#keep the suit content coming i’m obsessed

[formulaoneisajoke]

[phantomsies]

𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙 • 𝖆.𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

your biggest fan soon becomes your biggest obsession….

black onlyfans creator!reader (fem descriptions), nerdy!armin, public sex/public masturbation, squirting, mentions of toys, exhibitionism, throatfucking, cumshot

📝: I wanted to go a completely different direction with this but a) it’s no longer kinktober and it would’ve much better suited that and b) nerd!armin just scratches an itch in my brain I can’t quite put my finger on. So enjoy! 🫶🏾 (also, I AM SO SORRY THIS SHIT IS SO LONG 😭😭 I don’t intend on headcanons being this length but I can’t shut the fuck up.)

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nerd!armin had been a dutiful subscriber of (y/n) (l/n)’s or as the world knew you, (performer name) for quite some time. He’d faithfully watched your content, never missing an upload to your sites and shamelessly scrolling your Twitter.

nerd!armin preferred your videos over others because they were so unique. Always willing to push the envelope by shooting in unconventional spaces; your car, public bathrooms and even dressing rooms..a polar opposite to his shy, bashful nature. In a way, he was jealous but also aroused..

from your long acrylics, fluffy lashes, colorful hair that changed from video to video and of course, the beautiful, dark brown complexion that radiated underneath the sun or ring lights, nerd!armin was obsessed.

nerd!armin would lie in bed after a long study session, classes or even a hard day at work..mindlessly stroking his cock in one hand as he held his phone in the other, eyes glued to the screen whilst you performed those lewd acts.

shoving those dildos in and out of your tight cunt, those pretty pink walls and plump brown lips sucking on that silicone toy..stretching yourself open all for his pleasure. A jeweled butt plug shoved into your ass and cream oozing down onto that gorgeous skin and the leather of your seats as you worked yourself into countless orgasms..mewling and begging for the would be viewer to keep fucking you..

“Fuck, I’m about to come, daddy..you’re gonna make me squirt.” Crying out as nerd!armin jerked himself even faster..subconsciously responding back without a single other person being in the room. ”Squirt for me, baby. Come..” Whimpering before exploding with a load of his own..

despite only being an intern, nerd!armin was well off from his freelancing tech work and although it didn’t leave him much room for socializing, he would tip you amicably on all the new content, as well as leave kind, respectful, encouraging words. It wasn’t something you saw often in this field.

it also didn’t take nerd!armin long to realize that you never featured a partner in any of your content like some girls eventually did. Only the various assortment of toys gifted to you by supporters. Which only further fed his delusions when you made a mess and glared into the camera, batting those doe brown eyes before saying “..look at what you made me do..that big dick feels so good..”

nerd!armin, who had only been with one woman sexually in his entire life and didn’t date often, could only dream of being with a girl like you.

so it came as no surprise when you announced that you would be opening a contest to film with one of your subscribers for the first time, nerd!armin leaped at the chance! The thought of getting to fuck the woman he’d hopelessly fawned over excited him.

nerd!armin nearly fainted when he got a DM on OnlyFans one day to see that he had won, asking when he’d like to arrange the meetup.

nerd!armin was understandably nervous on the day you two came face to face..but felt as ease when you continuously reassured him and even made sure that both of you had been tested, as well as protection.

“You’re so cute..it’s nice to finally meet you. Thank you for supporting me..” your gentle voice sent a shockwave of butterflies soaring through nerd!armin’s stomach as you wrapped him in a tight hug…and of course, a tightening in his pants upon laying eyes on his favorite creator. But that was merely the beginning.

nerd!armin found himself blushing when you slowly traced circles all over his skin, examining the single tattoo on his forearm and complimenting the smell of his cologne as the two of you sat alone in the bedroom of the designated filming space of your spacious home. Impressed by the bookshelves full of old literature he passed on the way in.

“Mmmm..you’re nervous, aren’t you?” “…I guess you could say that.” “Well don’t be, I’m going to make sure we have a good time, I promise..”

nerd!armin had no idea just how true you were to your word when less than ten minutes after the camera came on, you were on your knees, tongue extended and a wide smile on your face as he towered over you.

nerd!armin could hardly contain himself when eventually, those glossy brims were now encompassed around his cock. Slurping noises emanating around the room, along with his adorable cries…sloppy drool and gag spit spilling from that wet mouth and onto the pulsating head, shaft and those swollen balls. Disregarding the fact that your pretty face had become a disheveled mess.

“Oh my God…that feels so good, beautiful. Your mouth feels fucking amazing..” “You wanna come for me, baby?” “..yes! Drain me, please..” pathetically pleading whilst relentlessly fucking your throat.

nerd!armin unabashedly spent days, practicing his stroke on a translucent flesh light, feeding it deep thrusts and stuffing it with an ungodly amount of cum, examining your videos like study material..in hopes of gaining some stamina against you.

but nothing could prepare nerd!armin for the sheer sensation that being inside of you brought upon him.. however, he wasn’t the only one caught off guard..especially when he’d gently tug your head down and force you to watch as he glided into that narrow hole.. a move he’d learn from his tapes.

“It’s so big..damn..” “I told you..” giggling to yourselves as your gazes met and he’d begin to move.

nerd!armin almost felt compelled to believe that you were faking your moans like other pornstars so often did…but that misconception was cleared up when your eyes began to trail back, legs began to tremble and a slight bulge formed at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Yes, you stretching the fuck out of this pussy, baby..right there!..” “Am-am I doing a good job?” “You fucking me so good, please don’t stop.”

nerd!armin nearly lost all composure when you all but pushed him away, only to shower him in a stream of your juices. Only increasing as he tapped that swollen tip against your quivering folds.

nerd!armin didn’t last more than five minutes after that powerful climax and began dry heaving as his own neared. Ushering you back to your knees to paint those pretty features and tits with his load.

nerd!armin was convinced that once the cameras shut off, you’d put him out for nutting too quickly. Surely a woman of your caliber would never deal with that again. But yet again, he was proven wrong when you smiled up at him, flicking your tongue across your lips before posing a question. “So..where should we should film next time? We gotta do this more often..”

nerd!armin had found himself the newest and sole object of (creator’s name) affection!

[cuntygojo]

everything is romantic ft. armin arlert.

synopsis: a game of cat and mouse gets to be a little too much for armin.

content warning: nerdmin, sub!armin, dom!reader, armin has a tongue piercing, armin is a PERVERT, the glasses stay ON during sex, coming inside, not proofread, prob more but i’m a freakaleak and can’t keep track. wc: 943.

notes: not apologizing for anything that occurs in this fic, i need armin badly!!!!!

poor armin, you’ve been making him play this little game of cat and mouse far too long, and he doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

a day goes by, and you’re purposely leaving your panties on the floor of the bathroom, but you swear up and down it was on accident!

“sorry ‘min, guess i forgot to grab them after my shower.” you’d say, eyelashes batting at him slowly.

“it’s okay, just please— be more careful.”

“i can’t make any promises.”

he sighs, walking back to his room to play overwatch.

no promises kept, the boy catches you changing with your bedroom door open a week later. he didn’t mean to look, he promises, his eyes moved on their own. he can’t help the fact that late at night, he imagines your body, and how soft it would feel— your hands teasing his cock oh so slowly.

by the time he’d start to lose track of it all, he heard something. at first, maybe it could’ve been confused as background noise people use for sleep, but the moans that followed after? definitely couldn’t. it was coming from your room.

fuck.

he tries to ignore it, but god, the way you sound is making him lose his mind. he can’t control the strain of his cock against his plaid sleep pants either. armin tries to think of something— anything to help him right now, but he’s far too distracted by your loud moans. he can’t help the way you sound when you whimper his name is driving him crazy.

he either needed to ignore it until you inevitably decide to torture him again, or finally put an end to your sick teasing.

he hesitates at your door, adjusting his glasses, and a hand hovering over the doorknob. should he knock? should he barge in? he decides on an answer in the middle, opening your door slowly and meticulously, just enough so he can see what you’re doing.

the poor boy nearly lets out an audible gasp at the sight. there you were, in the flesh, vibrator between legs. he’s frozen in shock— but his hard on is saying otherwise. fuck it, he thinks, it’s not like you’ll notice anyways, he speaks to himself as he slides down his boxers just enough to start touching his cock.

“o— oh god armin! you’re s’good, my good boy!”

armins cock twitches, keep calling me that please. his tip is red and sensitive, he’s waited too long to finally make himself feel good like this; thinking— no, seeing you like this is driving him wild. the blonde starts with a slow stroke, his cold hand wrapping around his warm cock, he can’t help but moan. armins eyes widen.

you turn your head to your door, finally noticing him. you let out an airy laugh before speaking,

“armin! took you long enough, come in!”

he gulps and tucks in his painful hard on, walking slowly into your room of the shared apartment.

“uhm, look— i’m really sorry that i—“

before he could finish, you’re standing up to kiss him, tongue slotting perfectly into his mouth. you feel the cold metal that adorns his mouth, giving yourself a second to admire it with your tongue. he lets out a little whine in response, your hand coming up to grasp the back of his neck as you deepen the kiss.

breaking the kiss, you lean him down onto your bed before whispering, “it’s okay, don’t worry.” he’s confused, and moreover aroused, so he lets you take the lead. “since we’re both already eager,” you start, rubbing your hand over his bulge, “why don’t we just skip to the good part?”

armin nods frantically, hands already moving towards your chest— which he’s obsessed with. you waste no time removing his pants, boxers following suit. body moving on its own, you begin to straddle armin, cupping his face in the process. so cute, you think.

“do you want me to fuck you, ‘min?”

eagerness taking over him, he guides his tip near your entrance, shuddering at your wetness. you ease down gently onto his cock with a moan, letting your hands roam as you pull up his shirt. you fingers tweak with his nipple, which is seemingly sensitive, because you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

letting out a giggle, you start to move up and down on him, making him let out a whimper. his hands grasp your hips tightly, almost as if to stop you from moving. he was strong sure, but your dedication to make him cum was stronger.

“listen baby,” you let out a moan, his cock pressing gentle kisses against your walls, “want you to cum inside, ‘kay?” he looks at you with the cutest puppy eyes, all you can do is smile down at him as you continue, “be my good boy ‘n do that for me, please?” it’s almost as if you’re begging for it, but you know he wants it just as you.

he’s thrusting into you as your bouncing gets sloppy, his grip never faltering, and his glasses sliding down his nose. you’re both a moaning mess, armin’s mouth open agape, he just can’t handle the pleasure anymore. for most it would be embarrassing how quick he came, but to you, it was the hottest thing ever.

you felt his cock twitching inside as he came with a whimper, and you quickly follow suit by clenching down onto him, gripping his chest. he starts laughing— laughing, and you were so confused.

“y’know,” he fixes his glasses, “if you wanted to do this from the start, you could’ve said so.”

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ୭୧　　.　　SPREAD MY WINGS　　ᤢ　　♥︎

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀miguel o'hara⠀𝓍⠀butterfly!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

ᤢ　.　summary　♥︎　੭　while capturing a kraven variant, miguel didn’t expect it to be also a rescue mission. nevertheless meet a butterfly hybrid. the most beautiful butterfly those scarlet eyes have ever seen. but miguel refuses to grow attach to someone. how could someone so beautiful fall for a beast like him?

ᤢ　.　content　♥︎　੭　angst, captivity, complicated feelings, insecurity, jealousy, hurt/comfort, fluff, 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, cunnilingus, face-sitting, wings play (if that’s a thing), praise, pet names, hispanic/latina!reader

miguel has encountered many villain variants. green goblins, doc ocks, sandman, rhinos, kravens. some are tamed and confused when accidentally stumbled in the wrong universe, others are pure psychos. but he has never met probably the most psychotic kraven variant ever. this variant isn’t only obsessed of hunting animals but even keeping some as pets.

disbelief was the perfect word to describe miguel’s reaction the moment he stepped foot into kraven’s secret fucked up lair. while the team collects the chaotic kraven variant, miguel secured the area and conducts a final check for any victims. towards the end of the lab, there is a cell. behind the metal bars is a small figure laying on the floor. miguel doesn’t hesitate to approach quickly.

