#but i hate clicking on a fic expecting it to be one thing bc of the tags and it ends up not being that at all

[eddiediazismyhusband]

do yall ever read a fic that’s like……….. is this even a buddie fic atp bc it feels like a buck/omc or eddie/omc fic that spends the entire focus on the omc just for the ending to be a “oh they were mutual pining the whole time and just didn’t realize it wow true love” and it’s like….. the actual relationship wasn’t built up at all??? and they just make the omc a carbon copy of the other and so it’s like… they’re basically dating them anyway so it feels weird when they just randomly get together? idk i hate amicable breakups in stories too where they make the person out to be a flawless angel and its like…. do you even like buck or eddie atp bc it feels like you spent your whole fic going “omg _____ is so happy with this new guy and he’s everything he ever dreamed of and he has no faults whatsoever and he and _____ are best bros and there is absolutely nothing hinting at any sort of attraction between them” and then you get to the last chapter and it’s like “oh but actually _____ is told by another character that ‘i thought it would always be you and _____’ and they go wait do you mean im in love with _____??? and the other character is like ‘yes you are’ and then they go to the omc who has been like the central focus of this story for the entire fic and go ‘we have to break up im in love with _____’ and the omc is like ‘i know, i could tell, it’s always been ______’” and im like….. how was it “always” buck and eddie when you spend the entire story focused on this omc relationship and barely have any scenes with buddie showcasing their relationship/buildup? literally portraying them as being head over heels in love w each other and portraying them as soulmates and shit just for them to be like “but no the whole time _____ subconsciously wanted _____” without any indication… like at least the show gives us interactions and subtext whenever they’re in relationships w other people they don’t just completely ignore the fact that the two of them actually interact with each other 💀💀💀 and im not even talking about forced/self isolation i mean they just literally do not write buddie interacting and it’s like damn at that point write the fic as an established relationship fic and drop the getting together plot from the last chapter bc it feels like you ship them w your omc than the other anyway 😭😭😭

sorry for the rant post i just spent 2 hours reading a fic waiting for the mutual pining only for it to be eddie/omc for 16 chapters and then a full chapter of eddie mourning the breakup and then 1 chapter of actual acknowledgement of buck and eddie having and kind of interactions w each other and it was tagged as a buddie mutual pining fic…. but we didn’t even get a whole chapter of mutual pining….

anyway-

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[fairlyang]

Gatita🕷️

you get recruited and slowly convince miguel you're on his side

w/c: 12K

pairing: miguel o’hara x blackcat!reader

tags: 18+ smut. mention of guns, blood, murder, death, grief. teasing, seducing, goes both ways, tension, slight choking, groping, kissing, interrupted, more tension, caves in, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), size difference, more choking

notes: my longest fic up to date which is a bit sad bc I think she flopped bc the hornies hate reading more than 1K sometimes 💀

The notorious Black Cat of New York but also happened to be the city's very own Spider Woman. An incredibly unexpected combination but what can one do when kidnapped by Kingpin and are forcibly meant to be his Guinea pig?

Then almost right after escaping getting bit by a radioactive spider....

On the bright side who else was able to rob banks and also be able to stop other criminals from doing so, before she gets to hit them herself? None other than yourself, of course.

You kept your two different lives separate, to the best of your ability anyway. Obviously no one was able to stop the infamous Black Cat or retrieve all the things she'd steal. Spider Woman on the other hand, stopping every other criminal or asshole on the streets, besides your alter ego.

You were going to hit up a jewelry store, to steal a few brand new diamonds for yourself. In your oh so casual Black Cat attire that consisted of a black spandex suit with the matching mask covering your eyes, along with the realistic long silver wig.

You were somewhat unrecognizable, but it wasn't like anyone from your personal life was gonna be robbing banks or jewelry stores. Or be anywhere near when you would be robbing one. There'd be no reason for anyone in your life to see you when you were doing Black Cat activities.

Or so you thought, before your whole world came crashing down.

I quickly turned off the security system in the jewelry store from the alley right next to it, I grabbed my bag of goodies and I hid my special tablet behind some trash before quickly going inside by the side door. It was vacant, as expected.

I went to the back of the store and look at the cases with the newest necklaces and rings embedded with shiny diamonds. I trail a finger along the glass and look down at the casing filled with only diamond rings.

I walked along the back of the store, looking at everything, the shiniest of rings and earrings until I spotted the most gorgeous necklace.

Filled with diamonds shaped like flower petals all along the neckline with a leaf shape hanging down with more diamonds embedded on its shape, with a red ruby sitting perfectly right in the middle of it. My eyes flicker with admiration and want, I needed it. I take my bag off from my shoulder and place it on the floor quickly opening it to grab something to open the case. Then I stop and stand up walking to the back of the case and scoff. The key.

What kind of dumbasses leave the fucking key out?

I shrug and roll my eyes unlocking the little door and take the necklace out carefully. No alarm.

I close the case and walk back to my bag and stuff it in one of its pockets then zip it up. I pick it up putting the strap back on my shoulder and walk around the store, stopping when something caught my eye.

I walk over to it and chuckle. How ironic... a gold necklace with a spider hanging out and yet another red ruby being held by it's arms and legs.

How could I not?

I grab a small tool with a pointy end and walk to the back of the counter. I kneel down and quickly unlock the little door and in just a few seconds it clicks open. I slide the door open and grab the necklace admiring the pretty ruby.

I stand up and grab a few other pieces then walk around the counter and back to my bag. I put them all in another pocket carefully then close it shut. I wrap my bag around my shoulders and head towards the side door, not really wanting anything else. I open the door and close it quietly before making my way to pick up my tablet from where I left it.

Sure enough it was there and I quickly turned the security system back on before using a web to swing up onto the roof of a building.

I always tried to be careful when using my webs but considering it was past 1am and it was empty out, i didn't have a care.

I walk along the edge of the roof looking at the view, admiring all the buildings and the glowing moon right above them. I jump onto the next roof and continue walking, keeping an eye out just in case. I jumped off roof to roof for about an hour, patrolling around, nothing out of the ordinary happening so i decide to make my way home.

I was a bit far from my apartment so I started swinging in the direction, feeling the cold breeze and going through the dimly light streets when my spidey senses go off when I'm one block away from my place. I swing on top of a roof and look down at an alleyway and widen my eyes to see my best friend, Ben getting mugged.

I curse under my breath and feel my heart start to race. I put my bag on a corner of the roof and look down before carefully climbing down a set of pipes, unbeknownst to the muggers.

I was right above them now and I take a deep breath then jump on top of one, knocking him off Ben and giving him space to catch a breather. I punch his jaw once I tackled him down to the floor then continuously punch him in the face against the hard floor.

I stand up and turn to look at the other guy and he gripped his gun. Ben had taken a few steps back making me feel a tad bit more calm. I sprint towards the bad guy somehow catching him off guard and kick him in the balls instantly making him groan and drop down to his knees.

I punch him on the stomach multiple times as hard I can, not able to control myself, almost like I needed to make sure he wouldn't be able to hurt Ben. Then I hear his voice and I feel his hands on my shoulders. "Hey- hey hey it's fine- I'm good now- it's fine." He says with widened eyes as we both look down to see the man with blood coming out of his mouth, his breathing slow.

I step away from the man and try to control my rapid breathing, before turning to Ben and asking in a softer voice, "are you okay?"

"Yeah- me? Oh yeah I'm fine, I'm good- I- uh-thanks..." He trails on and I take a deep breath.

"Black Cat." I say and look down at my masked hands covered with blood.

"Right! Thanks a lot- I uh just didn't expect 'em-" he savs and I cut him off.

"Of course." I say in my normal voice and I mentally curse myself, he can't know.

Suddenly my spidey senses go off and I turn around withdrawing my talons and claw at the guy behind me but not before hearing a gunshot. I feel my heart drop and I widen my eyes looking down at the gun.

I pull it out of the man, his body instantly dropping and turn around to see Ben covering his stomach then slowly starting to fall. I quickly run to him and was able to catch him, as we dropped to the floor, and my hands immediately going to put pressure on his wound but he was losing blood fast. "Hey look at me- B-Ben- keep your eyes on me- please-" I cry out, already feeling the hot tears streaming down my mask.

"'Wha-" he tries to say but I shake my head and bring a hand up to cover his mouth.

I bite my lip and then take my other hand off his stomach. I carefully take off his jacket and make him press it against his stomach. "I-I"

I bring my hands up to take off my mask and I look down at him with a sad smile. His eyes immediately grew wide and he tried to speak again but I shake my head. "You're gonna be okay- I promise-" I whisper and then move my hands back onto his stomach, the jacket already being soaked by his blood.

I swallow back a sob and wipe my tears, trying so hard to remain optimistic, "Don't waste your energy okay? I promise you'll be okay." I say breathless and he just shakes his head.

I feel my heart break into pieces and more hot tears stream down my face. "It's okay." He whispers and holds onto my hands, slightly gripping them.

"N-no- no B-Ben p-please-" I cry out and he lets out a small smile.

"It's... okay..." He says slowly and I see how slow he's breathing now.

I look down at his eyes, and he lightly squeezed my hands and nods. I curse under my breath and shake my head, "I'm so sorry-"

He coughs, some blood coming out, then shakes his head, "it's.. not your... fault..." he whispers making me want to cry even harder.

"I love you." I whisper and hold his hand softly.

"I love you." He murmurs and then his eyes close. His grip on my hands loosened completely and his breathing stopped.

I'd never felt such heartbreak in my life, I've never dealt with instant grief like this, or anger at myself. I cradled him in my arms, now silently crying unable to move and slowly not able to breathe. I started sobbing uncontrollably after looking down at his face, what was always so happy and lively was now never going to look at me, scold me or roll his eyes at me.

I stayed like that for who knows how long until I heard a noise behind me. I turn and look at the man who murdered my best friend, slowly crawling away, letting out groans for every little inch he moved. I move Ben's body to lay down flat on the floor before standing up and taking a few steps towards the fucker who just took my other half from me. I grab him and turn him around, slamming him against the concrete and make him look at me. With pure anger and malice I withdraw my claws and in an instant slash at his face then withdraw a talon again, lifting it up and stabbing him in the heart repeatedly.

I stopped after my arm started to hurt and I looked down at the mess. My body started shaking and I look down at my talon, hands, legs. All covered in blood. I shake my head and walk back to Ben, moving the hair out of his face and making sure his eyes were closed.

I let the tears fall down as I looked at his face, how much I'd miss his contagious laugh, his smile, the way he'd ramble on about his current interest. God I'm gonna miss him.

I was front row at his funeral, holding hands with his mom and sister, I made sure to tell them that the person who took him away from us was dead. They didn't even ask, not wanting to know the details, but were happy that Ben got his justice. But at what cost?

Nothing broke my heart more than hearing his sister tell me that he was on the way to see me, to have a surprise movie night because he missed us just randomly hanging out.

I let more tears fall, as I saw his casket going down, I'd never have my best friend back. What will I do without him?

I let them go as they went to stand by to watch. I let more tears fall as I grip the matching bracelet we had bought years ago when we were in high school. Mine was purple with a charm of some milk, his was blue with a charm of cookies. What was once such a silly little buy between two friends was now another reminder of all our memories together.

I stand up and drop to my knees in front of the designated spot for his grave and look down. Saying my final goodbyes in my head and look up at the sky knowing he'll always be watching over me.

"Jess you said you found a possible new recruit?" Miguel asked looking down at Jess as his platform was going down.

"Yep. You might want to consider her..." she says and walks onto his platform after it fully stopped, handing him the file.

He quickly skims through it then scoffs, "Jess this is a Black Cat variant-"

"Keep reading!" She exclaims and takes a seat on his chair, leaning back against it.

He rolls his eyes but does so anyway considering he trusts Jess' judgement. He keeps reading and suddenly his eyes widen making Jess laugh. "Considering it huh?"

He doesn't say a word, raises an eyebrow, and looks up at her, "when was the last time she did Black Cat activities?"

"Four years ago, exactly today." She responds and he cocks an eyebrow.

"Just keep reading Miguel." She says letting out a sigh.

He groans but looks back down at the paper, now carefully reading through everything. His eyes soften for a singular second before he has a serious look on his face again.

"Go get her." He says as Jess carefully stands up.

"You got it." She says as she takes a step down his platform.

"Just be careful-"

"Yeah yeah-" she says waving him off making him groan.

"I'm serious Jess- Black Cats are unpredictable-"

"Which would make her a great fit here." She retorts and walks out of his office.

It was four years since Ben was shot, you had struggled a lot especially in the beginning. But with all the support of his family, your family, close friends, and tons of therapy, you were able to grieve, and move on with your life but never forgetting your childhood best friend.

I was sitting down next to Ben's grave eating his favorite food, mac and cheese, along with some chocolate nesquik. God he really had the appetite and taste of a five year old.

I shake my head and smile at his grave, "Ben Parker, beloved son, brother, and friend"

"I sure do miss you." I mumble and look up at the sky.

I sigh and scoop up the last of the mac and cheese putting it into my mouth before taking a long sip of the nesquik. I pull the bottle away from my mouth before spilling the rest of it on the grass in front of the grave. "This one's for you." I say and chuckle.

I sigh and lean my back against his grave, looking at all the new dandelions that grew all around. I thought of it as he was giving us something to show he was with us. I let one hand gently caress one and smile.

Suddenly I feel something coming, I quickly stand up and look around. Nothing. I squint my eyes but there was no one around, no car or anything. Then just as I was about to sit back down some weird portal appeared out of thin air.

I straighten up and widen my eyes. I take a step back unsure of how it got here or who was about to come out. I look down at Ben's grave and sigh, quickly do a cross across my forehead and chest. I get in a fighting position when a woman steps out, a pregnant woman at that. I furrow my brows and watch as she steps in front of me cautiously. "Who are you?"

"Call me Jess..." she says and I put my hands down slowly.

"You're a spi-"

"Yep- sorry to be the one to burst your bubble but you aren't-" she starts to say and I gasp.

"The only one." I finish and widen my eyes.

"Wow...." I murmur taking a close look at her suit, it didn't even look like a suit more like a cool outfit.

"And you're pregnant?" I say and look down at her belly.

She nods and smiles, bringing a hand down to gently rub her stomach, "four months." She says softly and I give her a small smile.

"So not to be rude but why are you here? And how?" I ask and cross my arms against my chest.

"Think of this as... recruitment." She says and eyes me up and down.

"Recruitment?" I mumble and shake my head, "for what exactly?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

"You'll find out soon enough." she raises an eyebrow at me, "you have a suit?"

I chuckle and shrug, "haven't really used it in a while...." I say and she smiles.

"Well you're gonna use it now." She says and opens a new portal and motions for me to follow her.

"This might feel a bit weird." She says as she walks in and I slowly follow.

We walk for a bit until another portal opens and it's in... my living room. "Go on, I'll wait." She says and I scoff.

"How the-"

"You don't mind if I get some water do you?" She asks as she walks over to the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home....." I mumble as I walk over to my room then look back to notice the portal was gone. What the fuck.

"Y'know when you said you had a suit, I thought you meant-" Jess starts to say and I cut her off. "My spider woman one?" I say and chuckle, as I turn to look at her and she nods.

We walk out of the portal and are in some kind of lobby, my eyes widen and I gasp. I look around and there's hundreds, maybe thousands of spider people. And animals? "Was that a dinosaur?"

"There's all kinds of spider beings here." She says and I nod.

"Clearly- holy shit-" I say and admire all the different suits, designs and colors people had.

"So why did you decide on wearing this suit?" She asks as she leads the way walking past working spiders.

"Uh well let's just say my other one got fucked in my last fight and I was getting too lazy to fix it." I say and laugh.

"Plus this one was the next best thing.... And gives me more strength." I add and shrug. "And I wanted to see if it still fit..." I mutter and smirk.

"At least you didn't put the wig on...." She says playfully rolling her eyes making me laugh.

"Well you didn't give me much time to." I joke and bring a hand up to my ear to fix my earring.

"So, everyone's boss, Miguel O'Hara, is something special.... Long as you don't flip on us then you'll be fine and he might be alright with you sticking around." She says and I raise an eyebrow.

"So this is gonna be like an interview?" I ask and groan.

"Unfortunately."

I roll my eyes and curse under my breath, "mi suerte." (just my luck)

"Oh and he's Mexican so might have to be careful if you curse at him in Spanish." She says and i scoff.

