#fic that I wrote

[magicalrocketships]

please please please some baby max 🙏

Have a little (sort of) seasonally appropriate baby Max! It's jumping a little out of order.

To recap where we are: Daniel turned down a seat this year, Max is still running away when he's back to being grown up, and Daniel isn't dealing very well with the whole missing-Max-both-as-an-adult-and-a-child kind of a thing. This is just an excuse for writing a specific moment.

(this link shows the stuff I’ve already posted in chronological order if the tag isn't working.)

Daniel's woken by his phone after a fairly useless single hour's sleep. He considers, for a second, ignoring it. But it's Christian, so he doesn't. 

"Max has Gone Small," Christian says without bothering with anything nice like hello or how was your 18 hour flight the week between Christmas and New Year or how are you coping without a race seat for next year for the second year in a row. "How soon can you get here?"

Daniel presses his face into the hotel room pillow. "Where are you?" 

"HQ," Christian says. "Tell me your hotel and I'll send a car to pick you up."

Daniel can't remember where he's staying. 'London' probably isn't good enough. He fumbles for the room service menu on the desk, and reads out the hotel name. 

"I'll call you back with an ETA," Christian says. He's not been as nice to Daniel after Daniel turned down both Max's temporary seat cover and the AT seat for next year. He doesn't understand. "Max wants you." 

"Yeah," Daniel says. He stands, barefoot and just in his underwear, and looks at himself in the mirror. He's hollow eyed from lack of sleep. And, probably, a selection of prolonged bad choices. His heart pounds. "Tell Max I'm coming for him, okay? See if you can get him some tomato soup in a cup and something to colour. He likes both those things."

"On it," Christian says, and hangs up. 

Daniel — exhausted, underweight, jet lagged — gets in the shower with his phone ringer turned up high and the water temperature turned down low. He emerges, shivering, more awake and vaguely cleaner but not much else. He packs his stuff back into his suitcase, unplugs his charger, and checks for a message. There's a car on its way. Daniel gathers up his stuff, wheels his case back towards the lift and checks out of his hotel. He's barely been there two hours. 

He doesn't sleep in the car up to Milton Keynes. His knee bounces, and he taps out a rhythm on his thigh with his fingertips. He hasn't seen grown up Max in weeks, and little Max for longer than that. 

Daniel hasn't been right since the first time Max got big and left him. There's a hole in the middle of his chest where his heart should be. He's tried to fill it with all the normal things but nothing's worked. He's just sad. It's hard work to hide it. It's harder when he's tired. They were going to see each other this week, with Daniel fulfilling some of his puppet PR duties at the Red Bull New Year's Eve party alongside Max, but that might not be on the table anymore because Max has Gone Small again. 

His little boy. He's going to see him again. God. 

If he gets there before Max goes big again. 

HQ is mostly deserted. There are barely any cars in the car park. Christian's waiting for him at the main entrance, along with an assistant, who Daniel barely says hello to as she promises to get all of Daniel's bags out of the car. 

"Max is very unhappy," Christian warns him, as they go inside and towards the stairs. "Turned up this morning and was only here an hour before we all blinked and then he's fucking seven again. Just wants you." 

Daniel speeds up. He doesn't even know where he's going, where Max is waiting for him. "Did he eat anything?"

"Refuses," Christian says. 

They go through a locked door Christian has to wave a pass at to get through. Somewhere, far away, Daniel can hear a familiar little voice, raised. Upset. 

"Maxy-Max," he calls, hand cupped around his mouth. There is, for a moment, abrupt silence. There's a flight of stairs. Daniel takes them two at a time, but he's not fast enough because Max fucking barrels his way out of a room at the top of them and barely manages to stop himself falling headlong over a large fern in a plant pot and toppling down the stairs. 