“hey, hey. you alright? i’m gonna get you out of here.” he crouched in front of the cell.

you perk up and swiftly stand up on your feet. the eyes on miguel’s mask widen drastically in shock. he couldn’t the sight in front of him. a young woman, possibly early to mid twenties. owns the prettiest eyes he has seen, yet filled with pain and frustration that makes his chest ache. but there is something extraordinary that is attached to your back. a pair of wings, resembling almost exactly like a butterfly.

a butterfly hybrid.

speechless is the perfect word for how miguel feels. a butterfly hybrid right in front of his eyes. those crimson eyes has seen so many varieties of spider-people and anomalies, but never a butterfly hybrid.

“where the fuck is kraven? where is he?” you inquired through gritted teeth, senses on high alert for that fucker’s arrival. rage and frustration bubbling in your veins just at the mere thought of him.

underneath his mask, his brows furrowed. “he’s been taken away, he won’t ever come back.” miguel stands up, his towering height startled you a little but you brush it off. “are you alright?”

“taken away? where?” you’re surprised by that revelation, staring up confusingly at the abnormally tall man clad in a weird red and blue suit.

“some place secured and far away until he’s returned to his respective dimension.” miguel leans a bit closer towards the metal bars. “he will never return, i promise you that.” he said sincerely.

strangely enough, the stranger’s words offered some comfort. the anxiety and rage slowly subsided, feeling a bit relieved. for once in what feels like a lifetime, you can finally breathe.

“i’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” miguel said with much sincerity.

it was a moment of silence, staring at one another before you quietly nod. breaking the lock with his hand, miguel opens the cell door and expects you to step out but you remain standing there. he notices your hesitation, he can’t blame you. you’ve been through much. so, he offers a hand.

“it’s okay, you’re safe.” his tone is soft and reassuring, probably the softest he’s ever spoken. normally, miguel isn’t the one to comfort others but you need it. for once, he put his ego behind.

your eyes flicker between his hand and eyes, a surprised expression illustrated on your face. although you just met this mysterious red and blue man for two minutes, you feel safe with him. slowly reaching out with a hand, you grab his. the size difference is alluring. his hand is humongous compared to yours. just his thumb alone completely covers the back of your hand. a spark ignites in miguel’s chest the moment he holds your hand. utterly fascinated by the major size difference but brushes it off and focuses on helping you step out.

the moment you step out of that god awful cell, a breeze of freedom hits you. finally, you feel free. the ugly weight of being stuck in that cell on your shoulders suddenly vanished. everything felt so… light. for the first time, you finally feel happy.

“lyla, scan her vitals.” miguel calls out to his ai assistant, not realizing he’s still holding your hand yet you haven’t let go either.

the little ai magically appears and offers a salute before taking a scan of you. “okay honey, so your vitals are quite low due to exhaustion.” she turns to her boss. “she needs to be taken back to HQ.” the hand holding doesn’t go unnoticed by her but lyla decides to tease him about it later.

“HQ? where’s that?” you inquired, gaze flickering between the tall man and the tiny ai lady.

“a safe place, where i’m from. there is a medical center there that we’ll take you.” with a few taps on his gizmo, a colorful portal appears in front of you. miguel then turns to you. “i know this is a lot and i’ll explain everything soon. do you trust me?”

once again, his sincere words bring you a sense of comfort. perhaps you just met him but he did save you from a never-ending hell. honestly, you would like to be anywhere but this hellhole. escape from this shithole forever. a chance of freedom.

you offer a nod.

soon, you find yourself dressed in a hospital gown and resting in a medical bed. on your left wrist is the same watch miguel and everyone else here has. speaking of miguel, he had to attend some business and said he’ll return soon. although you didn’t mind and understand he had responsibilities, you did feel a bit alone since you didn’t know anyone else here. all you can is rest and wait for his return.

when you arrived at HQ, you were utterly fascinated. everyone was a spiderperson, which miguel informed you about before he had to departure. every person here is half spider and come in various forms. humans, animals, cartoons, a fucking car, and a t-rex. honestly, it was quiet amusing but also fascinating because there were other hybrids. where you come from, everyone is half butterfly. fuck, you didn’t even know other universes existed. apparently, the one you’re currently in is miguel’s. super futuristic, a major contrast to your cottage-like universe. another fascinating phenomenon.

“wait, she’s a butterfly?!”

“a butterfly?! that’s so cool!”

“i bet she’s very pretty!”

“can we meet her?!”

the constant questions and irritating voices of the spider teens were making miguel pinching the bridge of his nose for the millionth time. imagine steam coming out from his ears. if he allow to indulge in those intrusive thoughts, he would throw a trash can at one of them, just like he did with miles that one time. patience was wearing thin badly.

“no, she needs to rest so leave her alone. no visitors until further notice.” miguel orders, walking towards the infirmary, the spider teens following him.

a chorus of ‘aww man’ occurs from behind but the teens ultimately understand you needed rest after such a traumatic experience. they simply wish you a good recovery before parting ways. that breath miguel was holding for so long finally escapes. entering the infirmary, he instructs the staff to forbid visitors until you recover then makes his way to your room. passing through the sliding glass doors, miguel finds you fully awake, approaching slowly.

“hey.” you offer a meek smile.

“how are you feeling?” miguel stands by the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“less shitty.” you chuckle halfheartedly, shrugging.

underneath his mask, the corner of his lips lifts up ever so slightly. your humor seems to be still intact.

“huh.” miguel hums, fascinated. using his webs, he slides over a chair and sits besides the bed. the action fascinates you.

“orange webs. is everyone’s different?”

“yes, everyone here possess their own web type. some organic, some technical.”

“i never thought spider-people existed, let alone other universes.” it was truly a mindfuck.

“it’s called the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse.”

you stare at him completely dumbfounded. “i’m sorry, the what now?”

“the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse, or the multiverse in easier terms. some called it the spiderverse, which i think it’s stupid.”

“nah, i think arachno-whatever the fuck polymultiverse is more stupider. literally the nerdiest shit i’ve ever heard of.” you chuckle.

the eyes of his mask fall flat, an unimpressed expression underneath. the sight makes you giggle, a sound that makes his chest warm for some strange reason. “i’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

you shrug. “i mean- who wants to say all that shit? it’s like saying supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

now miguel is one with a deadpan look, however you can’t see it due to his mask but you can tell. “i’m also gonna pretend you didn’t say that either. i assume it’s a word from your universe.”

you’re quite odd, humorous.

“my universe… sounds weird saying that…” you glanced off to the side, thinking.

miguel understands what you mean, especially since this is new information to you.

“i was gonna ask lyla if she could dig info on your universe but i figured asking you would be more sufficient, if you’re up for that?”

“sure.” you adjust your on the bed to be more comfortable. “since you know what i am, you have an idea what my universe is like, i assume?”

“mythical.”

that elicits a soft chuckle from you. “perfect word. mythical, peaceful, very cottage-like. instead of spider-people, everyone is a butterfly.”

from your description, miguel envisions a mythical place with cottages everywhere. butterfly hybrids flying around, going on with their lives.

“being a butterfly sounds peaceful.” he comments.

you huff. “sure but we don’t have cool powers like you guys do. we just have cool wings and fly around and shit, nothing special honestly.”

that makes him frown a little. “everyone is special in their own way.”

“wow, very inspiring words.” you softly chuckle.

miguel rolls his eyes. “you know what i mean.” he didn’t mean to sound like an motivational speaker, just trying to be helpful. the more he thinks about it, the more he cringed at himself.

he explains what the multiverse is and how it works. also explains the gizmo he faces you when you first arrived here, to protect you from glitching since you’re in a different universe other than your own. it was a lot to digest but you managed to follow along. it’s just a mind-blowing revelation. no one back home will believe you. but what truly captured your attention was how invested and passionate miguel was explaining the concept to you. every word that came from his mouth kept sucking you back in. not to mention how much of a fucking nerd he was but you like that about him.

“the kraven who held you captive was from another universe and invaded several other universes which caused a canon divergence. he’s been traveling to other worlds capturing various hybrids, unfortunately including you.” he offers a sympathetic look. “which is why i have to ask how he captured you? i know it’ll be difficult to explain considering what you’ve gone through, just explain how much you can do.”

a shiver went down your spine, an unsettling sensation in your bones. just the mention of that fucker’s name alone pisses you off. it’s a rough memory to go back to but you have to tell him.

“well…” you start with a heavy sigh, leaning back against the pillow. “it was just so random. i was out in the gardens watering some plants. it was so quiet like usual until i heard a twig crack but i didn’t turn around in time when i felt something poking me in my neck, i was injected with something. then, i was knocked out… next thing i knew, i was in that cell and first saw that fucker’s face…”

a remorseful look illustrated on miguel’s face as he listened to your unfortunate story. what a terrible thing to happen, having a peaceful day then suddenly taken away from your home and held captive by a fucking psycho. his heart, that was wrapped in ice, ached for you.

“did he…?” he was afraid to continue the question but you figured what he meant.

you shake your head. “abuse me? no, thankfully. physically, at least. sure, he was a bit rough and sometimes manhandled me but never actually hurt me. still a fucking asshole, though.”

a wave of relief courses through him. if it were the opposite, oh miguel would’ve done unspeakable things to that fucker.

“he did, however, threatened to cut off my wings if i ever fought back.” your voice falters a little, more quiet. “so i gave in, just had to survive.”

damn, he feels utterly terrible for you. an innocent person suffering from dreadful circumstances for a while. turns out you’ve been held captive for four days. the hatred for kraven increased but his sympathy for you outgrows it.

“i’m sorry…”

if only he could’ve found you sooner.

“it’s okay, i just had to do what i had to do. it was so fucking crazy… so crazy to the point that he wanted me to marry him.” now that made miguel’s eyes pop out in disbelief. “the reason why he kidnapped me was because i was the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. he was so obsessed, i hated it.”

forced you to marry him? jesus, this kraven variant is more fucking insane than he originally thought.

“actually, i was supposed to marry him the day you found me. that’s why i was wearing a white dress.”

now it made sense. miguel recalls you wearing a pretty white dress when he found you. now knowing the purpose of it, it sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine. he was so glad he got there in time.

“well, you won’t have to marry him anymore. i’m sorry you went through this.”

“it’s over now, thanks to you.” a small smile of gratitude graces your lips.

there it goes again, that warm sensation in his chest when you smile at him. it feels weird to miguel, an unusual feeling. why does he feel this way?

after enough talking, miguel allows you to rest. after what you’ve gone through, you lost deservingly need it. he spares one final glance at you before exiting the room and heading back to his office. but not before paying a small visit to that kraven variant.

the next day, miguel comes back with an empanada. a confused smile settles on your face as he holds out the small white box in front of you.

“it’s an empanada, thought you’d like one.” miguel pretends to act normal but really feels a bit awkward since he’s never been the type to give things. at least, he hasn’t done it in a long time so he’s forgotten.

“oh, thank you. i love empanadas.” you take the small box from him with a kind smile.

his eyes light up ever so slightly, a rare occurrence. “really?” he takes his seat in the chair.

you nod before opening the box and taking a bite of the pastry. your eyes blow wide in delight. “oh wow, this is really good. better than mine.”

“you make them?” he is intrigued.

“yeah, i make them sometimes. baking is one of my hobbies. but damn- this one is really good.”

miguel’s interest in you grows. one of your hobbies is baking and you enjoy making empanadas, a pastry he likes dearly. not all but certain kinds.

one thing you and him have in common.

eventually, you recovered. since you didn’t have clothes, the nurse offered you new ones that she could find. a pair of light denim jeans, a pretty periwinkle blouse, and a pair of flats. once you were dressed and checked yourself out of infirmary, you decide to take a stroll around HQ. with your wings spread out, lots of attention came your way. you can’t walk for two seconds before someone walks up to you and immediately starts blurting out questions. asking about your wings, what universe you’re from, what kind of butterfly you were. it was annoying but you figured this would happened.

while wandering around, a group of younger looking spiders approach you. three boys and a girl. one boy in a black suit, another with interesting facial piercings, the last boy in red and blue, and the blonde girl in a white suit. they seem to be teens.

