#Takes the cake….and shows it no mercy?

[zappedbyzabka]

[rebelliousstories]

Can I request suggestive headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and poly Logan & Wade reacting to his shy gn s/o immediately covering their eyes while apologising profusely because they accidentally saw him half-naked because he was changing clothes please?

Walking in on Their S/O Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,043

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Okay, so keep in mind that this man has been alive for more than 200 years. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. There is not much else that can surprise him in terms of learning new things

* However… You can still surprise him

* I completely see him as a man that would just casually steamroll past the fact that you were only in your undergarments. He’s not phased, nor does he care.

* Logan will definitely take the time to ogle if he gets the chance, but he’s aware there is a time and place for that.

* “Hey, we were out of beer so I took the truck to go get some… oh shit.” And with that, he was speechless. Logan’s eyes would trail up and down your figure, even though part of it was obscured by the tshirt that was pressed against your body

* Silently, he would stalk closer and closer to you, never once taking his eyes off of you. His hands would gently pull the shirt away so he could get a better look. Feather light touches would cascade themselves down your arms, and chest; all the while his eyes would drink it up

* Picking you up, he walked over to the bed while holding you and pressing his nose into the crook of your neck

* “What about the beer?”

* “Forget the beer.”

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* Oh, the beloved merc with the mouth. How do I say this gently? He will both make you love and hate him walking on you. It all started because he had gotten you a new suit that he wanted you to wear.

* Wade had begged and begged you to wear it, but there was no appropriate timing to do so. It had gotten to the point that he had accepted that you weren’t going to wear it. But when you finally had been worn down enough, he got super giddy at the prospect of you wearing it. But you had taken too long in his mind which prompted him to take matters into his own hands.

* “What’s taking you so long, angel cakes? Oh, hello.”

* “Wade! Get out!”

* Throwing things does not deter this man, oh no, my friend. For when he gets a glimpse of you, half undressed with the suit on the bed, he’s gonna need his special sock. Wade is frozen in a state of bliss and was unable to move himself. Not until you forcibly pushed him out, and shut the door on him. When you had finally put the suit on and came out to show him, he was still unable to form complete sentences or even words at you.

* Safe to say, you had finally silenced “the mouth”

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Ah, Le Diable Blanc. See, I know, you want me to come on here and talk about how big of a flirt Remy is. But no! That boy is a southerner, and southern men are raised to be gentlemen. I truly, in my heart of hearts believe, that if Remy caught you changing, he would blush and book it out of there.

* Hear me out! Just, imagine it, okay…

* It’s late and Remy hasn’t come home from his night out playing cards. The hour was nearing one in the morning, when you finally decide to call it a night, but you’re unable to fall asleep quite yet. Fearing that you’ll have to spend another night watching horrible late night reruns in the motel, you began changing into one of his tshirts to sleep in when you heard the door open. Struggling to get the shirt over your head to have some sort of coverage, you weren’t quite fast enough.

* “Ooh, I tell you cher, it was a goo- oh lord have mercy.”

* And like that, the door was shut again. Maybe you let out a squeak, maybe a gasp. But either way, your ragin’ Cajun was outside the room, breathing heavily and holding it shut. After a few minutes, he pressed his ear to the door to hear inside.

* “Cher, you dressed yet?”

* “Yeah. You can come in.”

* When he does, you’re already under the covers with the remote to the tv next to you, looking at the door. Gambit just grabbed his change of clothes that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and went to change in the bathroom. When he came out, he assumed his place with you in bed. On his back with you tucked into his side.

* Although, the only mention he ever gave, was a whisper of, “You look real pretty under all that, cher. Like an angel sent straight to save ol’ Gambit.”

Poly! Wolverine and Deadpool

* Prepare for trouble and make it double! Two lovers with a regenerative healing factor that makes snarky comments? Sign me up!

* This is definitely happening after a morning food run. You’re living with them, and Mary Puppins, and Blind Al, and Wade decided that today was the day for donuts and good coffee. Logan was thoughtful enough to leave a note on his side of the bed stating where they were going and that they would be back.

* This left you and the dog to get ready for the day by yourselves. After a lengthy shower that you didn’t have to share, you had made your way into the room to get some fashion advice from the sweet little pupper.

* “Okay girl. Do we go with the yellow dress, or the red dress today?”

* There was a noise, and two men bumbled into the room.

* “Avert your eyes, sweet summer child. But you should just forgo the dress. And the under garments while you’re at it.”

* “Can you go five minutes without something becoming sexual?”

* Wade gave an mhm while shaking his head, and turned back to his partner. Logan had to do a double take at your state, but there was appreciation in his eyes.

* “Can you two give us girls some privacy?”

* Logan had to drag his counter part out of there even though he managed to break free from the mutant’s hold on a number of occasions. As he left, the Wolverine sent an affirmative grunt and nod towards the red dress in your hands.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Thinking of Uzui and Rengoku falling in love with you at first sight.

They're out on a mission, several demons sighted at a village and the number was so high they needed multiple people to come and fix the problem. Of course, it was a cake walk for the two of them. Their weapons flashing under the moonlight as it cut through the necks of their enemies like butter, demon after demon falling to their blade.

Despite the task being easy, it still took a few hours so by the time the job was done, they were a bit tuckered out. Every demon was slain- or so they thought.

A demon burst from the rubble, it's sharp claws aiming for Rengoku's face. It was too fast, neither of the Hashira able to react in time as the demon was but a centimeter away from clawing Rengoku's eyes out when you showed up.

Using your breath of Thunder, you cracked through the air like a lightning strike, covering ground within seconds as you managed to cut off the demon's arm before cutting its head off, saving your senior of any injury.

You put away your weapon as the demon disintegrated in front of you, bowing down respectfully to the two pillars, a ranking you hoped to reach one day. They recognized you, having seen you out and about before but this was the first time they'd seen you in action.

Both of their hearts skipped a beat. Beautiful, talented and powerful woman was a plenty within the demon slayer corporation but there was something about you that was just...different. Perhaps it was your kind heart in helping the wounded. Perhaps it was the confidence you carried yourself with. Perhaps it was because you were just too darn cute. But whatever the reason may be, they were enamored by you and couldn't keep their eyes off of you.

Once you helped the others in cleaning up and getting the wounded the help they need, you went back to the two Hashira who were strangely dazed.

"I shall get going now." you reported with a bow, "I'm glad I could be of service."

"Marry me." both of them said simultaneously.

"...huh?"

Thinking of Uzui and Rengoku roping you into sexual escapades as a form of 'training'

You had rejected their marriage proposal, stating that while you respected them, you didn't know them personally and didn't want a husband(s) that you weren't fond of.

They were respectful of that, stating that a great way to get to know each other would be through training. You thought it was unbelievable that two Hashira's were interested enough in you to take time of their schedules to train with you, much less want to marry you, but you decided to agree. Learning from the best would be an invaluable experience, afterall.

"I-I- thought you said we were gonna t-train!" You squealed, tossing your head back against the pillow as Uzui slid a second finger inside you, your pussy gushing around him.

You could barely recollect how you got here, a room in an inn, at the mercy of your two seniors. Your mind was a jumbled mess as their hands and lips attacked your body, hungry kisses against your neck while stripping you of your uniform. Time seemed to go by fast yet slow at the same time, eventually ending up on a bed with Rengoku sucking your breasts while Uzui made himself familiar with your pussy.

"It is training." the sound Hashira said with a smirk, curling his fingers inside you just right, making you gasp. He stuffed his fingers of his other hand into your mouth, making you choke.

"This is to help your technique." he said, "Control yourself and focus on your breathing."

As he said that, Rengoku's lips left your nipple, leaving it a saliva covered stiff bud before moving down and taking your clit into his mouth, making you scream around Uzui's fingers. Your body shook from the pleasure, never having experienced this before.

You knew their claim that this was for training was complete bullshit but dammit- you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Uzui was so deliciously huge compared to you. He was twice your size, his muscular body enveloping you completely as he toyed with your body with ease. His bulging muscles and washboard abs made you drool, your eyes wandering to his nether regions, pussy growing wetter when you saw a big bulge straining against his pants.

Rengoku ran hot, literally. His touch made you shiver as he ran his warm hands over your body, a comforting contrast to the way his hot tongue was assaulting your clit. He sucked on it like a candy, flicking it around before giving it a gentle nibble, making you squeal. With a physique just as impressive as Uzui's, his bright eyes filled with passion and desire made you feel dizzy.

"Focus." Uzui said with a click of his tongue, pushing his fingers further down your throat, making you gag, "you're getting distracted."

'I can't help it!' You tried to defend, but what came out was a bunch of gurgles and gags, unable to say anything.

"If you can't handle this," Rengoku said, giving your clit a sweet kiss before he straightened himself up, "what will you do if a demon attacks you and tries to choke you?"

"Exactly~" Uzui cooed, starting to move his fingers in and out of your throat, a slower rhythm from what he was doing to your cunt, "Bring your breathing under control and maybe, we'll let you cum~"

[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! boys date night 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

here are my cute headcanons on where i think haikyuu boys would take you on dates!! hope you guys enjoy (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

characters: kageyama, tsukishim, kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwaizumi

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

kageyama

movie date!!

he would def pick you up super awkwardly but try his best to show that he’s excited to be with you

pays for all your snacks, also buys himself snacks even though he’s not hungry so you don’t have to eat alone

would probably watch a rom-com with you

leaves the movie in tears because he thought it was cute but he tries to hide it (╥﹏╥)

wins you a plushie at a crane machine on your way out

walks you home too :)

would shyly ask you to be his partner at the door to your house

tsukishima

arcade date!!

meets you there

smokes you in every game, shows no mercy (¬_¬")

wins you prizes though

gets you drinks/candy

if you actually do beat him in a game he says he let you win (he totally did NOT let you win!!!!!)

would probably want to stop and get fast food on the way out

walks you home and thanks you for letting him take you out

probably gives you like a keychain or something as a gift lol

kuroo

escape room!!

he picks you up from your house

you guys stop and get food before you get there

he catches onto most stuff pretty fast but slows down so you don’t feel bad if you don’t catch on as fast lol

still teases you a little if you don’t get something

gets super into it when he’s trying to solve a puzzle

genuinely stressing out if you can’t solve something ᯣ.ᯣ

when you guys escape he gives you a kiss on the cheek

like hes so happy he was taking it so seriously

walks you home and says next time he takes you out it’ll be as your boyfriend (>_<)

kenma

lego building date!!

i don’t see him as the type of guy who would want to go out if he doesn’t really have to so he’d probably invite you over

he picks you up from your house and walks with you to his for your date

also wants to play video games with you

he buys a lego for you guys to build together

you guys have really good convos :3

hes honestly kind of shy (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

also orders you food for you guys to eat together

not much to it;

he walks you back home at the end of it

bokuto

amusement park!!

def tries to talk you into going on all the tallest and fastest rides and almost passes out on all of them

he still gets back on the scary rides though

buys you funnel cake and ice cream

probably carries you on his back if youre tired

buys you guys matching hats too

makes you take pictures of him with all the mascots (˶˃⤙˂˶)

you guys take the cutest photobooth pictures and he ends up kissing your head in one of them (such a cutie pie ♡)

your amusement park pictures are his lock screen

brings you home too

akaashi

home cooked dinner!!

hes really awkward and anxious so i think he'd avoid somewhere super crowded but still would want to talk to you

you guys watch an online cooking class and make food for eachother :)

you guys have super good convos all night

he romantically wipes food from the corner of your mouth at some point (idk guys sorry)

hes super sweet all night and cracking jokes awkwardly (っ- ‸ - ς)

you guys build a puzzle together :D

probably end up watching a movie together too

oikawa

mini golf date!!

probably only takes you there since hes pretty decent at it

kind of shows off but still praises you for your for your skills (or lack there off)

takes so many pictures of you guys

he probably cheated behind your back and kicked his ball into the hole

gets you food and drinks after obliterating you in mini golf (he didnt he actually went easy but still didnt let him beat you)

carries all your stuff for you when youre finished

takes you home after and asks if he can kiss you ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

iwaizumi

hiking date!!

doesnt take you down a crazy path but its still a bit of a workout

def picks a route with nice scenery

takes a picture of you in front of the view and cant shut up about how pretty/handsome you look (cutie patootie ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

constantly pushing you to keep going (hes literally so fit its hard to keep up!!!)

he probably ends up having to carry you back (its ok guys i couldnt keep up with him either)

takes you to a cute sandwich shop after (healthy king)

brings you home and kisses you goodnight <3

[bitter-me]

My first time requesting but I need a part 2 of Kilmer where aventurine adopts the reader (somehow) or gets the reader away from that awful man 🤕 angst with comfort and a bit of fluff in the end if its possible, Thank you!! :) (P.S. I love your works!!)

Shama

Aventurine | Child M. Reader (Platonic)

Part One | Part Two (You're here)

----------

"It's an all-or-nothing surrender!"

----------

No matter how many days, weeks, months have passed. The sight of that serial number on the neck of a young child has sear itself into Aventurine's mind. Images of his own past flashes before his eyes. Those times, those things he went through.. the thought of someone else going through the same thing at such a young age. Sends a chill down his spine.

Every time he ever met the man for business, his gaze would linger on the child much longer than the man he was having business with. That blank expression, those expensive and luxurious clothing on him. Like a little trophy. Just for show. A way for his caretaker--no.. owner to say "Hey! Look at this shiny new toy I got! Isn't he pretty?" Put in a glass box, a collection, a doll being stored on a shelf.

Every time he has to meet up with the man, Aventurine makes sure that he brings gifts. He doesn't mind buying gifts for clients. It's nothing really. Anything to make [Name]'s life more bearable... but his main concern, his main target is the trophy, the doll, the child, [Name]. And evert time he gave [Name] a gift, it's always met by complete silence and subtle glances directed to his owner. As if asking permission to take it.