"Daniel!" Max says, tearful and upset. "Daniel, my Daniel." He launches himself at Daniel, and Daniel catches him in a hug. Daniel drops to his knees and Max hugs him all wriggly and tight and het up and crying. He's in grown up Max's t-shirt, way too big, and grown up Max's socks, falling off his feet and making him slip-slide all over the place. Someone, somehow, has got him into a pair of Go Small shorts, but the fabric is itchy even to Daniel's hand, so Max must be hating it. 

"Hello, baby," Daniel says, kissing Max's cheek, his ear. He thumbs away a tear from Max's pink, flushed cheek. Another one. "I've missed you so much." 

Max just holds on tighter. "Can we go home now," he whispers, but Daniel can't take him home. All the Guardianship papers are in Monaco. All their Red Bull responsibilities are here, and even if Max doesn't have to put food on the table, Daniel's career is on indefinite hiatus and the money he's making now will have to last him. And Max doesn't stay like this. He doesn't stay with Daniel. 

"Not just yet," Daniel tells him. He hugs Max tighter, lifting him off the ground. Max tucks his face into Daniel's neck, wrapping his arms all around Daniel's neck. He gets to his feet, Max wrapping his legs around Daniel's waist and staying as close as possible. "Are you hungry, Maxy-Max?"

Max nods, his nose dragging over Daniel's neck. He doesn't feel warm either, and Daniel wants to find something to get him changed in to and get him something to eat. 

"Let's get you—" he says, but then he has to close his eyes really tightly. 

Max wriggles, and shifts, and when Daniel opens his eyes again, the Max in his arms is his toddler Max, his baby Max, his best little boy. He's gone smaller. 

"Hey," Daniel says softly. "Hey, baby."

Max rears back in Daniel's arms. He's pink and tearstained and very serious. He pats both his hands to Daniel's cheeks. Holds Daniel still. 

Daniel waits. He can be patient where Max is concerned. Can let him have whatever time he needs to do whatever it is he needs to do.  

"Daddy," Max says, and— 

And. 

Daniel's world is different now. It will be forever different. A before, and an after. 

"Hey," Daniel says, in the end, and Max looks at him and beams. 

Carries on here.

#my fic #de-aged maxiel #baby max #fic that i wrote

[monstersanonymous]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, OC/OC Characters: Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish, Richard Gansey III, Blue Sargent, Orphan Girl | Opal, OC | Evan Miller, OC | James Harvey Foulsworth, OC | Noah Sargent-Gansey Additional Tags: Teacher AU, Latin Professor! Ronan, second gen au, successors, Canon Divergence, I wrote this in like 2019, its very old, OC, So many OCs Summary:

I wrote this YEARS ago and never published it. The writing is rough but it's very nostalgic and I thought I would share. -- James Harvey Foulsworth is your typical Aglionby student. Rich, distant parents, eager for knowledge, and hiding a few secrets. Everything starts to change when the newest latin professor enters his life.

#i found an old #trc #fic that i wrote #so #im sharing #the writing is so bad forgive me #the raven cycle #pynch #ronan lynch #trc fic #trc fanfic #pynch fic #pynch fanfic

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

#talk tag #IT KILLS ME. REIGEN IS NOT MOB'S DAD. HE HAS A DAD. INGO IS NOT AKARI'S DAD. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN ANYONE HEAR ME #(not even necessarily to say that ingo is in his late 20s but still) #(even if he was a 30-40-50 year old no matter how old he is no fucking teenager is gonna call some guy they met as a 15 year old ''dad'') #GAI IS NOT A FATHER FIGURE TO ROCK LEE HE WAS LIKE 13 WHEN HE WAS BORN! PLEASE!!!!!!!! #one time i saw that a ​person wrote a fic where mario was like a father figure to luigi. #they are TWIN BROTHERS. #not what this about but idk where else i can say anything about this. #just horrible #also sometimes someone is just An Older Friend like no familial relationship just a friend or acquaintance who is a lot older than you

[pixiemage]