“oh, hello.” you offer a kind smile.

“oh wow! you’re real!” the blonde girl exclaims.

“wow, you’re very pretty!”

“well i’ll be damned.” the facial piercings one smirks, arms folded over his chest.

their reactions startle you a little. you really aren’t used to this kind of attention and can’t necessarily say you like it, kinda overwhelming. this is probably what being the popular kid in school was like.

“oh thanks, you guys are sweet.” you smile.

the four teens quickly introduced themselves. there names were miles, gwen, pav, and hobie. they seem like nice kids, friendly and quite funny.

“so you’re a butterfly hybrid?” gwen asks.

“yep, half butterfly just you guys are half spider.”

“do you have cool abilities like us?” miles asks.

you shake your head. “no, sadly. we just have wings, we aren’t cool like you guys.”

“nah, come on! you’re cool too! i mean- you’re a butterfly and they’re pretty insects! right?” the boy looks at his friends and they all agree.

“yeah! just because you don’t have powers doesn’t make you any less cooler.” gwen offers a smile.

“you get to fly! we have to rely on our webs to move around and sometimes they don’t always work.” pav makes a point, the others hum in agreement.

“don’t be harsh on yourself, pretty. no one here got pretty wings like you do.” hobie winks at you, making you smile. perhaps he is right.

“well, thank you. you kids are really nice.”

“so, are you and the bossman close?”

hobie’s question makes your brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “he just rescued me, i don’t think that would make us close.” a soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“but he always visited you in the infirmary, yeah?”

oh, you know exactly what they mean and can’t help but laugh. kids being nosy as usual. “well since he rescued me, it’s normal for him to check up on me.”

“yeah but he checks up on you all the time even on missions. always asking lyla how you’re doing. the man can never stop asking about you.”

okay, you weren’t expecting this kind of information. miguel constantly checking up on you, even when he’s on missions? well, he is concerned about you since you came from a troubling situation. the thought makes your heart flutter.

“¡oye!”

the teens, expect hobie who seems to be unfazed, stiffen at the familiar authoritative tone of their leader. turning around, you find miguel quickly approaching the group. the eyes of his mask narrowed, he definitely has a scowl underneath.

“you four have missions to complete. ¡vete!”

the spider teens know best than to argue with miguel so they all skedaddle. hobie, on the other hand, is unfazed by miguel’s intimidating nature. couldn’t care less of what he says. the punk spider winks at you which you makes you smile before swinging away, an action gone unnoticed by miguel. he lets out an grumble under his breath.

“scaring them shitless, huh?” you tease.

“they have missions to complete, they can’t be distracted.”

“yikes, my bad.” you place a hand over your heart with a fake pout, pretending to be hurt.

a quiet sigh leaves his lips, cursing at himself for his poor choice of words. not to mention his heart skipping a beat at the pout, even if it was fake, it affected him. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“nah, i’m just messing with you.”

the giggle you let out has an effect on him as well and miguel isn’t sure why it does. it’s just a sound, how can it affect him that much?

“come with me to my office so we can discuss about getting you back to your universe.”

“damn, i guess my time here is up.”

“you want to stay here longer?” honesty, miguel is a bit surprised, even if you were joking.

“it’s cool here. sure, i miss home but i don’t think i’ll ever get another chance to visit another universe.”

miguel seems a bit surprised yet… relieved that you’re interested in staying here a bit longer. it’s only been a short amount of time of you being here. besides, it’s actually cool to have someone who isn’t a spiderperson here. it’s totally not because he wants you to stay and talk to you more. it’s not because he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

yeah no, totally not. that would be crazy, right?

“well… your watch can allow you to travel to whichever dimension you choose so you can visit here anytime you want.”

his heart leaps when he notices the sparkle in your eyes of enthusiasm. why does it happen every time you do something so little? why does it effect him so much? these questions keep plaguing his mind.

“wow, this is really heavy ass sci-fi shit.” you glance at the watch then up at him. “i like it.”

miguel lures you to his office. soon as possible since he didn’t want anyone else bombarding you with questions. sure it’s cool to see someone new but he doesn’t want you feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention. people need to back off sometimes. pressing a button, his desk begins levitating, which was going at a dreadful slow place.

“well, this is painfully awkward.”

miguel huffed grumpily, already sliding through the yellows screens in front of him. “don’t remind me.”

“why you need to be so high up? can’t just anyone swing up here anytime?” you ask while glancing at the various screens in fascination.

alright, you have a point. a good point since miguel doesn’t possess the iconic spidey sense. he is about to tell you that until the familiar irritating voice of a certain peter variant plops down on the ground.

“heyyy, miguel.”

the infamous peter b. parker, as well the adorable redhead baby mayday in the baby carrier.

“not now, parker.” miguel doesn’t even bother to turn around, still occupied with the screens and internally groaning at the sudden interruption.

“whaaaa i just wanna- whoa! who is this mysterious lady with… fairy wings?” peter’s eyes widen in surprise at your presence, specifically at your wings. “wait… you’re the butterfly lady!”

you snort at that, nodding. “the one and only.”

“wow… this is so cool! look, mayday! she’s a butterfly!” he glances at his daughter, who is utterly fascinated by you. the little girl just stares at you before smiling and starts babbling excitingly.

“hola, preciosa.” you coo at her, slowly approaching.

the baby squeals happily, capping her hands before reaching her tiny arms out for you. the adorable sight makes everyone’s heart melt, including miguel who is now watching the interaction.

“i’m peter and this is my daughter, mayday, who definitely likes you.” the man chuckles before taking her out of the baby carrier and holds her out to you.

“are you sure?”

“of course! she seems to like you a lot!”

peter appears to be right when those little hands excitingly reach out for you. oh your heart can’t resist such intense cuteness. you carefully take mayday and your arms and she immediately squeals happily.

for some odd reason, the sigh of you being so sweet towards the baby does something to miguel. the scene is so… heartwarming. you never mentioned if you’re a mother or anything but you seem so… motherly towards mayday. it’s unclear if you do have motherly instincts or just that caring towards a baby. either way, it effects him in some way.

“you are the cutest thing i’ve ever seen.” you coo and the little girl babbles excitedly. she stares in awe at your wings. “oh you like them?” the redhead baby nods and tries touching them but you softly tell her to be careful since they’re sensitive. “how old is she?” you glance at peter but keeping an eye on her.

“a year and she’s already doing a lot.” peter said proudly, hands on his hips. the fluffy pink robe he’s wearing is quite an amusing sight. “she some gained some of her powers and has been doing great!”

you turn and look at the man with furrowed brows of confusion. “powers?”

“yeah! she got her own webs! just like her old man.” another proud statement.

before you can say anything else, the little girl leaps out of your arms and swings up to the ceiling before swinging around miguel’s office.

“oh my god…” you observe the baby with a fascinated smile, softly chuckling.

“yeah, she’s been getting better with her aiming. doing great, sweetheart!” peter cheers.

the three of you observe the baby swinging around. you and peter smiling while miguel frowning and sighing quietly. not at sweet baby mayday, no absolutely not. just at peter’s irresponsibility for handling his daughter. despite her being a super baby, her father still needs to be careful with her.

“peter, how many times do i have to tell you not to let your daughter play around in my office?” miguel pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, even through his mask he still can.

“oh come on, miguel. she isn’t destroying anything.” peter pats his friend’s shoulder, earning a glare from him even through the mask he can tell. “we all know you have a soft spot for her.”

okay, now if looks could kill, peter would definitely be under more than six feet.

that is proven when mayday finally a stops and lands on miguel’s bulky shoulder. she gently pokes around his face and miguel just stands there accepting his fate. a grumpy expression settled on his features while mayday happily pokes at his face, smiling and babbling. the adorable sight melts your heart. he definitely does have a soft spot for the little girl.

an eye roll and an incoherent grumble leave miguel’s lips, feeling a bit embarrassed by peter basically ratting him out, especially in front of you. miguel can’t even bare to look at you without feeling more embarrassed, a shy schoolboy even, despite the fact he still has his mask on. miguel simply lets mayday use him as her personal playground.

mayday continues playing around with miguel until she hangs off on his shoulder but suddenly loses balance and is about to fall until, by his fatherly instincts, miguel catches her in his large hands. your heart nearly drops and almost gasp in horror but utterly feel relieved when miguel caught her, placing a hand over your rapidly beating heart.

the little girl giggles and reaches out towards her father. miguel hands the baby back to her idiot father then resumes looking back at the screens.

“we have important things to discuss so i’m not gonna ask you again, parker, vete.”

“alright, alright. we’re going.” peter raised one hand in surrender. “time to go, sweetheart. say bye to uncle miguel and the pretty butterfly lady!”

“bye, preciosa.” you wave her, smiling.

the father and daughter duo wave goodbye before swinging off, leaving you and miguel alone. a quiet sigh of relief escapes his lips.

“she’s so damn cute. you really do have a soft spot for her, i don’t blame you.”

he isn’t facing you but you can tell he rolled his eyes.

“let’s focus on your universe, alright?”

tapping one of the screens, miguel widens it with his fingers to reveal a clearer image of your universe. beside it is information about your dimension. seeing your home tiggers a tiny teaspoon of homesickness. despite the cool futuristic atmosphere here, you do miss your cottage and beautiful gardens.

“like i mentioned before, using this watch will let you return to your universe and travel to others.”

miguel explains how the watch works and provides a demonstration with his own. with a few taps, a colorful portal appears. now it was your turn. following his instructions, you add information of your dimension and manage to create a portal.

“wow, this is crazy shit.” you softly chuckle, admiring the colorful portal.

miguel would offer a small smile but he just stands there feeling a bit… disappointed. there shouldn’t a reason to be. you needed to return back to your universe and it was time. it’s the right thing to do so why is he feeling so hesitant about it?

was it too soon? no, you’ve been here long enough and you need to head home. probably your family and friends are desperately waiting for your return after your disappearance. miguel doesn’t want them to wait any longer, nevertheless you.

despite that strange achy feeling lingering in his chest, miguel prepares himself to say goodbye.

even if he doesn’t really want to.

“wanna come see?”

miguel snaps out of those strange thoughts at your question, his eyes widening in surprise.

“what?”

“do you wanna come see my universe? since you’ve never knew of it before and i know you’re desperately curious about it, come see it.”

the brunette stands there speechless, astonished by your suggestion. should he visit your universe? it’s true, he is very curious since he never knew of its existence. but he can’t leave HQ. what if he is needed for an important mission? what if a canon disturbance occurs? he can’t leave the multiverse unattended, his number one responsibility.

but his curiosity gets the best of him.

besides, one tiny visit doesn’t hurt.

letting out a heavy sigh, miguel accepts. “alright, fine but just for a few minutes.”

your eyes light up and wings flutter happily. “trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“lyla, place jess under temporary leadership until i return and notify me of any emergencies.”

“aye aye, captain grumpy bug.” the little ai magically appears near his shoulder with a salute, earning a frown from her boss before disappearing.

a few quiet grumbles left his lips before beginning to walk towards the portal.

“ready, captain grumpy bug?” you tease.

his expression falls flat, passing by you. “move it.”

mythical was really the perfect word to describe your universe because wow… everything is just… exactly that word and miguel is utterly astonished. he has seen many universes, all in variations and certainly this one is definitely one of the most beautiful ones to ever exist. architecture decorated with blossoming flowers and rich green vines. by his knowledge, it resembles ancient greek architecture. all of nature glowing beautifully under the vibrant shinning sun. everything is just so ethereal and… peaceful.

you notice his astonished expression, even through the mask because he hasn’t said a word since you arrived and you can’t help but smile.

“that speechless, huh?”

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes. “it’s just… really mythical, like i predicted.”

“major difference, huh?”

oh an insane fucking contrast with his universe. incredibly futuristic and solely based on heavily advanced technology. pretty much everything is on a screen. unlike your universe where is purely nature. flowers and vines everywhere. although he’s used to living in his futuristic world, miguel can’t deny how calm he feels being in your universe. like suddenly the worries of the multiverse vanished.

