.

alfred is the kind of guy who has little technique, but his passion makes up for it completely. he’ll sloppily eat you out, making disgusting slurp sounds the more wet you become; he doesn’t really get why you get so embarrassed sometimes! he loves to hear you call out his name, your hand grabbing at his hair to pull him closer to your cunt. he’ll grin against you, determined to rock your world.

really, really, really likes when you sit on his face. what do you mean you’ll crush him? please, he’s way stronger than he looks, trust him! he’ll grip your hips and force you to lower yourself on his face, humming as you make such pretty noises. this is his favourite way to eat you out; the angle is perfect, and you have no way to push his head away and interrupt him. as long as you let him, he’ll totally get his full from this.

francis bonnefoy

believes that pleasure is a form of art, through and through; he has an intimidating amount of experience, and is quick to discover what you like. whatever your preferences are, francis is more than capable of providing them. he’ll pay close attention to what makes your head spin; experimenting with how to toy with your clit (do you like when he sucks on it softly, or when he practically tries to milk it? do you prefer circular or side-side motions? do you like a slow build up with sudden fast movements?). whatever you like, he’s bound to figure it out, and when he does, he’ll be almost relentless.

he does like to kitten lick, though. truth be told, he does like to tease you, just a bit; he simply wants to hear just how much you want more. he’ll comply the moment you ask, don’t worry! after all, he must reward you for speaking up!

after spending time between your legs, he finds that the smell of you lingers in his scruff. it’s faint, but, he soaks it in — a reminder of your night together. it arouses him so, but he’s patient to wait until next time. he’ll tell you about how much he craves you, how good you taste, how your smell teases him the following day; it’d be cruel to not let him have another taste, no?

feliciano vargas

feliciano prefers receiving, however, don’t let that fool you; he knows his way around your cunt like the back of his hand. he thinks it’s only natural to! he loves you, and loves to make you feel good. he’ll stay between your legs as long as you want him to, more than happy to be of use to you.

this is 100% about you; all he wants is for you to enjoy yourself and get off. the moment you ask, he’s already nudging you towards a place when you can sit down while he falls to his knees, spreading your legs. he’ll sensually lick your clit, swirling his tongue around your bud before wrapping his plump lips around it. he’ll gather spit in his mouth and let it drool down your cunt as he plays with your clit, your sounds of pleasure being music to his ears. he’ll do anything you tell him to do — but, it should be noted that you don’t necessarily have to. he knows what he’s doing; leave it to him, and he’ll bring you up to cloud nine with ease.

feliciano loves when you yank him off your cunt with your hand gripping his hair; he’ll look up at you with his lower face positively drenched, a small grin and lazy eyes meeting yours. “no more, tesoro?” he’ll ask softly, and when you calm down and steady your breath, sheepishly dragging him back to your cunt slowly, he’ll happily reach out, his neck extending to get closer faster, his tongue already darting out to get to your cunt.

#hetalia #hetalia x reader #my work #hetalia x you #aph hetalia #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanons #aph england #england x reader #aph america #america x reader #aph france #france x reader #aph italy #aph north italy #north italy x reader #italy x reader #hws hetalia #hws

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tarjapearce · 8 months

Text

Bad Teachings (Pt. 6)

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Strained Relationships, Anxiety, Abusive Parenting, implied emotional breakdown, awkward emotional distress handling, Awkwardness. Tension, comfort. Mild fluff.

Summary: Lost wars can bring the most unexpected of comforts.

Hope you like ✨

Pt. 7

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated 💕

Feel like this song is perfect for the chapter:

------

Fingers were about to type a reply but stopped. What use would be?

Ignoring him seemed the best option, your head had wasted enough energy in his antics, your brain had gone kaput when trying do decipher him. This is what you've gotten in return. You looked around, your little world. It couldn't be unbothered with external things, it was your fortress. The only place you allowed yourself to be you.

Annoyingly fixated into get a knitting technique right, collector of nail polishes, silly socks with passive self deprecating messages embroidered on them, face masks and beauty products; lingerie that was too pretty to not have even though, you'd flaunt it to none but yourself, a whole file in your phone of you in boudoir looking pictures was the proof.