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

#Archive of our Own #Ao3 #Ao3 Comments #Writing #Fanfiction #Fanfic Writing #I wrote over 100k on that fic before burnout took hold #I poured my heart into what I did manage to finish #adhd’s a bitch that doesn’t always let me write what I want to write but I got that far #don’t make me feel ashamed because you didn’t get to see the ending

[arowrath]

#text #copypasting a 21 chapter chat fic i wrote in 2018 into one big document #seeing glimpses of it #most of the time it's like. man. i did not write this #but then i see a phrase i was certain i came up with last year #and im like ah . so ive been making that joke since i was 15 ? #peer reviewed banger #rbsoff

[frownyalfred]

"I'm gonna fuck your mom" "I'm going to get my adoptive billionaire dad to sleep with both of your parents and they're both going to fall in love with him and write you out of their will, fuckhead."

(Schoolyard threat from an unknown Wayne child, provided to the Gazette in March 2013. Bruce Wayne, responding via email, denied all allegations of an improper relationship and declared it "entirely spontaneous and consensual."

Mr. and Mrs. [redacted] could not be reached for comment, but court records indicate that Mr. [redacted] began divorce proceedings in April of 2013.)

#clearing out drafts #I think I wrote this while I took that one edible #it made sense at the time I think #bruce wayne #batman #dc #micro fic #batfamily #batdad #idk which batkid said this but #it was not an idle threat

[ao3-crack]

(x)

#archive of our own #ao3 quotes #ao3 stuff #archive of our own quotes #fanfic #fanfic quotes #funny #ao3 #ao3 tags #basically I wrote this for myself #but you can read it too #me with all of my fics #seriously I write them for myself #then I go through my wips and wonder why no one has updated them in so long

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

#dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #if someone wants to write a fic on this #@ me #PLEASE I WANT TO SEEEE #or dm me so i actually see it #please #if someone makes something of this post... #swnd me an ask with a link #this post exploded i cant with all the notifs #i wouldnt know if someone @'d me #i did a tags recap down on the notes and wrote a bit of #chilchuck angst #for the simps out there #my shit

[thekaiserroll]

Hug

It's nearly impossible to have a quiet and peaceful day with the crew, like the strawhats. Nami is mostly used to the noise on Going Merry but one day she gets fed up with Zoro and Sanji arguing. Not only are they extremely loud, but they've also already broken way too many things during their fights.

She decides that If they want to act like brats, then she's going to treat them as such. So she makes them apologize and hug each other in silence for an hour. None of them are happy about this punishment, but Nami threatened to raise Zoro's debt, and Sanji couldn't say no to her. It could be worse.

It's awkward enough for them to not incite any fight for a long time and Nami is quite proud of herself. She knows it won't last forever but at least now she knows how to handle them. It inevitably happens again. And again. And again.

Much to her surprise, those fights became more and more frequent. And what's even weirder is that she could see the way both Zoro and Sanji occasionally glanced at her to make sure she was nearby. It's almost as if they wanted someone to make them hug each other. As if they needed an excuse.... these idiots.

Soon, they don't even need Nami's help. When they aren't busy training, cooking or fighting, they cuddle together. Sometimes Luffy or Chopper would join them, but most of the crew knew it was their time.

After two years spent separately, they became extremely clingy. It's no surprise when they start sleeping in the same bed. What is surprising is that despite them behaving like a lovey-dovey couple, those oblivious idiots are STILL unaware of each other's feelings.

#It's almost 3 am and I'm a little tired #I really hope that what I wrote here is somewhat coherent #It's another idea that's been stuck in my head #I wanted to make a comic about this but I never have the time #so for now all I can give you are these notes and a quick sketch #and as always if there's already a fic like that please let me know I would love to check it out #sanji x zoro #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #one piece

[magicalrocketships]

I adore your deaged max AU! Curious if while max is small, if daniel and him celebrate any holidays together? How does max feel about them? Do they establish any traditions? :)

I don't think this version of Max is particularly excited by Christmas, but he does like lights, and being with Daniel, so I've combined them together for them to have a little outing of their own. And because I personally love lights in the middle of winter.