“well, wanna check it out?”

miguel snaps out of thought. “i don’t see why not.”

a tiny smile graces your lips before your wings begin fluttering and you’re raising in the air. “just follow me and maybe wanna try to keep up with me.”

he didn’t have a chance to respond when you suddenly take off and fly away. miguel realizes this is the first time he sees you flying. seeing those pretty wings of yours fluttering and you flying gracefully in the air. the man stands there like an idiot staring in brief awe before he realizes you’re far ahead and soon catches up by swinging after you.

while flying and swinging around, you give miguel a tour of your world. showing him significant buildings, statues, and sites. the spider-man continues to be more mesmerized by your mythical world. it was fun explaining everything to someone new, it feels refreshing and you enjoy it. but what really got you smiling is watching miguel trying to catch up to you, swinging around, shooting his orange webs at the nearest tree or building. another fun thing is flying around with someone who isn’t a butterfly, a different hybrid, nevertheless a spider. just seeing that flash of red and blue, a major contrast to the pastel of your world, is pretty amusing.

after enough show and tell, you lure miguel to your cottage. a cute tiny cottage in a secluded area and a garden completely surrounding it. miguel figured your home would be a cottage of some sort, nevertheless it’s pretty cute.

“beautiful home.”

just like the owner.

wait… did he just?

no, miguel didn’t mean it like that! okay, well- you are a beautiful woman and your home is beautiful. it doesn’t mean he’s attracted to you.

or is he and in complete denial?

he shakes the stupid thoughts away.

“thanks, it’s my favorite place ever. it’s even cuter on the inside.” you flying gracefully towards the front door before landing on your feet, unlocking and opening the door. “just watch your head.”

miguel ducks slightly due to both his abnormal height and how short the door is, assumingely accustomed to you. his eyes widen in astonished by the soft, decorative interior of your home. the natural light of sun making the interior glow ethereally. everything about it seems so cozy.

“this is… the most coziest place i’ve ever been in.” those crimson eyes glance around the interior.

“glad to know.” a soft chuckle slips through your lips. “now, imma go change real quick because i can’t stand these jeans any longer. make yourself feel comfortable, just give me a sec.”

miguel nods as he watches you fly over to where he assumes is your bedroom before continuing to glance around your home. basking in the cozy atmosphere of your little cottage.

not only it feels cozy but feels like… you.

it’s that even a description?

honestly, miguel doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

“do you want anything?”

his head turns in your direction, then suddenly his pupils dilate immensely. you come back wearing a pretty flowy dress that barely passes your thighs, exposing your legs to him. a pair of sparkly laced heels of the same color as the dress, the straps adored around your calfs so gracefully. his heart suddenly beats quickly. a rush of warmth spreads through his face and chest. a small outfit change and it effects him significantly. well, you are a beautiful woman and that dress looks stunning on you. it’s just simple attraction, a man finding a woman beautiful. no other reason why he’s feeling like this, right?

“hellooo…?”

shit, miguel must’ve looked like a goddamn idiot for staring. “uh- sorry. what did you say?” he awkwardly clears his throat, sallowing the embarrassment.

a cheeky smile graces your lips at his bashful but let it slide. “do you want anything? food or a drink? i got water, strawberry lemonade.” you fly over to the tiny kitchen, searching for a drink of your own.

“oh uh… water is fine, gracias.”

while you fetch him a glass, miguel feels something by his feet. looking down, there is a tiny light brown fluff ball. it’s a rabbit. the tiny creature sniffs at his feet. he stares down at it in amusement.

as you hand miguel the glass of water and want a quiet thank you from him, your eyes follow his eyes and notice your bunny.

“seems like you met bella and she already likes you.”

“hmm… glad she approves.”

bringing the glass to his face, the lower half of his mask disintegrates. revealing those very plump lips that make your eyes widen in bewilderment.

“i don’t wanna overstep boundaries but…” you lean over the counter, elbows rested on the surface and chin in your palms. “how come you never shown you face? i’ve seen all the other spiderpeople’s but not yours. but if it’s a privacy thing then i totally get it.”

miguel ponders for a moment, slowly placing down the glass of water on the counter.

why hasn’t shown his face? sure, there are times when he leaves his mask on but mostly he has it off. it mainly depends on his mood. now thinking about it, even peter and jessica asked the same question before. a simple grumble was his usual answer before walking away. but why did he kept it on?

without saying anything, miguel exhales quietly then allows the rest of his mask to disintegrate.

your pupils dilate drastically.

chocolate fluff of hair. the thickest eyebrows and sharpest cheekbones know to man. so sharp that you could get a paper cute if your drag your finger over it. those very plump lips that make your eyes linger a little too long than usual. but what truly captures your attention is those scarlet orbs.

never have you seen red eyes on someone. but miguel’s though… they are utterly mesmerizing. it’s a beautiful shade of red. like a rose in your garden. like a ruby hidden deep in a cave of jewels. like a cherry growing outside. that pretty type of red.

“you have pretty eyes.”

those expect eyes widen in surprise.

pretty? you consider his eyes… pretty? those exact horrific red orbs that terrifies anyone he comes into contact with. screaming in terror at how creepy they look. the eyes he loathe every time he sees them in his reflection. the eyes he gained against his will from an evil bastard. the eyes he is forever stuck with and can never gain back those brown eyes that he was born with, that no one was afraid of.

you think they’re pretty?

miguel is utterly speechless, baffled. standing there with a shocked expression like an idiot. he just can’t believe it. not to mention, you’re the first person to say something positive about his eyes.

it’s new… weird… shocking.

“uh… thanks?…” miguel really doesn’t know the correct response to this… compliment. only stands there like the awkward idiot he is.

“also, nice caterpillars for eyebrows.” you chuckle.

his expression falls flat, a deadpan look. “funny.”

“what? i’m just saying, not a bad thing though. it looks like you take care of them so kudos to you.”

you are… alluring.

sudden warmth rises in his cheeks and spreads throughout his body like a virus. miguel noticed he always experience that sensation every time he’s with you, now even more with your strange kind words. it makes his heart leap.

what are you doing to him?

is it you or him?

miguel just blames his body for behaving strangely, despite the fact it only happens with you.

he grabs the glass of water and gulps it down to cool down the heat. “how long have you been living here?” for his sake, he changes subject.

“four years. after living with my parents for years, i decided to have a place of my own. don’t get me wrong, i love them and grew up happily with them, i just always wanted to have my own home. have my own garden that i can grow and spend most of time in. i like my solitude so… here i am in my little cottage.” you glance around your home with a smile.

miguel stares at you in awe and understanding. solitude is something he values, especially now after what… happened. having his own space is a priority, a place of comfort. his has a penthouse but is never there, always occupied at HQ in his office. spend nearly every night there. alone in his solitary, empty and quiet. however, it does get quite lonely sometimes. but miguel is used to it.

“solitude is nice, especially when you have a place to go to find it.” he takes another sip of the water.

“do you have a place?”

he goes quiet for a moment. “supposedly my office, spend most of my time there than my actual home.”

that makes your brows furrowed a little. “a workaholic, huh? i figured.”

“is that obvious, hm?”

“yes, especially with those bags under your eyes.”

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes. it’s the truth though.

“you say that’s your place of solitude but you keep working yourself out.”

that silences him, a bit speechless.

“look, i know i barely know you but it’s clear you overwork yourself since you’re a leader. sure, it’s a pain in the ass managing a shit ton of universes and i can’t imagine the stress, but just take a breather. even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

wow… that is some… inspiring words.

you’ve only met recently yet it seems like you know him well enough, like you understand him. miguel had a firm belief no one could understand him, the troubles he faced. he wasn’t like any other spider-man, different in many ways. with all the shitty things he endured, secretly drugged which gifted him horrific abilities and forever changed, lost several people he cared about, lost his beloved daughter from a different universe that he destroyed.

underneath that suit is a broken man.

a broken man forever drowning himself in guilt. overworking himself to the fucking bone until nothing of himself remains.

a broken man no one could fix.

yet… found someone who sees right through him.

there goes the strange warm feeling again. invading his body, coursing through his veins. it’s driving miguel a bit crazy. constantly asking himself why this happens when the real reason stands in front of him.

miguel is too lost in thought to properly answer, staring at you with a blank expression. those crimson orbs stare into your pretty ones before moving on to your wings, which flutter ever so slowly. glimmering in the soft natural light of your home. the mesmerizing sight leaves him in a trance.

like he described you before… alluring.

you’ve been visiting HQ and spending time with miguel in his office. this time, you bring a container of empanadas meant for the big grumpy bug. since he’s told you of his love for the pastry, you decide to make him some as a thank you for rescuing you. originally you thought of making one solely for him but you figured others would want some too. walking down the hallway passing by various spiderpeople and the cells of anomalies, which never fails to amaze you, you reach miguel’s office. his desk appears to be not high in the air this time. flying over to him, you land on the platform and he turns around.

“surprise.” you greet him with a soft smile which makes his heart flutter strangely enough.

“welcome back.” his eyes land on the container in your hands. “what’s that?” he points at it.

you hold it out to him. “empanadas.”

miguel’s eyes widen in surprise. “really?”

“yep, remember i told you i make them? as a thank you for saving my ass, i made them for you.”

there goes that strange fluttering feeling his chest. “you made them… for me?” miguel is utterly shocked, dumbfounded even. you made something for him? it was usual for him to receive gifts.

“of course.” you softly smile. “although, i wasn’t sure if you wanted one or more so i just made a shit ton. if you don’t want them all, i’ll just offer them to others.”

you are… truly are alluring… and kind to him, of all people. like mentioned before, miguel has never received anything for his duties. sure, he has saved numerous lives and a simple thank you would suffice, or sometimes earn insults due to his grumpy demeanor, then he’d carry on with his day. receiving gifts especially something he loves is strange to him because it’s never happened before. you made him something out of the kindness of your heart.

“i uh… thank you.” he gingerly takes the container from you, still in complete shock and awe.

the man was utterly speechless.

something you mange to do.

another day you visit but miguel is currently on a mission. instead of waiting for him in his office which sounds dreadful, you decide to stroll around the society. meet new spiderpeople and create friends. you bumped into the spider teens, had a little conversation before they had to leave for missions or return to their universes. you continue meeting others until one certain spider-man capture your attention. a cowboy spider-man variant.

web-slinger.

the cowboy is quite charming and a little flirt. although you can’t see much of his face, it’s clear that he is attractive. his voice gives it away. not to mention that western accent. a casual conversation, him sharing stories of his universe, background, villains he fought and captured, occasional flirting here and there. you also learned his name is patrick. everything about him is so intriguing. he even offers you to ride with him on his horse. how can you refuse such a cool offer? although you can fly up to the saddle, you wanted patrick to lift you up. a shy smile graces your lips as he puts on his hands on your waist and lifts you up on the saddle so effortlessly. he hops on and you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist as you begin riding together.

after a long ass mission which almost caused him to rip off a head of a peter parker variant, miguel is on his way back to his office. walking down the hallway, he continues his journey back until he notices a familiar pretty pair of wings from a distance. miguel picks up speed, a bit too excitingly, until he stops and fully realizes the scene in front of him. you horseback riding with web-slinger. smiling and giggling to whatever the cowboy variant was babbling about. an uncomfortable feeling settles in his chest, almost like an ache.

why is miguel feeling like this?

but the longer he stares at you with web-slinger, the achy feeling grows stronger. miguel doesn’t like that. he shouldn’t feel anything from a simple interaction between you and a colleague miguel tolerates. in fact, web-slinger is one of the very few spiderpeople miguel likes and gets along with. but now seeing you with him, that feeling changes.

the sweet contagious sound of your laughter reaches his ears. it appears whatever the cowboy was telling you had you in high spirits. the sight makes miguel frown and clench his jaw. sure, patrick can toss a can joke here and there but he isn’t that humorous. what could he be possibly telling you to make you laugh and smile like that? but the more important question is why does miguel want to know? why does he feel this way? it doesn’t make any sense.

but that achy feeling doesn’t fade away.

maybe is because miguel secretly wishes it was him making you laugh like that? secretly wishes it was him hanging out with you?