A sucker for tragic romances, an avid exotic food consumer, and by exotic you'd mean the middle eastern all you can eat buffet located a couple blocks away your building.

Fan of feminine looking shoes but wouldn't turn down a camping day, and get muddy even, get imperfect. Humanly flawed instead of presenting yourself to the world as an 'expensive doll' as Hobie had called you.

Of course you liked to dress up, but to do it every single day had turned into a task, like any other adult thing around you.

A sigh of yours merely filled in the place before going to sleep. You wouldn't go to Miguel’s, a trip to knowing a new place was far more interesting than dealing with whatever was bothering him. A bit of regret for offering previous help cocooned into your head.

----

The biological clock in you, got you used to wake up at 7, made you to rose from bed, put some of that new international blend coffee you had bought yesterday to simmer; then you'd move to clean up the little mess in the kitchen you had done last night: a plate, a fork and a strawberry printed glass.

You then organized your toiletries in the bathroom, and began a strict yet short skincare routine. Washing face, moisturizing, and sun blocking. Then you went to the closet, something you had promised yourself to always organize once you had the time.

You went for a pair of palazzos, a ruffled skirt and some pointy flats, but changed your mind last minute, and rather picked a brown jacket, black joggers, sneakers and a turtleneck shirt. Comfy for a day of walking around in a cool day.

At eight you had eaten breakfast, and if it wasn't for the door knocking, you could've washed the dishes again and probably take a shower. Momma standing in the doorway screamed a whole new plan. Hide or run.

"M-Mom."

"Hey baby." She hugged your surprised form and made herself at home. You held her purse as you closed the door.

"I-I was gonna call you yesterday but some stuffs just showed up and I forgot." The words rushing out of your mouth.

She cleared her throat and you snapped to put the purse next to her.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"A bit of coffee would be great"

Nodding you went to the kitchen, a tight and uncomfortable knot coiled tightly in your stomach, anxiety was just warming up.

"I see you're still having a hard time adjusting to this new... place." She observed as her eyes toured the livingroom. Your college books although lined up in the corner, still were in the floor along some other items. Like a small potted cactus and a collection of old DVDs.

" Oh... Im... just busy. That's all." You offered the cup of coffe, she took a sip and scrunched her nose. You just stood there, at lost on what to actually say. It was rare when they paid you a visit in college, and even then their stay were only a couple of hours.

"Too strong." She hummed in disapproval and your eyes casted away .

Here we go...

"You have some... interesting neighbors. Just saw a young man that I'm sure that wouldn't pass an airport check up for the many piercings in his face."

Your expression faltered at her sneering, a bit of frown in your eyebrows.

"He's a good person."

"I didn't say he wasn't darling, a little bit more of... normalcy wouldn't hurt him."

Your eyes darted away from her, your face now solemn.

"Uhm, I don't wanna sound rude but-"

"You have somewhere to go?"

"Yes. I... I actually do."

"Oh? Didn't know you had gotten yourself some real friends "

Your lips pursed, trying to keep her comments at bay.

"I'm working on it."

"I'm sure. I mean, pen pals don't actually count since you can't hang around-"

"Mom."

She sighed and pushed the cup away. Your cue to retrieve it, like the coffee had offended her greatly.

"A little visit at home wouldn't bad for you, you know? We miss you."

We sounded pretty much a one sided word. You put the cup on the sink, not truly wanting to engage into her game.

"I promise to visit as soon as I can." The flatness in your tone could be tasted miles away

"That's what you said two months ago, sweetie."

"I wasn't having as much free time as you think I am, mom. There was this new campaign... and I was ontop of it." you back still facing her.

The fortress shook.

"Ah, honey. I know your job is frustrating and quite busy, but a little hello mom, I'm fine. Can I stay for weekend?, wouldn't harm you. Just look at you, it's okay to be an stress eater, but you have to keep your mouth in check."

The stab was dug deeper. Your fortress was now crumbling.

"You know I worry about you, right?

What a fucked up way to show it.

You just nodded, dread creeping up your face as she pushed a strand of hair behind your pierced ear. You flinched, it was still tender.

"What is that?"