This follows on - with a few days unaccounted for (because I haven't written them, but they've been staying with Christian and Geri) - from this part I posted yesterday. Max was a tiny toddler but now he's back to being seven.

(this link shows the stuff I’ve already posted in chronological order if the tag isn't working.)

Happy holidays, pals. 🧡

The day after New Year's Day, Daniel takes Max to visit an Enchanted Light Trail. It's only on for another couple of days, and a lot of local schools have gone back today so it's quiet when Daniel parks the car. It's already mostly dark, and Max, seven years old again and interested, almost stumbles out of the car. He's in his new wellington boots, with a puffy winter coat that Daniel has to spend two minutes talking him into getting zipped up. Then a scarf and a hat and gloves. Max is unconvinced by them all, especially the gloves, but when he sees Daniel wearing a pair too, he concedes to keep them on.

He slips his hand into Daniel's, and asks if it's going to be loud. Max doesn't always like loud. He's not loved sharing Daniel with the other people in Christian and Geri's house over the past few days, and he is not quite over being left behind with Monty and a babysitter when Daniel and the others went to the Red Bull New Year's Eve Extravaganza. So: a little treat that's just for Daniel and Max together, alone, now that Max is back to being seven.

"Not loud," Daniel says. "Just lots of nice lights, and a place to see animals, and we can have hot chocolate." He shoulders his backpack, which also has a thermos flask of tomato soup and some bread and butter in little pieces in a lunch box. He's learned from experience that Max will experiment with experiences more than he'll experiment with unfamiliar food in unfamiliar places. "But I've brought tomato soup too."

"Okay," Max says, only semi-dubiously. He's so serious sometimes. Daniel lets him think through whatever he's thinking about as they wander through the car park and up to the little ticket booth. He'd bought tickets for them online, so he only has to wave his phone screen at a bored teenager who wishes them a desultory happy new year to be given a little trail map and a token to get through the gate.

Daniel lets Max feed the token into the entrance gate, and then they're inside the farm park, and at the start of a path lined with trees wound with hundreds of tiny, coloured lights. The branches are also lined with lights, and even Daniel is almost floored by how pretty it is.

"Oh," Max says, in sheer unadulterated wonder.

Daniel for a single, desperate second, wants to cry. Every moment with Max might be his last. It had been awful enough when he'd been sitting next to a little chunky three year old Max a couple of days ago, and he'd had to squeeze his eyes shut and almost couldn't bear to open them again in case it was a grown up Max sitting next to him, desperate to get away from him.

But it was this Max, Daniel's Max, his seven year old, his favourite seven year old on the planet.

It doesn't mean grief doesn't sit, tentative and yearning, on the edge of everything he experiences.

"Do you like it, Maxy-Max?"

Max nods so hard his hat almost falls off, and Daniel has to stop to make sure it's on properly and keeping Max warm.

"Good," Daniel says, and he lets Max set the pace as they wander down the track towards the barns. The next part of the path doesn't have little Christmas lights, but the trees are lit in purples, greens, and are wrapped in starlight skies, little spotlights along the ground turning the trees into beautiful swathes of colour.

Max looks up at him in wonder. "Like the nightlight at home," he says, clutching Daniel's hand. The nightlight in Max's bedroom at Daniel's projects colours and stars across the ceiling. Max hasn't been home with Daniel in a while. It doesn't mean it isn't his home too. It'll always be his home, even if Max grows up and stays grown up and stays a long way away from Daniel like he does now.

"Just like the nightlight at home," Daniel agrees.

The Enchanted Light Trail is supposed to be a 60-90 minute experience, but it takes them almost half an hour even to reach the barns where the farm animals are. Max loves the colours, and the trees, and the lights — just like Daniel had hoped he would. Max had liked going to the zoo that time, and he likes colouring in, and he likes things that are just him and Daniel, so it had made sense when Daniel googled that this was the thing he would pick to get them out of Christian and Geri's hair for a bit.