is he jealous?

no, that would be crazy. miguel isn’t jealous, that is ridiculous. he is the goddamn leader of the spider society, he can’t feel jealous over a colleague who is being graced by your company and get to be the one making you laugh and smile. no, that’s stupid.

miguel shakes his head and walks away. however, much to his dismay, that achy feeling never faded with each step he took back to his office.

since then, you and miguel became interestingly close. a bond blossomed between you two. with your own watch, you visited HQ several times a week and always end up in his office when miguel is there. when he is on missions, you’d either wait in his office or hang out with other spiderpeople in the meantime. when are together, you’d discuss about your universe, the multiverse, funny stories, and personal experiences. just a simple conversation between friends, even if you don’t have an official title for your relationship. friends seems reasonable, although it feels more than and others agree with that.

stand too close towards one another. the back of yours hands briefly touching each other. looking at each other a little too longer while the other isn’t looking. it was more than the average friends experience, it was way too… intimate.

it was all fine until miguel began to realize how exactly close you are and it frightened him. that warm feeling every time he’s around you, it grows worse. just you merely in his presence, even standing a feet from him makes his skin warm. when your hands briefly touch, feel your breath against him, hear that pretty voice, look into those gorgeous eyes, linger on those very pretty lips a little too long, admire your wings when you aren’t looking.

but what drives him absolutely insane is the soft glint in your eyes every time you look up at him, the way you say his name so angelically, smiling so beautifully. all of it makes his heart beat like fucking crazy. just a touch of your skin against him lights his body on fire. how heavenly you say his name that makes him want to hear it over and over.

it’s driving him crazy.

you are driving him crazy.

not a day does by without you plaguing his every thought. his mind is constantly about you. no matter what, it automatically goes to you. it’s so bad that miguel struggles a bit to concentrate on missions. visions of those beautiful wings, fluttering so gracefully. those pretty lashes fluttering whenever your gorgeous eyes look up into his crimson ones, those eyes he secretly adores dearly. those damn pretty lips, taunting him as if begging for his own. miguel can’t even fucking sleep without thinking about you, constantly dreaming of you.

not only you plague his mind but negative thoughts as well. shitty little voices in his mind telling him that you’re too good for him, he is undeserving of you. you are the most beautiful woman, the human embodiment of beauty. nevertheless a goddamn butterfly, one of the most gorgeous creatures. miguel is this horrible creature, a monster. cursed with terrifying red eyes, talons, and piercing fangs.

it’s impossible to love a beast like him. how could you love those terrifying red eyes, talons, and fangs? how can he look at you in the eye? those scarlet orbs filled with such pain and regret staring into those beautiful ones filled with happiness. how can he ever touch you without those stupid talons piercing your celestial skin? how he can ever kiss you without those fangs cutting your lip and making you bleed?

how can someone so beautiful like you could ever fall for a beast like him?

you’re a butterfly and he’s a spider.

a spider and a butterfly don’t fit together. one is beautiful and the other is horrifying.

this isn’t right, thinking of you like this. miguel shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. he shouldn’t feel anything for you. he shouldn’t feel anything for anyone. the icy walls of his broken heart must remain strong, not allow anyone to melt it down. miguel can’t allow himself to grow close to someone. he can’t develop attachment. after losing too many people he cared about, he can’t allow it to happen again. he can’t allow himself to be vulnerable.

so there is only one solution: to shut down.

it was like flipping a switch. miguel is known for being cold towards some people, but now he is a complete fucking asshole. but most importantly, or unfortunately, an asshole towards you. that calm, chill, friendly demeanor suddenly vanished and replaced with a shitty attitude. whenever you greet him, miguel won’t respond or barely acknowledge you. instead will stare at those stupid screens or walk away silently. ask him a simple question and he will snap at you. scarlet irises glaring down at you before looking away. a few grumbles slip from his lips. when you try reaching out for his hand, he would shove or move away from your attempt.

underneath that coldness, it pains him to hurt you like this. you don’t deserve to be treated so shitty, you never did anything wrong. however, miguel doesn’t deserve you. he doesn’t deserve your kindness. he doesn’t deserve happiness. every time he sees those gorgeous eyes filled with hurt, it’s like a stab to the heart. but miguel solely believes that it’s best for you to hate him. no matter how much it hurts him to treat you so terribly.

the sudden change confused you. one minute you’re getting along then he’s snapping at you and giving you the cold shoulder. honestly, it hurts you. you truly believed there was a bond. everything was going so well until it was all suddenly thrown out the window and miguel behaving as if he despises your entire being. at first, you tried to be understanding and thought he was going through something and it’ll eventually past but it never did.

that’s when you finally had enough.

with a pissed off look on your face, you fly up to his desk. his broad back is faced to you, staring at those stupid screens like always. the sight alone pisses you off more because he knew you’re here.

“what the fuck is going with you?”

the tall brunette focuses on the screens, not bothering to turn and face you. mentally cursing at himself, knowing this was coming.

“oye, estoy hablando.” you approach his side and attempt to touch his arm but a strong hand stops you swiftly, making you gasp a little.

“no me toques.” he still refuses to look at you.

you yanked your hand from his tight grip. “what the fuck is up with you? why are you acting such a fucking dick? i thought we were cool.”

miguel scoffs and roll his eyes. “leave.”

his dismissive behavior pisses you off more. “no, answer the damn questions.”

“i’m not obligated to answer to you. now leave before you’ll make me do something i’ll regret.”

“what the fuck, miguel?! what happened?! why are you being such an asshole?!” you cry. “did i do something? i thought we were friends.”

miguel doesn’t miss the little voice crack in your tone, making his heart ache with guilt.

“friends?” the bastard scoffs again, finally turns to look at you with a glare. “i don’t do friends. we were never friends, should never have been friends or whatever you thought this was. it was a mistake.”

that last phrase shatters your heart.

miguel saw it, the hurt in your eyes the moment those vicious words left his lips.

“a mistake?…” you didn’t care about the voice cracks anymore. a thin layer of tears begin prickling in your eyes. “so it was all a lie? all for nothing, huh?”

“yes and it was pointless. i’m dealing with life-threatening problems and i can’t afford distractions.”

distractions? you are a distraction?

another stab to the heart.

“are you fucking serious? if it was pointless, then why the fuck did you let me visit here?”

“to gain information about your universe, nothing more. you were just a pawn.”

it was all a lie.

“you… you used me?… to gain information?!” those tears finally escape. “you fucking asshole! i trusted you! i cared about you! i thought we were—”

“we are NOTHING!” miguel shouts, making you flinch. “there was never anything between us! you are nothing more than a dumb little insect and live in your own fucking fantasy world.”

all of that slipped out of his mouth before miguel could fully comprehend what he just said. that he realized he fucked up so badly.

your heart completely shatters.

tears spill uncontrollably down your cheeks, causing your glossy vision. for the first time in your life, you’ve finally experienced what heartbreak is.

it was all a lie. the bond between you two was nothing but a game to him. miguel only used you to gain meaningless information. all the moments you spend together meant nothing to him. all the memories and secrets you shared with him didn’t mean shit. it was all white noise to him. miguel was the only person who made you feel comfortable with and in the end never cared about you at all. all of it meant everything to you but nothing to him.

it was pure lies.

besides the terrible heartbreak, anger began to boil in your veins. a frown settles on your face, heavily glaring up at the bastard through glossy eyes that makes miguel piss his pants.

those teary eyes of pain makes miguel realize what he has done. went too far and made the biggest fucking mistake of his life.

there was nothing else to say to him, just glaring at him with pure hatred. with a few taps on the watch, you open a portal behind you. miguel’s eyes widen in shock and realization at what you’re about to do.

“wait- don’t, please-”

miguel reaches out with a hand but is too late when you quickly turn around and walk through the portal without saying anything. yanking off the watch before the portal vanishes right after you, leaving a heartbroken miguel in the room.

miguel didn’t reach you in time and curses quietly. those scarlet eyes land on the abandoned watch on the floor with a remorseful look before slowly crouching to pick it up. with a frustrated scream, miguel smashes his desk with strong fists, creating large heavy indents almost breaking it. hunched over it and using one hand rubbing his eyes, feeing the tears of guilt and regret fall uncontrollably.

he made the biggest mistake.

he never hated himself more than ever.

he fucked up the one good thing in his life.

what has he done?

it’s been a week since the fiasco with miguel. a week of heartbreak and it fucking sucks. most days and nights of endless tears. the little walls of your cottage concealed all of your sobs. they witness the tears, wails, swearing, all sounds of heartbreak.

you just can’t believe it… you truly believed you and miguel were friends, or close in some sense. there was a spark between you two, you felt it for certain. whenever he was near, your heart never beat so quickly and a rush of warmth spread through your body. a simple touch of his hand made your mind haywire. most days your mind was occupied with thoughts of him. at first, it felt like a friendship but then blossomed into something more. you grew very fond of the handsome grumpy spider. after spending much time with him, you would come home with a loopy smile and rapid beating heart. miguel made you feel something you’ve never felt before. never have you felt this way about someone else. no one has made you feel the way miguel did.

but he made you feel that way just for scheming. miguel never actually cared about you, never felt the same way you did for him. it was all a game to him. played with your heart to gain what he desired. toyed with your emotions and tricked you into believing he cared. a man played you and you hate yourself for that. you truly believed underneath that coldness there was kindness in his heart. but it turns out it was coldness after all. not an ounce of compassion in that cold heart of his, only manipulation.

you hate miguel, with every fiber of your being.

the immense pain he caused you is unforgivable and your opinion of him is forever changed. he is not the caring person you once thought he was. actually, a manipulative fucking asshole.

honestly, you shouldn’t be crying over that asshole. he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your emotions. he doesn’t deserve to be cried over.

fuck him, he can go fuck himself.

after spending much time in the garden, you head back inside to retire for the rest of the day. entering the cottage, a yelp erupts from your throat when you find a large tall man clad in a familiar red and blue suit standing in the middle of the living room. causing you to drop the mug you had on the floor, shattering into little pieces near your feet.

“shit! are you—” miguel panics and rushes over immediately but you quickly back away from him, causing his heart to ache.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you glare at the bastard, eyes filled with hurt and anger.

“i need to talk to you but are you hurt?” he avoids the shattered pieces on the floor as miguel tries reaching out to you with a cautious hand but you continue backing away from him.

“don’t fucking touch me.” you snap and miguel backs off, a remorseful expression on his face.

“perdóname, i-i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“get out.”

his brows furrowed sadly, pleadingly. “please, let me help you clean it up.”

“you’ve already fucked things up enough, it’s what you’re good at.”

that was a low blow but deservingly so.

“por favor—”

“GET OUT!”

miguel goes silent, observing the heaving of your chest and pissed off expression settled on your face. he hasn’t apologized yet and already pissing you off. great, things are already going to shit.

“i don’t care about your help or what you need to say! just get the fuck out of my home!”

you have every right to be angry with him but miguel can’t leave without apologizing. he can’t live with himself without letting you know how much he regrets saying those vile things to you and hurting you. he would never forgive himself.

he whispers your name so gently it pains you. “i know you hate me and have every right to be. i was an asshole and i hate myself for it. just please… i need to tell you how sorry i am.”

“you think you have the fucking audacity to invade my home and try to apologize after what you did to me? un-fucking-believable, fuck you.”

he winces at that, deserving every ounce of your anger. “i know, i’m an idiot but i can’t live without telling you how much i regret those things i said.”

you huff sadly, feeling tears prickle in your eyes for the nth time. “just leave, miguel. you already caused me enough pain, i don’t want anymore.”

what feels like an anvil lands on his chest, crushing his heart. miguel can not only see the pain in your eyes but hear it in your voice too. completely exhausted and wished to be left alone. what has he done? the self-loathing grows stronger.

“i… lo siento mucho, mariposa.” his voice goes quiet, averting his gaze from yours, too ashamed to look at those beautiful eyes. “i’m so sorry for hurting you. i know you won’t forgive me and i don’t expect you to, hell i don’t deserve it. it’s just…”

your brows furrowed, still pissed off but attentive. also the pet name did not go unnoticed which made your heart flutter, despite how much anger it holds.