"Nothing. Just something stupid-"

She cupped your cheeks softly and you froze, she took a long and dispraising look at it as she sighed.

"Jesus, it's just a stupid piercing! Don't worry about it."

You pried yourself away from her touch, like her hands had burnt you.

She frowned

"Anyone with a respectable reputation in your workplace could see you not fit-"

"Not fit for what, mom?" Your fingers pinched your nose bridge. Anger simmering below the surface.

"You are meeting important people, honey. You can't go around looking like that. You must look-"

"Perfect." You nearly seethed the word, "I know."

You poured the coffee on the sink. She just watched you for a second. Your hands scrubbing the lipstick stain off the cup furiously she was surprised that the thing didn't break in your hands. She just sighed and grabbed her purse.

"If you want, I could help you getting this place-"

"I'll take care of it." voice firmer than you had intended to.

Her eyes remained on you for a bit too long and then she nodded.

"Call us, okay?" You opened the door for her, eyes refusing to meet her.

"Love you, cupcake"

"I know."

The words bitter tasting in your tongue as they rolled off. The door closed and your fortress was in shambles.

Your mouth exhaled a shaky and almost whimpering breath. You needed to escape, your little world had been compromised and you weren't sure to stand the emotional chaos that was left. Everything you had built was now on the floor, just like your overall mood.

Normalcy? Stress eater? Perfect? You were sure none of those applied to you.

The battlefield had alot of your hurt and blood sprawled all over it, your face was still smeared by a forceful and imposing touch that was devoid of kindness as the knife she had plunged remained deep in your chest.

You didn't know exactly where this attitude and perfectionism had came, but ever since you had turned into a certain age, she'd give little comments here and there that would eventually lead you to your current state. Fucked up, yet moisturized. God, you couldn't wait to be home again and cry your hearts contempt.

Laughing almost bitterly at the realization that you now had to schedule your emotions accordingly. At least you still felt something. And right now, you just wanted to go back to bed and cry, the battle hadn't reached your safest spot, something you were grateful for.

Heart pounded miles per hour, chest constricting and head spinning made you support at the kitchen's sink. Pain pricked your eyes, but a still rational part of you grounded you with a deep exhale. You showered and got ready. Filled in your portable mug with coffee and left.

You had bought a little blt sandwich in the way, you parked and blinked away the stubborn tears that refused to leave without being shed. Patting a bit too rough your cheeks you took the mug, secured the car and went up the elevator.

Nervousness too preoccupied with it's own business to show up, a subtle anger had taken over. Miguel's doorbell was rang.

You looked at your phone's clock. 10 am.

The door opened and you were met with a surprised then a mild furrowing glance. His mouth went ajar but quickly shut it. The words he intended saying, died before anything as he studied your face. Nose a bit red from the previous sniffling.

"Come in." He'd mumbled and you entered, making your way to your work spot as last time. To your surprise his place looked a mess. Some clothes sprawled on his couch, a couple of dirty dishes on his sink, Curtains drawn in, place felt heavy and fusty.

"Go to the living room."

"Same as last time?"

"Pretty much, Yeah." He'd notice the metallic coffee flask on your hands. There was no coffee for him this time.

"You hungry?"

"Already had breakfast. Thanks." You went to the living room and began working. You were avoiding his stare as much as you could, any contact really.

He sat on the couch as you were already organizing files. A million questions popped up in his mind. Why had you stopped messaging him? You seemed unbothered by that, but rather hassled by something else.

Your pouty lips, set in a neutral line, eyes way too gone in a place he couldn't get permission to access just yet, your movements smooth yet void of the remarks you'd do of his work. There was no information sharing, no feedback. No praising from your end. Just silence.

He exhaled and focused on his share of files. You were usually the one that started the little conversations between the both, but after those two weeks of silence from your end, he would expect you asking him the why's and the like. And not that he'd remain silent. He had a valid excuse.

He'd be jumbled up in a room with a new working team as you were messaging him, all of them made noise, noise as in irrelevant ideas and complaining about the new upcoming project but none really offered solutions. He had been annoyed, greatly. His anger was misdirected and now he was neck deep in this predicament.

"Are you angry?" The question itself was stupid, he knew much, but it was the only sort of conclusion his million dollar brain could come up with.