"See this? This is a limited type of confectionery that everyone in the galaxy simply adores. There are only sixteen slices sold every day. Here, why don't you have a taste?" Aventurine says, his hand gestures towards a plate of slice cake. A very popular, very delicious dessert. One that he hopes the child would take it. [Name] glances over to his master, as if he's silently asking if he could, which earned him a firm nod. "Go ahead, it's rude to not accept gifts."

After contemplating over it, [Name] took a seat next to Aventurine, his hand reaching out towards the dessert plate, with his other hand the child use the utensil to eat his dessert. It was simply divine. It's no wonder this cake is a favorite of the people in the galaxy. [Name] had never tried anything this wonderful before.

The subtle light in the child's dull eyes make Aventurine smile widens.

Anything to make [Name]'s life more bearable.

----------

But even so, these gifts could only do so much.. he needs a plan. A permanent one. But it seems... he doesn't need to think of that anymore...

The "lifeless doll" had taken care of it.

Aventurine merely stare with widen eyes as the boy stood there in front of all of them with handcuffs on his wrist, the usually clean and tidy suit he wore is now messy with wrinkles and splashes of fresh blood, his neat hair now in shambles as he look at them through his hair strands with dull eyes.

As if what he had done didn't face him one bit.

It was a banquet, a normal banquet, nothing special, another day, another business. The waiters and waitresses handing drinks and foods to every patron. A normal business event.

And yet..

It had end in a massacre.

The trial went on and on. the trial took way too long for comfort, for every evidence and every alibi... the child is proven innocent. It took what felt like an eternity to finally gathered enough proof for him to be proven guilty. And yet..

The IPC showed him mercy. Finding it to be such a shame to lose such an asset. The length this boy went through, not breaking character as he slowly make his plan come into fruition.

This "lifeless doll" isn't as lifeless as he make himself to be.

For someone as young as him.. to be able to make elaborate plans and following it through till the end.. and creating evidence and alibies to prove himself innocent, whether if it's fabricated or not...

He's a mastermind.

And the IPC can't simply let such a valuable asset to simply.. cease to exist.

.

.

.

At a vacant room, [Name] sat on the edge of the bed looking blankly at the wall in front of him, his gaze sometimes shifted between the wall and his still blood stained hands, along with the handcuffs on his wrists. The sight of it could make anyone feel uneasy and squeamish. But to him.. it brought a sense of satisfaction as a ghost of a smile made it's way onto his face. For his plan had come to fruition.

Giving him a sense of comfort he never thought he could ever feel.

But that smile soon disappears once he heard the sound of someone entering the room, a man that he's well familiar with. There's no mistaken those eyes. He then approached [Name] before kneeling down in front of him.

"The IPC has pardon your crimes, but of course that still didn't erase the fact you had slaughtered a whole banquet of people... I'm afraid you have to work hard in order to clear your name.."

A soft and warm smile adorn on his expression as he stretch out a hand towards the younger. "In the meantime, you'll be under my care.."

"...Malachite."

[rxzennia]

picky eater

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 leviathan? dog under the table! avvy, won’t you come home in 18 hours 30 minutes? final tribute to you before your release <3

aventurine shows up in your office without knocking, as he often does. you look up from your work, raising a brow – you’ve gotten so used to him doing this that you’ve given up asking him what he wants altogether.

“what, i can’t even visit my own secretary?” he teases, trotting up to your desk and setting down a delicate bag of… something. “lunch, my dear, lunch. you skipped it again, didn’t you?”

you ignore his pet name for you and stare at the bag, then at him, then back at the bag

it’s quite endearing how he tries to make sure you eat regularly

even though your composition doesn’t quite need you to eat the way other people do

not that you can’t, you just don’t really need to, so you don’t

it’s just less effort for you and more efficiency

but who are you to deny your boss’s goodwill?

“thank you,” you say, giving the entire bag a quick sniff. “the usual?”

“the usual.” he confirms

more like if he gets anything else there’s quite a high chance that you won’t like it

he’s realized that you’re picky as hell

even though you literally eat monsters for fun 

okay, maybe not for fun

his point still stands, though

when it comes to your taste buds they’re the most hard to please things ever

it’s okay, someday he’ll find your favorite foods

in the meantime he’ll keep getting you stuff he knows you’ll eat

this information is obtained through trial and error, by the way

read: a lot of trials and a lot of errors. mostly errors

you flash him a small smile under your scarf

he doesn’t miss it; he’s known how to read your expressions by the changes in your eyes now

you set your papers aside and carefully put the few boxes of takeout on your desk

you have limited space on your desk because of the way you set it up

you don’t like big, wide spaces

when you finally pull down your scarf, aventurine’s entire person lights up with joy.

“what?” you ask, because he looks like that every time he sees your face.

“nothing,” aventurine chuckles, “just thinking about how you used to kick me out whenever you had to take off your scarf.”

you look at him from the corner of your eyes, your spoonful of rice half-raised

you are unimpressed

“would you like me to kick you out?” you offer very kindly

so cold

but he knows you’re not actually going to kick him out

still. so cold.

“hey, i brought you food!” he whines

you nod in agreement. “and i said thank you.”

why are you like this

please, as much as he loves these back-and-forths with you, have some mercy

then again the sight of you eating well is really heartwarming

plus the fact that he’s the one who's treating you

worth it 10/10

you’re using utensils like everyone else, but somehow you still eat really quickly?

what in the sorcery

you finish the contents in the boxes that smell familiar

the trustworthy boxes™ 

and that leaves you with… one delicate little box

it smells… ominous. like a crime against your tongue.

you look at aventurine with doubt in your eyes. what is he trying to feed you this time?

“cake,” he says, “i asked around for the best cafe in town.”

“you asked topaz.” you slowly take off the ribbon and open the box.

ouch, must you be so truthful?

because who else is he supposed to go to for these things?

it’s not like he can just ask anyone!

and he really wants to know your preference towards sweet things

you’ll eat very, very lightly sweetened things

but what about proper dessert? 

you’re gentle towards the box; you’re staring at the canary-shaped cake

more examining than staring, actually

seems like you appreciate intricately decorated things

he’s making a mental list of things you like and don’t like

even though you’re not very cooperative with him on this

like

c’mon, he wants to know everything about you! he wants to treat you right! let him!!!

(you do not know of the existence of such a list)

you pick up the mini cake and sniff it

pokes it with your tongue when you think it passes your sniff test

sweet, but nothing too bad so far

time to take it further

you try a tiny bite in the corner

your senses get assaulted by sugar, if that even makes sense

no. 0/10 would not recommend.

but you keep your face blank so as to not be blatantly obvious

“hmm.” you set the pastry down on your desk like you’re deep in thought.

“how is it? you like it?” aventurine awaits your answer eagerly, watching you closely. a little too closely, to be honest.

“please do not ever visit that store for cakes again.” you say, getting a spoonful of the unbitten side and offering it to your boss. “mm.”

you’re telling him to try it? 

the way you’re asking is so adorable

not even words, just a little hum and a small wave of the spoon

he does have a try of the cake

and have you feed him while he’s at it

very happy right now

would be better if the cake wasn’t sugared like it’s a day’s calories concentrate

he understands your response now

trying his best to not cringe

also knows to never ask topaz for dessert recommendations again

“if you don’t like it, let’s just toss it out,” he suggests, because he wouldn’t be able to stomach that either

no

you got this from him

territorial snake moment when he tries to take it from your hands

you hiss

jumpscare, he did not expect that

also oddly happy that you’re protective of the stuff he gives you

also concerned

“you’re not going to force yourself to eat that, are you…?” 

“what are you saying, of course not,” you say, setting the barely-eaten canary cake on your desk all the while keeping aventurine’s hands away from it. 

then your scarf comes and swallows the thing in one gulp.

what.

“it…” aventurine points a shaky finger at the white fabric that morphed into a faceless serpent’s head at the ends. “it ate it? just like that?”

“if it can swallow monsters whole, it can eat an overly sweet cake.” you shrug, finally wiping your mouth and pulling your scarf back up.

aventurine’s jaw would be on the floor if it was physically possible. unfortunately, it isn’t. “i thought you could still taste when your scarf eats things?” 

“monsters.” you reply, patting your scarf as it settles into a regular piece of cloth again, “it tastes monsters. not food.”

so that's how you managed to finish even the things you absolutely hate? by having your scarf eat it?

aeons, there’s still so much he has yet to learn about you, isn't there?

[folklovrr]

nature feels spencer reid

| spencer reid x fem!reader

| hello! my first post on tumblr. inspired by frank oceans song nature feels. but also like… kind of not. idunno!! minors please dni (18+)

| content warning: religious references, munch!spencer (😁) worship?!, making out, alludes to pinv.

Spencer Reid was an endlessly curious man. It generally didn’t matter what the subject was, he already knew about, and could be classified as an expert in the field.

He like to think of himself as a specialist in all things mathematics, chemistry, engineering, and you. At times like these, that last one became more of a weakness than a strength.

Sitting on the plane home, returning from an exhausting case, hearing the bass line from Derek’s headphones and the muffled sounds of Rossi and Hotch discussing something that could be anywhere from the case to his latest interaction with wife number nth, Spencer Reid couldn’t stop thinking about sleeping with you. You hid in the buzz of the engine, the smell of coffee leaking out of the jet’s small kitchen, taking him to the four walls of your shared apartment, where the smell was omnipresent.

Many people might compare you to a warm summers day, but he found that misrepresentative. You were much more comparable to a snowy christmas evening. It’s the time of year that everyone looks forward to, cookies and cakes and freshly cooked meals, things that were constantly filling your kitchen, love leaking from their extra chocolate chips. All year round, when christmas music plays, people are filled with joy and cheer, and he thinks this phenomenon is not unlike to that of your sounds, and when his memory so unhelpfully brings those to the forefront of his mind, he is filled with that same joy.

The familiar bump of the jets landing cut this train of thought, and as the team filed back to quantico, Spencer had never been more grateful for two things:

1. the fbi’s access to efficient travel - he thinks that if he was forced to sit in the metro waiting, the personification of himeros that was sitting eagerly in his heart ( and other parts of him that he was careful not to pay attention to at this time ) would grab him by the shoulders and force him under the need that he was drowning in.

2. the invention of internet and online communication - the influx of texts from that had ceased to deliver while he was in the sky all flooded in at once, giving him the idea that this missing business was not one sided.

| spence, hope you’re ok :( penny told me that case was tough. cant wait to see you

| I have missed you so much. cant stop thinking about you. text me when you land, love.

| come find me when you get home, doctor ;) i have a surprise for you!

It was in moments like these, when people showed even the slightest romantic fondness for him, that he was taken back to his bumbling college experiences with sex. A word that people danced around, but he researched thoroughly. Not for perverse reasons, as this form of interest in the female anatomy would hit him a bit later in life, but pure curiosity. Why did people enjoy? He could understand what the appeal was for men, but what made the experience enjoyable for the other sex?

These questions still plagued him to this day, even after extensive practical elements were added to his studies, with you being a very supportive test subject. Spencer explored what it was like to feel, and to find meaning through this thing that had become so, even though it sounds silly to say, sexualised in media, and to move past the physical elements (but he still appreciated those, greatly) and to find what philosophers spent eons theorising over, which the two of you seemed to have found so easily. Connection.

In the many nights he had spent tangled in your embrace, Spencer mused thoughts of the origins of humans, and as the quiet hymns of the night sung, he worshipped Apollo for having mercy on the split humans and reconstituting their forms, allowing them to find this physical bond, and their souls other half.

As the elevator at quantico rose to the BAU’s floor, the team had a quiet understanding amongst them that small talk was not necessary, and that conversations of weekend plans were trivial in comparison to the things the victims had been through.

After finishing up the, for lack of better words, ginormous pile of paperwork, Spencer was finally free to follow the light of your twin flame home. As he sits in the metro though, he is brought back to the disdain he holds for the public transportation system, and the distain for every passenger that gets of on a stop before his, slowing his journey. He wishes that access to the fbi’s vehicles was available off the clock, for boyfriends whose need for their girlfriends was eating them alive. How inconsiderate of them.

When the autonomic voice announced the station where you resided, so close yet so far, Spencer jumped out of his seat, himeros once again took control of his body, willing his muscles all the way home.

As the loved in door to your home creaked open, Spencer was guided by the candlelight and warm lamps through to the back garden, where the leaves and flowers of the cherry trees spread through the garden fall gracefully and surround a figure, who is gently swing back and forth on a tree swing. Spencer sees you, and wonders what if this is what Adam thought when he first saw Eve, and if he too felt so compelled to caress the slopes of her neck and pray at her divine altar.

The leaves under Spencer’s converse crunched, and alerted you to his presence. As you turned around, there was barely a split second before Spencer was on you, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck with his arms planted firmly around your waist.

“hi spence”, you whispered quietly into his hair, the glasses on the bridge of his nose digging into the skin of your neck. he began to plant soft kisses there, to exhausted to formulate a response. You nudged his chin with your shoulder, and his lips landed softly on yours, gentle kisses explaining things that words do no justice to.

As the night air became more humid around you, and fireflies surrounded the two of you, Spencer’s warm hands pushed the ankle length hem of your spring dress up your thighs, closer to your core. He kisses a pathway up your calf, up your thigh, towards the need in your centre, and ponders if god had made you for him.

Spencer thinks that he is fairly devoted to a number of things, like his work, or his academia, but the way he eats you out is oh so blasphemous. He circles and flicks and plunges just right, and as the cherry flowers fall in his hair, he looks like a debauched angel, with a sole mission of making you come on his tongue. he is devoted to it, and it’s his mission.