If Max doesn't get big again in the few days or so, Daniel's taking him back to Monaco, and he doesn't care what Christian says about the pre-season work Max is supposed to be doing here. Daniel's Max's guardian, nobody else. And he wants to take Max home.

"What happens if you are scared?" Max asks, before they go into the barns. He always asks about Daniel being scared, and not him.

"If I'm scared or if you're scared," Daniel tells him, just like every time, "then we can come back out here. That's fine."

"Okay," Max says, and his face is a picture of fierce determination. Daniel's seen that face before, a hundred thousand times, before and after races. It's funny to see it reflected on such a little Max, a Max that just doesn't have any of grown up Max's competitive spirit in him. Daniel gives him a moment to acclimatise, and then Max nods and they go inside.

The barns have also been lit up in swathes of pretty colours. The animals seem quite happy, and they see the rabbits and the sheep and the goats. Max refuses to go near the goats, even though the farm staff say he can help feed them. That is a solid no, which Daniel understands entirely because the last time they met a goat together at the zoo that time, it had tried to eat Max's hair for dinner and Max had cried. Instead, they stand against the opposite wall of the barn, as far away from the goats as possible, and Trixie, who works at the farm, points out each of the goats in turn and tells Max their names.

Max puts up with this for three minutes, which Daniel counts as 150% a win, and then they say thank you and move on to the next barn. This one has cows in it, and one moos loudly as they come in. Max bravely does not nope out, but they stay away from the gates. One of the cows is called Strawberry, which Max finds hilarious. Daniel suggests some other very silly names for cows even as they go and look at the pigs and meet a horse dressed for the season in a big knitted scarf and blanket. There are chickens, and more rabbits, and a dog, which Daniel suspects isn't part of the attraction in general and that Max is very cautious of. Daniel is too, but he tries not to let it show.

Then it's time for the 'things to do' barn, which has some little tables for crafts and a cafe at the other side. Max doesn't want to make Christmas crafts and he doesn't want to join a table with other people on, but there are some tables with pictures to colour in and some crayons and pencils. He settles himself at one of the tables, and tells Daniel that it's okay if Daniel crosses the barn to get them some orange juice (Max) and some hot chocolate (Daniel). Daniel keeps turning around to find Max watching him with his little serious expression on, and so Daniel makes a series of increasingly silly faces just to make him laugh.

"You've got yourself a serious one too, then," the woman behind the counter says as he pays for their drinks. "Mine's the same."

"Yeah," Daniel says. "Best kid in the world, though."

"Fight you for it," the woman says, laughing, and that grief is back, hovering, desperate, endless. Daniel tries to smile. He wishes her a happy new year and goes back to sit beside Max, who's picked out a farm picture to colour, with lots of trees and some animals. He's got one for Daniel too. He doesn't want to try Daniel's hot chocolate, but he does like the smell. He's industriously colouring in one of the trees in purple — like the ones outside — when one of the farm staff comes over to ask if he'd like to make a tree at one of the craft tables.

"No, thank you," Max says, attention focused on his picture. "Me and my daddy are colouring."

Daniel has to swallow down an actual sob. "We're good here, thanks," he says. "But thank you."

After she leaves, Daniel has to use one of his hot chocolate napkins to blow his nose. Max looks up at him.

"Can we go home soon?" he asks.

"To Christian and Geri's house?"

"No," Max says, giving him a withering glance. "Our house, Daniel."

Daniel leans in and kisses the top of his head. "Yeah," he says. "Promise."

"Okay," Max says, content with Daniel's yes. Daniel doesn't lie to him. Except, maybe, about the growing hole in his chest. Max goes back to colouring. Daniel swallows, tries to get a hold of himself, and resorts to naming all of the animals in the picture the stupidest names he can think of, just to make Max laugh.

Later on, they walk along a little pathway through the lit-up woods, and drink a cup of tomato soup at a picnic table. Max is amazed at the idea of drinking soup outside in the dark. They don't stay at the table long because it's cold, but Daniel takes a thousand pictures of Max beaming at him, soup around his mouth, and lets Max take some of him in return.