"You're joking-"

"Nope, so watch that mouth." She warns and making me smirk.

"Then this just might be more fun than I thought." I say keeping the smirk on my face as she just shakes her head.

"Be chill." Jess said as we walked the long hallway to Miguel's office.

"I'll try...." I say and shrug.

"No doors?" I mutter and see all the machinery all over the place as we make a turn and yet another long hallway but with a lot of space at the end of it.

She ignores me as we keep walking and I trail a finger along all the tech things. I walk behind her admiring everything, then see a tool I knew all too well and chuckle. I shrug and grab it, unzipping the front of my suit, hiding it on the underside of my bra before quickly catching up to Jess while I zip my suit back up. You never know when you'll need it.

We walk into a room with a high ceiling and we both stopped and looked up as a platform was coming down, with who I assumed was Miguel. Wow he was huge-

I shake my thoughts away and bite my lip, crossing my arms across my chest and watch as it goes down. So slowly.

I blink and turn to Jess, she just sighs and shrugs, "just be patient."

"That isn't really in my blood...." I whisper and she chuckles.

"Well with him it'll have to be." She says making me roll my eyes.

It eventually came down, his back was facing us which I found to be very distracting... he was very wide, broad, and definitely not like the other Mexican men back in my New York. I bite my tongue and push back my thoughts... for now...

"Why are you wearing that?" He suddenly asks now turning around to face us and I raise an eyebrow. Why?

"Just felt like it." I say sarcastically making him narrow his eyes at me.

He turns to look at Jess and gives her a look, I roll my eyes pretending I didn't see it and take it upon myself to walk around as he steps off to talk to her.

I look up at the orange screens on top of the platform. It was showing tons of video clips, of different spiders but also of people out of their suits? Was this dude stalking people? This looked fucking insane.

I look at a specific screen seeing two teenagers talking, both their eyes filled with admiration and love. Cute.

"Oye gatita-" The voice and snap of Miguel fills my ears and I turn my head to look at him, "no es bueno fisgar." (Hey kitty, it's not good to snoop around)

I smirk and shrug, "just curious."

"Don't care that it killed the cat?" He responds quickly and I laugh.

"Did you already have these ready?" I tease and he rolls his eyes letting out a scoff. This was gonna be fun.

I walk back to him and Jess, looking at them, waiting expectantly. He lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair and looks at me, "so the last time you've robbed anything was four years ago?"

I nod, not exactly shocked he already knew. He did have screens that were practically cameras.

He narrows his eyes at me and I tilt my head to the side keeping my eyes on his. We stayed like that, few feet away from each other just holding each other's gaze.

I was captivated, I couldn't look away because I simply didn't want to. And to not lose this silent staring competition. His eyes were a gorgeous color of red, and like all men, had pretty long lashes. 

It had me thinking of how he was really handsome, the kind you'd find on a night out but not get the chance to ask for his number and you slump all sad for the rest of the night. Or the kind you and all your girlfriends would be fighting over wanting to go talk to him. The kind you'd grow the balls to ask to dance with you or maybe not even ask and just grind up against him-

Suddenly there's a loud clap making us both blink and groan at the same time. "Sorry just wanted to say I'm leaving." Jess says as I turn my head to look at her with a semi-surprised look on her face.

"But I want the credit for bringing her in considering it seems you already don't mind her presence." She adds and I laugh.

I look at Miguel as he scoffs and shakes his head, interesting reaction. "Who said-"

"Alright I'll leave you to it." She cuts him off and turns to me.

I look at her as she puts her hands on my shoulders and leans into my ear, "maybe use your magic on him, to make him less grumpy." She whispers very quietly making me smirk. Ah so he needs a distraction....

I bite my lip to hold back my laughter and just nod as she pulls away, "don't gotta tell me twice." I whisper back and she grins.

"She's a keeper." Jess says turning back to Miguel and he sighs.

"We'll see about that." He mutters and I grin.

Jess gives me a wave as she walks off and I look at Miguel again, "You definitely blinked first."

He shoots me a glare making me snicker, "you're very easy to tick off huh?"

"Shut up." He snarls making me grin.

"I can tell this is the start of a very beautiful relationship." I say and give him a wink.

He rolls his eyes then throws something at me, I catch it with ease and look down at it, a watch. "Welcome to the spider society." He says and goes back up to his platform without another word.

I admire it for a few seconds before quickly slipping it on and smile, wow.

Jess was kind enough to show me the ropes of how to use the watch, more specifically how to make portals to go to my earth and back here. Then she made another spider give me a tour and the overall breakdown, she was very sweet.

"So, Gwen, is it usually busy here?" I ask and turn to the blonde haired girl as she shrugs.

"Depends on the day, sometimes it's chaotic..." she says as we turn to see some spiders in the middle of an argument and she gives me a smile, "but sometimes it's chill."

I laugh and nod, "sure seems like it'd be a good mix of both."

She nods and smiles, "you'll fit right in! And don't mind the stares, there's already not too many women here so they're just-"

"Yeah... y'know what it's fine, could be way worse..." I say and chuckle, already have felt the stares since I got here.

"Trust me I get it, a lot, it'll calm down after a bit." She ensures making me laugh.

"We'll have to see about that, guess I'm not your ordinary spider woman." I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.

Have these men never seen a woman before?

"It's whatever, but I really didn't expect this many people-" I say and look all around us casually looking at the amount of suits there were.

So many colors.

"Yeah we're a big bunch..." she jokes as we walk around the halls of HQ.

"And Miguel recruited everyone?" I ask turning to look at her.

"Pretty much." She responds letting out a chuckle.

"What a job huh?" She adds and I nod.

"It's a job of it's own." I mutter under my breath just shocked how one man can find and say yes to a shit ton of people.

"His main focus is his work so it shouldn't be too shocking y'know?" She responds and it had me thinking.

Main focus huh? Very, very interesting.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

It was your second day and after getting a full tour you had gotten your first mission. You caught the anomaly easily and thinking you'd get another one, you went to Miguel's office but he said that was it.

"What do you mean?!?" I ask confused.

"You're still new alright gatita? I'm not going to immediately give you a handful of anomaly's to catch, I'm going to ease you into it." He explains making me groan and roll my eyes to which he sighs.

"If you keep up the momentum of your first mission then maybe I'll give you two per day." He says slowly and I smile.

"So kind of you Miguel." I say and wink at him.

He rolls his eyes making me grin, oooh I love a challenge...

"Entonces Miguel estas soltero o que...." I ask looking up at him, lightly fluttering my lashes at him. (So Miguel are you single or what)

"Get out-"

"Alright alright cálmate- it was just a simple question." I say in an innocent tone biting my lip to not smirk or laugh. (calm down)

He gives me a look and I just ignore it, keeping my eyes on to his pretty crimson ones awaiting an answer. "Why don't you look over some reports for me?" He says and I finally let out a laugh.

"Sure." I respond then chuckle, shaking my head. This might be harder than I thought...

He goes up to his desk and grabs a handful of files, before explaining what I had to keep an eye for and correct or whatever, I wasn't sure, just looking at how huge he was while he rambled and looked at his screens.

I wanted to take another good and close look at him while his back was facing me. I've never seen any of those gym guys back home look like this- I mean he was on a whole other level of jacked and fine...

The muscles on his back extended and became more prominent with every movement and swipe he did on his screens only making me eyes widen and more thoughts coming in to mind.

He would look so fucking good hovering over me- towering over my body looking down at me with those eyes- god those eyes had something in them because I felt like every time I looked I was hooked and couldn't bare looking away for a single second.

The way his biceps were so toned and looked absolutely perfect because of his suit that laid on every curve flawlessly. Every inch of him was just incredible to look at and I might've been drooling a bit from how much I was gawking.

"Gatita pon atención." His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I slightly jump before quickly gain my composure. Oops. (Pay attention)

"I am-" i retort and he scoffs. I bite my lip looking at the back of his head as he shakes it.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

"So why can't I go on the mission anymore?" I groan looking up at Miguel while he's typing away on a tablet with Lyla by his shoulder.

"I already told you." He mutters and I scoff.

"You didn't! You just told me I wasn't needed-"

"And I think that's good enough-"

"Well it isn't!" I exclaim and cross my arms against my chest, annoyed and confused.

He ignores me and doesn't even look at me, "Lyla tell Peter B to fill in-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!?" I scream and roll my eyes.

The fucking audacity of this man-

They keep talking to each other and I just close my eyes and take a deep breath in, because I unlike others know how to control my anger and annoyance. I hear Lyla's chirpy voice disappear and I open my eyes to immediately glare at him. He shakes his head, sighs then turns to me, "no hagas tus berrinches-" (don't throw your tantrums)

"Como no lo voy hacer si no me dejas ir a ayudar!! Estoy aquí para trabajar o no?!?" I retort and groan. (How am I not going to do it if you don't let me go and help!! Am I here to work or no?!?)

“You are-"

"Then???" I question and groan.

It's been a week since I got here and everyone's been cool and helpful. Except for him.

It was like he was my number one hater and couldn't fathom the fact that I was actually serious about wanting to help people. If he had his doubts why did he even bother let me join the society?

"You still don't trust me? Is that it?" I say and he stays quiet.

I roll my eyes and sigh, "I haven't even given you a reason not to." I mutter and walk out of his office.

"Then prove me wrong." I hear him mutter and just continue walking.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

I was sat on Miguel's desk waiting for him to get back from his mission to hand deliver him my first set of reports. I went over each other making sure everything was correct, slowly growing bored as he was dragging ass.

"Waiting for Miguel hun?" Lyla appears in front of me and I nod.

"He'll be a while more." She says and leans in looking at me intently.

"Jess said they were finishing up so i thought I'd wait." I say looking at her tiny body and she raises an eyebrow.

"You literally see the papers on me right now-" I say and she sticks a finger up shutting me up.

"I didn't accuse you of anything..." she responds making me scoff.

"But all of you are so paranoid for no reason anyway! I stopped my bullshit years ago." I mutter and cross my leg over the other.

"Then what about the flirting?" She asks widening her eyes and moves her face closer.

"That's just in my blood." I retort and shrug trying not to sound smug about it. I mean how could I resist?

She hums and closes an eye, widening the other just staring me down. I roll my eyes and play with a piece of my hair twirling it between my fingers while she's trying to read me, figure me out. I sigh and look at her, "well can you really blame me?"

Suddenly she snickers and shakes her head as I smirk and shrug again, no way she could deny it either....

"Hmm I guess." She says nonchalantly then we both turn to the entrance of Miguel's office to hear his footsteps.

She turns to me and puts her fingers to her lips and pretends to seal them then gives me a wink before turning to look at Miguel again, "kitty is here to see you."

I chuckle and hop off the desk as Miguel walks up to his platform and looks at me expectantly, I hold the reports up to him and he takes them from me quickly reading through them.

"Lyla mute all notifications for the next hour unless it's an absolute emergency." He tells her then looks back at me.

"Sure thing boss." She chirps, giving me a quick wink then disappears.

"You've been doing fairly decent..." he says almost hesitantly.

"Don't be so shocked Miguel, I'm obviously here to get work done." I say and shrug, straightening up.

"I see you are." He mutters and walks towards me then puts my stack of reports on the desk behind me.

I try my hardest to ignore our close proximity, knowing if I pay attention to it I will start having immediate thoughts I shouldn't be having.

"You've surprised me." He says looking down at me as we're merrily a few feet away from each other.

"How so?" I ask and cross my arms against my chest.

He shrugs and takes another step closer, I bite the inside of my cheek lightly and hold my breath looking up at him curiously. "Just thought you'd be a bigger problem for me."

That sounded like a double entendres.... interesting..

"I can behave when I want to." I say taking a step forward, getting closer to him and feeling my heart race.

"I find that hard to believe." He mutters making me smirk.

He didn't have to say another word. He wants a problem, he can get it.

I take the final step forward, our bodies so close to touching, I slowly bring a hand up to his neck then lightly trail along his collarbone. His breath hitches but he quickly regains composure, not moving nor pushing me away. I bring my other hand up and trail along his shoulders slowly.

Our eyes were locked the entire time but his eyes were softly fluttering and his chest was heaving the slightest bit. I smile sweetly at him and then bring my hands up to wrap them around his neck, removing the tiniest bit of space between us. I lean up a bit, lightly breathing against his lips, then lean in as if I was going to kiss him and only pulling away after our lips were millimeters apart. "Maybe I don't want to." I whisper and let our lips touch very lightly for a split second then pull away.

"Or maybe I do." I whisper then let go of him completely and take a step back looking at his very shocked expression.

"Cat got your tongue?" I tease making him groan.

He takes a step forward and wrapping his arm around my waist then turns me around. I gasp in shock then he quickly brings a hand up to my throat, making the back of my head hit his chest. His other arm was wrapped around my stomach as I felt his breath on my nose and a shiver travels down my body when his hand that was on my throat was off for a second to move my hair back. He leans down and leaves a soft kiss on my neck. Oh fuck.

He placed his hand back on my throat, barely squeezing making me wish he'd just apply a bit more pressure.  Sadly he doesn't read my mind but does leave more soft kisses up and down my neck making my heart beat out of my chest.

"Think you're hot shit teasing me like this gatita?" He growls in my ear making me bite my lip.

I squeeze my thighs together subconsciously rubbing my ass against his crotch. He groans and moves his hips, grinding himself against me. I let out a shaky breath and feel my eyes fluttering, he moves his hand from my stomach down to my thigh. He lightly squeezed the right one then moved to squeeze the left. "Tan bonita." He whispers in my ear making me moan. (so pretty)

Suddenly he lets go of me completely and I can no longer feel him on me, at all. I turn around seeing him with the cockiest smirk I've ever had the displeasure of having to look at and groan then roll my eyes. "Two can play at that game gatita." He teases as I clear my throat and give him a sweet smile.

"Then just make sure it's one you know you'll win." I say then walk out of his office feeling so empty and needy...

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

Anytime you had the opportunity to be alone with Miguel you took it, made sure to keep teasing him like he'd tease you.

At first it was innocent "accidental" touches like hands brushing against each other or even catching each others gaze.

Then it swiftly changed from that to you purposefully bending over to get something. As well as grinding yourself on him in crowded rooms to get past him.

He'd repay it back by snaking his arm around your waist then let his hands wander for a few seconds before letting go. At some point he couldn't handle all the teasing and would smack your ass whenever you both were alone.

You were going back and forth for days on end and it really shocked you considering he almost didn't even want you there, based on how Jess told you her conversation with him went.

But you were glad you were able to prove him wrong, and somehow were able to get him to flirt with you back, felt like a miracle considering what the other spiders were telling you about him. But you weren't going to complain.

Definitely won't complain.

I was coming back from my earth after finally deciding on giving my wig a go again, mostly because I loved the feeling of the long ponytail swinging back and forth when fighting. And for everyone's immersion since people were still staring.

Maybe I should fix up my other suit... though it's more fun to be in this one...

I shrugged my thoughts away and walk around, heading towards the training room simply minding my business when I walk past one of the many gyms and take a quick peek because my spidey senses went off.

I peep through the window and smirk, Miguel was in there. Perfect.

Impeccable timing.

I open the door and walk in, walking towards him then lean on the pull up machine Miguel was using and watch as he lifts himself up and down. The sweat glistening off his biceps and shoulders, absolutely perfection for my hungry eyes.

He continues his reps not paying attention to me at all which I didn't really mind, considering he was the perfect eye candy. I take a step back and walk behind him almost moaning at the sight, his back muscles and the way they were stretching and tightening with every movement.

It wasn't the first time I saw him shirtless but something about seeing his bare skin just had my mind and body going wild every time. He was different than any of the men I've ever seen or seduced back home which had me feeling excited because this was like brand new ground, or more so fresh meat. I couldn't help but want him.

I bite my lip and just stand there watching in awe and unable to peel my eyes from him. I take a step to the other end of the machine and lean against it, him still not stopping and letting out occasional grunts.

God he sounded as good as he looks...

He side eyes me and looked away before doing a double take and stopping, hanging off the machine for a second before letting go and standing in front of me with an eyebrow raised, letting out a chuckle then a smirk forming on his lips. "Silver looks good on you, gatita."

"Crees que si Miggy?" I ask and do an exaggerated little twirl then flip my hair back. (Think so?)