The way that you moan his name and pulse around his fingers turns him on more than things that are seen as generally sexually conductive for the male gender, and as you pull his roots and tighten your thighs around his head, he feels the satisfaction of your pleasure travel all the way to his climax, without being touched. Truly sinful Spencer Reid, truly Sinful.

As his mouth separates from your divinity, he thinks that the string of saliva that connects you is symbolic of every single thing that connects your physical elements to the emotional unison that you share. As the dirt digs into Spencer’s knees, and the thighs around his head loosen with satisfaction, He can’t help but compare you to the delicate cherry blossoms, and he sees your kindness and ineffable gentleness bloom around the garden.

You stand, and pull Spencer to his feet, and as he pushes you against the bark of the cherry tree, ready to connect again, just as Apollo and Adam and Eve and whoever else he had to thank for this intended, he can’t wait to feel your nature, to make love.

a/n thank you for reading!!! i know it’s rough, but yet i persevered and finished it. yay me 😛.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Why I feel Jack Darby isn't like Orion Pax/Optimus Prime

This is probably not gonna do me any favors in the wider Transformers community, but that's fine; I don't want to be in the good graces of half those people. Besides, I've grown to really dislike Jack over the years, and now that there's a new TF film that actually shows us Optimus and Megatron's past that has everyone cheering, I can actually cite that film in my argument should I encounter any whiners.

Fair warning, this will not be in Jack's favor.

So, as we see of him in Transformers: Prime, Jack had a really poor life. His dad is missing for reasons unknown, his mother is working herself to the bone to keep the roof over their heads, and Jack himself is working a horrid job to try and lift some of the burden from her shoulders. A standard modern day life for teenage boys, right? Oh, and don't forget him going all gaga over prissy cheerleader Sierra; that's of course the icing on the cake of this cut and dry trope, because the loser boy has to have a thing for the social climber girl who he can't recognize as trouble.

However, when he crashes into the Autobot-Decepticon War, Jack is adamant against getting involved. He whines about his new lot in life, complains that he just wants "a normal life", and overall is ungrateful to the Autobots that saved his skin a short time ago. Yes, he pulled through in the five part premiere and did so at other points in the first and even second seasons - but those were all life or death situations.

Every other time, Jack caved to peer pressure and stayed inside the lines. He never stood up to the school bully, let himself get embarrassed by said bully in front of Sierra, and then broke his deal with Arcee by going to an underground race. Heck, if you ask me, the only reason he helped save the bully in that episode was because Jack didn't want to have a dead guy on his conscience. Sure he said "it's the right thing", but where was that nobility when you were ogling your crush throughout the episode, hm?

And to say that he's like Orion Pax after all of the above is an insult to Orion and Optimus' integrity. Can you truly see Optimus whining over his lot in life, being spiteful and rude to guys who were mean to him specifically and not his friends, or just losing brain cells when a pretty girl is involved and getting himself into trouble in a misguided attempt to impress her?

No.

Orion/Optimus would never do that. He'll take the hits to himself and make the best of it with a smile on his face, he'll fight for his friends rather than himself alone, and even if he's head over heels for Ariel/Elita One, he won't compromise himself or his morals just to impress her. Orion/Optimus is better than that, and would never stoop to such actions.

But you know who would do all of that?

This guy.

As TF One shows, Megatron in his youth was much like - gasp - Jack Darby. They both kept their heads low to avoid further ridicule and pain, they never wandered outside the lines for fear of the unknown/repercussions, and despite advocating for a change or better life, they didn't really lift a finger to do that. They both needed an outside force to push them onto a new path. And they both ended up having a low chance of heroism when there was pressure on them: Jack's was anytime Sierra or Vince the Bully was involved, and Megatron's was when the 'Bot responsible for ruining his life and all of Cybertron's population was at his mercy.

Speaking of, what are the odds Jack would have a similar reaction to meeting his father? Yeah sure, he spared Megatron in S1, but Megatron also taunted him by asking what Optimus' response would be if he killed him. Put Jack in a position where he gets to beat up his dad, and are we sure that Optimus would still have that sway over him?

Just ask Sentinel, he can tell you how well that turned out when Orion Pax tried talking down D-16 - oh wait, you can't, because D-16 killed him.

Honestly, there are far more similarities between Jack and Megatron than Jack and Optimus. I'm tired of Jack getting all the love and being heralded as Orion-like or Optimus-like when he never was. He's far closer to Megatron, and if I'm the only one who can see that, fine. I don't care.

These are my observations, my beliefs, and I'm sticking with them.

Now on the same token (but coming later), Smokescreen actually has more in common with Orion Pax/Optimus Prime, something the new TF flick has shown, even if I disapprove of a chunk of the writing and characterization in it. But, given I'm probably setting some people's hair on fire, I'll leave you alone for now to digest this post.

Good day, and remember:

"Autobots, transform and roll out!"

[cottonundiestf]

Winner Take All

Diana and Violet shared a streaming channel, DiViGaming, that was struggling to gain traction. The streaming space was crowded if you didn't have a gimmick, and they hadn't settled on one yet.

At least, not until they got their hands on the Victor's Spoils Chokers!

Wearing matching choker necklaces, their contests now had higher stakes, with the winner getting to steal away a trait of her choice from the loser. Viewers flocked to watch each stream, waiting with pants in hand for the results.

Today's games had been... rough on Diana. Violet won the first game, a rhythm game, which was expected; she was always more on beat than Diana. But Di had way better reaction time to make up for it in the next games.

Except Violet cheated! "As winner, I'm going to... drain some of your motor functions."

"What?" The small gem at Diana's throat glowed and suddenly she felt the world slowing down as dizziness overtook her. When the sudden wave subsided, she looked at her hands, trying to move her fingers, only to realize they were difficult to move and didn't react right away. "Ch-cheater!"

Violet just grinned. "We never said it was against the rules! Oh well, next game!"

With Violet's reactions and dexterity souped up and Diana's at minimal functionality, the next series of games were a stomp. And Violet was showing no mercy, laughing and bullying her friend the entire time.

"I win again! Let's take... that lovely tan complexion of yours." Diana grumbled, feeling the ripple of goosebumps across her body as the natural tan granted by her mixed heritage drained away until she was pale white and her friend's Nordic background vanished behind a perfect warm complexion.

"Another win? Oh my, how about... that round ass of yours! I could use a boost." The girls had comparable bottoms, or at least they did, but Diana was forced to stand and show the camera as her ass lost enough mass that her pants started to slip off. Meanwhile, Vi was happy to taunt Di, shaking her new cake for the viewers.

"Won. Again. You know, I can tell you've been hitting the gym. I'm fine reaping the rewards." Diana groaned, feeling weak as her muscle mass withered away, leaving her frame narrow as a toothpick while Violet enjoyed her new healthy build.

And this kept happening. Diana dropped out of frame as her height was reduced by a foot while Violet shot up. Diana's long hair had to be pulled into a close, messy bun as Violet flipped her new luxurious locks.

And, of course, with the final game, Violet approached her petite partner and touched her chest. "They aren't even that big. Cute little B cups. But..."

Diana whimpered. "...Please?"

Violet shrugged. "Sorry Di. It's all you've got left." The gem glowed, deflating the perky tits on Diana until she was left with naught but puffy nipples on her flat chest.

Violet chuckled, grasping her chest. "Well, this has been a fun stream! I hope everyone enjoyed this thorough ass-kicking! Now if you switch to our... 'private stream,' you'll get to see Di appreciate our body in all its glory."

"Can I at least get my brain stuff back," she grumbled?

"...Yes. But only because I'm going to make sure to put that dexterity to good use. Now smile for the camera, Di!"

Tags for @misseviehyde and @bimbosanddolls for getting me in an attribute theft mood!

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on Harryanthe which I am crazy about, in HtN

this dumb little interaction just stuck with me. I mean they're almost always high-strung in the detailed plot, like in almost every one of the Ianthe-centered scenes one of them is in some kind of pain

but I know they have chill moments. mundane moments. petty arguments, like the one in the post scrips of the letter. And I so badly want to read those!!

anyways. I'm gonna start collecting scraps here.

you might have given Ianthe Tridentarius the pleasure of opening the note labelled Upon the death of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Your only hope for that note was that it contained a single sentence along the lines of, Get what joy you can from my corpse, you devious bitch, but it was written by a previous self and you could not risk a guess.

Harrow: what if I didnt hate her and that makes me wanna have a lobotomy yeah that makes sense

Once, vilely, from Ianthe; she had ensconced you in fat and rolled you down the hallway out of danger, and still laughed whenever she thought about it.

ok this is just Ianthe being a little pest, but it also means that she talks about this and laughs in Harrow's face, which makes her a little bitch, but also like it means they often chat and Ianthe would be like: Yeah today I tried the theorem on apples again, but I tweaked it by directing the flow of thalergy from- hey Harry do u remember the time I saved your life hahahahahaha

The mockery you endured for needing her proximity was exquisitely painful, but humiliation was steadily becoming your existence whole and entire.

I want to know what exactly this mockery entails

It had been very nicely matched to the original until she had ceased using it altogether, and the difference was more pronounced each day. Unconscious of your critical eye, she scratched fretfully at the line until red hives appeared.

Ianthe squirming under Harrow's gaze for once

She was in a filthy mood, if she was wearing that thing, with her arm exposed.

Harrow has been keeping tabs on the state of her arm problem ever since she first woke up on the Erobos. Same as how Ianthe has been keeping tabs on the results of her lobotomy.

she said, blue eyed, those oily little freckles glittering almost pinkly above the dress. They reflected the red rims of her eyelids. You thought that she had been crying.

yeah stare at her eyelids Harrow, and sniff her discreetly all the time, sweat musk vetiver am I right (also have I expressed how crazy it drives me that she wears masculine perfume??????????? no well IT'S SO *faints*

You got better autopsies of her encounters with Beasts than you did from your own, as Augustine was wont to explain significantly more to her than either he or Mercy did to you.

Ugh why why why in this whole book I have not seen them talk shop with each other even once??? Except Harrow showing off after making the arm. Harrow has discussions with Pal all the time in GtN. clearly she trades notes on necromancy with Ianthe frequently. but no, gloss over Ianthe's intellect and just write her freak(fond) moments

You had once been fool enough to recommend that Ianthe take them down, at which point she had rustled up another from the bathroom and hung it in pride of place above an overpainted dresser.

love her

“Oh, heaps,” said Ianthe, who appeared not to have taken offence at your rejection. It was so impossible to tell, with Ianthe. “I made it. It’s vile.”

Maybe she really doesn't care about the rejection or even likes it, but "so impossible to tell" kinda hints that, well she might be hurt,maybe, there just isn't any proof

It was not a connection formed of any mutual admiration; if anything, the more you saw of Ianthe the less likely you were to mistake her for likeable. She made herself like an overdecorated cake: covered so thickly in icing and fondants and gums that it would take serious excavation to find any bread. As a necromancer she was a genius, though you thought she relied too much on shortcuts and circumventions. She had an exceptionally fine mind. She was not afraid of rigour.

If Harrow doesn't have the hots for her at least I do.

Honestly on my first read I took stuff like "not likeable" and "“Tell me to stop breathing,” she said. (“I have, on multiple occasions,” you said.)" at face value and actually thought Harrow genuinely hates her and is forced to interact with her because there's no one else. Which is true. But she's also very attracted to her and I kinda overlooked it at because I thought those feelings were mutually exclusive. And they're not. which I'm obsessed with.

Or she won't think Ianthe's beautiful and note details about how she dresses all the time.

Seriously Harrow's special fixation on "how Ianthe's clothes make her look" is hard to ignore.

for example:

The mother-of-pearl made Ianthe’s hair a lurid yellow and threw up all the mustard tints of her skin; her face was blotchy, and her eyes were sleepless pits. She looked like shit.

The skirts and waists were all beautifully cut for someone of a different height and body type than Ianthe possessed. They were tight where they should have been loose and loose where they should have been tight. They looked like her burial clothes, and she looked as though she had emerged fifty years after that burial.

she answered after a long, scuffling minute, with sleep in her eyes and her hair in dilute whey tangles over her neck and shoulders, wearing a bewildering short garment of violet chiffon.

The back was open, and you could see the fine dents of her spine—her bleached skin bluer and sweeter against the pallid gossamer—and the twin blades of her shoulder blades looked strangely nude and vulnerable to you.

Ianthe was training in her nightgown—a grisly floor-length concoction of pale golden lace that made her long, limber body look like a green-veined mummy

a lone wax figure in pale purple chiffon, tall and colourless—except in the greasy metal of her bone arm, which the lights rendered all the colours of the rainbow.

Ianthe rose soundlessly to her feet, and the long skirts of her nightgown—a brilliant ruffled canary-yellow silk that made her look like a formal lemon—rustled restively around her calves.

Note that Harrow focuses on Ianthe's clothes for how they shape Ianthe's appearance. in contrast:

she ignored your sister, whose pallid eyebrows had shot up so fast and so far that they were in danger of breaking the atmosphere. Mercymorn wore a long slip of peach-coloured silk, and her white Canaanite robe was tucked over her forearms and had slipped entirely off her slender, aggrieved shoulders. She had scraped her hair into a merciless and shining coil at the back of her head, and she had no eyes for either of you.

Obviously Mercy is SUPER HOT here, if Ianthe's reaction means anything. But Harrow only describes her clothing and not how she looks. Same with Augustine's party outfit.

With Ianthe, it's always: she's wearing ..., which makes her look gross. And I did not understand at first but now I know and feel stongly that Harrow is totally into her gross-hotness. well at least I am. the grosser she's described the hotter she is.