"I love you," he tells Max as they walk back towards the car. It seems important to tell him, urgent, imperative.

Max swings their joined hands. He's got his coloured-in picture and a glowing stick with a star on it clutched in his other hand, a present from the farm shop. Daniel's got one too, and a bag with some in for Monty and Olivia and Bluebell even though Bluebell's probably too old for it.

"Love you, love you, love you," Max says back, kicking his feet in his new wellingtons. He looks up at Daniel, sleepy but happy, and Daniel's heart twists in his chest. "Can we go home now?"

"Tomorrow," Daniel says, making a decision. Fuck it all, he thinks. I'm taking Max home.

Thank you to Zoe and Lena for reading this through for me. 🧡

#my fic #de-aged maxiel #baby max #fic that i wrote

[lazylittledragon]

'i'll just do a couple of doodles of mombin™/platonic stobin parents' nevermind, borderline graphic novel

#stranger things #platonic stobin #mombin™ #robin buckley #steve harrington #i blacked out at 2am last night and wrote like 25 pages #i don't write fic so i do this instead and get to call it my job #incredible #i have No excuse to not finish this one bc i'm not at school anymore #there has to be an existing gay club called passionfruit right #cw pregnancy

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny, working as a cashier: Can I help you?

Tim half-deranged: Please I just want a cup of coffee

Danny squinted, then pulled out a binder: I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-

Tim: NO. THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!

Danny leaning in to whisper: Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash.

Tim: how much? Five hundred, six hundred or hell even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want.

Danny: Chill dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine.

Tim: It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand and Bruce bought them out just to make sure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!

Danny: okay okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?

Jason three weeks later in Bat cave: Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention.

Dick: What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!

Bruce: I also thought that was Tim boyfriend but if it's a drug dealer we have to help him.

Tim hiding in the shadows: shit.

Tim texting Danny: If anyone asks your my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny: who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #From a fic i never wrote #Alley Boyfriends au #Danny is bored with life #Tim is desperate for his coffee #Misunderstandings #Dead Tired #Slow burn?? #the bats are worried

[faeriekit]

"Do you like this character?🥺?" I want to see him sobbing and writhing in a ditch. Leave me alone

#faer nonsense #lemme just tag every fic I ever wrote real quick #ao3 #blister pack #danny phantom #dcu crossover #pjo #dc #dp x dc #Drake manor #apartment 31c #this is why I write angst huh #ANAKIN COMPLEX BE UPON YE

[bluegiragi]

patience and indulgence.

early access + nsfw on patreon

--

(hey i drew this comic in collaboration with the very talented author prettyunhinged, who wrote an amazing fic to go along with it!!! please leave a comment and kudos if u read it, it's so perfect >.< but also do look at the tags first lmao )

#i drew this comic based purely on vibes and asked nira for help on dialogue #and then she went and wrote an entire fic like im literally the luckiest person in the world <3 #ghost spends this comic sticking his tongue down soap's throat #and also. other areas #but yes erm this is genuinely the only page i can post onto tumblr without getting sniped #happy early valentines day!! #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #giragi art

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

#yeah so #i wrote this in a TRANCE #want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll #can you tell that im ovulating #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

[writeouswriter]

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

#writing #writeblr #writer things #writing humour #textpost #writing humor #relatable #funny #I genuinely am writing for the first time in a long while #but it’s uh it’s for an angst fanfic for a fandom one wouldn’t expect fic for necessarily #and I’m embarrassed but I’m not because it’s good but you’re never seeing it it’s between me and my ao3 when I finally do finish it #it’s at 6000 words but fr that’s the most I’ve written on a single thing in a long time and it’s still going! #last time I wrote/finished anything in forever was also for this fandom back in November <3 nature is healing #it’s slow going but I’m hoping to finish it before June 😭