"Absolutamente." He breathes out making me smirk. (Absolutely)

"Thought everyone would like it." I say and give him an innocent smile.

I bat my lashes up at him as he grabs a towel from the bench behind us and wipes down the sweat from his forehead. He looks so fucking good.

I kept my eyes on his, fighting my dirty thoughts like wanting to trail down his body but somehow remaining focused on his eyes. "Nomas te encanta la atención huh?" He teased and I chuckle. (You just love the attention huh?)

I shrug them nod, "Tal ves... pero no creo que me puedes culpar..." I say and take a step closer to him, reaching a hand up to trail along his bicep. (Maybe... but I don't think you can blame me...)

"Menos porque agarre tu atención." I whisper and smile. (Especially because I got your attention)

"Siempre tienes mi atención gatita." He murmurs as he snakes his hands around my waist pulling me closer to him. (You always have my attention)

I felt my heart race as well as a familiar heat arose in my core, I needed him. Badly.

I wrap my arms behind his neck and look deeply into his eyes, he wants this just as much as I do. I can feel it.

I feel myself leaning in and watch as he does the same, our lips now millimeters apart from each other, craving for just a small taste. My stomach was fluttering as I felt him softly breathing on my nose, my face getting warm and I didn't even mind.

We both lean in at the same time, our lips finally meeting in a slow dance together. I couldn't help the small smile that popped up when he kissed me back softly, it felt so right.

Suddenly my spidey senses went off and I pulled away, taking my hands off him. I turn to look at the entrance of the gym and sure enough was Peter B Parker walking in mumbling to himself with Mayday chilling on his shoulder. I let out a disappointed sigh, shaking my head as I hear Miguel groan and see him gritting his teeth out of the corner of my eye.

I clear my throat and turn to him, "I guess I'll catch you soon."

I walk past Peter and lightly ruffing Mayday's hair then turn my head to look at Miguel giving him a wink before turning back and walk out.

So close.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

You were assigned on a mission to capture a Kingpin who wasn't where he was meant to be, along with Peter B Parker who had accompanied you because he didn't have Mayday with him that day and apparently wanted some thrill on the random Wednesday night.

You were prepared and ready to do whatever it took to get him, and already mentally prepared to possibly use some charm if needed...

And you'd already escaped him once so surely you could capture just as easily as he did you.

"Peter what kind of surprise attack is that?!?" I yell and groan, swinging away from the hidden position I was in at the bank Kingpin was at. Peter just had to announce we were here...

"I couldn't help myself! The big guy was rambling on and on to himself-" Peter starts to defend himself but gets cut off by said big guy going in for a punch to his face but he quickly backs up and gasps.

"That was not cool-" Peter tells Kingpin, pointing a finger in his face then shoots balls of webs at his face making him growl.

"Y'know he's not the only one who rambles to himself..." i mutter and snort thinking of the events from yesterday.

"Oh yeah! Y'know I wanted to ask you about that, what's going on between you and Miguel?" He asks looking up to face me as I look down with an unamused look on my face.

Normally I would've told him, but after yesterday no fucking way!! How could a man be a cockblock like that and expect to still get gossip??

"Nothing..." I say casually and jump down from the railing and onto Kingpin's back.

He starts moving back and I climb up his long back and shoot out ropes of webs and wrap them around his throat. "Then why do his eyes light up every time you enter a room?" He says and folds his arms against his chest in front of us.

My eyes widen and I almost stop webbing when I snap myself out of it and shake my head, "do they now?"

"Maybe... maybe not but now curiosity's gonna kill the cat huh?" He teases and I roll my eyes. Devious little fucker.

"Well...." I start but Peter immediately opens his mouth. "Ha! I knew you wanted to spill-"

"Who the fuck is Miguel-" Kingpin breaths out and tries to pull on the webs which just makes me tug on them harder.

"Shut up!"

"Cállate pendejo!!" (Shut up asshole)

Peter then webs his entire body, swinging around all the empty space of the bank and making sure it was extra tight so he couldn't get away. I jumped off and stood in front of Kingpin who looked only slightly different than the one from my earth. Still had a huge ass body and annoying but he looked much younger.

"Easy!" Peter exclaims and pretends to wipe off dirt from his suit.

"So...." Hs says and wiggle his eyebrows at me.

I burst out laughing, shaking my head in disbelief that he wanted to know so badly. I mean surely he talked to Miguel after I left?

"So what Peter?" I ask and look down at my watch, pressing a few buttons and watch a portal spawn in front of us.

He grabs the ends of the rope and begins tugging Kingpin towards the portal. "Well obviously there's tension... there's something there." He says and I merrily smile.

"It's complicated but it makes perfect sense for us i guess." I respond and shrug walking into the portal with Peter following right behind me.

A portal opens at HQ, luckily right where we drop the anomalies to the go home machine. Some spiders jog over to us and put Kingpin in a force field cage before taking him away.

I sigh and turn around only to have Peter looking at me with narrowed eyes and his hands on his hips. "Peter-"

"I wanna know how bad I should feel for interrupting the moment yesterday." He says making me shake my head laughing.

"Peter it's fine-"

"Tell me."

I sigh and shrug, "I don't even know myself. I mean I guess we're both flirty?"

"So it's mutual?" He asks and I shrug again.

"Very interesting..." he says and brings a hand up to exaggeratedly pretend to rub his invisible beard.

"Yeah people keep saying that...." I say raising an eyebrow at him and he finally looks at me normally.

"Well I'd say give it a shot, grumpy men need some lovin' too y'know?" He replies with the most serious tone ever.

I chuckle and nod, "yeah I guess we'll see..."

"Just have patience with him." He says and I sigh.

"I will."

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

You had a mission then another straight after, the first being a breeze but the second being much harder than expected.

A Doc Ock, much stronger than you had anticipated, and you thought you had it under control. You had to think fast to save yourself.

I widened my eyes when I felt a tentacle quickly grab me from behind, thinking I had maneuvered fast enough him to not catch me. I was wrong.

I groan as it slams me against a wall then makes another go to my throat and repeatedly punches me with a third. The tentacle around my body had a very tight grip on me, and i didn't have any choice but just to take it.

With every punch from the metal tentacle I felt more and more pain on my cheek and jaw, my skin felt hot, it was starting to sting and I could taste the blood in my mouth.

Thinking quickly and before losing consciousness, I have in mind of giving good ole Doc some bad luck. It usually took a while but right now I didn't have time so I just closed my eyes and thought of all the possible bad luck that could happen to this man right now.

My spider senses go off making my eyes shoot open as I look up to see a billboard above us falling down towards us. He raised an eyebrow at me and look up as well, his grip loosened for a singular second which was enough for me to slip out of his grasp before harshly pushing him out of the way.

We both fell a couple feet away as the billboard fell where we just were within seconds. I let out a deep breath before standing up and quickly use my webs to tie him up. I walk behind him as he groans and press a little button behind his neck and see as the tentacles detach from him.

I sigh and gather them before webbing them up together then press the buttons on my watch to spawn the portal. I grab him by his collar and make him stand up as I drag the tentacles by the end of my web.

I walk us through the portal and it opens up to where we put anomalies after capturing. A few spiders come up to me and quickly take him and putting him and his tentacles in a force field like cage.

I sigh and wipe my forehead, suddenly feeling the pain on my face. Shit.

I bring a hand up to my cheek and am instantly met with blood, i sniffle, slowly feeling some blood drip down onto my lip. I groan and quickly swing away heading to the medical center to put on some bandaids.

I drop down and walk in, looking for an available room to go in quick then leave. I make a turn and accidentally bump into someone. "My bad." I mumble not looking up and went around whoever I bumped into until I'm yanked back.

I yelp then look up to see Miguel and sigh, "Oh sorry Miguel-"

He looks at me for a millisecond before interrupting, "Come with me." He grabs my hand leading me towards a room.

I groan but follow anyway, not really having a choice since he was practically dragging me with him. He peeps through a door then walks in with me right behind him. He lets go of my hand and motions for me to sit down, which I oblige not really in a mood to argue or protest.

He quickly collects stuff from a cabinet then walks back to me. He puts the alcohol, bandages and gauze down next to me before bringing a hand up to my face slowly. His fingers grab my mask gently, and he peels it off making me groan as I bring a hand to the bridge of my nose. I feel his hand gently on my chin, moving it up, "it's not that bad..." I mutter, mostly trying to convince myself that the pain could be worse.

I lightly bite my lip, tasting the blood as I look up at his eyes, trying so hard to not look worried. He looks away and grabs the bottle of rubbing alcohol and putting some on a gauze pad. I sigh and place my hands on my lap as he brings the pad up to my forehead hesitantly. "I can handle it Miguel." I say looking into his eyes again.

He nods and places it on the wide wound I had along my forehead, remembering how many other bruises and slashes I had was the only thing distracting me from the stinging of the alcohol. Soon enough the pad was off and he had opened a bandage and placed it over the wound before gently placing a hand along my jaw and looking at my cheek.

He pulls away and gets another pad, adding alcohol to it then looks into my eyes. I nod slowly and he puts the pad against my cheek, it instantly burning making me fight back tears and a groan. He bit his lip fully concentrated as he wiped along the wound carefully and I couldn't help but think of how gorgeous he was. At a time like this?

Well to be honest I couldn't think of a better scenario for us.

He places the bloody pad down and opens another bandage, it being slightly bigger this time and gently placed it on my cheek. He sighs and rubs his finger against the bandage softly, making me melt into his touch. "The rest are just little scratches, but take a rest day tomorrow, I'm not giving you any missions and it's not up for debate." He says sternly and I just sigh.

"I guess..." I mumble and he pulls his hand away making me frown.

It felt nice.

A silence filled the room as we looked at each other, my mind going straight to our short lived kiss from the other day. His lips were so soft and warm, I had still felt their touch lingering after I pulled away and there's nothing I've wanted more than to feel them again. It's all I've been thinking about even on missions, it's always in the back part of my mind.

I couldn't help it, out of all the men I've flirted with in the past he was just different than all of them combined. He was attentive, and stern but sweet when he wanted to be. I've grown closer to him in the past few weeks and even if it's unexpected for everyone, for me it feels great. It feels right and I couldn't get him out of my head if i wanted to.

With the way he was looking at me I felt like he was thinking about it as well. Lips parted staring down at my own while I looked at his eyes then down at his lips. I lightly bit mine and feel a sense of nervousness in my stomach. This effect he has on me was intense. Now more than ever.

He cleared his throat making me look back up to his eyes, his pretty crimson eyes that I could stare into forever if I could. "How are you feeling?"

I shrug and clear my throat as well trying to hide my thoughts, "I'm fine, just hurts a little." I say making him nod.

Another silence.

He coughed and took a step back, his eyes seemed almost worried which had me a tad bit confused, my wounds weren't too bad and I know he has had worse. Unless.... he was starting to care?

"I'm serious about no missions tomorrow-"

"I know."

He sighs and folds his arms across his chest, this almost feels like it's going to turn into a lecture. Or something along those lines...

"What's bothering you Miguel?" I ask and he shakes his head.

Right as he opens his mouth I interrupt him knowing he'll try to lie, "No digas que nada porque ya te conozco mejor." I say and point a finger at him. (Don't say nothing because now I know you better)

He shakes his head again and sighs, I raise an eyebrow and feel my heart beat faster as he takes a step closer to me. "I just-"

He sighs and faces me, looking me directly in the eye, "I can't get you out of my mind and I hate it."

I bite my lip and nod, "I haven't stopped thinking of that kiss," I say and reach out to grab his arm, pulling him towards me, "but I don't hate it." I whisper and spread my legs so he can stand right between.

"Gatita..." he murmurs and I just hum, innocently wrapping my legs around his waist and pull him in as closely as I could.

"We shouldn't...." He whispers looking away, but I took notice of the redness in his cheeks and the way he wasn't shoving me away as a good sign.

"But you want to.." I whisper back and he sighs.

I bring my hands up and wrap them behind his neck, making him visibly breathe harder, "estas bien Miguel... just let me..." I whisper inches away from his lips. (You're okay)

I then lean in and peck his lips, testing the waters out, when I felt him kiss back I started kissing him with no worries. I felt his hands go down to my thighs, lightly squeezing as I brought mine up to his chest.

He squeezed my inner thigh and with the other hand brought it up to cup my cheek, kissing me so gently. I trace around his chest and trail up to his collarbone when he pulls away making me pout but he moved my head back and to the side. His lips then latched on to my neck making me gasp at the quickness he was moving but it was perfect.

He leaves kisses all over my skin while one hand continued squeezing my thigh and the other was now by my lower back, sneaking it's way down to my ass. I let out a sigh and bring my hands up to grip his curls as he chooses a spot for him to mark.

"Am I a problem for you now?" I ask out of breath and bite my lip to fight off the laughter.

He groans and pulls away to look at me, i fight back the urge to laugh as he rolls his eyes then sheepishly smiles. I grin and pull him in for another kiss which he doesn't complain about.

Until he pulls away and grabs me carefully, making me step off the bed, bringing me down to my knees. I fight back a moan and look up at him, batting my lashes at him.

Suddenly the lower half of his suit disappears and with that revealing his cock. Long and thick, already dripping precum as it sprung up and hit his stomach. My eyes were wide and I may as well have been drooling. Wow.

I quickly get to work, grabbing the base of it and licking off the precum that was falling off to the side and down a vein. I lick it off slowly while looking him directly in the eyes, making him moan and tilt his head back.

I smile, going back up to the tip I give it a few kisses before sticking my tongue out and lightly slap it on my tongue. "No juegues conmigo gatita-" he says and I pout. (Don't play with me)

"De verdad ya estas tan desesperado?" I tease and he groans. (Are you really already so desperate?)

"Me vas a matar-" he mutters but I cut him off by taking him on my mouth, slowly taking him in. (You're gonna kill me)

He moans and shakes his head then groans, "Tómalo- tómalo todo gatita-" (Take it, take it all)

I take more of him, feeling my mouth already be filled and I was barely getting halfway. I controlled my breathing as best as I could and took another inch, now feeling his tip nearing my throat.

I move my head back and forth, trying to keep up a decent pace but considering how thick he was, I was struggling. But he didn't seem to mind.

Suddenly he thrusts his hips making me gag on it and I quickly pull back then move my head forward taking as much of him as I could take down my throat. He moans and I feel his hands on my head, making me stay in place.

He groans then lets me go as I pull it out of my mouth and showcase all the drool that was dribbling down my mouth and on to my suit. I slap it on my tongue again then give him a wide smile as I wipe the drool from my chin.

Then back to business I take his cock in my mouth and start deep throating him again, feeling more comfortable now. I look up at him and see him with his mouth open, letting out groans then biting his lip. He is fucking incredible.

"God I can't believe this is finally happening- you have no idea how many times I've thought about this- just s-stroking myself thinking of y-you on your k-knees like this." He confesses and grabs my hair, pushing me deeper. "Just for me." He breathes out and groans.

I moan against him and squeeze my thighs feeling the arousal between my legs swirl around in my panties. He's stroked himself thinking of me on my knees? I couldn't believe what he just said, am I dreaming? How is this real? How'd I get so lucky?

I move my head faster and kept my hands to my sides as i made sure to take every inch of him. How could I disappoint him after he's had wet dreams about me? I couldn't do that...

I close my eyes, feeling them brink with tears as he now started to fuck my throat slowly. The little hairs at the end of his happy trail tickling my nose every time he thrusted all the way and stayed there a few seconds.

He groaned and continued thrusting into my mouth still holding onto my hair like it were helping him. I just let him and felt myself growing more and more wet as this continued on.

I open my eyes and feel a few tears slip but then notice Miguel's legs were shaking and he was slowing down. I felt giddy that was I able to take him and make him cum when he suddenly pulls away, slipping himself out of my mouth making me whine. "Miguel you were about to-"

"I don't care-" he growls and reaches down, grabbing my arms pulling me up with him.

He then turns me around and bends me over the bed making me yelp. He moves my hair to the side and starts undoing my suit. He zips it down as fast but carefully as he could and when it got down to the bottom which was by my lower back, his hands quickly came up to start taking it off.

His hands went straight to my shoulders peeling the spandex off as i was taking it off my fingers, god this suit was so frustrating.

He groans as I fumble with the spandex on my right hand and I bite my lip, "How mad would you be if I ripped your suit?" He asks and I scoff.

"You mean my only suit?" I say and finally manage to slip it off every finger.