“the reason why i yelled at you was because i scared.” your frown deepens in confusion but you remain silent, allowing him to continue. “this is gonna sound cheesy but… you made me feel… things i haven’t felt for someone in a long time. cuando estoy contigo, i feel… different, like warm and it drives me insane, it scares me.”

you remain silent, a bit speechless. you make him feel things he’s never felt before and it scares him? is that a good thing or bad thing?

“it scares me because i care about you, more than i should, more than the average… friend.”

now you’re truly speechless.

is he saying…?

“everyone i cared about, i lost them and i couldn’t lose you. i was afraid of losing you. it’s why i can’t allow myself to be vulnerable, can’t grow attach to someone without the fear of losing them.”

you knew of miguel’s troubled past. dysfunctional family, toxic relationships, and the lost of his daughter from a different universe. he was just a broken man with a broken past. lost everything and everyone, suffered from too much pain, scarred him for life. that is why his heart is so heavily guarded. the fear of vulnerability. a shitty ass feeling.

“that’s why i pushed you away, acted like an asshole to you. i thought that making you hate me would protect you from me, that i wouldn’t lose you either but i did anyway…” a look of guilt and shame flashes across his face, shoulders sagged. “i know i can’t take back those horrible words and i forever hate myself for hurting you. please believe me that i never meant any of it. you are not a dumb insect, you are the most beautiful person i’ve ever met and your universe is the most fascinating one i’ve seen.” he finally turns to look at you. “you weren’t a pawn, i didn’t used you for gain information. i valued our conversations, our bond or friendship, every single moment. every story, memory, laugh, smile means everything to me. you mean everything to me.”

shock, overwhelmed, speechless, and flattery were what you were feeling from all of this sudden information. not to mention the skipping of your heart beat at that final phrase.

“not a single day goes by without thinking about you. no matter what i’m fucking doing, my mind directly goes to you.” miguel confesses sincerely, scarlet eyes boring into your pretty ones intensely, making your heart beat fast. “but the more i thought about you, the more i felt undeserving of you.”

your brows furrowed confusingly. “what do you mean ‘undeserving of me’?”

the spider-man sighs frustratingly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “how could you, someone so beautiful, love a monster like me?”

your heart shatters at that. how could he think of himself like that? “miguel, you’re not a monster.”

“¡mírame!” he shouts that sounds almost like a cry, fangs and talons out in their full glory. “you’re saying these don’t make me a monster? anyone who looks at me, my eyes, my fangs, my talons, always have a look of horror in their eyes. begging me not to hurt them before running away as fast as possible. i know i’m not like the others, i know i don’t have a bite. the rapture and my reflection remind me everyday.”

your heat aches terribly for this poor man. he has gone through so much. can’t even imagine his suffering, the look of horror he endured from others while trying to save the day. all you want to do is pull him into yours arms and hug him tightly.

“how can anyone fall for this?” he gestures at himself as if he is nothing. “no one will.” his eyes avert from yours, looking away in shame.

it’s silent for a moment until you finally speak.

“you’re wrong, miguel.”

the male looks back at you with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed.

you decide to take a leap of faith, literally, taking a step towards him. “anyone can fall for you. i know everyone sees you as this big scary, grumpy guy and will literally shit their pants the moment they see you but… they don’t know the real man behind it all.”

miguel simply stares at you in awe and begin to feel his heart beating faster by the minute.

“they may see you as this scary guy but i see a man with a broken past.”

that sentence alone shattered him.

“i know you went through so much shit in the past and i will never know what it’s like but i do understand why you are the way you are. you push away people because people have pushed you away. you protect yourself from getting hurt again. from what you’ve been through, it’s understandable. but just know that there are people who care about you. i know i can’t take away your fears but know that it’s okay to be vulnerable. don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to open up to someone, to be comfortable with someone. it’s scary and that’s okay. it takes time, just take small steps but only when you feel ready.”

miguel is utterly speechless, staring at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. heart pumping rapidly with intense emotion, something you never fail to do to him. those doubts and fears slowly vanish by your words of comfort and reassurance. no one has ever spoken to him about his issues and fears. hell, miguel never talked to anyone yet you can see right through him. never thought it would be you yet… glad it is you because miguel wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. he fell first but fell even harder.

“miguel, you are the most interesting person i’ve ever met. anyone could fall for you.” you confess with a heartily chuckle. “sure, you are the most stubborn grumpy person ever,” that earns you a low chuckle and an eye roll from him, making you smile. “but really you are a very caring, passionate person. that could make anyone fall for you.”

he was falling harder by the minute. heart pounding in his chest like a drum. those sweet words were melting down the icy walls concealing his broken heart. he was breaking apart, in a good way.

“honestly, i think your fangs, talons, and red eyes are fucking cool. i mean shit- even i’m jealous of your eyes because i want red eyes or at least have rare colored eyes, that is cool as fuck. your talons and fangs makes you badass. and guess what? no one else has them, only you. you are unique.”

you made him fall in love with you even more.

“té quiero.”

you’re taken aback by his response, visibly dumbfounded. “w-what?”

those gorgeous crimson orbs remain locked on yours as miguel slowly makes his way towards you, being mindful of the shattered mug pieces that he intends on cleaning up later, until he towers over you. broad bodies merely touching, no space left in between. his hot, heavy breath fanning over your forehead. your neck crane all the way up just to meet his intense gaze. the close proximity makes your heart beat crazy with anticipation and lashes flutter.

“everything i said about you is true. besides apologizing, i wanted to tell you my feelings, even if you don’t feel the same. i needed you to know because i can’t live without you not knowing.”

due to your lack of response, miguel begin to panic a little. did he went too far? was it too much? he was about to step back when he’s suddenly yanked down and his lips meets yours. with all the height you had left, you reached for his face and yanked him down for the kiss you’ve been waiting for. his whole body is basically bent over just to reach you due to the height difference but miguel doesn’t really give a fuck about the back pain, too busy feeling those soft pretty lips of yours after waiting for so long.

instinctively, his hands grip onto your hips and give them a few gentle squeezes then slowly roam around your body, mindful of your wings. he has only touched you for a few seconds and you’re already putty in his hold. shivering at the addictive sensation, goosebumps forming on your skin. damn his hands feel so good. so big and rough. giving into his desires, miguel gets a bit more touchy. calloused hands gently groping your curves, eliciting soft little moans which makes his core ache.

the kiss grows more spicier. hands grouping each other’s bodies, soft moans and groans mingled in the hot air. miguel is too lost into the kiss until he feels you moving upward, causing him to stand up straight which confuses him for a second. breaking away from the kiss, miguel finds you lingering in the air. gorgeous wings fluttering in the air.

“the perks of having wings is that i can fly up to your level.” you wrap your arms around his thick neck, finally get the chance to. “save you the back pain.”

that elicits a light chuckle from him. “appreciate the help.” his broad hands capture your waist as miguel leans in for another kiss, which you happily accept.

much to his dismay, you part away from his lips, earning a cute little pout from him. god he is so precious. miguel tries to reach your lips but you keep backing away from him, making him frown cutely.

“mariposa…” he whines softly.

“follow me.” you whisper against his lips, a hint of seductiveness in your tone that makes miguel’s cock twitch in his now slightly tight suit.

you two stare at each other for a moment before you let go of his face and begin flying away, towards the direction of presumingly your bedroom. a shiver of anticipation travels down his spine. the throbbing sensation in his core increases annoyingly. as if you hypothesized him, miguel follows you to the room. his lust-clouded mind carrying his feet.

“joder…”

his jaw slacks at the sight in front of him. you sitting so prettily in the center of your bed with those big beautiful eyes with a seductive glint in them. enthralling wings expanded out. that pretty dress on you hugging your curves, the hem raised up to those mesmerizing thighs due to your posture, leaving your gorgeous legs exposed to his hungry gaze.

like a dessert on displayed to be devoured.

god, you’re gonna be the death of him.

miguel can feel his cock strained in his suit uncomfortably. the man is hard as a fucking rock. only you make him feel this way. those piercing crimson eyes stare you down, like a predator staking his prey. as if you are caught in his web. a pretty butterfly trapped in a spider’s web. the thought makes your thighs squeeze instinctively, clit pulsating terribly. miguel slowly climbs up the bed until he is hovering over your small frame. causing you to lay back on the plush mattress and silk sheets, trapped underneath his mesmerizing muscular frame, settled in between your legs.

miguel takes a moment to admire your pretty form underneath him before leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss. instinctively, your fingers dig into his chocolate locks. the addictive sensation elicits a groan from him. just you playing with his hair makes him putty. calloused hands gently grope your curves, earning those cute little moans. his lips leave a trail from your lips, jawline, down into the crook of your neck. one hand dangled in his hair and the other gripping onto his bulky shoulder. the bulging muscles under your fingertips. god, you have been dying to feel them. his hands continue roaming and groping your body as miguel leaves needy kisses on your neck with the intention of marking you.

but miguel then suddenly realizes you’re laying on your wings, which probably feels uncomfortable. “shit- your wings.” quickly moving away from your neck, miguel swiftly sits up to give you space.

“no no no, it’s okay.” you quickly sit up as well and cup his face. “they don’t hurt when i lie down.”

miguel doesn’t protest, still a bit concerned but believes you. his gaze lingers on your wings glimmering in the dark, utterly mesmerized. for a while, you’ve notice his stare at your wings. during a conversation, you notice how his eyes would switch from your eyes to your wings and linger on them a little longer than usual. he always got that look in his eyes, an appetite. it always sent a jolt of excitement through your body. honestly, it’s kinda cute.

“you like them a lot.” you decide to tease him, briefly glancing at your wings then back at him.

“well, they’re very pretty.” his gaze on your wings never falters, utterly enthralled. subconsciously, one of his hands briefly reaches towards one wing but ultimately stops when he realizes what he’s doing.

“you can touch them.”

his eyes snap back at you, a surprise expression illustrated on his face. “are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you.” it’s that last thing he wants to do.

you nod reassuringly, caressing his cheeks. “yeah, just be careful because they’re sensitive.”

that ignited a spark inside him.

sincerely looking at you to make sure you were completely okay with this, miguel gets off the bed and stands at the edge, leaving you confused.

“turn around for me.”

your heart skips a beat at his request and makes your thighs squeeze. obeying his command, you scoot towards the edge of the bed and turn around, sitting on your knees, your wings presented to him. a rush of anticipation flows through your veins, wondering what he has in store for your delicate wings.

a gasp falls from your lips when you feel one of miguel’s hands touching one wing every so gently. his touch so soft and gentle. the sensation sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. his fingers gently trace of the pretty patterns, taking in every little detail as if trying to memorize them all. he’s just simply lost in those pretty patterns and colors. he can admire your wings everyday. soon, miguel starts using both hands and caress your delicate wings. each touch earns him those cute soft noises that make his cock twitch terribly. the way your body slightly twitches when he touches your wings in a certain manner. back slightly arching, body shivering, goosebumps coated over your skin.

“very sensitive, are you, hermosa?” that low seductive tone makes your clit throb terribly.

“they’re the most vulnerable part of me.”

“hmm…” miguel hums lowly, slowly trailing up his hands to the top of your wings then to the bottom. eliciting another gasp from you. “i can see, especially when you arch that pretty back just by running my fingers here.” he traces over the patterns again, earning another soft gasp and back arched.

the sight makes him smirk smugly. god you are so adorable, utterly beautiful. how responsive you are to his touch, even if it’s light like a feather.

“the more i touch, the more pretty sounds you make.” miguel decided to be bold and carefully grab your hindwings before tugging them back every so gently, not enough to hurt you of course.

a moan erupts from your throat, arching your back. holy fuck, that was unexpected but felt so fucking good, like a little stretch. miguel’s ears perk up at the pretty sound, cock twitching excitedly. time to conduct an experiment, like the scientist he is.

“you like that, hermosa?” seduction laced in his tone.