"No." A half truth, "I just happen to have my own problems too." Snappy. He raised an eyebrow to you, genuine confusion on it.

"Besides, I'm just rolling with what you said"

What he had said? The only interaction you had was the text... Oh. Realization hit him like a gloved slap on his face. He went on your message log and reviewed the conversation again.

—That pretty much sums it up

I see—

Fuck. You had taken his words at heart and had just left him be. An apology, that's what you needed, so maybe the heavy and dementor-like aura that irradiated from you would dissipate. What had happened? Cause anything that would make you come here, instead of being somewhere else, had to be grave enough to force yourself in this situation with him.

His belly grumbled after a couple of hours.

"Feeling hungry?" You shook your head

"Got my own lunch, thanks."

Another ammo wasted. His eyebrows knitted together a bit deeper. You were almost done with the first file.

"You should eat."

"I'm not hungry yet." At least you were talking. Barely glancing his way but talking. He ordered some food and finished his file.

He could do it on his own, really, the I need help sort of thing was just a bait to see if you'd still be around. These two weeks had been draining and antsy for him. At first he thought nothing of you, maybe you got busy as well. But as the silence kept stretching, things just spiraled between concern and vexation for him.

Concern because it was usually you the one that most, if not always started the little conversations between the both. They weren't precisely both ways, he also noted, mostly of him replying to whatever random question you'd pop him. But engaging completely, it was only when you were face to face, and even so, he'd still keep you on the surface.

And then, the vexation of the sudden realization of you growing tired of him, for real this time, had sent him reeling into over thinking when the answer you gave him was pretty simple.

I'm just rolling with what you said.

And still everything he had to do was to text back. Yet he didn't.

The fact that you could adapt easily on his words made him both impressed yet again, concerned. You took things at heart. He had to be specific and clear when it came to communicating with you. Great.

You weren't precisely a parrot around him, but the silence you could devote yourself was quite out of your amiable persona. You were snappy, teary eyed, closed off, shut down. You had definitely came here in order to escape from something.

A boyfriend? The thought made him chuckle inwardly, so far what you had told him about yourself quickly erased the idea. Of course he'd listen and pay attention. He just didn't know exactly what to pry from you. He wasn't making an effort in keeping you around either.

Meaning, that he'd always act aloof and detached around people that would eventually leave his life.

Assumptions, really.

He didn't know when that would happen and he was already making sure to severe ties. Coping perhaps? He didn't even know. All that he was certain of was that you weren't yourself and that was partially thanks to him.

His mouth was about to speak when your hand put a strand of hair behind your ear. Three hooped earrings adorning the upper lobe. And by the redness around each pierce, he'd say it was recent. Was this how you faced your problems? Inflicting pain on yourself?

He frowned.

"That's new." Uncertainty just pushed him into a brash mode that eventually would lead him into lash out when cornered. And right now you were leaving him with little options

Your eyes trailed to him, as he gestured over his ear. The piercings. Right.

"Did it yesterday."

"Does it hurts?"

You shook your head as you went for the other file.

"Hobie is a pro at it."

Hobie?

His eyes squinted trying to remember.

The punk guy you had for a neighbor, of course. It was a little too cliché, perhaps.

"Why three and not just one?"

"I wanted to, alright?"

You snapped and he held his hands in defense.

Jesus..

You sighed and shook your head.

"Sorry, just... Nevermind that. Can we focus on working, please?"

A clear I don't wanna talk about it. Or more like I don't wanna talk.

"Sure."

-----

Your phone buzzed as you were transferring the files to him. The name

' Lucio Work' displayed on your screen.

"Excuse me." You stood up from the floor and picked up the call.

From what he could see, you were tense. Arms tightly wrapped around you, like shielding yourself from anything that would hurt you further. Your back turned to him.

"No, it's fine. Really. Will check that up as soon as I get home." Your voice flat, absentminded as you focused on the floor.

"Right. Bye."

A deep sigh.

"I must go."

"It's fine, you finished early anyways."

You stared at him, waiting.

I'm sorry.

His eyes sized you. His lips trapping the apology, and that only made your hands tighten in fist briefly. You picked up your flask and the half eaten sandwich. This time you made sure your tools were with you.