He groans again and takes the sleeves off my arms then brings it down my body slowly as I lift myself up a bit. He's taking it off my stomach, then down to my hips when I head him take a deep breath when he finally brings it up and over my ass revealing my red thong.

I then feel a hard smack against it making me jump and moan,  fuck.

"Te gusta eh?" He teases and I feel myself melt into the bed, speechless and in awe. (You like that)

He's so perfect-

"Contéstame." He demands then gives me another smack, this one stinging more than the first, leaving my legs shaking a bit. (Answer me)

"Si- si me gusta..." I whine and lay my face into the bed. (Yes- yes I like it...)

"No fallas de sorprenderme gatita." He murmurs and gently rubs my ass. (You don't fail to surprise me)

I move my head to the side and chuckle, "Es bueno verdad?" I ask quietly and he hums. (That's good right?)

"Ni te imaginas..." he responds and blows a bit of air against my aching cunt. (you can't even imagine...)

I take a deep breath in, not at all prepared for whatever he has in mind. I didn't think we'd ever actually get anywhere near this...

But I couldn't deny how happy I felt that it was happening...

Definitely worth the wait.

"Estas tan hermosa gatita." He whispers and I felt a kiss against the back of my thigh. (You're so gorgeous)

My cheeks immediately grow warm and I just sigh, feeling his fingers slip onto my folds. I feel my eyes flutter as he continues his slow movements, tormenting me. "Miguel por favor." I whine and move my hips up, needing more. (please)

"Paciencia nena." He coos softly and teases my entrance with the tip of his finger. (Patience baby girl)

"Please-" I whine, earning myself a hard smack against my ass.

A whimper escapes my lips when he suddenly slips a finger inside, excruciatingly slow. But how the hell could a singular finger feel so fulfilling? Even if he wasn't moving it yet...

I close my eyes and bring my ass up, making sure to arch my back with my head still against the bed. "Good girl." He whispers softly and adds a second finger.

I couldn't help the moans that came out as he slowly starts to finger fuck me, my arousal enveloping his fingers as he starts to pump them faster. I didn't think his fingers would feel this fucking good otherwise I would've tried harder to get him to fuck me. I feel myself clench against his fingers with my thighs shaking to top it off.

"Miguel~"

He hums and pushes them deeper then curling them up to hit that spot that has me practically seeing stars. I let out some whimpers and let myself be fully indulged in the moment.

I lazily lay down, ass still somewhat in the air with him still fucking me but now my stomach was now directly on the bed. His fingers continued going deep but he was going faster now and it was getting hard to control the noises that left my mouth.

Deep down I didn't care if we were caught, i don't think either of us would want to stop, but still I knew I should keep my volume somewhat quiet. Especially considering we were in the medical area where there's likely to be tons of spiders getting fixed up.

And the fact that we definitely shouldn't be doing this here specifically...

My thoughts are cut short when I don't feel his fingers inside me anymore, giving Miguel my full undivided attention I turn my head around to look at him, "What the fuck-"

My breath hitches in my throat when I feel the tip of his cock rubbing against my wet folds. I feel my pussy clench onto absolutely nothing as he continues swirling his tip with my arousal. "Miguel-" I breathe out, letting out a shaky moan.

"So fucking soaked." He mutters under his throat and moves his tip down to my aching clit.

He rubs circles against it instantly earning himself whimpers slip out from me. I move my head back facing forward again, covering my mouth and biting my lip as an extra precaution but it was so hard being quiet when he was teasing me like that. "Fuck-" he moans as he positions himself, now feeling his tip by my entrance.

He pushed into me slowly making me bite my hand, really trying my hardest to stay quiet. After the past weeks we've been tormenting each other and all the possible sexual tension that's been building, he was finally fucking me. I finally had him where I wanted him all along and it was so fucking good. Perfect even.

I was able to feel myself stretch around him and he just felt better than I'd have ever imagined. He stretched me out but fit oh so perfectly and it was as if he was a missing puzzle I so desperately needed.

He grunted as he buttomed out and brought his hands down to my hips, helping me bounce against him. I lifted my lower half up, now no longer lazily laying down. He digs his fingers into my skin as he pulls back then slams right back into me.

I let out a whimper as he moaned and finally started moving, at first slowly fucking into me before he suddenly started pounding into me. I cried against my hand and bit my lip again, it's like he wanted me to make noise, or to let us get caught.

Not this time.

He let out strings of groans and moans as he continued his fast pace, not having a care in the world if we're heard. "Me estás tomando tan bien gatita." He moaned out and left a hard smack against my ass. (You're taking me so well)

I whimpered and felt myself clench against him, making the both of us moan at the same time. I was already noticing my vision get blurry and my legs feeling like jelly all while he thrusted his hips into me not ever stopping or slowing down but instead going harder.

"Shit! Miguel- se siente tan rico-" I whine and press my cheek against my hands now freely letting out moans. Fuck it. (feels so good)

"Ya se mami, ya se." He groans and I feel one of his hands grasp onto my ponytail. (I know, I know)

He pulls my hair tugging it a bit so I move my head back making him moan and completely stop, but buried deep inside me. I whimper at the loss of his pounding but then gasp as he brings me up carefully with his other hand and letting go of my hair.

I was now sitting up right on my knees with him still inside me, I felt a shiver run through my body as he brought his arms up and wrapped them around my waist. "You're so beautiful." He whispers in my ear, leaving a small kiss against my neck.

He brings a hand down to my stomach, right where the bulge of him was. He presses lightly making me sigh and lay my head against his hard chest. "You feel so perfect baby." He murmurs and I bite my lip then bring my hands to wrap them around his arms for stability.

"Y te ves tan perfecta." He purrs making me melt into him. (And you look so perfect)

"Miguel-"

"Shh..." he hushes and moved the hand from my stomach and brings it up, grazing my skin softly.

His hands lands on to my left breast, he squeezed it gently then moved his hips back. I sigh and grip onto his arms as he slams back into me making me moan in surprise. "Mi-"

Finally deciding where to leave his hands over my body he starts moving again, thrusting his hips into me as he holds a steady grip on my body. My tits bounced in the same rhythm he was fucking me and it already felt so overstimulating. He pinched my left nipple and moaned out sweet little nothings into my ear as he kept his pace and making sure I wouldn't just drop onto the bed.

His body towered over me even though I was on top of the bed, taking notice of his size compared to mine was starting to make my head spin. He was just so tall and wide, buff even, I was much smaller compared to him and it made me shake in pure excitement. I've never had a man of his stature just ravage me like he was doing right now and that thought alone was pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

"Just like that Miguel-" I breathe out but then feel a hand against my throat cutting me off.

"Fuck baby you're taking me so well." He groans and lightly squeezes my throat.

What sounded like a muffled whimper slipped from my lips making his hand around my waist grip me tighter. He rammed into me as if there was no tomorrow and I gladly let him. In what world would I tell him to stop?

"This is what you wanted isn't it gatita? Hmm?" He grunts and I nod.

"Just needed me to manhandle you and take you how I want." He mutters and another combination of a cry and moan leaves my lips. Holy fuck-

The mixed sounds of our joint moans of pleasure and him senselessly pounding into me filled my ears and I couldn't think of better things I could possibly listen to.

His hold on me made it seem as if he thinks I'd disappear out of thin air if he let me go, it wasn't a complaint more of an observation that had me squeezing his arms, needing him as close to me as possible.

He finally let go of my throat which made me breathe in then pant followed by whines as he snaked that hand down to my clit, rubbing slow circles against it. My back arches against him and I subconsciously tilt my head to the side which he quickly took advantage of and latched his lips onto my neck.

He sucked feverishly and I felt my eyes flutter at the overstimulation. He moans against my skin before licking the new branded mark. I bring a hand up to his face and look up at him, as if reading my mind he smashed his lips onto mine in a needing passionate kiss.

I kissed back as best as I could, feeling my legs slowly give up on me but his grip on me never loosened and his pace now slowing down. I felt him twitch inside me and i quickly felt my orgasm approaching, that all too familiar feeling in my tummy that has made my legs become a shaking mess and my sex leaving a creamy ring against Miguel's base with every thrust.

He slipped his tongue into my mouth and I tried to match his energy but that knot in my stomach was ready to explode. And it did.

My walls pulsating against him as my orgasm washed over my entire body, leaving me a shaking mess on him. I let out cries in his mouth as he gently held on to me and moaned into my mouth as well, feeling him shoot ropes of his warm cum deep inside me. He pulled away and gently pecked my lips which i happily reciprocated.

We pulled away, he leaned his forehead against my head as we both caught our breath. I felt my heartbeat calm down as he held me now gently. I didn't even notice when his hand moved from my clit to properly hold me but I just ignored it and melted into his arms.

He then slips out of me making me whimper at the empty feeling but look down to see his cum oozing out of me and onto the poor medical bed. I stifle a laugh and look into Miguel's eyes, he was already looking at me. I feel my cheeks burn up and I can't help but sheepishly grin, him returning it back.

He lets me go and sets me down on the edge of the bed then sits down next to me. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and I instantly snuggle up to his chest making him move his arms to wrap them around my body.

"You did so good gatita." He whispers and I nod, my breathing now completely normal but now feeling butterflies all over my skin.

"It was about time, don't ya think?" I joke quietly and he laughs.

I sigh and just listen to the thumps of his heartbeat as he caresses my hair gently and leaves kisses on the top of my head. He really was perfect.

[kairiscorner]

OMG IF YOU WANT PLS DO WRITE THE FIC ABOUT MIGUEL SEEING OUR THIRST TRAPS 😭 salamat talagaaaa wala na kasi akong maisip maliban kay miguel

HELLOOOOO, OFC I WILL ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS HEHE this is another excuse to make more text fics bc it's starting to feel fun for me LMAO <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

is it not for me? – miguel o'hara x reader (reacting to your thirst traps)

a/n: kind of suggestive shit underneath the cut, sorry if you don't like it, you have every right to scroll away ^^

after getting used to the controls and operations on social media and understanding the basic goal, or lack, of it–miguel had begun scrolling through his feed like you and lyla directed him to do. he scrolled and scrolled through the endless photos, videos, and posts sent his way by the very strange algorithm of the app. he still hadn't found the right thing for him on social media and he honestly wouldn't be here if you and lyla didn't force him to try it out so much, but when he least expected it... he happened upon your account.

he saw a photo of your back, it was you taking a selfie in the mirror with hardly anything covering your back. your behind was in full view but covered up, the lighting was dim, save for the flash of your phone's camera. the caption read: "for m, hoping you'll enjoy this three-course meal 🍓"

...that did something to miguel. it set some sort of feeling off of him, something that urged him to not just click like, but to comment right then and there: "who the shock is 'm'?" but if only he knew how to comment; all he knows how to do is click like and scroll.

he clicked the like button, unsure of how to feel about that very... eye-catching photo of yours. he tried shaking the feeling off, but he just couldn't; he couldn't stop thinking about it. he scrolled back up to see who else liked your photo, it took him a few tries to figure out how to do that. he also saw a few of the preview comments, complimenting your looks and tagging their friends who had 'm' in their names–joking that the photo was for them.

it pissed miguel off that these people could think your photos were for them, when you promised him you were all his. it damaged his ego slightly, but he figured these people were just douches, simple as that.

...but he needed to be doubly sure, so he click on your profile and looked through the posts you made. you really did love showing off your behind, it seemed like you were incredibly proud of it; miguel's totally in love with your ass, don't get him wrong, bur to know other people could see it and get to revisit the sight of your ass? oh, that made him feel a bit of a stinging pain in his chest.

he hated that feeling, where he felt like you were sharing intimate bits of yourself when you kept reminding and telling him you're all his. that, and as he scrolled through your comments, he saw a lot of people who not only loved your photos and sent you many compliments, but many who told you to get off the platform–many also catcalled you in the comments, too, much to his disgust.

"can't even keep this shit in real life, what losers." he muttered under his breath as he felt his anger rise as he kept scrolling through your comment section. he had gone through almost all of your posts, memorizing all the details of your posts and how you looked in them, feeling his face and chest flare up in a fit of heat as he looked through them all one by one. he sighed as he noticed you were a little too bold in these photos, in his opinion. he didn't want you to jeopardize yourself, seeing as how there were a lot of creeps on your account, he wanted to bring it to you attention.

hence, he messaged you all about his concerns.

"for... her mother?" miguel repeated to himself as he reread your message to him. he sighed, not believing your excuse one bit, believing you directed it to someone with an 'm' in their name, like him, but he decided to play along for now to get you to fess up eventually. that, and he doesn't think you'd wish your mom would have a lovely three-course meal with your ass picture, but he did see that you took pictures of food afterwards, so... it was plausible. but you were not off the hook yet.

he sighed as you laughed at his attempt at guessing who that post was for, who 'm' was. he felt a little embarrassed, a little ashamed he thought it was him, but then he thought of who would be closest to you, had 'm' in their name, and would enjoy the three-course meal that was... you already know what. he sighed as he typed and retyped his message after deleting the previous one, trying to get himself together after outing himself as being a little expectant that those thirst traps were for him.

he finally messaged you, trying to sound stern over text, but he was completely ignored by you when you sent him a selfie of your bottom half, with little letters on your bottom that read: "good????? bad????? should i get em....."

fuck, you baited him again.

he felt his cheeks grow hot and his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at your photo for a second, hoping you wouldn't post this, that this could remain as just a little thing between you two. but then again, he couldn't control you, so he'd just try to respond back–seeming unfazed. hopefully.

he was so easy to please sometimes.

moral of the story?

miguel loves your ass and wants to beat up the creeps in your comments section, while making it known to both you and the world that your ass is all for him–nobody else.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @meeom @ophanimgold @melovetitties @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @popeheywardssecretgf

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 54

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

all i want for christmas by tusslee

“Listen,” Lance squeezes Keith’s fingers in his hands, “I’m as bad at this as you probably are and this is going to be really cheesy, but that’s the way I was raised and I know I act like an idiot around pretty girls, but I’m an even bigger idiot around you. Go ahead and try to guess why that is. No, actually don't do that."

this one is gonna be an xmas special!! even though im writing this before halloween lol. anyways. this was so cute!! lance being all stressed about what he should get keith bc he's all in love w him any everything. so real.

2. You're Here (Where You Should Be) by @blue-wanderer

"And if you’re worried about the cameras just take care of them.” “Take care—! Take care of them? With what, Keith?” “I don’t know?” Keith asks, busily testing his foothold in the gate and generally ignoring the rising storm cloud of ire behind him. “With a gun?” “A gun? This isn’t some sort of black ops storming an enemy base thing! This is a Christmas tree thing!” “I don’t see a difference? You’re the sharpshooter. Shoot out the cameras.” “Let me just pull a gun out of my ass, Keith!” “OK, problem solved,” Keith agrees, taking another step up the gate. “Nothing is solved you dumb country space redneck!”

Or Keith and Lance may be disasters at decorating, but Christmas still manages to work its magic on them.

i bookmarked this like a year ago and let me tell you all i needed to hear was dumb country space redneck and i was hooked 😭😭 and it lived up to the name fr. hate the canon ending? want lance to not be a farmer while still acknowledging his struggles with homesickness? want some whipped keith and meddlesome kosmo? want some cheesy xmas feels? click ahead!

3. make my wish come true by angelbolt

“A world where one has to fight for custody of one’s boyfriend is a godless one,” Lance muttered, slumping so he was leaning against Hunk. Shiro exchanged some final words with Kolivan before the screen blipped out. Ah yes, the ideal Christmas Eve: long boring talks and war meetings. Wonderful. ❆❅❆ keith comes home for christmas.

fun game idea: take a shot every time you see a klance xmas fic with a mariah carey lyric. lol. ANYWAYS yall know me and established relationship + early season dynamics!! i am obsessed!! and this fic delivers!! grumpy lance pov who just wants the rest of the world to fuck off for a couple days so he can have his bf around. he's such a voice of the people

4. i'll be home for christmas by @thespacenico

A severe bout of winter weather threatens to stop Shiro from making it home for his first Christmas with Keith. Shiro is ready to do whatever it takes to keep his promise.

okay this one is from darcy's i've got you brother, which i am obsessed with and have cried over several times, and which just recently updated! this fic is so cute and a adashi with young keith always fucking gets to me, man. they're just so. shiro being so desperately determined to keep his promise to young keith who has had so many promises broken that he doesnt even expect shiro to try. but is happy that he does. sobbing.