[qvrcll]

nsfw + possessive + dark themes

watched tbosas and what better way to commemorate than to write a little piece for this man! experimented with themes i haven’t really written before, but it was great! :-] happy reading and HELLO SAILORRR

coriolanus snow who catches you forthwith when you try to craft your escape. it’s no surprise - his nous is extraordinary, top of the cream, and his delusions are even more so inclined. you’ll think he’s angry with you, come to make little peace and destroy it if it has, but when he stares at your with bloodshot eyes, it surprises you first. his hands are soon driving at your sides, his head sunk against your neck and soon enough, the two of you are attempting some sorry attempt at rekindling in bed, later.

coriolanus snow who likes to slot his fingers in your mouth, seeing how many you can take before you’re choking on your attempt at conviction. it would start out innocent (ironically), where he’s brushing your lips with his fingers. light, delicate, before his head filters into red; the smell of your heart heavy on his tongue. he has a sudden urge to bite, push, and a finger enters you mouth. if you’re surprised, it is barely noticed, because his rough fingers mesh so easily in the cavern of your mouth. they float above your teeth, mix with the stain of your saliva. on other days, when you’re good, he’ll like to shove them further down, revel in the blend of your chokes and insolent mewls.

coriolanus snow who is too skint and mad to hide his need for you. when he fucks you, he takes his share like a dog — pressing your bodies together till the skin burns, pistoning his hips till the bone aches, pressing his teeth to your throat and biting softly just for frisson. when you resist his tight hold, tell him to loosen up, he only takes it as initiative. he’ll paw at you like something sickly, a parasite in need of housing. he’ll stretch your leg up farther, groan when your cunt allows for a little more of him.

coriolanus snow who knows how infatuated you are with his little uniform getup. he’s out for hours on end, working tirelessly to make it back to the stretch of the capitol, so it’s only fair that he’s caked in sweat. his hat rests low, darkening his eyes and his uniform almost sticks to him. he’s annoyed, trying to push the feeling away when he waves a tired hand towards your beckoning form. but he’s pleasantly surprised when you lose your edge, look away more often, face red with affront. sure, his fingers are soon on your chin, voice smooth and mellow when he asks “what’s wrong?”, but it’s the rest that counts: tucked away into a dingy storage cupboard, your shirt hiked up and your undergarments down low, and snow taking you with enough force to have you spilling onto his dick for the second time. “you like that? being fucked by peacekeeper, huh? answer me,” and when you give him some for what it’s worth, he’ll aim for a kiss on your neck, not relenting in speed or mercy.

coriolanus snow who prides in his dexterity. on some days, he’s gentle — his fingers play with the slick gathering on your cunt, lather it down and put it somewhere deeper. on other days, he’s a bastard about it. he’ll shove his hand down your undergarments, not caring if the ball of his palm knocks against your clit cruelly, or if he’s puncturing too hard. he’s rubbing circles till there’s a painful spot forming against throbbing heat, alternating between push and insert. one, two, three fingers, much too big but if you insist that, he’ll pick up the pace. claiming he’ll “show you big.” when you come, hard and firm on his fingers, a rhythm takes place again. when you cry against his chest, beg him for a break or release or something kinder, he’ll coo at you — making light of your little beats and twitches, nudging his nose against the flesh that is warming as you tighten against his fingers yet again.

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[chuubian]

Kinktober week four:

Taste

Tags Yae miko x fem reader, mdni, witch au, aphrodisiacs, breaking and entering, face sitting, Yae is just a tiny bit mean

Summary While looking for shelter during a blizzard, you find a small cottage- missing its owner. When you finally meet the witch who occupies the house, you inexplicably feel drawn to her.

A/N Can you guys tell i hate landlords

From the frosty scenery surrounding you, only a measly little cottage could be seen in the distance. The fact that it's holding up at all during a blizzard as powerful as this one, is a miracle in itself. A sense of relief washes over you. Finally, some refuge. Getting kicked out in the middle of winter was brutal. No amount of begging convinced your landlord to show any kind of mercy. Apparently, they already had a new tenant waiting. One who had actually paid the ridiculous prices set, and earned the property owners consideration. It had been hours out in the storm.  Snow caked the bottom of your boots- melting it just enough so the freezing water soaks through the fabric, and numbing your toes. There were many times during your journey where you contemplated laying down and letting the snowdrift smother you.

Hugging the coat tighter around yourself, the muscles of your legs struggled to traverse through the thick blanket of ice layering the ground. As you got closer, lungs burning, you took note of the symbols carved into the snow surrounding the cottage. Did an artist live here? Clearly it was some kind of creative soul- golden ornaments and bells hung from the walls, jingling softly as they’re jostled by the air.

The door is unlocked. You easily push it open, engulfed in a rush of hot air that thaws your frozen muscles. It's surprisingly quiet, save for the crackling fire. No one seems to be home, but why would they leave the fireplace on? That's so dangerous. Either way, you walk in deeper, cautious of any inhabitants that may come at you with a sword. The cottage is relatively small, consisting of only one bedroom, a small kitchen, and a bathroom that didn't even have a sink. The living room was cramped with some furniture and a coffee table. Everywhere you looked, every table had at least one cauldron. Did the owner really need to cook in every room?

Grabbing a small blanket from a nearby closet, you curl up in front of the chimney. The heat radiating from the fire soothes your tired body, lulling you into a tranquil slumber. Waves of comfort ebb and flow through your figure- allowing your mind to go blank.

Your dreams are filled with scenes of a pink haired lady taunting you, finding every one of your weaknesses and using them against you. She smiles cruelly while you writhe in pain- throat searing as you scream, clawing at your throbbing stomach. Your spine feels like it's being ripped out of your body and she doesn't even take a second look. Diabolical laughter echoed through your head. The wicked expression on her face is singed into your brain, permanently lingering in your subconscious.

Panting, chest aching, you're woken from your sleep forcibly. Your eyes dart around frantically. The fireplace has been turned off but somehow you don't feel cold- if anything, there's a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin. You rip the blanket off, heart racing, and stand up. There, hiding in the darkness, is the silhouette of a person. Staring at you. A shiver runs down your spine. Your gut is begging you to run, but your feet remain planted firmly in the ground.

“W-who are you?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

The figure steps forward and pink hair pops into view- just like that lady. No way. How? She was supposed to stay in your nightmares, not become real. Once again, your body is reminded of the torture she put you through. Your stomach feels like it's eating its own lining, like the acid is burning through the meat of your digestive system. All the saliva in your mouth dries up, leaving your throat parched. The look on your features must have been visibly panicked because the pink haired woman quickly steps forward- laying a delicate hand over your shoulder as her fluffy tail wraps around your waist. Although you're terrified, her scent fully engulfs you- it smells like cherry blossoms. It’s almost hypnotizing.

“Awww don't be scared…i wont hurt you, I'm assuming you got the nightmares huh?”

“How..?”

Breathless, your voice comes out in muted whispers.

“You didn't notice… You can break into my house but not use your brain to put the context clues together?”

Looking around in a frenzied state, your eyes gloss over all the details. There's nothing. What does she mean?

“You still don't get it…”

Her saccharine voice looms over you, tricking you into a false sense of security.

“Let me spell it out for you.”

Slender hands take hold of your chin, forcing you to look over at the coffee table.

“Do you see that?”

“T-the pot?”

She hums softly, breath brushing over the back of your neck.

“Yes, the cauldron.”

Sharp nails bite into the flesh of your cheek- mildly stinging. This time, she drags your eyeline up to the ceiling.

“Herbs?”

“Yes, darling. I’m drying them.”

Is there actually something you're supposed to be noticing?

“You like to cook?”

Your muscles are stiff, unwilling to unwind. A certain fear gnawed at the back of your mind- would she kill you if you got it wrong? How is this even possible? Maybe you're just in another wicked dream. Your landlord could have put a curse on you for not paying the rent on time. If there was any way to develop magical abilities overnight, he certainly would have figured it out. That's just how determined he is to get more money.

“No.”

Pushing  her chest against your back, she slowly walks you towards the door. Her legs and yours knock together on the way- almost making you face plant onto the shiny wooden floors beneath you. The whole house shakes as the entrance is yanked open. Bitter cold air rushes towards you, attaching itself to any semblance of warmth- chilling you to the bone. At least the storm stopped, only small snowflakes flutter down gently.

“What do you see here?”

Only ice is visible. Even the sun has hidden itself away behind gray clouds.

“Snow.”

Her hand smoothly flattens over your lower stomach as her tail wraps itself around your leg. It helps keep you toasty.

“That's not all, you don't notice anything off?”

“No… it just looks like snow.”

Sighing, she pulls you back inside and slams the door shut.

“You're a little dim aren't you?”

“I don't understand….”

The pink haired woman tuts condescendingly, tapping your cheek with her polished nail.

“I'm a witch, darling.”

Your brain  swirls, eyes widening. A witch..?! You broke into a witch's house?? Blood freezing, icicles stream through your veins forcibly- the tips of your fingers throb and prickle painfully. It all made sense now. The weird drawings in the snow, the ornaments outside, cauldrons and herbs strewn throughout the house. It was all for her spells. Giggling, her silky tail tickles the sides of your waist.

“Oh come on… How could you not have known?”

Heated fingers creep up your spine to the base of your neck, tapping lightly. Tingles emerge from the spots she touches, sending chills through your body. She's so.. touchy. And you don't even mind, despite the fact that she was the creation of your nightmares.

“But, when I was asleep-”

“I know, I know.”

She interrupts. A delicate finger taps your lips, shushing you.

“It's just a simple spell to punish intruders… but you don't seem like you mean harm.”

Releasing her pleasant, lukewarm hold on you, she rests her hand on her hips- tail thumping against the floor impatiently.

“Sit down. If you don't want me to kick you out with the snow, you'll have to come up with a reason for breaking into my house.”

Without giving you time to respond she heads off in the direction of the kitchen. The jewelry and ornaments hanging off her body and clothing clink loudly as she walks. For a few minutes, you’re granted a break from the constant anxiety brewing and expanding over you. Thankfully, she didn't seem angry. If you just explained, you're sure she'd understand. Holding a teacup and pot set, the woman walks back into the living room- bringing with her an air of coziness. She made tea. In adorable pink cups. It's unnecessarily sweet. You trespassed and she's still treating you like a welcomed guest.

Heart pounding in your chest, your wobbly hand reaches for a cup- desperate for the warmth she once enveloped you in.

“So why are you here?”

She watches as you take a sip, not moving to grab her own teacup.

Steaming hot liquid oozes down your esophagus and settles in your belly- acting like a furnace to spread its blazing flare through your extremities. Blood rushes up to your cheeks, casting a healthy glow over your face. You set the cup back down and take a deep breath. She'll understand… right?

“Well, my landlord kicked me out of my place. I didn't have anywhere to stay so I started walking around, and then I saw the cottage… I really am sorry, but I thought I was going to die.”

Her eyes narrow, tail flicking delicately. It’s like she can peer right into your core, reading you with ease and determining if you're lying with just one glance. Laying one hand on the plush couch, she leans into it- getting comfortable. She seems satisfied with your answer as she hums quietly.

“Okay, I believe you. You can stay here for the time being.”

“T-that's it? It's that easy?”

She nods.

“It's that easy.”

Heat surges under your skin. It feels like you're floating, like your body is lighter- not weighed down by all the stressful problems that had plagued you for the past month. Maybe you didn't have a lot of money, but the pink haired woman let you stay. And although she's a witch, she promised she wasn't going to hurt you.

“Thank you so much!”

She's so kind. You have to find a way to  pay her back somehow.

“I-I'll clean up around the house and stuff! I won't be a bother, I promise.”

She chuckles, and suddenly it seems like the sun is right in front of you. Her smile is so bright, vivid.

“That would be appreciated. If you want, you can also try out my potions, I have been needing a cute little test subject.”

“Uhm… Would it be dangerous…?”

Crossing her pale legs, she taps her chin for a few seconds- thinking.

“You don't need to worry about it, darling. You'll be fine.”

That's all the confirmation you need.

“Okay then! I'll do it.”

She smirks mischievously, it almost makes you suspicious. Almost.

“Great, we'll start tomorrow.”

Standing up, she turns to walk away. Before she can go off to do whatever it is she does all day, you stop her.

“Wait!”

Her head whips back around, velvety tail swaying smoothly. It's as if it's trying to get you to touch it- hypnotizing you.

“You never told me your name.”

“It's Yae. Yae Miko. Don't forget it, darling.”

Her slim fingers drum against your cheek, almost like she's scolding you. Before you know it, she's gone again, hiding herself away in some corner of the house that you can't access.

The rest of the day is spent alone. Cleaning, although tedious when you lived alone, is now a welcome activity. At least you had a place to clean. You assumed Yae didn't mind you taking her food, but she didn't come out to scold you for using one of her cauldrons and cooking. It was kind of worrying, actually. Did she not need to eat? You even made a large enough amount for her to have some too.

Thoughtless, menial labor was tranquilizing. As the muddy, contaminated water was poured away, so was your unease. Once you feel satisfied with the work you've done, you grab your blanket again, setting up on the couch in front of the fireplace. This would be much more comfortable than the hard wooden floor you'd slept on the night before. Your body sinks into the cushiony sofa, engulfing you in a cocoon of warmth and satisfaction. The crackling of the flames acts as white noise- luring you into a restful sleep.

Fortunately, no more nightmares occur. As morning time approaches, you're woken by a bright golden light in your face. Eyes blinking open, you're temporarily blinded by the dazzling sun rays. When you sit up and face the other direction, you can barely see Yae in the corner through the passing blind spot in your vision. Why does she stare so much? It's seriously unsettling. She doesn't wait for you to fully wake up before she does.

“Get up, darling. I need your help.”

You groan.

“Already? I just woke up.”

“Oh, do you have something else to do?”

Grumbling, you rip the snuggly sheets off your body.

“Fine.”