"Guapa..." you felt anything but. You needed air, space even from the suffocating feeling on your chest. And needed it now.

"I-I gotta go." You hands fumbled with your belongings as you rushed to his door. Escaping. Again.

"Wait-"

You were gone. His hands were placed on his waist. There was no apology, but a wider rift between you. He sighed again, for the umpteenth time. He had fucked up.

----

Entering home felt returning to the aftermaths of a lost war. Cold empty space, the drip dropping of the kitchen sink was the only thing that made an effort to acknowledge your arrival. You pulled out the remnants of the BLT and ate just the bacon, discarding the soggy rest.

Your head pounded. Miguel’s eyes popped in your mind. He looked like he had the apology on the tip of his tongue, but pride was bigger than him. Expectations were set incredibly high only to be crushed later. It was the cherry ontop of a messy cake.

You made your way to your bedroom to transform yourself into a more comfy appearance. Hair pulled up in a messy bun as you removed bit by bit your clothes, leaving yourself naked before the mirror.

Flawed.

Your hands explored, prodded and touched your skin. The feeling of unpleasant textures under the pads of your fingertips made you turn away from the reflection. Baggy and comfortable clothes covered them.

Your night ended with the usual meal prep of the week, and of course you finally organizing the closet.

-----

You didn't call your parents. Instead just focused on the screen before you, typing bemused at information you knew by heart. Another brief, another little campaign to create.

Another day, the silence kept stretching on both ends. Your situationship with Miguel certainly offered more questions than answers. Like you had been threading carefully around him, unable to access to a different sort of level With him, it's what he allowed you to see. But you, had also just showed him what you let on.

You were even. And still, you didn't give in. Just shoved the telephone back in your tote bag, without realizing his chat's name appeared as "typing".

Your day went uneventful, unaware of your raging inner turmoil, not that it mattered anyways. The time and world had never stopped over broken hearts or minds, why would they stop now?

Lunch felt stale despite you adding a little vinaigrette to the salad you had packed. It's what you would be eating for the next five days.

You went home around five. The place still in hypothetical shambles from the previous encounter with a boss out of your expertise. You were yet to fix so many things. Some stuffs that would probably still in boxes ever since you moved in.

You changed once more in a humble appearance and pulled out the packaged furniture. Appetite was mess, you had ate, but it set heavily on your stomach.

Bit by bit you started to unpack and pull piece by piece. A little bag of screws and a screwdriver fell out of the rectangular box, along the user manual.

It couldn't be that hard right?

----

Two hours of pure nothing. Your fingertips were sore by the pressure you had applied on the screws, only for it to be assembled in the wrong way. You kicked it away from you. Angry tears just bursted from your eyes.

The user manual crumpled and thrown away somewhere. You curled up in the floor, face hid between your arms and legs.

Why you were so stressed? why you weren't perfect? Why you struggled so much to stand your ground against your mother? Why wasn't Miguel a less complicated guy?

Why? Why why?

You were tired of the whys and the little to no answers they provided you. You dreaded the call your angry mother would do in a couple of weeks after not hearing from you again. You dreaded the campaign not being as successful as your other ones. You dreaded the next rent payment. You dreaded to cry to yourself to sleep again, cause there was none to bask in your misery with, but yourself.

The knowing yet still horrifying conclusion that you were irrelevant in people's lives, didn't help at the hopelessness feeling that was nesting on your chest. You had always been that unremarkable NPC that just minded her business and let life happen around her.

It was sometimes of your wonder what kind of person you would've been if some things would've displayed different for you. Would you still be an expensive doll? Would you still work in a fancy world that the only term that actually applied to it was shallow?

You braced yourself.

Numbness spreading through.

But of course, only for tonight since you had to offer your best smile every day. It was part of the looks.

Your door was knocked.

Caked tears were wiped away the best as you could, as you made your way towards it. A little rustling from the other side. You sniffed and opened the door. Eyes widening at the person behind it. Miguel.

Mahogany eyes seized you, a painful twist in his heart at the sight. You were a complete different person from what he was used to see. Unkempt, wet shirt probably from the tears you had certainly been crying, puffy eyes, swollen lips and nose. A shirt his size probably, hiding the body he had already tasted twice.