5. the greatest gift of all by dumpsterdiva

Keith’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before he stammered, “D-do you really mean that?” Lance looked a bit sheepish as he said, “I… It’s crazy, right? I mean, it’s way too soon. You know I was kidding.” Keith straightened up. “Well, I’m not. Marry me.” “What?!” “You heard me, you coward. Marry me.” “That’s the worst proposal ever!” “Worse than you threatening me with marriage so I would stop talking about how amazing you are?”

YOU GUYS KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT PROPOSAL FICS. i feel ksjbskdbqjdbqwlwd about them. okay. and throw in a christmas setting??? and banter?? and a MODERN AU?? i am doing my best, people. this fic had me shoving a pillow into my face and screaming.

that’s it for today!! happy holidays! merry christmas!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[pondslime]

@pretty-possum​​ cynth, ur mind. ur fuckin MIND. thank u for sending me this electric idea bc it rlly had me spooning out my brain!! here’s some filthnasty for u in which he has way too much fun and it’s ickyweird

catching flies with honey (if the killing’s what you like, make it sweet)

bo sinclair x afab!reader

rating: explicit

wordcount: 4.8k

Reader POV. You keep telling him how much you hate him. You little spitfire! It's real cute. Anyway, he’s got something special to show you. He’s sure you’ll love it. 

Also posted on AO3 here.

⚠️ Canon typical violence and fuckery. We’re in Bo’s hell basement for the first bit of this, so that means many references to past noncon. When we get to the wax museum nasty, it's dubcon under EXTREME duress. Reader dislikes Bo immensely and makes this clear to him multiple times. Bo finds this endlessly entertaining and adapts his approach to make her even more miserable. He's on his brat-taming shit. Sugary sweet, full of bullshit compliments, contrived as hell. He’s very smug and manipulative and slimy in this fic. HEAVY praise kink. Deviating from my other Bo fics, he doesn’t call you any awful names! Whoa! But he might as well! Because this really isn’t any better! Praise kink as degradation.  A wax sculpture is destroyed, and the resulting viscera and nastiness is described in vivid detail. Some suspension of disbelief is necessary for the decomposition described, but that’s basically a warning for the original movie lmao. Mind break elements. He talks you through it (unfortunately). Multiple orgasms with a heavy focus on overstimulation.  ⚠️

He’s red on the inside, same as you. It’s about time that somebody reminded him.

“I’m gettin’ sloppy.” Bo clicks his tongue. “Ain’t your fault, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that.” You spit out, tugging at the restraints on the chair.

“What? You don’t like me bein’ sweet to you?”

He hums a tune as he clips your fingernails. You expect a sting of pain—want one, even—each time he lifts another finger. It never comes. He’s uncharacteristically gentle, pinching his tongue between his teeth and tilting his head as he studies your hands.

“Ain’t been takin’ care of you like I should, baby.” He murmurs.

Your lip trembles with indignation. You wear enough marks on your skin to know that his version of care isn’t something you want. Your eyes dart back to the scratch on his neck. You wish you could’ve done more, cut deeper—but you’ll take this small victory. It’s a reminder that he’s nothing more than human, shackled by the same mortality you are. You can see that in the pinpricks of blood blooming on his neck.

He bleeds like you and he can die just the same.

“I hope it scars.” You mutter.

Leveling his gaze to meet yours, Bo tips his head towards your bound wrists.

“Hope yours do to.” He chuckles. “You keep yankin’ on those things and we’re ‘bout to have a matchin’ set.”

The smile he gives you is warm and soft, crinkling at the corners of his eyes. It’s as counterfeit as the rest of his persona and just as paper-thin. You wonder who he stole that expression from. He only seems to have things that he’s taken from others.

You count the days with scratches on his Polaroids.

He keeps your nails short now, so you can’t dig into them like you used to. Despite that, you try your best, pressing a crescent moon of a cut into the glossy surface. He’s got enough of them hanging up that you doubt he’ll notice. If you know one thing for certain, it’s that he seems to have a remarkably one-track mind.

He comes down here for you. Everything else is as consequential as the dirt and rust that line the shelves. A product of years of neglect, just another piece of the background. When you think about it, even you are one of those incidental things. The previous occupants of this room watch you from the wall, a constant reminder that this has all happened before. Down here, you are not an anomaly. The technicalities of your self are really just that, technicalities.

It’s necessary to give him things (your body, your time, all that rust) because that’s how you stay alive. You can’t feel bad for that. It’s a hunger like anything else and you swallow it down like any of the other tasteless meals he brings you. It slides down your gullet and with every mouthful, the pang lessens. When the hunger is gone, all you’re left with is the way he sits in your stomach.

You have to be careful. If you’re not, there’ll come a point where there won’t be anything more to pry away. You have to stay awake.

You’re screaming. Bo’s yawning.

“Figured ya’ woulda gotten that outta your system by now.”

You ignore him.

“Want me to try and holler with ya’? Might help that sound carry.”

“Where’s everybody else?” You wheel around to face him, hands balled into tight fists. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning back on his elbows.

“Dunno.” Scrunching his face up in thought, he purses his lips. “Haven’t seen nobody ‘round here in a minute. Just you.”

“Just me?” You chew on your bottom lip, searching his face. “You’re not a good liar.”

“I’m not lyin’.” He smirks at you.

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” Your voice warbles a bit around the question, but you manage to steady your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Look darlin’, I know you’re real worried ‘bout those friends of yours.” He frowns at you, brow creased in a poor attempt at sympathy. “And I don’t wanna scare ya’ baby. I really don’t. But you gotta know. My brother…he ain’t right. If he got to ‘em first…can’t tell ya’ what could’ve happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s got this, uh—this compulsion.” He shakes his head slowly, letting out a low whistle. “Bad stuff. Gotta keep ya’ away from him.”

“Why?”

“Oh, ‘cuz you’re somethin’ special.” He drags the last word out, letting it pop in his mouth. “But you know that, don’tcha, baby?”

His praise might as well have been spat into your face with a wad of saliva.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he glances over his shoulder. He stands there for a beat too long, eying the Polaroids. Leaning over, he tugs one off the wall. You haven’t exactly been subtle with your date-keeping. He scans over the damage, his lips curling into a sneer.

“I’m gonna say this once.” His face twists into a scowl. “All this? It’s real cute—until it ain’t.”

There’s an eagerness to your breath as you watch him, your eyes darting from the ruined picture back to his face. It’s an odd, confusing thing, but part of you prefers him like this. The cruelty makes him predictable. You’re so sick of the platitudes, the sugary pet names. You know what he wants to call you, what he really thinks of you as. He may as well have branded those words deep into your skin.

You used to make him so angry. It almost felt like your encounters were equal parts punishment doled out to both of you, wrapped up around the callous bite of his voice. This recent change in demeanor frustrates you, it feels like it was born out of something you did. Nothing bothers you more than that. When you were a slut, or a whore, or a nasty little bitch, that was all him.

You ready yourself for what’s coming, knowing that it’ll hurt, but pleased to know that you managed to break his composure. Unable to hide behind thinly veiled niceties, he can’t pretend to be kind.

To your dismay, his face relaxes.

“Reckon it ain’t nice to tease ya’ with pictures when ya’ want the real thing.” He sighs, crumpling the picture in his hand. Your shoulders sag. “I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

You start your count back up on a new Polaroid. It feels less satisfying, but that’s routine for you.

You’re six notches deep into your new calender when Bo comes downstairs jangling his keys.

“Got somethin’ to show ya’ today.”

“…What is it?”

“Don’t wanna spoil the surprise.” He shrugs, shooting you a smile. “Can’t bring it here, so…how ya’ feel ‘bout takin’ a walk, darlin’?”

Outside the gas station, you shield your eyes from the sun.

Rustling in his pocket, Bo pulls out a crumpled box of cigarettes. You peer around as he flicks his lighter open, your heart stuttering in your chest. You’re not bound. There’s nothing preventing you from taking off down the street. But this is his test, and you know that.

The limits of the town are further than you’d thought. Even if you could make it to the mouth of the town without him at your heels, that’s only part of it. The momentum you’d need to sustain to get down the road means nothing if you lose it there, face-down in the gravel.

Bo’s taking a drag of his cigarette when you glance back at him, a smirk playing at the ends of his lips. He looks at you like he can tell what you’re thinking, as if he’s run through the same scenario a thousand times in his mind. He’s come out the winner every time. You’re sure he’d love for you to prove him right.

“You want one?” He gestures toward the cigarette.

In place of an answer, you glare at him.

“Suit yourself, sweetness.” He grins.

“Waste of money.” You murmur.

“You might be right. But I never buy any of ‘em.” There’s an edge of manic glee in his voice. “Not once.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you press your lips together. You can tell he wants you to ask what he means by that. He’s all but bouncing on his heels, eyes twinkling. He hasn’t fucked you in days, has barely seemed to have time to touch you. It felt like a reprieve at the time, but this barely-contained excitement worries you.

You don’t respond.

He finishes his cigarette, flicking it away.

“C’mon.”

Bo leads you up the hill to the wax museum. Reaching out, he closes his hand around the door handle. It opens with a creak.  

“Go on. Ladies first.”

Inside, it’s quiet, but there’s no peace.

Sun reflects out through green panes, bathing everything in unnatural light. It feels wrong to stand here in the gloom, surrounded by an assortment of shadowy wax figures, their faces frozen in placid contentment. Nervousness gnaws at your chest, leaving your palms clammy.

“What are we doing here?” Your throat feels tight.

He doesn’t answer, just leads you deeper into the room. Your eyes land on a mirror against the far wall. In its dusty cloudiness, you both are shadowy blobs of shapes, completely insubstantial.

“Keep goin’. ‘S in the other room.”

He beckons you through an open doorway and dust tickles your nose. Following his gaze, your eyes land on another group of wax sculptures. Their clothes are just as dated as the others, all crushed velvet and strings of pearls. Despite this, they look newer, no tendrils of dust hanging off of their outstretched arms.

There’s something familiar about them, but it’s hard to tell in this light. You take a step closer, narrowing your eyes.

“Ya’ know, my brother likes projects.” You hear Bo say. “Guess that’s somethin’ we got in common.”

You blink in confusion, your mouth falling open. Of course they look familiar—you’d recognize those faces anywhere. Standing in front of you are wax replicas of your friends, leering at you with painted-on smiles.

“What is this?” Your hands are shaking. “Where are they?”

“Right in front of you, darlin’.” Bo exclaims. “Now, don’t they look good? I think they clean up real nice, don’t you?”

It’s nothing more than a cruel joke.

The anger that grips you is sudden, thoughtless. You reel around, your hand clenching into a fist. The punch you throw at him is a pitiful thing. He avoids it easily, catching your wrist in his hand and shoving you away. You back up frantically as he closes in on you, your heart skipping in your chest. Losing your footing, you smack into one of the figures.

“What, you ain’t thankful for the reunion? Thought you’d appreciate it.”

The sculpture totters behind you. You flail wildly as you try to steady yourself, but it’s no use—your feet slip out from under you. As you fall, it falls with you, hitting the floor with a shatter that sprays chips of paint and wax over the ground.

“Hate to say it, but I’m a bit disappointed in ya’, sweet thing.”

Wrenching your head back to look at the damage, your mouth falls open. The impact of the fall bisected the sculpture’s face, cracking it wide open. A scream bubbles up in your throat as you realize that it isn’t hollow. There’s something bloated and dead inside it, staring back at you with milky eyes.

You’d know that face anywhere.

“Dunno how I’m gonna explain this to Vincent, baby. He spent a lot of time on that one.”

You scramble to your feet with a shriek, backpedaling wildly until you run into him. His hands are quick to close around you, pinning your arms behind your back. You try your best to twist out of his grip, but he holds you still, pulling you against his chest.

“Figure he’ll need a replacement.” Bo leans down to murmur in your ear, his tone sickly and apologetic. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time tryin’ to convince him that it ain’t gonna be you.”

Your eyes dart between the figures, hardly registering his words. It’s impossible to make sense of what’s in front of you. Everything seems doused in unreality, tilted on its side. Your friends stand frozen, lips peeled away from their teeth in twisted imitations of smiles. It’s been so long that you can hardly remember what their voices sound like. You won’t hear them again. The people they used to be live on only in your head, spiraling into a mass of memory. The realization has your throat tightening, your eyes blurring with tears.

You feel his lips against your hair and a broken wail tips out of your mouth. You’ve walked straight into the gaping maw of an open grave. They’re here and they’re rotting and there’s nothing to be done because you’re too late. This is no museum—it’s a mausoleum, and you paid your respects through a splattering of viscera on the floor.

“It ain’t that bad. We’ll set somethin’ up real nice for ya’, sweetness. Right by the door.”

You shudder, yanking against his hands.

“Whatcha wanna wear, darlin’? I’ll getcha whatever ya’ want.”

“Don’t tell him!” Your voice comes out shrill, rushing out of you in a high-pitched whine. “Don’t, please, don’t—”

“Well, I gotta tell him, baby.” He sighs.

“No, no, no. Please—”

“You want me to lie to him?” He tugs at your ear with his teeth. “Dunno. Thought I wasn’t a good liar.”

“You can’t, you—” Your breath escapes you in shallow gulps.

Abruptly, he lets go of your arms, shoving you off him. You pitch forward onto the ground, blinking away tears. He pounces on you with a laugh, flipping you onto your back. His hands paw at your breasts, sliding down your stomach. He moves closer, positioning himself between your thighs to force your knees up, yanking your legs open. Your dress rides up, bunching around your hips.

“This ain’t somethin’ I take lightly.” He shakes his head, sighing. “I’d miss ya’.”

“Fuck you.” You squirm underneath him.

“There’s that mouth.” He grins down at you, wrapping a hand around your throat. “That’s my girl.”

You scrabble at his grip, twisting underneath him. Bo’s hand doesn’t budge, his fingers closing tighter around your neck.

“Fuck. You.” You wheeze, unable to muster the venom you intend.

If you’re going to die, you want him to bruise you, to mark you up in such a way that the person responsible for the macabre mannequins in the other room would notice. You want the signs of a fight clear upon your skin. Anything to make them rethink dressing you up in satin and costume jewelry; kept on display to be gawked at, locked in someone’s imagined view of you.

Leave that one to rot on the side of the road, she’s sick of being looked at.

“Well, since you’re askin’ so nicely…” He grins down at you, his eyes glinting. “How you want it?”

His fingers brush between your legs, cupping your pussy through the cotton. You let out a sputtered yelp as he pulls your panties to the side. His thumb begins to rub at your clit and you buck your hips up, making a desperate move to wrench yourself away from him.

“Right there, baby?”

His grip on your throat is rhythmic, tightening and loosening and tightening again. Helpless darkness grips you as your throat constricts, only to be met with the shuddering relief of air filling your lungs. Head spinning, you oscillate wildly between the two unyielding extremes. You gasp when he pushes his finger into you, horrified to find yourself wet enough that it slides in easily. Your pussy clenches around the intrusion involuntarily, making you squeal.

"Guess all that death don't bother you. You're a trooper, baby." He pumps a second finger in, stretching you open. Your thighs shake and you can’t help the desperate little mewl that escapes your mouth.

“Got yourself an audience and now you’re purrin’ like a kitten.” He smirks, amusement plain in his voice. “That’s all ya’ needed, huh?”

“No.” You hiss out.

“Mmm-hmm. I hear ya’, darlin’.” His voice drips with honey, warm and throaty above you. “Don’tchu worry.”

You twist your head to the side, forcing your eyes to focus on the unnatural poses held by the corpses of your friends. Maybe it would be better to be like they were, immobile in their grotesque funeral clothes. They wouldn’t know what it felt like to lose all this, to die while you still breathed. Your eyes fall on the shattered carnage that covers the floor a few feet away. The hopelessness numbs you, making it easier to ignore the distracting warmth between your thighs. You’ll look at all that death and he won’t be able to make you feel anything.

“Eyes up here, beautiful.” He forces your head back. “Don’t like you lookin’ at ‘em when I’m touchin’ you. Makes me jealous.”

The room is warm and you’re warmer still, uglier than you’ve ever felt, sweat beading on your brow and dripping down the side of your face. He works another finger into you, humming under his breath. You gasp around the added pressure, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

“Just like that, baby.” He readjusts his grip on your throat, stroking a finger up the thundering beat of your pulse. “Make yourself feel good. You need it.”