Yae grins smugly, leading you through maze-like hallways. She must have done something to the house because you don't remember seeing these places the night you broke in. The wooden boards are cold against your feet, freezing the balls of your feet- threatening to cramp them all the way from your toes, up to your ankles. She finally stops in front of a small pink door, ears twitching before she walks in, not saying a word.

As you pass through the entrance, the breath is stolen from your lungs…. Wow. It's huge on the inside. Like a giant public library, but instead of books, the shelves are filled with various dried herbs and multi-colored potions. Your nose is immediately attacked with the scent of iris and cherry blossoms. Large windows let the sun to light up the room beautifully. Can Yae’s magic really be so strong that the glass didn't break during that horrible blizzard?

“Come on, don't be shy.”

Fuzzy fur drapes itself around your hips- pushing you towards the small table in the middle, covered in various glass bottles, herbs, and spilled liquids. You don't dare to touch them. Yae’s delicate hands pluck out a dainty thin vial filled with a bright pink elixir. The cork at the top, kept everything from spilling out as she handed it to you.

“Try this.”

You pop open the bottle, sniffing it. It's sickeningly sweet. Your throat and tongue are violently assaulted by the steam wafting up- your gums ache to bite down on something, mouth watering.

“What is this? Pure sugar?”

Tapping the bottom of the vial, she tries to force it up to your lips.

“Nope, it's a potion to help with your… loneliness.��

“I never said I was lonely.”

Holding a finger up to her lips, she giggles playfully.

“I can read between the lines. Now go on, this is your one job, it's very safe I promise.”

Slightly embarrassed, you bring the cool glass vial up to your lips and tip it back. As soon as the potion touches your lips and tongue you're hit with the intense honeyed spiciness. Your eyes water as the viscous liquid slides down your throat- the chance to lick the remainder off your lips never comes as it absorbs itself into your skin. A tickle in your throat forces you to double over coughing. It's like your stomach is hopelessly attempting to push the elixir back up out of your esophagus.

Peering out the window, you run your tongue over your teeth- becoming conscious of the gritty sensation left behind in your mouth.

“How do you feel?”

Your attention is drawn back to Yae, core tightening when you study the exquisite features on her face and the elegant outline of her figure. Her eyes meet yours and your entire world collapses. Sediment cascades down on you- crushing and burying you under heavy rock. Answering her question is the last thing on your mind. Your tongue feels swollen in your mouth, and your brain is spinning.

Static buzzes through the roots of your hair, down to the bottom of your feet when Yae snakes a slender arm around your waist, pushing her body up against yours. She's so warm.. it makes you want to melt under her, let her manipulate and contort you any way she pleases like melted chocolate. Moisture covers your skin, leaving the surface of it sticky.

“Is it hot? hm?”

Her voice is deeper than before, alluring. She was tempting you. Like a black widow- seducing you, only to destroy you after she's gotten all she needs from you. Unconsciously, you nod.

“I bet… lay down.”

All it takes from her is a little push towards the long couch near the window, before your body obeys by itself. Your body descends into the plush cushions and Yaes legs tangle with yours. In this position, where she straddles your thigh with her thin arms propped next to your face, you’re enveloped by her scent. It's intoxicating. You'll never be able to smell cherry blossoms without thinking of her ever again.

“W-what was that potion?”

Sharp nails gently scratch down your cheek, creating sensitive tingles over it.

“Nothing much, just a simple aphrodisiac.”

Fire ignites your nerves alight, it's like you're being burned alive. The wind gets knocked out of your lungs as she drags her smooth hand down your neck and rests it over your sternum.

“You're e-evil,”

She tsks disapprovingly, pinching the small exposed flesh of your chest. Small, needy  whines free themselves from your lungs as you arch into her touch. How could this have happened? You're so stupid to trust a stranger and yet… you want her. More than you need air to breathe.

“Don't talk to me like that. Unless you want me to leave you here by yourself.”

Keening, your hands travel up to the edges of her uniform, curling around the fabric hysterically.

“Noo.. stay.”

“That's more like it.”

She purrs into your ear, already tugging the hem of your shirt up- working quickly to undress you. Fervid palms smooth over your exposed stomach. Her pupils are dilated and she keeps dragging her tongue over her teeth and lips. Like she wants to ingest you. The tail behind her is flicking impatiently, whipping your legs painfully.

Plump lips crash against your own, dragging her tongue against your bottom lip- she doesn't wait for permission before forcing herself inside. Deepening the kiss, her body leans down more, pressing her plush tits against yours. She's greedy. Taking all she can from you- the air from your lungs, the ability to think clearly. Her teeth clash against yours, like she's trying to eat you.

Pointed, needle-like nails dig into the flesh of your cheeks as Yae pulls away harshly. Your lips make a wet smacking sound, clinging to each other.

“Can I sit on your face?”

You nod dumbly, lips swollen and parted. It was nice that she bothered to ask, but at this point she could ask to kill your entire family and your brain would be stupid  enough to go ahead and say yes. Yae quickly pulls the stupid uniform over her head. Your eyes rove over her graceful figure, taking in the softness of her hips, the alluring curve of her waist. Mouth watering, your eyesight moves down to where she’s still covered by her panties. Heat washes over you, twisting uncomfortably. You need her to hurry. She was being so slow on purpose.

“Please… Yae…”

Chucking, she gently slaps your hip. Your body craves more.

“I know, I know.”

Thumbs hook under the waistband of her underwear, pulling down until they’re fully off- thrown somewhere in the distance but you dont care at this point. All your mind can think about is how she would taste, how she would feel. The pink haired witch straddles your face and you're met with the sight of her glistening pussy. Tears spring into your eyes as she puts her full weight on you. Finally. This is all you wanted.

The pressure against you is a welcome kind. Not like the pressures of life from before- paying you rent on time, finding food. This is better. How could you ever go back after this?

A low buzz of excitement covers you. Tongue laving over her clit, taking in her syrupy taste- her hips twitch against your face.

“F-fuck, yeah… just like that.”

Grinding down on your tongue, Yae has absolutely no shame. Her beautiful hands thread themselves through the strands of your hair, tugging and directing you how she likes.

Your fingers dig into the fat of her hips, trying to keep her still but your efforts are proving useless. She didn't care that your face was shining with her slick- in fact, she encourages it.

Wrapping your lips around her clit, you suck harshly- tongue flicking over it eagerly. Her hands tighten in your strands as a small gasp bubbles up her throat. It encourages you more, It felt like you were drunk. Your head was spinning like crazy, eyes developing a glassy sheen. The need to please is overwhelming. The need for all of her. Her taste, her touch, her scent.

You desperately pull her down more. Lapping in a fast rhythm, you push your tongue against her entrance, eating her out like it's your last meal. Yae’s thighs tremble with the effort of holding herself up. Gushy walls squishing around you. The pitch in her voice gets higher as she quivers over you. You slurp at her mercilessly, determined to draw out more sweet noises from her lips.

When she finally comes apart, her entire body weight drops onto you, legs squishing against the sides of your head. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, strung out and drunk off of her.

Shaking, she gradually lifts herself from you, giggling at the wetness she's left all over the bottom half of your face. Your tongue darts out, trying to get all of it, but before you can finish, Yae is undoing the buttons of your pants. It's distracting. She's so beautiful, it almost feels wrong to make her please you. As your bottoms are tugged off, cool air hits your warm skin. Goosebumps rise throughout, sending shivers up your spine. Her gentle hands pry your legs apart, crawling closer to where you needed her most.

Her warm breath brushes over your inner thighs. She doesn't move past that.

“Y-Yae please…”

You can hear the cruel chuckle she lets out. And see the way her tail sways wickedly from side to side, running over your legs.

“Hurry..”

Large wet kisses are pressed against your inner thighs, leaving a small trail of her lipstick on your skin. Then finally, after centuries of torture, her tongue darts out to lap at your clit. Sharpened nails dig into your flesh, trying to keep you from bucking against her wildly. A choked whine is caught in your throat, pain and anguish written all across your face.

“Nghh fuck…”

She's like a woman starved- hot tongue flicking against your entrance, slipping inside. An embarrassing sob traps itself in your chest, body spasming with exertion. Trembling, your hand clenches in the strands of her hair, desperate for any way to tether yourself to reality. Loud slurping and sucking sound fill the room- echoing back at you. With every movement from her, an explosion of electricity sets your nerves alight.

“O-oh god.. Yae..”

Mind clouded with lust, you roll your hips back against her. She doesn't stutter even more a second, finding her way over to your puffy clit, drawing tight little circles. Sparks flash behind your eyes and thick whimpers of ecstasy spring past your lips.

Your body is reduced to its purest instincts as Yae works her magic between your legs. Brain empty, your visceral response is to pull her closer. The knot in your lower belly tightens. The heat simmering under your skin is elevating and on the verge of  boiling over. Unintelligible babbles breach the edges of your mouth. What once were comprehensible words are reduced to merely the slurrings of a person filled with euphoria.

“I'm c-close…mmng..”

Blistering pleasure shoots through your body, ridding your lungs of any air. A pervasive ringing ringing resounds through your head, leaving your brain dizzy. Surges of pure bliss roll over you. Your hands tighten in her hair, as you're struggling to stay sane. It feels like months- years- pass before you can finally think clearly again. When you do, you're met with Yae, still naked (not complaining), peacefully sleeping next to you. She snores softly, tail twitching happily in its, presumably, good dream. She subconsciously drifts towards you, searching for warmth.

She looks so cute, but this won't stop you from getting your revenge soon.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

This image does so much to me, like I love it, I love the thought of leaving him like this at the mercy of random devil in some bar or someshit to humiliate Gabriel…

-

Gabriel was pitiful, he wanted you to forgive him, upon the angels coming to the conclusion to turn to you instead of there missing God, they’d all come flocking to you for forgiveness to which you forced peace between them and demons to ensure they’d both be safe and more importantly.

You could finally go home.

The only angel you had a personal hatred against decided to show up in Hell. Unannounced, he dropped to his knees, pleading with you to forgive his wrong doings. You honestly were baffled he’d had the guts to show up to you after killing your best friend.

You wanted to make him suffer, but not wounded, you were going to let him go but given he’s dumb enough to come back, you needed to stop that.

And you didn’t need to be kind over it, after all, you’d never see him again.

With the help of Satan you got all you needed, you were going to humiliate and punish Gabriel. You got Satan to dress him up in the special ‘gear’ you chose for him.

Gabriel was standing awkwardly afterwards, he was surprised when you ‘checked’ to make sure he was dressed right. The ruby red panties you’d gotten him fit quite well, though they left little to the imagination (maybe that’s why the angel couldn’t meet your gaze afterwards.

The thin metal chains decorating him fit snugly, almost like a harness. The collar got tightly on him, you’re sure Satan did that on purpose. You show him the next accessory. A gag.

The angel’s wings flared at the sight of Chains, he backs up a few steps. Right as your getting frustrated at the thought of chasing him, Satan forces him on his knees by grabbing a fistful if his hair. “Why don’t you fuck him up before we whore him out?” Gabriel’s eyes widen and as he opens his mouth to speak, you shove the gag in.

You tied the gag firmly to keep him quiet. “Satan pick him up we are ready to go.” You grab the chains, carrying them as Satan threw the angel over his shoulder. Gabriel struggled and reached to remove the gag. Before you could correct him, Satan dropped him and took one of the chains, tying Gabriel’s hands and feet firmly behind his back before lifting him again. Gabriel still struggled, even trying to vocalize a complaint with the gag.

“If you keep struggling, angel cakes, I’ll leave you tied here.” Satan warned, to which the angel froze and obediently stopped. Gabriel looked to you with puppy eyes. Maybe it was the excitement, but apart of you wanted to give him a kiss.

You resist the urge and let Satan lead the way. You held the door open to the bar, watching Satan noticeably hesitate deciding if he wanted to hit the angel in the door way. Upon entering you noticed demons leering at the angel, a few whistles echo even with the music blaring.

Satan dropped Gabriel on a booth table you sat at the center, with Gabriel’s head basically in your lap as Satan and a few random devils helped tie the angel securely. The angel is left with his legs dangling over the edge of the table, a whimper escapes him, barely audible over the music, though it was clearly directed at you as he stares up at you. You pat his head. “Don’t worry, the demons will take great care of you, we are in Abaddon after all.”

You slip on his ‘horns’ while Satan places on his ‘wings’ as Gabriel struggles against the restraints, a muffled hiss escapes him as Satan gropes him, in a showey matter, he rubs Gabriel’s limp member, you nodded up to him. To the angels relive he stopped and stepped back. Satan took a deep breath, then bellowed.

“Hey! Citizens of Abaddon! This right here,” He gestured to the angel. “Is here for entertainment purposes only, until closing time, your free to use this angel as you please!” Satan shouted so loud your sure anyone outside the bar could hear him. Gabriel visibly stiffened when all eyes were on him, he whined, looking up to you once more for mercy, despite his punishment not even starting.

You watch one of the devils approach and he waste no time, grabbing the bottom part of Gabriel’s dress shirt, ripping off the half the shirt in one fluid motion. Gabriel let’s out a muffled yelp, legs protectively pressed together as he yanked on the restraints. The devil easily forced the angels legs apart, he held them like that as another devil approached and poked at the angels limp member.

“Do you think he’d like to flipped over to face Solomon’s descendant?” The smaller demon half joked. “The way he’s looking at them, I bet he wishes they were touching him!”

The devils laugh, the smaller on unzipped Gabriel’s pants, exposing the panties. There’s silence for a few seconds before more devils join in on the laughing.

Gabriel tenses as they poke and prod and his sensitive parts, until he’s left hard, cock half exposed, clothes teared leaving little protected, the least damaged item on him was the panties. One of the devils reached into their pocket, taking out a small handful of money and pulling back Gabriel’s panties enough to slip it in.

“Thank for the show, Cutie.” A clearly drunk devil stood over him, intentionally leaving the cash pressed against the angels most delicate parts as he felt up the angel. The demon looked up at you. “Is he yours?”