“y-yes, do it again~” you sound so needy, desperate to feel that addictive sensation once more. pussy throbbing with want and desperation. you can feel the pool flooding in your panties.

fuck, that sweet needy tone drives he fucking crazy. honestly, miguel doesn’t know how much longer he can last without busting inside his suit, when he rather much do that inside that pretty cunt of yours that is most definitely wet, all because of him. the nasty thought makes his cock twitch. ever so gently but with a tiny ounce of pressure, those calloused hands play and stroke your delicate pretty wings. each touch earns him more of those heavenly sounds that is pure music to his ears. miguel grows more handsy, continues playing with your wings while his right hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you against his broad chest. the action makes you gasp, arching your back right against him.

“estas tan bontia.” that elicits a soft whine, making him chuckle softly. “the prettiest butterfly i’ve ever seen. the most beautiful set of wings.” he whispers as miguel gently strokes one forewing, making you moan softly. “mi hermosa mariposa.”

your heart flutters at that, mind going haywire.

you’re his beautiful butterfly.

the spider’s butterfly.

“m-miguel~”

he shushes you so gently, caressing your tummy as reassurance with his other hand. “you drive me crazy, ever since i met you. all i could think about was those pretty eyes, lips, wings, thighs…” another gently stroke of your forewing while his hand on your belly slowly trails down your body, dangerously close towards your throbbing core, in your inner thighs.

“f-fuck…” you couldn’t resist a moan.

he really thought about you all this time? sure, there was chemistry that many people noticed. you just weren’t sure miguel was actually into you since he was a closed off person, especially with his troubled past. but now knowing his constant thoughts of you, it’s unbelievable but a relief that he feels the same.

the throbbing was becoming unbearable. you needed this man desperately or else you’re gonna explode. with a groan, you break out of his hold, swiftly turn around to cup his face and yank him down with you on the bed with your lips pressed against his in a desperate kiss. miguel releases a surprised groan but ultimately gives in and hovers over you. he resumes his kissing trails over your body from earlier. leaves a few on your delicate neck before moving down to your covered breasts and makes out with them through the fabric of your dress. big hands kneading and squeezing the squishy fat. your fingers digging in those cute brown locks as moans escape your lips at the addictive sensation. his plump lips leave a trail of kisses down your body, giving your tummy a few pecks before reaching the hem of your dress, directly at your clothed pussy. the sweet scent of your arousal invade his senses, making his mind go haywire.

“that sweet fucking scent, drives me crazy, hermosa.” with a quick nod from you, miguel lifts the hem of your dress revealing your pretty panties to his hungry eyes. pressing his face against your clothed cunt, he inhales your scent a little too eagerly.

“miguel, please~” you moan, your needy fingers gripping on his hair as a sign.

your neediness makes him chuckle. “relájate, baby. lemme take my time with you.”

“miguel, i need you.” you whine.

“i have to taste you first, preciosa.”

as much as you want that, you really need him because the throbbing is killing you. then, an idea pops into your mind. “what if i sit on your face?”

now that makes him look up at you from in between your thighs with a surprised look. “really?” if he was a dog hybrid, his tail would be wagging excitedly.

“lay on the bed, spider boy.” a hint of seductiveness in your tone, sends a shiver down his spine.

miguel doesn’t hesitate to follow your command and lays down on the bed, switching places with you. your thighs on either of his face and hands rested on the headboard. his pupils dilate drastically when your clothed cunt is right above his face, merely inches away. without warning, miguel tears off your panties with his talons due to his inpatient behavior.

“miguel!”

“they were in the way.”

he sounds so desperate. needy to munch on your pussy. such a major turn on.

a groan escapes his lips at the sight of your glistening pussy right above him, cock twitching in his suit. oh he’s gonna devour the fuck out of you. just as he’s about to dive in, you quickly move away from his mouth which miguel notices when his lips feels air instead of your pretty pussy.

“what’s wrong? why are you moving away?” a concern look on his face, brows furrowed.

“i don’t wanna crush you.” you admit embarrassingly, gripping onto the headboard.

that concern look was replaced with a dumbfounded one. “preciosa, i want you to crush me. i want you to suffocate me.”

“but what if—”

“por dios, mujer. i want you to sit on my face completely, no hovering around. ¿entiendes?”

“but miguel- OH!”

miguel lost patience by grabbing your hips, yank you down on his face, and immediately goes to town. licking and sucking your clit feverishly. calloused hands gripping into your thighs. all you could is moan loudly, gripping onto the headboard for dear life as this man eats you out like there’s no tomorrow. miguel lets out a muffled groan at the sweet taste of your dripping cunt, slurping it all up as if he found an oasis in the desert. his tongue flicks your precious sensitive pearl, sending your mind haywire and squirm in his strong hold. a loud moan erupts from your throat as miguel’s tongue begins penetrating you, causing your wings to spasm.

“oh miguel!~” your back aches as you ride his tongue, jolts of pleasure shooting throughout your body.

“y-you taste- ugh- so- fucking- sweet.” he moans in between slurps, becoming completely pussydrunk. the tip of his tongue hits angles that you’ve never felt before or even knew existed.

“OH!- oh my god!~”

suddenly, you feel his tongue wiggling inside in a strange way that triggers your sensitivity.

“you like that, baby?” he whispers against your pussy, the vibrations make you shudder.

you nod with a needy moan. complying to your request, miguel continues drawing those patterns with his tongue. each heavenly moan from you encourages him to do more, boosting his ego. he just can’t help it. you taste so fucking sweet, an addictive nectar he can’t get enough of. loud pitchy moans bounce off the walls of your bedroom as you ride miguel’s face to fucking oblivion. your engorged clit rubs perfectly against his big nose, working up your orgasm. while his tongue fucks you mercilessly, he uses one thumb to apply more pressure to your cute little bundle of nerves. the sudden sensation makes you moan loudly, almost like a scream.

“miguel! oh!- please, don’t stop!”

like hell he will stop. the man is so goddamn pussydrunk, he literally is drowning himself in your sweet pussy. miguel can die a happy man in between your thighs. the best way to go out. the more flicks of his tongue and thumb, that warm feeling in your lower belly increases and your moans grow louder and pitchier. before you even know it, you come over his tongue with probably the loudest moan ever, pretty much like a scream. sound like a goddamn whale. back arched and wings spasms as you gush all over his face. like the greedy little shit he is, miguel devours all of your sweet nectar. obscure noises flooded the room, slurping you up like a fucking ice cream sunday. the man is up on cloud nine. your thighs tremble around his head as you begin to feel overstimulated by the never-ending pleasure he is still providing with that devious tongue of his.

“fuck- miguel, stop- too much~” you whine, feeling overstimulated. you swear the headboard would break by your death grip if you had super strength.

finally once he had his fill, miguel releases your poor sensitive pussy with a pop! with a smug ass grin. oh he really enjoyed his dessert. with both hands on your waist, he carefully lowers you down so you can rest on top of him, your head rested on his chest.

“you okay?” he says sweetly, a major contrast to his filthy ass mouth moments ago. his hands rubbing your back for comfort as you recover from your high.

you hum weakly with a nod, nudging your face more into his chest. “you literally ate my fucking soul.”

miguel huffs at that, smiling like the smug bastard he is. “well, i did say you tasted sweet.” that earns him a slap on the chest, making him chuckle.

“you made that perfectly clear.”

he continues chuckling, caressing your back. “it’s the truth, you enjoyed it too.”

“yeah well now it’s time to shut you up because i’m gonna ride the fuck outta your soul.”

miguel does indeed shut up after that, pupils blown and cock twitching in excitement. without even looking at him you know he’s excited, the edges of your lips curled up into a smile as you lift up your head from resting against his chest.

“strip for me, spider boy.”

“jesús bendito…”

you take off your dress, pulling over your head with miguel’s help, who was a little too eager to take it off. just as you take it off and throw it somewhere across the room, you find miguel completely nude underneath you. your pupils dilate immensely at his exposed muscular form. goddamn he’s built like a fucking god and utterly beautiful. but what really catches your attention is his lack of underwear, meaning you are actually sitting on top of his cock.

holy fuck, he is huge.

without even looking, you can feel how big he is. does this mean he’s naked underneath his suit, all the fucking time? oh this sneaky bastard. walking around butt ass naked underneath those pixels. but that explains why his ass look so damn good in his suit. the man definitely has a dump truck.

once you’re both completely naked, you align yourself with his cock. but instead of sinking yourself onto him, you grind on it which surprised miguel. the veins among his throbbing length rubs perfectly against your clit, providing it perfect friction.

“fuck, hermosa—” miguel groans at the sensation.

“so big, miguelito~ i don’t know if you will even fit.” you lean closer towards his face, a smirk tugging on your lips. “but lets find out.”

yep, you’re the death of him.

gripping onto his chest as support and his hands on your waist, you sink yourself onto his cock. slowly taking inch by inch, feeling the thickness of his length slowly slipping through your tight slick walls, stretching you out. a shared moan lingers in the steamy air as your bodies slowly connect. goddamn this man is huge. you can feel him in your fucking guts. the bulbous tip of his cock resting perfectly against your cervix. it stings but feels so good.

“¿estas bien, chula?” he voice his concerns, taking note of your dazed expression. his thumbs draw soft circles on your hips as comfort.

“y-yeah, you’re just… big… fuck—”

miguel holds back a smug grin, softly chuckling. “when you’re ready, preciosa.”

after giving yourself some time to adjust to his thick length stretching out your walls, your hips begin moving slowly. testing the waters to eventually find a rhythm you like. you move up and down in a slow pace, riding his cock like you desired. fuck, he feels so amazing. each contact of his tip with your cervix sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

“oh miguel~” you arch your back, pushing your exposed tits out to his lustful gaze.

he stares in awe of your jiggly tits as you ride him. the way the supple fat jiggle synchronized with your bouncing hips. a feeling of hunger bubbles in miguel’s chest as his hands on your hips to travel up and grope them. squeezing and kneading them, relishing the soft squishy fat in his calloused palms. his fingertips pinch your perky nipped then gently tug them, eliciting a whimper from you.

“asi, bebé, asi.” he praises when your hips pick up pace, finally found a rhythm. his sweet praise did earn him a clench around his cock, making him groan. “fuck- you like that, baby?~”

“uh huh~” you nod dumb, too cockdrunk.

while fondling with your tits, those ruby eyes admire your wings as they flutter and spasm with each bounce. his hands leave your to grab the bottom of your hindwings and give them a tiny tug, causing a moan to escape your lips. oh the little stretch feels good. throwing his head back on the pillow, miguel relishes the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing the life of his cock, making him go insane. his hands travel back to hold your waist as he starts rolling his hips into yours, picking up the pace. obscure noises echo throughout the walls of your little cottage. such a cute, cozy home from the outside but filled with nasty noises inside, such a major contrast.

“ay chingado~” miguel groans as you sinfully circle your hips. god, you’re killing him.

through hooded eyes, you admire his sweaty panting form. the rippling of his muscles with each thrust. those idents and scratches on his chest from your nails. the clenching of his jaw before letting out heavenly groans and moans, a sneak peek of those pearly white fangs. god you can admire him all day, especially underneath you. unfortunately, your legs were giving out due to the burning sensation but luckily miguel’s strong hands on your hips guiding you was a major help. desperate for your lips, miguel sits up to have you right in his lap and wrap his arms around your waist before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. your bodies collided and smushed together, your soft breasts pressed against his broad chest. sallowing each others moans and groans of pleasure as you continue making love.

“miguel~” you throw your head back as his cock hits that sweet spot inside with a deep thrust.

miguel seizes the opportunity to lean in and brush kisses on your exposed neck as he continues pumping not your tight pussy. a gasp falls from your lips as his own takes one of your nipped and suckles on it. instinctively, your chest arches into his greedy mouth to feel more. his tongue flicks the sensitive bud, drawing circles around it then sucks it. he alternatives both breast, sucking one while pinching the other. the sensitive drives you crazy, an infinite amount of moans and whimpers leave your lips as you bounce in his lap. one of his hands reach down in between your bodies, finds your clit and gives it several flicks. the sudden feeling makes you squeal. miguel lets out a groan as you clench around his dick. the attention on your little bundle of nerves and miguel’s cock fucking you so deeply causes your climax to approach quickly. miguel senses his own with each squeeze of your pussy and balls tensing up to prepare a big load for your pretty cunt.