You realize with a whimper that you’re doing just that, rocking down on his fingers. Your body is traitorous and so is that hunger, demanding to be full, to take in as much as it could. Like a whore, your mind offers up bitterly. Just like a whore. You bite back a moan, twisting under him. You wish that he’d call you that, that his hand was digging harder into your skin. You need this to hurt so you can focus on the poison that drips off his words. If you could manage that, you’d make it out of here.

This is about survival. That’s what you’re trying to do.

He shifts the angle of his hand slightly and you tense up, unable to muffle the moan that spills out of your mouth. Your orgasm is a shivery, unexpected thing, clambering up your spine and washing over you in a traitorous burst. It tastes like betrayal, shuddering its way through you with a shock, stealing the words from your tongue and leaving you gasping for air. Your eyes are watering when he finally lets go of your throat, tugging your underwear off.

"You got over that fast. Nothin’ brings you down, huh?” You hear the jingle of his belt as he undoes it. With a grunt, he nudges your legs wider apart with his knee, pulling you towards him. “You're a wonder, baby."

You jolt away with a gasp when you feel the head of his cock rub against your clit, your mouth falling open. He flashes a smile down at you, dragging his length through your folds.

“How’s that, baby?”

“It’s too much, it’s—” You take a ragged gasp as he presses against your entrance, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

“’S okay.” He murmurs, rocking the head of his cock slowly into your pussy with shallow thrusts. You grit your teeth together, hissing a shaky breath through your nose.

When he eases into you, you let out a watery sob. Pressing into you slow, you’re acutely aware of every inch of him. He’s usually too impatient to let you feel this gradual stretch, the way your walls clench helplessly around his cock.

“Feels good, huh?” He sinks deeper into you, and you tremble. “You like it?”

You shake your head sharply. You wiggle your hips down, anxious for him to fill you completely. You need it done so you can forget the way that this feels. There are things you shouldn’t see and things you shouldn’t feel, and today has been full of both.

“C’mon now, baby.” His tone is sugary sweet and patronizing. Each word plods out slow, as if he’s talking to a child. “If it feels good, you gotta like it.” 

You feel a flicker of embarrassment, but it’s not enough to push past the fog of euphoria that’s coiling low in your belly. Your breath stutters out of you in uneven bursts, almost as if his hand is still around your throat. That’s how this pleasure feels—it’s a choking, inescapable thing, pinning you against the ground.

“You’re takin’ me so well, baby. You wanna know how good that feels ‘round my dick?”

He rocks into you, slow and deep, dragging a pitiful moan from your lips.

“Be careful, angel.” Bo lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re gonna wake up ya’ friends.”

A sharp bolt of revulsion thrums through you, tugging you out from under the throb of sensation. The shame twists in your stomach, rotten and sickly. Before it can stick, he reaches down and slips his hands under your waist. With hardly any effort, he lifts you off the floor, tilting your pelvis up to meet him. Your mouth is pooling with saliva, tears pricking at your eyes. At this angle, he’s so deep that it’s as if you can feel him everywhere, pushing at the back of your throat. You let out a desperate whine, locking your legs around his waist. Without his hands to hold you up, you feel like you’d melt away into the floor.

He rolls his hips and you stutter out a sob, tremors of desperate pleasure wracking your body. You’re shaking, hands reaching up to tremble uselessly at your chest.

“What am I doin’, baby?”

“You’re—” You slur out, panting. “You’re fucking me.”

“Uh-huh. Ya’ like it?”

You keen out an unintelligible reply, nodding up at him desperately. He rewards your answer with a brush to your clit and your mouth falls open.

“Good, baby. Gettin’ a little hard to talk, yeah?” His words are coated in self-congratulatory smugness that can’t manage to hide behind sweetness. It taunts you, clawing under your skin and tearing through you in a way that only serves to make you wetter. “You ain’t gotta care ‘bout nothin’ other than how that feels.”

He fucks down into you, his cock kissing something deep in you that has you gaping up at him, stuttering out a moan. He’s pushing deep, impossibly so, then pulling out to press back in. Here, in this desperate haze of feeling that has you arching your back on the ground, it all feels so unavoidable.

Distantly, you can hear him murmuring above you. You’re so good, aren’t you? Say yes, sweetheart, but only if you want to. Only if it feels right. A distant part of your brain reminds you that the last thing you want to be is good. Trying desperately to catch onto that thought only has it fading away into that all-consuming pressure building up between your legs.

“Whose girl are you?”

“Yours.” You hiccup out. You’re disloyal and fickle and weak—and you aren’t lying, you can’t lie.

“That’s right.”

It feels like you’re losing something, your thoughts unspooling and picking up momentum as they roll away, getting further and further from you with every thrust of his hips.

Everything you give him is nothing he deserves.

“You wanna show me what a good girl you are and cum?”

No.

“Nn—”

The pleasure is a knife in your gut, splitting you open from the base of your belly all the way up to the shuddering flesh of your throat. It feels like honey, like his voice above you—eviscerating, cruel because it isn’t cruel. Hurting because it doesn’t, because all you wanted was him and he gave it to you. You arch up desperately, chasing after more of that sensation.

“Oh, angel. That’s perfect.”

He holds you suspended in the rolling thrum of your orgasm, thrusting deeper into you. Your orgasm burns at the back of your eyes, a blinding thing, gouging you open with white-hot light. Unlike the first, this one seems to wash over you with no end. You cry out, thrashing under the unrelenting waves, his cock pulsing inside you. His breathing is labored as he works his hips, sweat plastering his hair to his brow.

You look up at him and you don’t hate him—and that’s the worst thing, dragging another woozy ripple of pleasure out of your core. Your heart hammers away in your chest, pounding hot and loud in your ears. He spills inside you with a groan, his hands digging tightly into your thighs. Your body seems to throb with warmth, rolling waves of it leaving your limbs numb and useless.

With an embarrassingly wet squelch, he pulls out of you. You close your eyes and the world spins inside your head, making your eyelids heavy. Dimly, you can hear him zipping up the fly of his pants, refastening his belt. He clears his throat, huffing out a tired laugh.

“Like I told ya’, baby. You’re somethin’ special.”

He says something else and you nod. You’re not sure what he might have asked you—but he likes agreement. You’ve never cared much for what he liked, never had a desire to give whatever that was to him. But it’s easier to say yes. You can’t pin down what part of you has decided that’s true, but it’s pulsing between your legs and sitting on your tongue like it belongs there.

“Think I’d let him get his hands on you? That’s crazy talk, girl.”

Your thighs spasm a bit and you gulp. He lowers himself over you, sinking onto his elbows to press a kiss onto your trembling mouth. You can feel his spend leaking out of you, running down between your legs and puddling underneath you. The ache is coming, you can feel it, throbbing deep in your cunt.

When you were little, you couldn’t swallow pills. You needed them ground up and mixed in with sugar, served up on a spoon for you to swallow. Even then, you knew it was there, felt like you could taste it. But it made it easier, didn’t it? You couldn’t tell then and you can’t tell now. You whimper and he smiles against your lips, teasing your mouth open with his tongue.

Seems like you can take anything if it’s hidden under sugar.

As the haze of pleasure begins to lift, the room starts to come back into focus. You’re remembering that you can’t be here, that death is familiar and close. You have to leave, you have to run. With a shaky sob, you feel the fear begin to hitch up in your throat again, crawling out of the pocket of your insides that it’s been hiding in.

You yelp as you feel him circle around your clit again. Thrashing underneath him, you shake your head wildly.

“Nice and sensitive now, yeah? Look at that.”

You whimper helplessly, the words forming on your tongue only to disappear a moment later. Your clit feels swollen between your legs, delivering a snap of electricity to your core with every unrelenting stroke of his fingers. You teeter on the razor-edge of pain and pleasure—ratcheted too high, past the point of enjoyment. There’s nowhere left for the feeling to go. You’ll need to claw your way out of your skin to alleviate it, you’ll need him to take you apart.

“Sto—” The word’s swallowed up by a series of high-pitched vocalizations, spilling from your lips, one tripping over the other. Your grasp on language feels as sloppy as your cunt. Slippery, needy things. What good were they now?

“Ya’ know what I think?” He murmurs. “I think this pussy’s got one more.”

Dizzily, you think about the cigarette he’d offered you earlier. You could use it now.

“I can’t, I can’t—”

“Pretty girl.” He reaches up with his free hand to wipe away the tears spilling down the side of your face. “It’s hard, I know.”

If you had any energy, you’d bite him, you’d take out as many chunks as you could. Are you sure? That version of you feels far away now. He sinks his fingers back into your pussy and you whine. There’s no resistance to be found inside you, just a quivering hole fucked wide, greedily squeezing around his fingers.

“You wanna know somethin’, baby? I’ve always been selfish. Got told that a lot, and I reckon they were right.” His voice is as soft as his hands, rumbling into your head. “Can’t help it.”

“Bo, please—” You’re wound too tight to cum again, each touch a shivery spike of feeling that leaves you wanting to vacate your body. You need to tell him that, you need to—

“Name sounds real good in that mouth.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Say it again, would ya’?”

“Bo. Bo.” You let out a broken sob, a fresh wave of tears glazing over your eyes. “Bo…”

“Hush now, angel. Third times the charm.”

[starseungs]

➳ one, two, fall for you. hjs (teaser)

• pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

you'd think that as the secretary of your highschool's student council, the ones in charge of this year's prom, that you would have already had a date for the event way before even announcing the information to the rest of the student body. and you did—just last minute after a very sponteneous decision.

• genre: fluff, humor (romcom), highschool au, student council au, prom season au, friends to lovers — teaser: 1.7k words / actual fic: around 10k+ words

• general warnings: cursing, y/n and jisung has this love-hate relationship as friends and just overall banter, prom season stress (bcs thats a thing)

• note: here's a teaser for my upcoming jisung fic! theres no set release date yet since its not really close to finishing, but i will open the taglist for this if anyone is interested <3 hopefully i get it out next week or so. (also happy birthday to my wife dahlia @comet-falls 🎉 this teaser is for you luv)

ⓒ written by starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

The continuous footsteps you've become accustomed to for the past few minutes suddenly ceased, bringing a deafening silence to your ears, which echoed throughout the entire desolated hallway. You took a sharp breath at the situation, already dreading the outburst that you had expected would come in three, two, one—

"What do you mean you don't have a prom date yet?" Chaeryeong screeched in disbelief, her hold on the plastic bottle filled with water tightening at your admittance. "You can't go without one! We're literally the first ones to know what's going on with the event; how have you not prepared to ask someone in advance?"

You kept your silence as you watched your friend stand frozen like a statue. Her eyes were opened wide and locked on you as if searching for a valid reason for your small (at least, you would like to think it was small) mistake. It almost creeped you out—her stance was a bit too robotic for your comfort. After giving it a few more seconds, you finally released a heavy sigh, opting to turn your back on her and open the student council room. Chaeryeong rushed to also get in, all the while whining at you for answers to her dilemma. Why it was hers and not yours, you'd rather not think about.

"Yes, yes. I already know what you're going to say," you groaned at her rapid-fire ranting—the speed almost rivaling the council's third-year male representative, Seo Changbin,'s talent for rapping. "It's bad, it's shit, and everything in between," you chanted like it was the Powerpuff Girls formula. Except it was your very own recipe for despair.

"It's required though?" A new voice entered your conversation. You snapped your head towards the sound of the comment only to find the recently mentioned third year sitting oh-so-comfortably at the couches, bulky headphones hanging around his neck as he set his laptop aside. "By the way, sick flow, Chae."

You found your tongue clicking on its own accord due to his unwelcome reminder. Exactly why was having a date to prom mandatory in the first place? Sure, it was already explained during homeroom class that the dance performance was to be graded for PE class, but couldn't you just randomly pick someone from the crowd when the dance occurs? If only you could complain, but it wasn't like the council was the one who mandated it anyway. The board did—all you guys were tasked with doing was making it happen. You were well aware that Chaeryeong was already going with Felix and that Changbin was a third-year student who was only going to be present because of council duties. Granted, you actually could ask him—there wasn't a rule that said first and second years couldn't bring a third-year as a date; however, the pressure of graduating was looming over them, and the school very much preferred that they just focus on studying. And so you made up your mind.

"You know what, if I really need one so bad, then consider it done," you proclaimed while sinking down on the couch, facing away from the room entrance.

"The next person to walk through that door will become my date for prom."

Chaeryeong rolled her eyes at your determined look. "What if they already have a date, huh?" She pointed out, making you deflate immediately.

This is stupid, you cried inside of your head. There was absolutely no way you were the only one left in the council without a date, right? Now what would you do if you were—go beg a classmate or something? How humiliating. Also very hypocritical of you; what if the next person was one of the two other third-years in the council? You had just made a fuss about not asking Changbin because of it, then how could you even ask Chan or Minho?

You'd think that as the secretary of your highschool's student council, the ones in charge of this year's prom, that you would have already had a date for the event way before even announcing the information to the rest of the student body. And yet here you were, on the verge of having a melt down at the mere thought of losing graded marks just because you were what they considered "bitchless". You could only pray to whatever deity is above that the next person to walk in those doors would actually accept your proposal, even if you had nothing grand planned.

So when the three of you heard the faint click which signalled that someone was about to enter the room, you threw your pride aside for now and wasted no more time. Whatever happens, happens—you tried to convince yourself.

"Hey," you called out loud without shame, not even bothering to properly check who it was. After all, it would be useless in the end if they refused. Be bold. Be confident. Be shameless— "Be my date for prom."

"Oh, sure."

You spluttered ungracefully—quickly opening your eyes (which you don't even remember closing) to see exactly which lunatic nonchalantly accepted your invite without an ounce of hesitation or thought. A pop of bright red was the first thing you noticed, the color coming from headphones that sat around the person's neck—a noticeable contrast to the fit white male's uniform top he wore. All of which were details that immediately pointed to one person in the student council.

"Yo, Jisung," Changbin greeted the male, one hand motioning for him to come closer. "I made a new track, mind listening to it?"

Han Jisung.

The council's second-year male representative, who acted more like an assistant communications head because his spiels were always the better ones. Felix, the actual comms head, loves him so much that he's even earned a spot in their division's group chat as an honorary member. Then again, who doesn't like Han Jisung? Everyone in this school and their mother knew of him—a testament to his sheer popularity. No wonder he won by a landslide during the council elections, not even giving his competitors a single vote, setting a new record. If you were asked, Han Jisung to all of you was a star, and you having to create a whole introduction to his entrance should have already spoken for itself.

Your mouth fell open in absolute shock, something Jisung picked up on and rolled his eyes at your reaction. "Close your mouth. Flies are going to get in it."

Oh so he's serious serious? You can't believe it—the Han Jisung himself doesn't have a date yet? Sure, he's no Hyunjin level in terms of popularity in your campus (that guy is royalty around here), but he still had a swarm of, relatively respectful, fangirls who were most likely very much willing to be his partner for prom. So what the hell even happened? It's not like he lost his ridiculous populariry overnight—there was just no way you'd believe that he didn't get a single proposal.

"Hold on, you don't have a prom date yet?" You asked in a somewhat dazed manner, still trying to wrap your head over the turn of events. "You, of all people?"

Jisung scoffs in absolute offense at your seemingly mocking words. "Obviously not," he grumbles like a small gremlin (to which he is in your eyes.) "Why else would I agree? Are you going to make fun of me now?"

You shook your head unsurely. "No, it's just," you exhale heavily, "Just shocking." He gapes at your response.

"What am I to you? A playboy?"

"Something along those lines," you admitted. Not to that extent, of course, but not too far off either. Jisung was a pretty friendly guy—so much that it comes across as suspicious at times. A normal highschool student wouldn't have a fandom for no reason. Most of them being people Jisung showed more than an ounce of kindness and sort of just fallen for the guy. Something you couldn't, and would never relate to, because as someone who knew him beyond formalities (like the rest of the main council), he was simply just Han Jisung. The annoyingly charming brat who seems to be good at everything you throw at him to the point you want to make it a challenge to see him fail once in your life.

Someday, you dreamily wish.

"I'm literally not!" Jisung exclaims, rattled by the revelation. He tries to meet the others eyes to look for their opinion, only to find the other two present members avoiding his gaze. Jisung gasps dramatically. "Do all of you think that?"