Without missing a beat you say. “Yes, and he’s been bad, use him as you like.” With that the poor angels swarmed, you watch in amusement as the devils felt him up, prodded him and clawed at his exposed parts, you catch once a devil had their feel, they leave embarrassingly low amounts of cash in his panties, and shirt.

Gabriel cries out, visibly trembling and when you look down, to your amusement a devil at licking his clothed cock as it’s forced to stiffen under the overwhelming attention.

[skipppppy]

Something about BMO and The Lich being friends in the Jerry world is so interesting to me. That episode where he’s stuck in the corner of the wish room, Prismo explains that because there’s no mortal life around him to destroy, he’s like a computer bugged out, frozen in place, no function to serve. They’re both machines but with opposite purposes. BMO exists to give love and make people happy. The Lich exists to destroy all life. Thematic contradictions. Two sides of the same coin.

In regular Ooo, BMO thrives because their job is to make connections. It’s as easy as going out and saying hello to a stranger. Their purpose is to make friends. But even if the Lich wins, he loses. He isn’t a malevolent person, he is a literal force of nature performing his function. His job is to take life until there’s nothing left. If he follows his programming with no obstacles, his purpose will cease to matter anyway. Which is what happens in Jerry world. BMO gets to grow and change and mature and find personhood outside their original programming because it’s easy to do what they were created to do. The Lich could’ve easily killed Simon, Fionna, and Cake when they ran into him. He says so himself. But he doesn’t. He actively chooses not to. Simon outright says they aren’t in danger and that he looks depressed. He finally fulfilled his purpose and got a sliver of autonomy and realised there was nothing left to live for because he destroyed it all doing his job. Everything died, except BMO for some reason. There was literally nothing else to do but hang out with them.

I wonder how much of the Lich showing mercy was their influence. How much did BMO rub off on him? Did they just say he was their friend because of their childlike view of the world? Or did the Lich actually acknowledge them as a companion? It’s not like they can’t die. He must’ve liked them a little bit, otherwise they would’ve been dead long before that episode. Which makes me SO INTERESTED to see where they’re gonna go with this

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part Four

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Miguel shows up at your apartment again while you're celebrating your deceased boyfriend's birthday. Word Count: 8,253 Warning: Miguel reflects on earlier days; Sad Miguel (I'm sorry) Masterlist Music inspo (Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Mercy" - Max Richter, Mari Samuelson (Miguel's part) "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage (I love this song so much)

Next Part

Part Four

Miguel steps out of the multidimensional portal into your apartment. He stares out at the living room, barely registering the sound of music when he hears you call his name. Miguel turns suddenly, startled by your presence. He stands there, in the middle of the room, in his suit as always, only revealing his face. He looks surprised to see you as the portal begins to fade away behind him, causing the objects in your apartment to fall back into place.

“Y/N - I thought you…” he starts, his eyes meeting yours.

You stare at him, still holding the knife as you stand in your kitchen. You briefly wonder what he thought. Then, you realize as you two hold eye contact. He thought you weren’t going to be home. You had told Lyla you had plans to go out. He had heard at least that part of the conversation, you realize. It seems that the moment you pinpoint his confusion to you being home, he too realizes you have figured it out because he clears his throat and looks down, as if embarrassed.

Your gaze follows his movement, to his hand. You see it then. Your mask. You didn’t even realized you left it as you had rushed out of the lab a few hours ago.

“I was leaving my lab when I saw your mask lying there. I figured you might need it for your night patrolling…” Miguel says at last, lifting his hand, showing you the mask.

You put down the knife and nod before you walk towards him. You approach him slowly, taking the mask from his extended hand.

“Thank you. I didn’t even realize I left it there. I was in a bit of a rush…” you say, trailing off as you hold your mask with both hands now.

“I noticed,” Miguel replies, meeting your eyes before his eyes flicker to the kitchen.

You suddenly feel embarrassed. You were caught in a lie. Miguel had heard you talking about having plans with friends, only to find you here in your apartment. You sigh quietly and look down at your mask for a few seconds. You finally look up, offering a small smile.

“Today is Peter’s birthday… Or would have been,” you correct yourself, looking over at the cake. “He would’ve turned twenty-six today.”

Miguel stands in front of you, still. You turn to him; his eyes are on the cake. He brings his gaze back to you and nods.

“You must think…” you start, thinking he must find this odd. You must look like a crazy woman, baking and celebrating your boyfriend’s birthday, who passed away three years ago.

Miguel shakes his head.

“I – Understand.”

The two of you stand there, silent. There’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You look over at the counter, suddenly remembering the ice cream.

“Shit, the ice cream,” you mutter, before you hurry to check it, placing your mask on the counter as you walk by.

The ice cream is still intact, but you know you will have to put it away soon. You turn to Miguel, who seems to be listening to the music. You can’t help but feel embarrassed despite him saying he understood. You stare down at Peter’s cake. Your emotions are a little over the place. You are sad, still grieving Peter’s absence while at the same time trying to be cheerful because it’s his birthday and now embarrassment is thrown into the mix. Your emotions override your brain and then, before you know it, you speak.

“Would you like a slice of cake?”

Miguel’s eyes shift to you. You can see there’s something there – like hesitation. You begin to feel regret immediately. Maybe this is too much. Maybe you are trespassing a line. You look down at the cake.

“I’m sorry – you are probably very busy like always,” you start, feeling heat in your cheeks. Yes, this was probably too much. Too personal. Too vulnerable. Too much for the founder and commander of the Spider Society.

“If you don’t mind… Yes.”

You look up in surprise, though you try to hide it. You hope Miguel didn’t notice the way your lips parted in surprise. You nod slowly before grabbing a plate and the knife again. As you slice the cake carefully, you feel Miguel walk from the living room section to the kitchen area slowly. You can’t help but feel like his movement is intentional, as if he’s trying to tread dangerous waters carefully. He stands behind the counter, the same side from which you ate the day he was here.

You place the slice of cake on the plate. You look at the ice cream and then at him.

“It’s probably a weird combination but – do you also want ice cream?” you ask, quietly.

And Miguel O’Hara stares at you for a few seconds before he nods. You nod and retrieve a small bowl plate. With ease, you open the ice cream container and place two scoops on it. You place the two plates in front of him before you retrieve utensils. You grab napkins and place them on the counter before placing the utensils on top of them. You return to the cake to cut a slice for yourself. Your movements are deliberately slow. You can sense that this is… Not awkward but also not easy? Whatever the word is, you are trying to give Miguel time to take a seat. As you place the slice of cake on your plate, he finally pulls one of the counter chairs out and takes a seat. From your peripheral vision, he still towers over you. You grab another bowl plate and get one scoop of ice cream. You retrieve utensils for yourself, discreetly noticing that he has grabbed the utensils you placed for him.

You cut into your slice with a fork, bringing it to your mouth. Your eyes return to the photograph, now next to Miguel’s plates, as you eat. You try not to look at Miguel as he brings the fork to his mouth. You tell yourself not to think about the fact that this is the only time you have ever seen the man eat. You wondered sometimes if he ever ate. You wonder if Lyla had to remind him to eat, the way she had to remind him to sleep.

“This is – a great cake,” Miguel says, breaking the silence. “Thank you.”

Your eyes move to him then. You nod, giving him a small smile.

“It was his favorite… Both the cake and ice cream flavor,” you respond before trying the ice cream. You haven’t eaten this flavor since last year. You only buy it for Peter’s birthday, reserving it for his day.

Miguel watches you. He doesn’t say anything, but he notices the slight puffiness of your eyes, a sign of crying. He listens to the music, recognizing the voice. He knows of Billie Holiday of course. He doesn’t know everything about your life but suddenly, he feels that he has a picture of it. You were happy, really happy. You once had everything, too. You lost it. Like him.

He can sense that you still seem somewhat embarrassed by this, but he doesn’t find anything odd about it. He understands. He finishes the cake and then the ice cream, enjoying both things despite feeling like he intruded on a very personal moment.

“Do you want more?” you ask, noticing he finished eating.

Miguel meets your eyes, and then nods. “May I please have another slice of cake?”

You nod, putting your plate down before taking his to give him another slice. You feel his eyes on you as you remove the candles gently, placing them aside on a napkin. You begin to cut another slice.

“I also…” Miguel starts, pausing. “I celebrate Dia de los Muertos, I don’t know if you –“ he pauses, and you nod, indicating you know what he’s talking about as you put the slice on his plate. “I make a small ofrenda for them.” You place his plate in front of him, meeting his eyes. “So – it’s not - Don’t feel as if…” Miguel says, trailing off and you nod.

“Thank you,” you say, understanding. You feel comfort and something else at the fact that he shared that with you, willingly, as an effort to lessen your embarrassment.

You take a deep but quiet breath in. You hadn’t expected someone to show up, even less Miguel but now that he was here… You feel – lighter? You take him in as he brings the fork to his mouth. Seems like he’s enjoying the cake, or at least you hope so. You return your eyes to Peter’s photograph, which still faces you. You stare at it, his gaze meeting yours. You smile softly before you finish your slice of cake.

Miguel continues to eat his second slice of cake. No wonder he loved it, Miguel thinks to himself, referring to Peter. The cake is amazing. Peter’s face flashes in his mind suddenly. He remembers the man’s face from the last time he was here, when he had stopped to look at the photographs on your wall. He had looked at you, smiling in all of them but he had also noticed Peter. It was obvious that the two of you loved each other deeply. It seemed to Miguel that Peter was a great man and if a woman like you loved him so much, Miguel is sure he had to be.

His mind shifts back to the conversation you had with Lyla earlier. You had lied. It’s not like he was eavesdropping, no. He would never do that. Lyla was just so loud sometimes that she tore his attention away and that’s why he had heard her ask if you had a date tonight or some other plans. That’s when he had heard about your plans to go out with friends to watch a movie. That’s why he had shown up at this time. He had spotted the mask lying on one of the many surfaces of his lab earlier, but he didn’t want to show up when you were home. He thought it would be awkward. He debated not even bringing it at all, but he knows you do night patrols, so he figured you would need it for tonight. Thus, he waited until he thought you would be gone to avoid any awkwardness.  

And that’s why he was startled when you called his name. You weren’t supposed to be home, except you were. You were in the kitchen with a knife in your hand, about to slice a cake. He had barely identified the mood of the music and suddenly, he had a pretty good idea of what was happening and why you had lied to Lyla, who could be a little judgmental sometimes. He understood. He knew. He hadn’t celebrated Gabriella or his wife’s birthdays as he didn’t think he could handle such a thing, but he did set up an ofrenda for them each year.

You look up at Miguel, he looks as if he’s in deep thought. You wonder what he’s thinking about. Your ears focus on the music, Billie Holiday is still playing.

“I should turn that off,” you mutter, realizing the ambiance in the room is… too romantic.

You set your plate down, about to head to the living room section.

“Don’t,” Miguel says softly, stopping you in your tracks. You turn to him, his eyes already on you. “It’s nice.”

You nod slowly, staying quiet for a few seconds. “Peter loved this kind of music,” you share, as you pick up the ice cream container. “You want more?”

Miguel shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough. Thank you, though.”

You turn around and put the leftover ice cream away in the freezer. You turn around again. Miguel is looking down at his plate but then looks up.

“He had good taste in music then,” he says, which makes you smile.

“I thought so, too.”

Miguel takes a moment before he adds, “He sounds like he was a great partner.”

You nod, hugging your arms. “He was. He was wonderful,” you say, turning your attention to Peter’s photo, wanting to say more about him but reluctant to unleash all your memories, thoughts, and feelings on Miguel.

Miguel doesn’t fail to notice the look in your eyes. It is obvious that you love Peter. All he can do is watch, wondering if that’s the way he looked at his wife once. He can’t help but also think how lucky Peter is, to still be loved beyond his death. The same way that Gabriella and his wife are lucky.

How lucky are those who pass away and have someone still love and remember them, Miguel often thought… Miguel doesn’t let himself think about it often, but a small fear creeps on him sometimes. Slowly but surely, crawling to his mind.

Was he going to die alone? Would anyone mourn Miguel O’Hara? Was anyone going to remember him? Or was he going to be a small, insignificant memory that came occasionally to his recruits’ minds when they thought of their work or earlier days as members in the Spider Society? Would they share their memory to whoever they were talking to or was near them? Would they say he was cold and stoic? Would they mention how he didn’t let anyone in? Or would they think about him for a few seconds before he was put away from their minds? Forgotten once again.

He buried those thoughts as deep as he could, burying himself even deeper into work to avoid having to reflect on those questions. He had no family. His parents had passed away many years ago. It was his father first and then his mother. His only sibling, Gabriel, had passed away three years before Miguel inserted himself into Gabriella’s life, leaving him with no one. No family and little friends if you could even call them that.

He was lonely though he never admitted it out loud. He drowned himself in work to fill the void and to avoid his thoughts. He worked day and night. Sometimes the only thing he saw were his monitors for hours. He had grown so accustomed to the light of them. He had grown accustomed to the silence that was only broken by Lyla. He told himself he was good. At least he had Lyla.

Then, his work was the very thing that led to his brief happiness. He discovered a way to travel through the multiverse. He traveled to so many universes , recruiting other Spider-members, his mind already settled on founding the Spider Society. It was then, through his traveling and exploring of each universe, that he found one in which a variant of himself had a family. He watched that universe for some time, longing to be like that version of himself in secret.