Your lip trembling made him swallow.

"May I come in?"

His voice soft. He held a brown paper bag in one hand and his lab coat and ID in the other.

You wiped your eyes before letting him in. His scanned the place. Half assembled furnace thrown hapzardly on the floor, screws and other tools rested in a bag. A few holes on the cardboard packing, like you had stabbed the screwdriver through it. You sat in the further wall, resuming your task of picking up the fallen smaller pieces.

Sidling through the living room, he stopped at the couch. He put his lab coat on it and then pulled the paper bag closer, his feet took him where you were.

"Why are you here, Miguel?"

Your words held no malice but pure curiosity although your voice was deflated.

"Here." He offered you the paper bag. He saw your hands hesitating, not that he blamed you though. But eventually you accepted it. He had to bend over to place it on your hands.

"It's for you." He breathed as his arms rested at his sides.

You pulled a small golden box with a colorful arrange of macarons, colors that matched your color aesthetic. Red, browns, white, blue and of course black. A little piece of paper tucked in the left.

Sorry

The words scribbled by himself. His penmanship was usually hurried and doodle like, something you had noticed from the annotations in the files you had helped him with. But this seemed different, he had taken his time on it. Legible and solid.

He studied your face, so far there was nothing that gave out any sign of hostility. Just pure surprise and of course, sadness.

"Though you'd like it." He cleared his throat, "I... owe you an apology"

Hearing the words from his mouth only made you blink at him, face flushed by the constant burn in your eyes, lower lip quivered, bloodshot eyes, to finally let fat tears roll down. He tensed.

You didn't like it?

His hands fisted and relaxed as you cried, unsure to make a much more personal approach. He pushed a couple of pieces of whatever furnace you were trying to assemble, away from his path and soon, he crouched to finally sit next to you. His frame engulfing the space.

"I'm sorry. All I had to do was to text back, right?"

You nodded through a hiccup. Then wiped your face.

"Here." He offered his handkerchief as he reached for the crumpled user manual.

"Leave that. I'm not doing it." you croaked, trying to find a steady tone in your voice

"It's kind of the same one I have."

Sighing you just shrugged and let him. Your knees supported your arms, as your chin rested in one of them, the other one, was above your head. Like a self comforting gesture.

"I was... in a meeting. A pretty fucking annoying one, when you texted."

Your eyes darted to him, but stared back at the wall. Matching your current mood. Dry and dull.

"I know work is your main priority, I shouldn't pester you either. I wasn't giving you the silent treatment. Felt the opposite really. So I just... stopped reaching out"

His lips gave a weak chuckle, to then disarm what you had done with the furnace. Your words were simple, yet pithy. Miscommunication was the culprit. And he had encouraged it to get this far.

You remained quiet, fixing your glance in the red macaron.

"At first I knew you were busy too. But... then the silence kept going. Kinda reminded me when you suddenly vanished those years ago."

"Im sorry too. Shouldn't have been so... upset and snappy at your own home"

"I caused it." He shrugged

"Partially. I didn't want you to think I was clingy or somehow desperate."

He shook his head with a stifled laugh.

"You're good company too. But guess I just read wrong between lines, like usual. It's... stupid really. My bad for that" you rubbed your temple.

"What are you talking about?"

"I... thought that I was making you uncomfortable or that you were annoyed"

His head shook.

"Trust me, is more like a me problem than anything. But no. It wasn't that"

"The reason I started messaging you really was cause, you're nice to talk to. I mean, sure you take a lot of time, and barely speak, but you aren't... a complete idiot. But then you sent that last text"

You chuckled as he begun assembling the shelf.

"Not the best idea I've had so far." He secured the base.

"May I know what happened before you showed up?"

You stared at him, a bit taken aback that he'd notice such thing.

You groaned and shook your head.

"Mom happened."

His eyebrow quirked but just nodded. Not prying further. You focused on helping him, the little shelf slowly coming to life. A little of your shambled fortress, restored and fortified.

"I hope that piercing your body doesn't turns into a habit"

"Oh?"