"I mean you are pretty popular, Ji. Not in a playboy kind of way, but it won't be too far off," Chaeryeong mumbled lowly, not wanting to feed the fire even more. However Jisung being Jisung melts into the couch with a hard expression.

"Unbelievable. How am I only hearing this now? No wonder I haven't gotten anyone asking to be my prom date!"

Your expression sours at his statement. "Mildly disturbed that the only thing you got from that is the prom part, and not the fact that you're one step away from having a playboy reputation," you sneered in jest.

"Duh? That's because it isn't true?" Jisung brushes off your semi-frozen icicles for words. Glancing at you from the side for a moment, he dares to add: "Besides, you're my date now. So it's no use."

Fuck Han Jisung lives, you repeat ten times in your head. The guy deserves no rights. He's so bitchy for what? And yet you couldn't entirely hate him because at the end of the day, the bastard was (unfortunately) your friend. "Should I be offended?"

"I don't know," he teasingly smirks at you, making your face heat up in annoyance. "Should you be?"

"One day I'll rip that cheeky smile off your face."

"Kindly refrain from using such threatening words in the council room, Y/N," A familiar voice startled everyone—all of which slowly turned towards the door, only to see an exhausted looking Chan, most likely regretting ever running for student council president. "But anyway—what's up guys?"

"Eat shit."

"Jisung!"

You could only watch a single leaf fall from the browning tree outside through the window as chaos ensued once again in the ever so lively student council room.

mastertag 🏷️ | @lhskokoro @starzzns @bookishcalls @comet-falls

[staraxiaa]

shutter-click, the afterword:

author's corner/first thoughts.

firstly, to those of you who know what it's like, and those of you who don't, i hope i did these themes justice. i'm not sure if this is an entirely accurate representation - i tried to take some of my own experiences and exaggerate it into what fit for my vision of the story. i apologize if i have trivialized any aspect of it. also there is like. negative actual romance like the tension is not there bc i imagine them to be pure balls of sweetness and fluff and like. it will probably happen? but like 5 years down the line. i called this story shutter-click partially after the sound of a camera, and partially because when i think of pictures now, i think of the importance of the memories present in them. it could be the ugliest picture you have ever seen, and yet it still means something to someone, because it reminds them of something they might have forgotten once upon a time. that's also why the reader names the first collection shutter-click - in part in reference to the title, but also the importance of these 'pictures' that are carried on throughout life. i.e. nanny's grin, the first person to ever believe in them, which also helps them overcome a great many barriers. ngl i didnt think about the rest of the art. maybe the rest should also be smile-inspired. but i am not going to call it the smile collection. this was also in no way sunflower caliber LOL sorry. genuinely have no clue i feel like the pacing was really fast. too fast. shouldve probably spent more time with the growth era. i will very likely revisit a similar concept eventually ok now that that's over - rant time. this was the brainchild of a discarded mc concept for another of my works. i couldn't quite get her character to fit with my vision, and then this was born. i wrote all of this in a day. i said i would take a break. well, i didn't. lowkey a hiatus time now <3 sorry. really wanted to get more work done on porcelain but then i was like WHAT IF and then i thought of a kiri fic. and then u know what i realized? mc is literally just katsuki like. i am in despair like now i really want to make porcelain a coming of age fic too. discovering oneself, forging yourself anew. what if it was a whole collection. oh my god. please send me some katsuki asks so i can brainrot over him instead (please) mentally i feel like the clown meme music and a thousand bouncing balls in my brain all at once. i have been listening to the same song for seven hours. this was also partially inspired off the prompt 'tragedy of a spare heir' but really reader is neither a spare nor a heir so ? ? ? dunno man i wasnt lying when i said i was tired seriously though, thank you to everyone who commented + liked shared my first work. i genuinely never expected to receive such a positive response, and i hope that this one is up to the same caliber. i still think im a god btw im genuinely on 4 hours of sleep and just churned out like. 10k? in less than 12 hours HAHAHA #if i don't laugh i am going to cry #i want to carve my brain out and examine it. these last few hours were such a blur but it's over. i feel both defeated and glorious at the same time. this was also significantly harder to write than sunflowers. that one was so nice. so easy. i miss it. im never hitting that peak again i think seriously though i think it's temp hiatus time i am emptied of thought will continue updating as i think of things i guess

unwritten scenes, headcanons, more ramble? no clue

i'm not sure if social anxiety disorder/selective mutism is necessarily something you are born with. i am aware that you can develop it as the results of past traumas, but in this case, there is very little explanation about that - it's left unexplained in the fic. could both be from hatred of cameras (ik i hate having photos taken of me lol), but again, a lot of this is entirely exaggerated and fictional. sorry. the nanny was supposed to die, but i am tired. so tired. i did not want to write an angst scene that had no relevance to the happiness of the plot. so now u guys just have the most tooth rotting fluff i have ever written in existence. she doesn't appear again in a lot of the later scenes, did i write her in alive? if i did: she actually lives forever. literally immortal idgaf more about the nanny: i imagined someone who also had difficulties in communication, and i hope that translated in the way her speech was very often broken? idk if that was accurate i wrote all of her dialogue at 3am and passed out right after. probably definitely isn't in japanese. my english was not englishing at this time. i hope it was made clear in the fic: everything that the reader that thought about herself and her relationships was wrong, with regards to the parents/sister. idk if this is accurate, but in my mind, and from my experience, my social anxiety at least is that i overthought a lot of things, misinterpreted a lot as well. soooo actually guys you DO have a loving family! i am saving the trauma for porcelain! honestly, i thought about this fic, and when i think of midoriya i just think of pure innocence lol. does it reflect ? similarly to sunflowers, the themes were childhood friendship and growth. i once again skip out on my proper kiss scene bc i think it would suit them even less than the ones in that one. but at least she kissed him on the cheek. it felt pretty ooc to me though so i think she shouldve just hugged him. at least there is also that the thing is though: you're the one to do everything first. he's really hesitant, because he still remembers you as you were, before you were out of your shell. he doesn't want to push you, overwhelm you in any way. you definitely have to be the one to initiate everything -> i just didnt think the hug + cheek kiss together was in character for me but whatever i wrote it i hope u enjoy you kiss him and hes an absolute fucking dorky mess . but honestly this is like every step in the relationship originally, the all might figurine you gift him was supposed to be a birthday present in return for the camera. this is just a fun fact. also i know both of the characters were both supposed to be insanely socially anxious but that would never have worked out so i took some liberties with it/midoriya's character. hope it still makes sense? also hope that his ramble was in-line with canon oh yeah there was supposed to be a side plot with the dead brother. i cannot tell you what it was, seeing as how i do not remember. probably some form of traumatic thing i removed from porcelain reader doesn't have a described quirk cause i am on negative brain juice and couldn't think. you can imagine that it is something art related if you'd like. but i didnt wanna yap more so.

[mzannthropy]

Another thing DJATS show did was act like Billy was in the wrong for rejecting Daisy, and that she was the victim. Even Simone, her best friend, called her out. I also feel like Simone wouldn't hate Billy for rejecting Daisy (or as Daisy might've seen it: hurting her, I mean yeah, he was rude, but I feel like some of the stuff was justified, like what he said to Jonah Berg. Like c'mon, she told Jonah Berg about Billy missing Julia's birth, which Billy trusted her not to tell anyone), even though a fic I saw (I wish I could block the Daisybilly tag when looking for Camibilly fics) had Simone (and Lisa) hating Billy bc he "hurt" Daisy. It was one were Daisy wrote All Too Well 10 minutes by Taylor Swift abt Billy, as if comparing Billy to Jake f*cking Gyllenhaal. Idk, Daisy is victimized way too much. (And if anything, Daisy would write ATW ten minutes about Nicky.)

Like I said several times before, I don't understand what Daisy wanted from Billy. I even said it out aloud, on my second listen of the audiobook, as I was cleaning the bathroom. "But what do you want from him?" If it came to anything physical between them (if they really did kiss during that recording session when they were alone in the studio), Billy would have quickly caught himself and ran home to take his family to Disneyland. Daisy might have been angry or hurt (hence, Regret Me), like any other human being, but what did she, at the end of the day, expect from him? I think any good friend of hers would have advised her to leave him alone, keep a distance as much as it was possible while being in the same band.

You can filter out ships you don't want to read.

I'm using Harry Potter as an example as I'm not going into DJATS on AO3. So if you want to exclude Draco x Harry, you just click the box next to their pairing under Relationships, and then scroll down and click on sort and filter.

Fanfic writers write fanfics, it's what they do. Shippers of the other ships probably don't like what I wrote either. I don't even want them to read it and I trust they stay away from my fics.

[izzy-b-hands]

hiiiiii holden ily. 🍓 🥑🦴🧩

Ella, thank u!!!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

Already answered, but! I provide another Early Fanfic Fact abt myself: my friends and I in middle school and into early high school had a shared notebook (s) for MCR fanfiction. Just those cheap crappy thin ones from like, Wal-Mart, but we could have a bunch on hand as we filled each one up lol. We passed those around, everyone either adding onto in progress fics (with original author's permission), or just adding nice comments or little drawings (we were a bunch of goth/emo kids in the aughts, so. Not so skilled anime style portraits of various band members/anime characters, that one weird S that I think everyone learned how to do.)

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

Tbh, probably all of you guys, yourself very much included Ella lol. Depending on exactly how badly I've fucked up, we might need a variety of skills, variety of access to a variety of things. Some people coordinating hiding the body, others helping me figure out a disguise, some working on plane, train, etc tickets and finding places for me to hide. In return, I'll only mildly jeopardize my hiding places by sending u guys cool stuff that I think you'll like from wherever I am at the time jfadlskjadjal. This is the one situation where I'm aware actually having a lot of ppl involved would be a bad idea, but it's funnier for the bit to imagine this like some Ocean's/Kingsman level of silly shit after I accidentally kill someone (at least one person is dedicated to just keeping me from panicking abt that tbh lmao.)

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

There's a lot of them!

Only Lovers Left Alive (movie), Last Night at the Lobster (book), The Man Who Fell to Earth (book and the movie), are the first ones that come to mind (the second one partially bc I'm due for a reread of it, and since moving have no idea where my copy is.) There's a much larger full list tho of course, that includes music too which immediately adds several miles to said list lol.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Honestly? if it's touted as the 'most perfect' or 'only correct characterisation' or other similar 'this fic is the Only Fic Ever don't read anything else from this fandom' vibes.

I've found that fics like that aren't necessarily bad, some are lovely! But they don't tend to live up to all the hype every time, and I feel. Weird. Abt having that high of expectations vs being able to go in more neutral, or like, a fic that I've had one or two ppl recommend to me.

I always worry talking abt this, bc really, less popular vs more popular fics aren't a 'one is better than the other' situation, at least not to me. I've read some amazing, very popular fics, and I've read some that had barely twenty kudos that still live rent free in my head just as much as the former. It just kinda depends, but, that said, I still have a harder time going into the 'BNF' (hate that term) fics than others.

I have other things that'll make me back out of a fic, but this is one that's come up the most in the last couple of years in particular for me when fic-reading/searching for fic to read lol.

[rollercoasterwords]

In regards to the last ask. It does make a lot of sense, and thank you for genuine example of a way that as readers it can put pressure that (is probably not usually) intended.

Serious question-- what (if anything) is a good way to express that we're excited for more without putting on pressure.

Bc I do as commenter often say things like I can't wait for next update or something of that nature.

Are things like that part of issue as well? Or if I've asked an author when we might expect update if there's no schedule?

Because I truly do want to be a part of something that makes fandom enjoyable for authors, and I know the obvious like if I don't like something, click off and don't say anything. Or ignore that aspect if I love everything else.

But I guess it's smaller things like this that I didn't realize.

If that makes any sense?

Bc sometimes my mind goes blank and I do want to comment but it's usually just great chapter, can't wait for more. But I don't want that to be pressure too?

Thank you for all you do, and I do enjoy your stories and blog, and thought that maybe since you just discussed this, maybe a good time to clarify even more.

(I hope this comes off as sincere and curious. I'm not the best with words sometimes or getting across what I'm trying to say)

i mean like i said i really can't speak for all writers--some people might have absolutely no issue with comments that feel pressuring to me, etc. but speaking for myself, i don't mind comments like "can't wait for the next chapter!" because i understand that the phrase "can't wait" is not literal; like, that sort of comment has a contextual tone i'm familiar with and i understand that it's just saying "i'm looking forward to more!" not "please post as soon as possible!"

for me the sorts of comments that build up to create pressure are more the ones that specifically say things like "it's so hard to wait" or "i hate waiting," etc--comments that specifically mention how difficult it is to wait for new updates, regardless of how kind or complimentary they otherwise are. i think there's a difference in tone between expressing "i'm eagerly waiting for the next update!" which does not imply that waiting is a difficulty versus expressing that waiting is difficult, but you're willing to do it if you have to, yknow?

similarly, i don't mind people asking me about update schedules etc as long as there's a simple "no pressure!" tacked onto it. like, there's a difference between someone saying hey no pressure, take your time, but i'm just curious about whether there's any update schedule versus someone saying please tell me when the next ch will be posted will it be posted soon please post the next ch soon. with atwmd specifically i already put estimates for when the next ch will be posted in the notes at the end of each ch, so i don't really like getting comments or messages just going "when will the next ch be up??" because....i say right in the notes lol. at the same time, i know i'm in an unusual timezone so i don't mind messages asking me to clarify what time i usually post etc just so that they can know, as long as they're not like. asking me to post faster or at a specific time.

anyway, there's not really any hard and fast rule for what to say or not say, it just comes down to tone--and i think it's important to keep in mind that like. we are strangers and so even if you're sending a message that is meant to be joking or not meant to be pressuring, that tone won't always come through when i don't know you personally. and also, like i said, a lot of these types of comments wouldn't even register if not for the fact that there's a bunch of them and it starts to build up. i'm not trying to police how people comment on fics or what like...you are or aren't allowed to say, just trying to figure out the best way to ask people to please be conscious of how it comes across when they make these types of comments asking me to post more or post faster or telling me how hard/difficult it is for them to wait around for me to write more, etc.

[dameronswife]

sometimes i just think about poe and it's like. i can't believe you mean this much to me? literally ahead of tfa i just kept scoffing at the descriptions of him, completely expected to be benevolently annoyed with him or meh at best and didn't understand why everyone went off abt how oscar was attractive (like i could tell objectively, but it's rare that i find someone subjectively attractive on a deep level), and then i just. saw poe for the first time on screen in theaters and that was it. instant attraction, and then a few minutes later realizing that oh, no i'm genuinely in love with this man. instant ride or die, we just clicked. i got him on a deeply intimate level just from those few minutes of screentime he has in the movie, that nothing about him following that ever surprised me? just. yeah that's him this makes sense.

and i remember writing what was absolutely self-insert masquerading as canon where r.ey was his best friend and i genuinely meant for it to be platonic but i kept accidentally writing a little bit something more and i genuinely think looking back on it that i probably had a crush and a squish on poe? and he may have started queerplatonic, leaning on alterous (if i'm understanding the term right). like it wasn't straight platonic because i genuinely had/have such a crush on him but it definitely wasn't straight romantic at the time either (and i still have moments where i'm like. yeah i'm definitely feeling qp feelings for him and not romantic ones). and then sometime in 2017, something I guess shifted and I wrote in an oc into that same fic who had a history with him and they both still had feelings for each other and they kissed at the end of the story but didn't wind up with each other, and then i started reading reader fic for him that same year and was like. oh I actually don't mind the idea of kissing him....i kinda wanna. and i also don't mind the idea of a relationship if it's with him, i even want it?

and like ofc things went sideways from there. i stopped reading fic bc my friend made fun of me for reading it and i felt like i was doing smth "wrong" and then the gaslighting of everyone hating him in t.lj when i didn't also severely impacted my ability to be able to enjoy him properly without trying to fold up my actual opinions to 'fit in' more and feeling anxious and not getting to enjoy it, but he was still such a cornerstone of comfort for me at the time. i even wrote my first reader fic in late 2018 to get some comfort from how awful things were in my personal life and it was of him. and then t.ros happened and the fandom got so toxic along w some friend stuff that my spin in poe almost broke (or so i thought), but like?? i spent the whole next year constantly drawn to things that reminded me of poe....read a book that was compared to the st and him a lot....bought a lot of orange things without thinking about it, developed a crush on a character that's like. basically poe with the serial numbers scratched off. all until i found my way back to him at the end of 2020 🥰 and after that i started embracing reader fic again and my romantic feelings for him and then lmao the physical/sexual attraction came in like a wrecking ball shortly thereafter which was New To Say The Least, but.

eeee i don't know i ended up gushing a lot about him but i just. sometimes i really think about the journey i've had with him, and how much good he's genuinely brought into my life. i get to feel all these emotions i never thought i would!! because of him!!! i get to explore new avenues that i wouldn't be interested in or comfortable in pursuing even mentally bc of him!!! he's helped me work through various triggers for my trauma bc they feel safe with him involved? and most importantly - i wouldn't know any of my lovely friends or partners if it wasn't for him? i stuck around in the fandom bc of poe, and that lead me right to my queerplatonic partners and family. i genuinely would not!! be the same person today if i had not fallen in love with that silly flyboy december 20th 2015!!! and isn't that just love in a nutshell?