That version wasn’t Spider-Man. He led a normal life. He had a daughter… Gabriella. Miguel had never admitted it to anyone, but he had envied his variant. This version of him was carefree. He was happy. There were no worries about saving someone or something. This variant was a father, and a very dedicated one. He attended school functions for his daughter. He was a part of the parent teacher student organization. He baked brownies and cookies for fundraisers. He attended every soccer game. He worked a normal job. He picked up his daughter from school and dedicated the evenings to her. Miguel often watched as they played board games on their dining table. Gabriella’s laugh as she played board games with his variant filled him with a happiness he hadn’t felt in so long. He watched in awe as his variant helped the child with their homework every evening, seeing how bright she was.

They had the perfect life.

Miguel longed to have that for so long as he watched from afar, knowing it was wrong. And then the unexpected happened. His variant was murdered, making Gabriella an orphan. Before he knew it, he was traveling to that universe and replacing his variant, taking the chance of having a happy life.  

As he took the life of his variant, he thought he had it all then. He had a daughter – family at last. He had another purpose in life besides work. He eventually found a partner who he fell in love with quickly, marrying shortly after, solidifying his family. Miguel feels pain as he thinks of his wife now, sweet Adriana. They were happy, the three of them. Miguel finally had what he had dreamt of for so long. What he had longed for. He had the perfect life, at last.

And then it was gone.

That same loneliness returned, except this time it was accompanied by guilt and grief. That fear that he had carried before his discovery of multiverse traveling, returned as well. He was lonely. He had no one. Again. As the days, weeks, and months went on after Gabriella’s universe collapsed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fate. Maybe he was meant to have a lonely life. Maybe that’s why everyone was taken away from him. It was his fate: to be lonely for the rest of his life and to dedicate himself to work. Maybe his entire purpose in life was to protect the fate of the multiverse, so all those people in each universe could have a chance of living happy lives, even if it meant that he couldn’t have that very thing. That was his sacrifice.

“Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice. That’s the job. That’s what you signed up for,” he remembers telling Miles Morales months ago.

“You have a choice between saving one person and saving an entire world. Every world.”

After Gabriella and Adriana, this was his motto. He was sacrificing himself to save every universe. So, he worked day and night again. Forgetting to eat and sleep sometimes. Though sometimes it wasn’t because he forgot. It was a form of punishment. He had destroyed Gabriella and Adriana’s universe. He had ruined their, and millions of other people’s, chance of living happy lives since their universe collapsed.

“Daddy! Dad? Dad! No!”

He forgot to sleep sometimes but he mostly avoided it to avoid the nightmares. He dreamt of Gabriella and Adriana often, but Gabriella made more appearances in his nightmares. Gabriella haunted him more… He didn’t have the chance to see Adriana one last time. They had said their goodbyes in the morning before she went to work. They had kissed goodbye. Their last moment had been peaceful. His memory of her was a sweet and happy one. By the time he realized something was very wrong, she had already ceased to exist, leaving no room for another interaction.

But Gabriella… He held her in his arms as he carried her through the city, his heart racing and hurting from the loss of Adriana. He ran and ran as other Spider-members helped civilians only for them to disappear seconds later. His mind whirled with thoughts as he clutched his daughter, who was terrified and clung to him for comfort and safety, to his chest. He needed to save Gabriella. He needed to protect his daughter. She deserved to live a long life. And then he heard her last words.

“Daddy! Dad? Dad! No!”

Then she ceased to exist right before him, leaving his arms empty. He remembers as he stood there with empty hands, still feeling the warmth of his child. He remembers how her warmth began to fade away, as if she had never been in his arms at all. Her last words echoed through his mind over and over again. His heart felt heavy. Vacant.

He heard her cries in his dreams every night for weeks. Each night he woke up screaming, tears running down his face. He was angry, frustrated, mournful, devastated, and so much more. He felt every imaginable emotion those nights while he paced his empty apartment back in Nueva York. He threw things around, like flipping the dining table and its chairs. He broke and shattered objects. He cursed himself and screamed into the silent night. His cries and screaming went unheard as he lived in the penthouse of his apartment building and owned the two floors under the penthouse, too. There was no one to hear his destruction or his screaming. He eventually stopped sleeping, only succumbing to his exhaustion when his body began to give out.

He was alone. He had caused the collapse of a universe for his own greed, he thought. All to not be alone. All to fill his fantasy of having a family.

He couldn’t even think of friends in the aftermath of everything. If he had been unable to create strong friendships before Gabriella and his wife’s death, now it felt nearly impossible. He didn’t want it. He thought he didn’t deserve friends, especially after the events that happened, involving Miles Morales. He had been wrong. So wrong. He thought he was in the right for so long only to be proven wrong. He wasn’t proud of his actions. He knew everyone else had pushed past it. They had moved on, except him. He took his mistake and punished himself. Once again.

He pushed everyone away. Every single time anyone tried, he pushed them away. Push, push, push. Until they gave up. He couldn’t remember who the last person who had tried was. It was so long ago. No one bothered to try anymore as the spider members knew it was to no avail. Or perhaps they hoped that one day he would come around on his own. But then someone else came along.

As he looked at you, still staring at Peter’s photo, he thought about the things you have done, and continue to do for him. Like the coffee. He knows the cafeteria staff never gave you extra as you had said so many times. He initially waved it off, the way he ignored your gesture the first few times. He eventually grew curious, wondering if it was true that the cafeteria staff gave you extra coffee. He pulled the security cameras’ footage, his curiosity winning. That’s how he learned that your excuses were just excuses. He knew you lied about the coffee, the way you knew he had lied about why he had shown up weeks ago after you went radio silence because of your period. You deliberately took coffee to him, and he didn’t know why. He wondered why you bothered and continued even when he ignored you at first. Even when he left the cup on the table, his sign that he didn’t care. Even when he gave you the bare minimum of a response, you didn’t stop.

Then you offered to start organizing the lab. He remembers the way he wanted to shut down that idea quickly. He didn’t want a random new recruit hanging around the lab, moving his items around but Jess had intervened. She had said the place needed it and he just gave up, too busy to argue with her. Besides, he had been sure that you would only show up once. His first impression of you was that you were too sweet. Too kind. Too warm. Too happy. Miguel felt that he and you were opposites in those early days. He often felt like a dark, gloomy cloud that rained on everybody’s mood. He didn’t care but he was aware that some of the Spider Society members found his mood foul. You on the other hand… you had a smile on your face. You walked around HQ with a lightness, like nothing could possibly bring you down. That’s why he had been sure you would only show up once to organize the lab. You wouldn’t be able to take the silence. You wouldn’t handle being unacknowledged. You were going to stop whatever it was that you were doing by taking him coffee and organizing his lab, the same way that everyone who had ever tried getting close to him had stopped.

But you stayed. You showed up the next week, asking Lyla if you could come in. He remembers pausing from his work as he heard Lyla tell him you were there. You had asked her to ask him if you could come in. He remembers staring at his screen, struck by this. You hadn’t taken the liberty of barging into his lab like other members. You asked for permission first. You respected his space. Before he knew it, he had nodded at Lyla. And there you were, going into his lab to organize the clutter of advanced technology pieces for the second time. And now, he had lost count of how many times you have been there.

He never said anything when you were in the lab, sometimes he acknowledged you by humming, other times he didn’t. But his curiosity had grown. You asked each week if you could enter the lab, and this made him wonder about you. You were also good on missions, or at least he was told so by Jess, who took a liking to you quickly.   

Much to his surprise, you had also quickly been incorporated into a friend group. It seemed that you had settled into the Spider Society fast and successfully. This just added to his curiosity and because he had the technology and knowledge at his disposal, he had learned about you. He learned you lost your own version of Peter. He hadn’t allowed himself to see further but this single piece of information made him wonder how you could walk around so happy.

He wondered sometimes as you answered Lyla’s questions while you organized the lab. Of course, he never said anything. He tried his best to ignore the conversations each time, trying to give you and Lyla privacy. But Lyla was loud sometimes, getting too excited. He was never able to fully ignore the conversations that took place between the two of you.

“Okay, okay! Tell me this! What are your comfort foods?” Lyla had asked one time.

“Pasta,” you had answered so fast.

Miguel just listened as Lyla had distracted him that time. He just shook his head discreetly. It seemed that even his AI assistant had taken a liking to you. He just kept working though, trying his best to remain focused but he was brought back to the conversation a few other times. This was an occurrence every week, though he never showed it.

Things remained the same for weeks. Miguel honestly lost count. You kept taking coffee to him and he eventually started nodding at you or giving you a “hmm”. He didn’t know why. He just did one time and then he started doing it here and there.

He also noticed you were punctual each week, something that he valued highly. He didn’t fail to notice how you showed up to do what you had volunteered to do. You never wasted time or slacked even if you could’ve because at the end of the day, it wasn’t your job. Miguel definitely appreciated the organization though, as he started to realize how much faster he found what he was looking for sometimes. Your system of organization helped him immensely.

It was all going well. Or at least it was a good set up. You didn’t mind him not talking. You didn’t mind that he addressed you sometimes, and other times didn’t. You didn’t try to talk to him, asking him questions about this or that about his life the way that other members had tried asking him before. You just did what you had volunteered to do. You were a good member of the Spider Society.

And then one day, or rather that day, he sat in the same conference room at HQ where he always schedules meetings. He had already passed out the reports for the meeting. He was reviewing them, as always, making sure everything was precise for the hundredth time. The minutes were going by, the meeting time getting closer and closer. He had looked up towards the door for some reason, as if he was expecting something at that moment. And then it struck him that you hadn’t shown up yet. He had looked at the time. You had missed your time window. You always arrived earlier than anyone else but when he looked at the door again, there was no sign of you. He remembers sighing deeply and shaking his head, as if trying to clear his mind. The meeting started and ended; your usual seat remained empty. There was no scent of coffee.

After the meeting, Jess made the slight comment to Hobie that your gizmo showed no activity. Neither of them worried though. They walked out of the conference room, chalking your absence to some emergency in your universe. Miguel had simply brushed it off, picking up his items before heading back to his lab. Before he knew it, however, it was time for you to show up at his lab to organize it. He continued working on his monitors as he noticed you hadn’t arrived on time. You were late now but whatever.

“So strange…” Lyla had quietly said.

“What?” Miguel asked as he moved one monitor away, but he knew. He just knew what Lyla was going to say before she even said it and he didn’t know why he knew. He didn’t like that he knew.

“Well – Y/N should’ve arrived by now but she’s not here yet.”

Miguel kept working, narrowing his eyes. “She’s probably just busy.”

“But it’s so unlike her… She would’ve notified you she wasn’t showing up,” Lyla had said, looking at the lab’s door with concern, as if still hoping that you would show up.

And yes, she was right, Miguel had realized. You were that kind of person. That’s when his mind began to drift away from his work. You missed the meeting and now the weekly organization time. You seemed like the type to let someone know you would be unable to show up because of an emergency but you hadn’t. Jess, who was like a mentor to you, hadn’t heard from you. Even one of your friends, Hobie, hadn’t heard from you. There was no activity from your gizmo either.

Miguel stared at one of his screens, his mind filled with these thoughts, his attention away from what he was supposed to focus on. He grunted in slight frustration. Why was he thinking about you? You were probably fine. You probably had something else come up. He wished that Lyla hadn’t said anything. He wished that he hadn’t heard Jessica and Hobie’s comment about the lack of activity from your gizmo. He wished he hadn’t noticed your absence.

He had sighed, closing out the screen in front of him.

“I’m going to run maintenance on you Lyla,” Miguel said, letting her know.

Lyla simply nodded, though she had noticed frustration coming from Miguel. She knew better than to ask and besides, she had a pretty good idea what was going on with Miguel. Miguel wasn’t a heartless person. He was capable of caring even if he wished he didn’t anymore and Lyla could sense that you were on his mind. She wondered if the sudden maintenance decision had to do with you.

And it did. Miguel purposely ran maintenance on Lyla before he traveled to your universe so she wouldn’t know where he was going. He didn’t want Lyla to bug him about it. He was just going to check. That was all. He was just going to verify that there wasn’t something incredibly wrong with your universe. Something that could mess with the fate of the multiverse. Yes, that was it. The fate of the multiverse as always…

So, he showed up to your apartment. It was day and the apartment was dark. It was silent. Too silent. Miguel looked around your apartment. There was no sign of you, and he briefly thought you were probably out and about until he saw the gizmo on your living room’s console table. It looked like it had just been dropped off carelessly. That didn’t sound like you at all, and Miguel fleetingly wondered why he believed that if he hardly knew you. Before he knew it, he was walking towards the room he assumed was the bedroom. And there you were.

His eyes immediately took in the sight of you. You clutched your stomach with your hands. Your eyes were shut, and soft groans escaped from your lips. He remembers moving through your room swiftly as you told him to go away. He knew something was wrong then, you never talked like that. Or at least, he had never heard you talk like that to someone.

And that’s how he spent hours at your apartment that day. It was the first and only time he had stayed at one of his recruits’ homes for that long. He had been invited to dinners before, mostly by Peter, who hosted Friday dinners for his group of friends that had become like a little family. The same one he knew you were a part of now. He now wondered if you attended those dinners, the same ones he never went to.

He only went to his recruits’ homes if it was necessary, staying for a few minutes but now you were the exception. He made homemade rice socks to ease your pain. Before he knew it, he was doing other things he hadn’t done for someone else in years. He washed the two dishes in your sink. Put away the clean ones, learning the ins and outs of your small but clean kitchen. He took out the trash. He checked on you occasionally, noticing that you no longer clutched your stomach and your groans of pain had eased at last. He felt relief to see his efforts had worked. Even your face, which had shown your pain, was relaxed. You slept peacefully, hugging a pillow to your body.

Miguel had watched you for some time, leaning on your bedroom doorway. The last time he had slept that soundly was when he lived in Gabriella’s universe. His worries had eased. His loneliness and restlessness had ceased to burden him. He had a normal sleeping schedule back then. He went to sleep at ten, having put Gabriella to sleep at nine so she would get plenty of sleep. He would then get up at six. He’d make coffee for himself and later, when married, for his wife as well. He made breakfast for Gabriella, ensuring she was always taken care of. He prepared her lunch. Gabriella and he had a schedule. Or well… His variant and Gabriella had a schedule and he had learned it.