"There's better ways to let it out, that's all I'm saying" You chuckled and rolled your eyes.

"Relax, I had wanted to do this ever since I was in college."

"Why now though?"

"Saw the chance, took it." you shrugged

"Quite impulsive"

"It was that or give myself a pixie cut"

His eyes were on you and you sighed

"Of course I am joking."

Not even you were that convinced.

"What about hobbies?

"I have some. Well, started one recently. Knitting is calming. And I've been wandering the city, looking for new places"

"Get me the other bag, please"

Your tears had subsided, your hand gave him the bag full of more screws and little rubber lids to prevent sliding, still, there was a bit of heavy aura hanging in the air.

"Do you have any hobbies, Miguel?"

"I guess"

"Like?."

"Reading. How come you've been wandering the city alone?"

"It's... cathartic. That's what I've been doing these past two weeks. I... I wasn't showing up on Sunday actually, but again... Mother happened."

"Do you wanna talk about that?"

"No."

A way too quick response.

"Maybe... later or in a future." You sighed and watched his hands work.

"Family is complicated" He grunted as he secured the last bits of shelf's final part.

"Loving them is... overrated" His eyes snapped at you, a knowing yet silent nod on his eyes.

He stood and helped you as well, then, pulled the shelf up. It was bigger than you had actually anticipated, at least one thing was out of the way and you wouldn't have to bend over to pick up your books anymore.

You begun organizing them. Your living room was small. A single L couch stuck to the wall, a window on the bottom wall, sparse furniture, a TV stand with no portraits of yourself or any family really, and now the shelf that was being filled in with things. The door at the bottom was your bedroom he supposed.

Compact, yet cozy. It suited you.

He went through some files, pictures of your previous work campaigns on his hands. Quite profesional looking. Of course they had to be, it was your job to create these sort of pieces, a little understanding of why you always looked straight out of a magazine came to him.

A job requirement. And of course you'd accomplish that to a t. Kinda reminded him of your college years. Unremarkable socialité, but good at what you were studying for. The pictures reflected it.

He took another file and saw little Polaroid format printed pictures. It was all the places you had visited so far. The pictures gave him a little glimpse of things you enjoyed. You weren't one for too strict routines, You could adapt, but still would need a little spark to keep yourself grounded.

Wandering the city was like an anchor for you. Tea bars, bakeries, a thrift shop that surely had some characters in it. The liqueur shop. And of course, Hobie's workplace.

He could recognize the bakery's desserts. It was the one he got your macarons from. One was missing from the box. It made his lips curve softly.

"You have talent."

You blinked at him as he went through more folders of pictures.

"Oh... thanks?. I really enjoyed that class"

"You should publish them."

"Can't do that, they're confidential until a campaign is ready to be launched. You aren't supposed to be even looking at them actually. Might open a photography profile though, just for fun." You shrugged as you accommodated your reading books.

"You like it?"

"Yeah. I'm more invested in the knitting though"

"How's that going?"

"I'll get there." your lips mumbled.

You then offered a canned soda.

"I know this place." He pointed at the pictures of the bakery.

"Oh, yeah, they're good." You put the DVDs in a different shelf.

"They have these delicious mini cakes called petit fours. But I stay with Julien's Potions."

"What's that?"

You showed him the pictures of the Tea bar. His eyes scanned the images with mild amuse.

"Is it good?"

"Very. The mango muffin is just heavenly"

"Would you like to go?" He stared at you, voice gentle, just as his face.

You looked up at him with big eyes. A little spark of excitement in them. Finally the heavy aura dissipated.

"Are... Are you sure? I mean, your work is demanding and-"

"After work, guapa. We can go."

"Really? I... don't want you to do this out of... pity or anything. It's fine, really-"

"Im not."

"Promise?"

His eyes softened at your smile.

"Te lo prometo." (Promise)

-----

Taglist:

Apologies if I forgot someone (For some reason Tumblr won't let me tag some of you :<)

@jkthinkstoomuch @queenofroses22 @del-lightfulling @katitakenway @amylasagna @rositabluemoon @lyrasdrawer @plumplumpurin @damhanallagorm @chibiiichann

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #bad teachings #t writes✨#spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #Spotify

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