[kamiversee]

okay, i calmed down a bit. holy shit what a chapter. this chapter is possibly one of the most intense chapters you've posted yet, if not the most. the only other chapters that immediately come to mind in terms of emotional intensity are the ones including Gojo's tearful confession and the chapter with the "last kiss." this chapter devastated me on a completely different level. the drama had me reeling and i loved it so fucking much. well done, Kami. really well done.

i'm going to try to not sound like a broken record since you already know my immediate thoughts based off of my past few anons 😭 it's so interesting that Choso immediately goes to call Geto's brother shitty, yet later on in the chapter Geto refers to them at friends. Choso's denials are believable since he does seem like a major introvert and only really goes out of his way to socialize with the reader, but i wonder if we'll ever meet Kenjaku in this fic. or is this a sneak peak as to who we may meet in a certain sequel...? 👀👀👀 KAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!! why do i feel like you're going to draw some parallels between Suguru and his brother's relationship to Choso's relationship with Sukuna. i'm not sure how it would go, but if you do choose to do that i feel like it would floor me.

i love that this chapter is unveiling so much of Choso's toxicity holy shit. i know it's all related to his possessive nature, but the anger issues had me taking breaks and walking laps in my room at 1:30 am on a work night. the way he's upset about things we aren't even aware of (how "flirtatious" we come off in a regular conversation) was expected but the way it built up to him exploding was just *chef's kiss*. the way still calls us little pet names, especially after that huge fight, stung me.

not only did this chapter reveal so much about Choso, but it really does solidify how toxic the reader is for him as well. there's no such thing as a perfect character (even though these jjk men get so close) but this was a perfect reminder that despite everything, the reader has her own red flags to work through as well. will she ever? probably not bc holy shit that passage was so perfect and needed. also, who wouldn't act that way in that kind of situation 😭 swatting OUR hand away when HE is the one causing the scene? omfg it got me so mad LMFAOOOO

also the reveal that Sukuna is a physically abusive asshole? omfg. it makes sense for his character but still, the contrast of that info to how we knew him is intense. it's a shame that he's so fucking hot 😭😭😭 with the things he's done, i understand why Choso has the feelings he does. but holy shit dude, the reader didn't know 😭 why tf is he taking it out on her 😭😭😭

Suguru that motherfucker. i hate now smart and intentional he is with every fuckin' action he does in this series. UGH. the way he had me cringing (in a good way) to the point of having to take breathing breaks after practically every line. especially when he said "Go after him, idiot."

KAMI. YOU 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 OH MY GODDDDD. IF IT WASN'T OBVIOUS THAT WHAT THE READER IS TO CHOSO, GOJO IS TO THE READER, HOLY SHIT. YOU'RE PRACTICALLY POINTING A NEON-LIGHT ARROW TOWARDS THAT PARALLEL. such a genius way to reuse that line. once i read that, it fucking clicked. the same fucking line Geto says to Gojo in chapter 8 after their first big fight. oh my fucking God Kami. reading that made me have to put down my phone and stare at the ceiling for a bit. so fucking well done. it's lowkey so funny how Geto has been there for so many of the big fights. i'm so fucking excited to see how this develops. my brain is so fried once again.

- ☃️

Smirks. Chat, it’s time for another Kami yap session, LETS GOOOO

1. Gojo’s breakdown chapters & the chapter where Choso leaves (chapter 19 I think) were one of the only chapters that made me tear up while I wrote them😭 Well, aside from the next one I’m abt to drop- ANYWAYS THOUGH, glad you enjoyed it like always ^.^

2. See, here’s the thing about Kenjaku’s mentioning, he was only brought up to show two things; One, Choso has friends and a life outside of the reader, and Two, Choso and Geto have more of a connection/knowledge of each other than what might’ve been expected :)

It’s also another slight anime reference bc like I’ve said previously, I do tend to mirror things such as friend groups or actions to the way things are done in the anime & Choso’s appearance was always made with Kenjaku so, why not make that a factor here yk?🤷‍♀️

3. There actually are already some parallels ^.^

Notice how Choso calls Kenjaku shitty & Suguru snaps back by saying Choso’s brother (Sukuna obv) isn’t any better. Then, you also have Yuki who points out that both men haven’t told the reader anything about these terrible brother’s of theirs, despite both men having connections & intimate moments with her.

It’s kinda meant to show that there is a lot the reader simply doesn’t know. That was honestly somewhat the point of the past few drama chapters! There’s a list of things she learns all in the span of one day, from Gojo’s obsession to Sukuna being abusive— she learned all of that within a single day.

Anywho, the parallel is simply that the men who she claims as her type both have done similar things to her in regards to opening up🤷‍♀️

4. I wanna note that a lot of people are calling Choso’s actions here toxic. Now, I’m not going to disagree of course but, I will just say, his moment of blowing up isn’t unnatural. Choso’s not the best with his feelings, as we can see, and imagine you’re in his shoes for a moment.

How would you react to everything he was just told? Do you think you wouldn’t have blown up as he did? Especially when you consider how passionate he is about his brothers, more specifically, Yuji.

Just wanted to throw that out there! Yes, he shouldn’t have yelled the way he did but this is something that’d been building up & because he’s such an introvert (I am too ngl) it’s not unusual for him to have a sudden outburst as he did seeing as he typically keeps his thoughts and emotions inside rather than wearing them on his sleeve :)

5. Yep, I want people to understand that she herself is not perfect in anyway. The reader just gaslit the hell out of Choso & played on the fact that he believes she knew nothing about Sukuna.

NOW before y’all jump on our mc, while it is toxic & bad, she only does that for the benefit of everyone if you think about it. I said this earlier but she has learned a shitload of info in one day. With that, she’s just as stressed and tensed as Choso is atm so she uses her situation in order to manipulate Choso into telling her the truth about everything.

Think about it, she could never manipulate Gojo into telling her his truth and as said, the last thing she wanted was to go through that again, especially with someone like Choso who typically tells her everything.

Yes, yes it is bad that she did that but in a way, it was for something positive such as forcing Choso to open up to her. Not only that, it also gives her a path to reveal other things to him ^.^

6. Again, Choso didn’t exactly mean to blow up on her but he’s been tense the entire time so it was bound to happen. He’s not blaming her, he’s just upset and is unsure of how to properly express tht as we can see💀

And I think I said this to a few anons so far but, who knows the last time Choso & Sukuna interacted with one another? Given that & based on what the reader experienced, we don’t know how long ago Choso saw Sukuna be abusive to women, now Yuji on the other hand is different ofc because Choso clearly states Yuji’s current age and that kinda shows that tht abuse is ongoing.

7. When I tell you, I WAS SMILING SO HARD AS I WROTE TS. I LOOOOOOOOOOOVE making parallels so I literally went back to the chapter with Gojo & Geto just to recall what Geto said to him and then I was like “Yup, time to reuse this shit😈”

AHH I LOVE DOING THT SM UGHHH

But yesyes;

Gojo —> Reader —> Choso

It’s so perfect too ^.^

Ty for reading, mwah, ily <33

[decafdino]

Can you give me some advice plss? bc I just love your writing so so much... then I think it's a good idea

I love writing stories and imagining them, I think of a new one pretty much every day but there's one that I can't get out of my head and I really want to write so maybe I can post it and be able to share some of my thoughts of Carlos childhood and Tarlos in general.

... but my insecurities won't let me write a full paragraph without thinking it's awful and everyone will hate it. So I was wondering if you have any tips for me.

Thank youu

Okay so first off— it means a lot that there is someone out there who is seeking my advice on writing. Like wow, thank you.

Second, I understand what you mean about having so many ideas swirling around in your head. Brainstorming is one of my favorite pastimes and definitely was my jumping off point when I started getting in to fic writing. I started out writing 911 LS fic because no one was writing the story that I wanted to read, so I just did it myself instead.

As someone who reads a lot— and I mean A LOT— I have seen many different styles of writing, from modern poetry to classical literature to (my most often-read medium) fanfiction. Fic is special, because there's this understanding when you click on the title or link to a page that what is being posted is made out of love for the fandom you're writing for. It means that it doesn't have to be perfect, and as a reader, for the most part, if I can understand what you mean through your word choice and what's happening in the story, I'm going to enjoy it. I can say with absolute certainty no one is going to hate you, the author, for writing something in celebration of a fandom (the exception of course is if you choose to write about something that's controversial in any way in your fandom space, but that's generally a given for being online.) Plus, the worst that could happen is if someone doesn't like your fic, they'll hopefully just click off. If you're writing for LS specifically, I can basically guarantee you that whatever response you get is going to be positive, because that's just how this fandom is in my experience.

The point of me saying that is that if you have an idea, you should write it. It doesn't have to be perfect in the first draft, and honestly when you post the final draft on ao3 no ones expecting you to be Shakespeare.

(Also, if you want to know a secret? Tons of authors struggle just the same as you do with imposter syndrome. In fact, I've taken a break from writing today because I was stressing myself out about it so much. Twenty-four hours later and I'm feeling better about it. Whenever you get that way, I think it's important to remember that no one is going to write like you do, because that's the beauty of the artform: it's unique. When it gets overwhelming for me, I like to take a step back for a day or two, then come back at my draft with a fresh set of eyes.)

But I think the most important thing, if you do want to get in to writing, is to not delete the stuff you've written. Yeah, you might cringe later at it, but first drafts ain't pretty for anyone. They're for laying the foundation of your story, and the best part is no one ever has to see them because you can just edit the fic to be better and better in the later drafts. Again, if you have an idea, then you should run with it. The only opinion that really matters is your own.

TL; DR I believe in you, anon! Go forth and create your own beautiful, unique art! (and maybe also send me the link if you do end up posting so that I can hype you up)

Much love,

DecafDino | Flogsam

ps. feel free to hmu if you have any more questions. my inbox is always open ;)

[cbk1000]

unhingedmess @cbk1000 literally had this teacher on a creative writing course tell us the same thing about fanfic (he was showing examples from fanfic, so i dunno how that works out) and i was just like ummmm not sure that checks out but ok man sure dude. how is reading not essential??? absolutely insane to me. i think it mainly comes from not viewing fanfic as ‘real’ literature bc i bet my bottom dollar that they would not be spouting the same bs about reading classic lit. makes me want to cry fr

Reading widely, and actively, i.e., being able to dissect why something does or doesn’t work, is absolutely a key component of improving your writing. Reading lots, and writing lots, are the two things you absolutely must do if you want to grow as a writer. The attitude on this thread I was reading was basically, ‘Reading doesn’t help your writing that much, you have to WRITE to actually improve.’ Bruh, no one said you just read lots and then next time you write suddenly you’ll just start spontaneously shitting capital L literature. You read to see how other people are doing it, how you can utilize (or avoid, in the case of terrible writing) the techniques you find, and then you write to hone you own technique and voice. Anybody who tells young and/or inexperienced writers that reading isn’t essential to improving their work is talking out of their ass and doing that writer a great disservice.

Also, I hate the shitty attitude toward fanfiction. Yes, lot of it is bad; of course a lot of it is bad. There’s no threshold for quality and the majority of people writing it are amateurs. But an incredibly high percentage of traditionally published fiction is also utter shit, and you expect me to pay for that, so. At least a bad fic I can just click back out of it.

I actually once saw a writer on twitter bitching about how fanfiction is the only form of writing that’s bad even as practice, because it will actively make your writing worse. Oh, ok. So practicing writing will make your writing worse if it’s for a genre you don’t personally like. Eat my dick and choke on it.

[plague-of-insomnia]

Hi there. I have been following your account for awhile. Besides Black Butler, do you follow other fandoms too?

Hi BDK :). Thank you for the ask.

Kuro is the only fandom I’ve become deeply involved in. The others I tend to just kinda skirt and reblog art or things like that, mostly bc Kuro is the only property I’m super super into.

I don’t always ship people as I tend to not really care much about those. I have to really fall for two or more characters usually for that to happen, and that’s another thing that makes kuro special. I tend to consume a LOT of media to try to stay ahead of my moods (mostly manga and anime nowadays, bc that’s easier for me to read/watch), and most even if I love the story don’t hook me like Kuro. I am generally not one who re-reads or re-watches things more than once. I’m more of consume, move on, and mostly forget lol.

My other problem is I tend to have very niche taste even among “niche” media, and often even when I find something I love and wanna watch more Or experience more of, the fandom is essentially nonexistent, or the content I want doesn’t exist. So there really isn’t a fandom for me to be involved in even I wanted to (cries in Emma, VME, etc)…

But here are some fandoms I do follow on tumblr, more or less, aside from Kuro, ofc, and any ships I may like if applicable:

Ace Attorney (Wrightworth) - I fell so damn hard for Edgeworth when I played the games for the first time. I never expected such an old game to be so gay in the best possible way, and I related so much to him. I don’t really care as much for some of the other characters, but I do enjoy the overall franchise (including The Great Detective series). I doubt I would ever get too involved though

Attack on Titan (eruri), though honestly I really only like Erwin, and mostly as a Bard substitute if I’m being entirely honest… there’s a lot of content for him and that ship and not for Bard and sebard so when I’m really craving what I can’t have I look here. I do not like the series as a whole and I hate the main characters lol so I stopped reading and watching after Erwin’s death and have zero interest in being involved in the fandom. I may one day write something for it bc I had a good story idea, but that would be the most I’d be involved

Buddy Daddies (kuzarei) - biggest thing I’m into rn, like I MAY actually write a oneshot for this. I love Rei bc he reminds me a lot of WDH Luci, and he and K have a kind of sebard dynamic. But even as it’s own I really enjoy the depth of characters that they’ve managed to create with only a few episodes… much better than other series I’ll be polite and not mention lol

Kamisama Hajimemashita (Tomoe) - I am a big sucker for stories about yokai and I love this series partly bc Tomoe reminds me A LOT of Sebastian if he were a kitsune. The story itself is also very good (except I hate the ending and pretend it didn’t happen that way, lol). I don’t dislike the female MC, she’s actually not awful like a lot of shoujo heroines are, but I don’t relate to female characters most of the time and so I don’t really care too much about their ship outside of canon. But I do like seeing fan art especially of him.

Link Click (lucheng) - This was a surprisingly queer-coded and emotional anime (well, donghua) that I was not expecting anything from going in and that I’m very excited to see the next season of. I haven’t sought out any fics for this but have reblogged fan and official art.

xxxHolic (douwata) - the manga for this series infuriated me in a lot of ways, but at the same time I adored the relationship between Doumeki and Watanaki. I don’t think I would write for this fandom but I would read for it, potentially.

That’s about it, aside from some anime/manga I adore that I rewatch/re-read, but don’t really have plans to get involved in fandom for (or there is no fandom for them, at least not an English speaking one), or a few video games I really like but again, it’s more about enjoying some art every now and then rather than anything else.

I’m sorry I’m not more interesting, lol. I rarely enjoy big properties/popular manga/anime, and even if I do it’s like “ah that was nice” and move on. Like I can really appreciate the storytelling behind Fullmetal Alchemist, I have read a couple fan fics for it, and I would rewatch Brotherhood, but I don’t really ship anyone enough/care enough to be in the fandom. Same with SPN. I have watched the first ~10+ seasons or so several times (no I haven’t watched the last few 2-3 and maybe never will), and I really adore Sam and Dean’s relationship, but I never shipped anyone (except maybe Bobby/Rufus, lol), and so I probably will never get into that fandom either. 🤷🏻

Just how I’m wired, I guess.