Miguel puts those thoughts away now, not wanting to plague you or ruin your celebration. His eyes are still on you, and yours are on Peter’s photograph. The point was that he thought all those that had passed away who still have loved ones alive, are lucky. They are honored, remembered, and loved.

Miguel had no family. He didn’t call his colleagues friends, especially after he pushed them away but as he looked at you, he thought of your gestures, like taking him coffee and organizing his lab. He thought about the fact that he had shown up at your apartment and stayed for so long. He thought about how you had calmed him the following day when he discovered Lyla had hidden photos and videos of his family. He thought about how you were now being vulnerable with him, letting him in on something so personal the same way he had with you weeks ago.

As he looked at you and all these thoughts flooded his mind, his fear of dying alone and having no one to mourn or remember him dissipated in that moment. Maybe he would never find someone to love again. He didn’t know if he could love like that again. He didn’t know if he was ever going to have a child again… He knew Gabriella wasn’t his biologically, but it was as if she had been. It hadn’t mattered to him. She was his daughter. Su hija.

Mi niña, Miguel could not stop himself from thinking, remembering her and hearing her voice in his head. A warmness spread through his chest.

Maybe he was never going to have a family again. Maybe it really was his fate to live the rest of his life like this, and Miguel just needed to accept it but… as he looked at you and thought of what you had done for him so far, he couldn’t help but feel some assurance that maybe there would be someone, you, who would show up to his funeral one day. He knew Peter and Jess would, too. Even if none of you were family, he felt a little relief. He hid it well but as he looked at you, there was some appreciation from your boss. His fear had settled for once and it was thanks to you.

You, who hid your grief and loss so well from everyone. You, who had let him in. You, who was showing him, the way he had shown you. He wanted to say something then, but he didn’t know how to say it. Miguel wasn’t so great at expressing his feelings these days. It had been a long time since he had.

You suddenly look at him, meeting his eyes.

“You know… I’ve done this each year since his passing. This is the first time someone else has joined me and…” you pause. “Thank you for not judging me and for joining me,” you say at last.

“I would never judge you or anyone for this… I understand as much as I understand how – hard it is to let someone have a glimpse of these moments,” Miguel says slowly and quietly, his tone is full of sincerity and understanding. “I know how hard it is… how much it takes to allow someone in… thank you,” he says, meaning it. You had let him in the way he had let you in that day he discovered the secret photos and videos.

You nod, feeling a warmness spread through your own chest. It was difficult to let someone else in. This is why you never mentioned it to your friends. Besides, they had all gone through their own loss in some way. The last thing you wanted was to add your own to theirs. You sigh. “That’s why I lied to Lyla.”

He nods back, with a knowing look. “Lyla can be a little judgmental sometimes, so I don’t blame you at all.”

You chuckle lightly. “That she can be sometimes… She said earlier that going to bookstores wasn’t considered something fun,” you say, shaking your head.

Miguel tilts his head, remembering that part of the conversation. He had heard it unwillingly. “Lyla’s idea of fun is different from ours, I guess.”

Now you tilt your head. “You like to read?”

Miguel nods and then sighs. “Yes, but I don’t read much these days,” he says, trying to remember when the last time he read a book was. It was when Gabriella and his wife were still alive. Before he knows it, he begins to speak. “I stopped after… We used to go to the bookstore each weekend. Gabriella also enjoyed reading.”

You smile sadly and sigh, understanding. “It takes a long time to be able to do some of the things you used to do with them.” You pause. “It’s hard.”

Miguel nods, knowing as well. This showed up in many ways for him. Like cooking or reading. The day he cooked pasta for you was the first time he had cooked in years, and he had cooked that specifically because he had heard you say it was a comfort food. Miguel sighs softly. He feels comforted knowing he isn’t the only one who can’t do specific things after losing his loved ones. He, however, hopes that your standard of living is better than his. He knows he doesn’t sleep or eat well sometimes. He doesn’t rest and relax. He hopes that you are not like him. He hopes you have it better in those aspects. As he looks at you, he hopes you have a chance of one day moving on and possibly finding someone else in the future.

He wonders if you are even open to the possibility, but he doesn’t ask, as it’s something very personal. The two of you fall into silence but it’s not an uncomfortable one. You are two people, sharing grief and loss in that moment. You eye the cake and look up at him.

“Do you want to take some with you?” you ask him.

Miguel looks at you and nods. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nod and start cutting him a few slices before you move around your kitchen, finding a container to put the cake in. You can feel Miguel’s eyes on you as you search but it doesn’t bother you.

“So – if you don’t mind me asking, what kind of books do you like?” you ask, as you find a container but not the lid. You frown as you search for it.

Miguel watches you from behind. It seems that you can’t find a lid and he finds this amusing for some reason. He clears his throat and thinks about your question.

“I used to enjoy sci-fi books.”

You nod as you search deeper in your cabinet. Where the hell is that lid, you wonder briefly before you reply.

“You know… that makes sense,” you say, as you move some lids around.

“And history books,” Miguel adds behind you.

You turn at that. “I like – or well, I used to read historical fiction.”

Miguel stares at you intently, with a look on his face that feels like he might smile at any moment because his lips move slightly. You turn away to keep looking for that damn lid.

Miguel continues watching you.

“Mind if I look at your bookshelf?” he asks, and you pause.

“Oh – no. Go ahead,” you say, surprised as you continue to look for the lid.

You hear him stand up and move across your apartment. You look behind your shoulder, taking a peek at him in the corner where your bookshelf is located before you look for the lid. You move a container and there it is. You pull it out just as you hear him talk.

“You have a lot of these books,” he comments, making you wonder what he’s talking about.

You place the container with leftover cake on the counter and walk over to him.

“What kind?” you ask, as you stand next to him, eyeing the book he’s holding.

You freeze as you recognize the cover when he turns it over, apparently reading the back of it.

“These books with animated covers. Romcoms?” he asks, eyeing the cute, animated book cover.

You clear your throat and nod, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks. He puts it away to your relief but then pulls out another one to your dismay.

“Hmm,” Miguel lets out as he reads the back.

“Yeah, it’s just romcoms… I went through a phase a few years ago. I also like mystery, like… This one,” you say, spotting a book you remember is in the mystery genre. This is your attempt to take his attention from the misleading romcom books but when you turn to Miguel to show him the other book, you see him flipping through it.

Fuck. You just stare and hope that he doesn’t land on one of those pages. To your relief his face remains the same as he flips through it before he puts it away and takes the one you are offering him. You sigh quietly in relief that he didn’t read anything that might change his opinion about you. Miguel nods as he reads the synopsis.

“Sounds interesting,” he mutters with furrowed brows, placing the book back where you got it from. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever return to the habit of reading.”

You nod slowly. “I hear that,” you say, looking at the books you have bought over the last three years but haven’t read yet.

The two of you stand there, in front of your bookshelf, closely. You suddenly feel like you’re too close to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind as his eyes scan the books. He seems genuinely interested in the titles.

Miguel finally turns to you. He has spent more time than he anticipated but he’s okay with it… He feels oddly at peace right now, standing before your overflowing bookshelf with books that contain… interesting content to say the least. Miguel clears his throat, trying to forget what he partially read. No wonder you were trying to get him another book, he realizes, feeling amused but also intrigued by this. This has added another layer to you, making you even more interesting to him.

Miguel sighs. “It’s getting late. I should probably head back to Nueva York… You probably need rest, too,” he says softly.

“Yeah – I guess it’s late now,” you say looking at a clock on your wall, realizing it is quite late now.

Miguel nods, stepping back and taking a few steps away from you. He begins to click on his gizmo, preparing to leave. “Oh, my cake,” he says, suddenly remembering and reminding you.

You nod and walk to the kitchen section, retrieving the container. You walk back to him, handing it to him. Miguel takes the container gently from you.

“Thank you,” he says, softly but laced with something else like appreciation. You can’t help but feel that his thank you is not just for the cake though. You push it away, not knowing that Miguel O’Hara’s constant fear of dying alone has been settled thanks to you tonight.

You smile up at him. “Thank you,” you say full of gratitude. “Your presence tonight… It helped me,” you admit, hoping it’s not too much for Miguel and it isn’t, or at least it doesn’t appear so because he nods with a calm face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he responds, meaning it as he feels it’s the least he could do after you helped him diminish his fear. He looks down at the container, making you look at it, too. It looks so small in his large hands.

Miguel gives you one last nod before he opens a multidimensional portal, making objects in your small apartment float. He looks at the items and gives you an apologetic look. You chuckle.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, and he nods again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at HQ,” he says as he steps into the portal.

“See you tomorrow” you say with a small wave as he begins walking into the portal.

A few seconds later, he disappears completely before the portal itself begins to fade. You watch as the floating objects begin to descend slowly the more the portal fades until they fall, the portal closing.

You sigh as you look around. Another birthday for Peter but at least this time was different. You can’t help but feel glad you accidentally left your mask earlier as you begin to put the objects away. Miguel really helped tonight as you would’ve probably cried more if he hadn’t shown up suddenly.

You walk to the record player, which at this point has stopped playing. You remove the current vinyl and place another one, one that’s lighter on your emotions right now. You head to the kitchen and clean up by yourself, feeling good. Once done, you turn and face Peter’s photograph.

“Happy Birthday, love. I really hope you had a great one. I hope you didn’t mind that my boss showed up but at least you’ve met him now,” you say with a smile. You plant a kiss on your fingertips and then bring them to the photograph, right on Peter’s lips. “Thank you… for everything you ever did for me, Peter. I love you,” you whisper, staring at the photo for a few more seconds before you turn the record player and lamps off, and head to bed, feeling pleased with today.

Back in Nueva York, Earth-928, Miguel steps out of the portal but not into his lab. He steps out into his penthouse, for the first time in weeks. He looks around the dark penthouse for a few seconds and with a single voice command, the lights turn on. Miguel blinks, adjusting to the light. He heads to the kitchen and places the container in the fridge. He’ll have more of it tomorrow, he thinks as he heads to the bedroom. He enters it and looks at the bed for a few seconds before he deactivates his suit, leaving him in his boxers. He climbs into bed, feeling odd at first but as he relaxes his body, he feels the exhaustion take over him as he thinks of what happened tonight in your dimension. He feels at peace for once.

For the first time in over a month, Miguel O’Hara begins to fall asleep on his bed.

And for the first time in years, he has no nightmares.

--------------------- Next Part

Translation for italicized words: Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead Ofrenda - Altar for Day of the Dead Su hija - His/Her daughter Mi niña – My girl (daughter)

A/N: Lowkey laughing at myself right now. I ended up splitting the last part because it was too long, only for me to do it again but this time, I’m leaving it. I had planned to talk a little more of Miguel's past before Gabriella and I hurt my own feelings with that. I just want to give this man a tight hug, good food, bathe him in affection, and take care of him!!! Side note, I can't wait for BTSP to see more of his story because we literally know nothing!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this and I’m sorry if I made you sad with Miguel’s point of view. I hope I made it up with the ending though 😊 I also want to add that I previously thought this was only going to be like four or five parts, but I think it’s going to be at least six or seven parts now as I don’t want to rush things between Miguel and the reader because I don’t think Miguel (and reader) would immediately jump into a relationship. It’s going to take some time and I want to explore more moments with them to make it as realistic as possible. Also, just realized it’s been two weeks since I first posted part one. Crazy! Thank you again for the support, it’s greatly appreciated!

I still love Miguel. That's all.

Tag List: (It seems I finally found a way to tag those that I was unable to last time, apologies for that)

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub

To the people below, I had to tag you in the comments because it wouldn't let me on the post, idk why :(

@mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker

[catsandpens]

HEATED

Bada Lee x Reader

Bada refusing to give reader a break

Word count 440, fluff, slight angst, toxic behavior

You were the leader of an international dance group and were invited to attend Street Woman Fighter. Taking the opportunity immediately after finding out your girlfriend, Bada Lee, was joining

Even though Bada was only a few steps away, you avoided her as much as possible. You wanted to be a strong competitor, finally realizing that this was a competition, and you knew that being around her could make you weak.

Avoiding Bada was a piece of cake; having your girls battle other teams and win them was an amazing tool to stay away from her. Yet this all came to an end when the leader-class mission happened.

Each leader had to present and choose a choreography for the class music video. Bada spared you no mercy when she criticized your choreography, blinding you completely.

The group chose Bada’s choreography, and the judges picked her as the main dancer. To congratulate Bada on her win, you went to her team's room to celebrate, but when you went in, she was only focused on her dance. You called her name multiple times just for her to tell you that she's too busy without giving a glance in your direction.

All the leaders gathered together so that Bada could teach the rest of the choreography. You thought this would be easy, but she had to make things difficult. She constantly watched over you and called you out for any mistakes you make. When you noticed that everyone else was not getting the same treatment, you started to become frustrated.

After practice you quickly left the practice room and went to your hotel room. Luckily there was no one inside so you can finally let your frustration out. You heard a knock on your door and saw Bada walk in.

“ Do you need help with the choreo?” She asked. You thought she was trying to drive you crazy by asking you that question.

“No thanks, I know the choreo perfectly well.” You replied with a scoff.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” She joked.

“ Why are you bullying me?” You said,while raising your voice.

Bada grinned as she examined your face. She circled her arms around you as you stood there speechless.

“ I’m so sorry baby. I found out why you were avoiding me, so I wanted to show you that you need me just as much as I need you.” She mumbled in your hair as she rocks you side to side.

“That’s so messed up Bada” you said looking up to her.

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you.” Bada said as she closed your door.