“you’re close, baby. i can feel it. dámelo, bebé.” miguel coos, panting against your pretty face full of ecstasy. god, you look so beautiful.

that familiar warm sensation in your lower abdomen returns, escalating quickly. with a loud moan of his name and head thrown back, you gush over his cock. miguel groans at the beautiful sight and sensation. his beautiful butterfly reaching the pinnacle of ecstasy. a sight forever ingrained in his mind. with a few more thrusts, you feel his cock twitch before miguel finally comes inside you with a moan of your name. his thick warm seed coating your walls, filling up your womb. you softly whimper at the feeling, so full and filled. you two remain like that, holding onto each other like an embrace, sweaty bodies connected. your synchronized panting echos in the air as you both recover from your highs.

after a few minutes of silent recovery, miguel is the first to speak. “you okay?”

“yeah…” you hum weakly, still fucked out.

it was another few minutes until miguel carefully pulls out and slowly lays back down on the bed taking you with him in his arms. your head rests against his heaving chest, the rapid beating of his heart against your ear. the sound smooths your post-sex mind, making you a bit sleepy. one of his hands rubs your back in a slow gentle manner, providing you some comfort. a peaceful moment enjoying each other’s presence as you recover.

“i meant everything.”

his voice prevents you from falling into slumber.

“huh?”

“my apology, everything i said about you, i meant it.”

lifting your head, you glance up at him with a soft smile. “i know and i meant what i said too.”

miguel mirrors your smile and caresses your cheek with a hand, feeling his heart fluttering.

resting your head back on his chest, you remember to add one thing.

“oh by the way, this doesn’t mean i forgive you. you still a long ass way to go, cabrón.”

a soft chuckles leaves his lips. “i figured.”

but truthfully, miguel will work his ass off to gain your forgiveness. for right now, he just wants to hold you in his arms. perhaps aftercare is the smart thing to do, which he’ll do later, but he just wants to enjoy this peaceful moment with you. holding his beautiful butterfly in his arms and admire her for eternity.

the butterfly caught in the spider’s web.

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[afterglowsainz]

mclaren admin | oscar piastri

summary: mclaren’s admin only posts pictures of oscar and fans start to notice

fc: tyla

a/n: guys i made this earlier last week and i wrote a joke about lando having no wins and then miami happened😭 he really told me to stfu

—

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mclaren ready for another race week🇪🇸

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mclaren getting ready for the action! 👊🏽

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[sakuraszn]

ⵌ THE JEALOUS HERO !

ft. katsuki bakugo x assistant! reader

synopsis. Bakugo gets increasingly agitated when fans and other heroes flirt with his assistant during this annual hero party. His possessiveness eventually boils over, forcing him to confront his feelings.

cw. sfw content┊fluff ┊mutual feelings┊cocky bakugo┊jealousy and possessive acts┊flirtatious attitudes between these two

nia’s notes. I don’t know why but I have this obsession between boss/ceo and assistant routes they’re honestly just too good. might make future drabbles between these two🤭1.5k words.

The annual Hero Gala was supposed to be a celebration. A night when the best and most promising in hero society gathered to let loose and toast their accomplishments. However, for Katsuki Bakugo, it was a task—just another loud, crowded event where he had to deal with suckups and reporters all in your face asking dumb questions and trying to get into your personal life any chance they got. But this year, things were different. This year, he wasn’t just a lone wolf. This year, he had you.

As his assistant, you were always at his side, managing schedules, coordinating media appearances, and generally keeping him from blowing up at everyone who annoyed him; which was almost everyone who came into the presence of the "Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamite". You were humorous, smart, and had a sharp tongue that Bakugo secretly found entertaining when you used it on others. And though he’d never admit it, he liked having you around. Perhaps too much.

The ballroom was packed with heroes in their finest suits and dresses. The chandeliers glittered overhead, and soft music played as waiters threaded through the crowd with trays of champagne. Bakugo, dressed in a sleek black suit with orange accents that matched his hero costume, stood near the edge of the room, scowling into his glass of sparkling water.

You stood beside him, dressed in a deep red gown that hugged your figure and shimmered in the low light. You’d pulled your hair back, exposing the curve of your neck, and Bakugo found himself glancing at it more often than he liked.

“Try to smile,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

“I might if one more idiot comes over here,” he grumbled, eyes watching the crowd.

You laughed, and the sound made his chest tighten. “Lighten up, Dynamite. It’s a party.”

Before he could retort, a group of his old friends approached, one of them—Denki, a flashy hero from another agency—zeroing in on you.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Denki greeted, barely sparing him a glance before turning his full attention to you. “And who’s this lovely lady?”

You smiled politely. “I’m Bakugo’s assistant.”

“Assistant, huh?” Denki said his grin widening. “Didn't expect Kacchan to have an assistant, you must be a miracle worker to put up with this guy.”

Bakugo bristled, his grip tightening on his glass.

“She’s not here to be flirted with Dunce Face,” he snapped, stepping closer to you.

Denki raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Relax, man. I’m just being friendly.”

“Don’t.” Bakugo's voice was low, like a storm brewing on the horizon, filled with a tension that made the air crackle.

You tugged gently on his arm, your touch grounding him. “It’s fine, Katsuki,” you reassured, meeting his intense gaze with a sweet smile.

For a moment, he stood there, caught off guard by the way your voice softened his name. It was disarming. Before he could find his words, you turned to get a drink, leaving him alone with Denki and the rest of his rowdy friends.

“She’s got you on a leash, huh?” Denki teased, laughter bubbling up in the air. Bakugo felt the heat rise in his chest, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. He glared at Denki, struggling to contain the impulse to unleash an explosive retort—specifically directed at this idiot beside him. The last thing he needed was to be the punchline of this dumb gala, especially when you had just walked away.

The night dragged on, and Bakugo’s mood only deepened. Everywhere he turned, someone was talking to you, laughing with you, flirting with you. He watched as a top hero from another agency leaned in too close for his liking, as a rookie hero handed you a rose and as a civilian guest tried to touch your arm.

And through it all, you smiled and handled it with grace, completely clueless of the storm brewing inside Bakugo.

By the time the gala was winding down, he’d had enough. He found you near the bar, chatting with a group of heroes he didn’t recognize, and stormed over.

“We’re leaving,” he barked, grasping your wrist.

You blinked up at him in surprise. “What? The event isn’t over yet—”

“I don’t care. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulled you out of the ballroom and into a quiet hallway.

“Katsuki, what the hell?” you pressed, yanking your arm free.

He rounded on you, his crimson eyes blazing. “What the hell are you doing? Letting all those idiots flirt with you like that?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? I wasn’t ‘letting’ anyone do anything. I was being polite.”

“Polite, my ass!” he snarled, his voice cutting through the stillness of the hallway. “They were all over you!”

You stepped forward, confusion and anger rushing through your veins. “So what if they were?” you shot back, arms crossed tight against your chest. “Why does it even matter to you?”

His eyes blazed like twin stars ready to explode. “Because you’re fucking mine!” The confession erupted from him, raw and unfiltered, filling the air with a tension that was noticeable. Silence hung between you, heavy and thick, as if the heavens itself held its breath.

You blinked, stunned, words trapped in your throat.

“What?”

As the realization of his outburst washed over him, Bakugo looked away, his expression a storm of confusion and anger. He ran a frustrated hand through his spiky hair, trying to regain control. “I mean… You work for me. You’re my assistant. You’re not supposed to…” His voice faltered, frustration boiling over like a raging inferno. “Damn it!”

The intensity in his gaze ignited something inside you—an unrelenting pull that drew you closer. “Katsuki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet filled with a heartfelt urgency. “Is that really what this is about?”

The silence stretched, the weight of unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings pressing down like the world’s greatest burden. Each heartbeat pulsed with a longing that was impossible to ignore. You could see the conflict raging within him; pride clashed with vulnerability, and fear tangled with desire.

“Why do you care?” you pressed on softly, craving for him to let down his walls, to reveal the truth that lay just beneath the surface. “What you feel—it’s not wrong.”

For a fleeting moment, the mask slipped, and you caught a glimpse of the man behind the hero—a man torn between his duty and the simmering emotions that threatened to consume him. “I don’t want to see you with anyone else,” he admitted, his voice thick with vulnerability, eyes darkening. “It drives me insane.”

At that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you standing on the edge of something you both craved yet feared. Could you leap into the unknown together, or would pride keep you forever apart? The air crackled with unknown possibilities, and one truth beamed brighter than all: what you held for each other was far from simple. It was complicated, messy, and real—more than either of you had ever bargained for.

He didn’t answer, refusing to meet your gaze as his face grew warm with a dust of red painting the heroes cheeks.

You reached out, gently touching his arm. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

He sighed, finally looking at you. “I don’t like seeing other people flirt with you, okay? It pisses me off. And I know I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do. Because… Because I like you. More than I should.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then you smiled, your expression soft. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” You chuckled.

“what?”

“You’ve been jealous all night over nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “If you’d just told me how you felt sooner, we could’ve avoided all this drama.”

Bakugo blinked. “Wait… You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No.” You grinned. “Relieved, actually I’ve been waiting for you to figure this out for a while now.”

He stared at you, his brain struggling to catch up. “You… like me too?”

“Obviously,” you teased, stepping closer. “Why else do you think I put up with you?”

He huffed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re still annoying.”

“And you’re still a hothead,” you shot back. “But I guess we balance each other out.”

Before he could respond, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his with a warmth that caught him off guard. The kiss was deep and lingering, an intoxicating blend of intensity and passion that silenced any sarcastic retorts he might have had. You felt the heat radiate from him, and for once, Bakugo didn’t argue, melting into the moment as the world around you faded away.

bonus:

The next day, the Hero Gala was the talk of the city, but Bakugo didn’t care. Let them gossip. Let them imagine. All that mattered was that you were his—and he wasn’t about to let anyone take you away.

He might not have been the best at expressing his feelings, but he’d make sure you knew how much you meant to him every. damn. day.

Because if there was one thing Katsuki Bakugo never did, it was half-ass anything.

And loving you was no exception.

©sakuraszn! xoxo

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him.  Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so.  “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

 You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too.  And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too.  Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

[dakusan]

T h e B a s i c s / / B l o o d L o r e M a s t e r f i l e

🔞synopsis: What if vampires weren’t hiding? What if they were already famous? They walk in silk suits and stage lights. They run empires and whisper through your headphones. They don’t sparkle—they ruin. Slowly. Beautifully. With fangs at your throat and hands between your thighs. This Masterfile is your guide to Blood Lore—a universe where vampires run the world in secret, and sometimes…they feed while they fuck. Some bite for power. Some for pleasure. And some? Just to hear you moan.

💌a/n: OKAY LISTEN. I KNOW this isn’t a fic. I KNOW it’s not a thirst post. I KNOW some of you are gonna see the words “masterfile” and immediately scroll past like I haven’t been bleeding for this lore since I was 13. BUT. This world? This Blood Lore chaos? It’s the foundation for the entire vampire!SKZ series I’m building—yes, the filthy, unholy, fanged fics you actually want. Every bite, every contract, every glamour-drenched orgasm? They start here. So if you read this masterfile, you’ll catch all the threads I’ll be weaving into the fics—secret rules, power dynamics, bloodbonding effects, magical side effects, vampire politics… all of it. If you skip it? No harm, no blood-feud, I promise. But if you don’t skip it? You’re basically feeding me. And I bite nice when I’m fed. Love you. Stay sinful 🩸🖤 p.s. Welcome to Wreck Me Wednesdays. Your soul, your blood, your sanity—leave them at the door. I’ll take care of the rest p.p.s. Asks always welcome. Come scream. Come theorize. Come bleed lore with me

⚠️ warnings: blood mention & bloodplay — obviously. vampires, babe | NSFW themes (18+) — explicit sexual content, including biting during sex, bloodloss kink, power play, and obsession | violence & dark themes — mentions of murder, seduction as manipulation, soft captivity, and vampire politics | emotional manipulation & possession themes — vampires are pretty, but they’re not safe | addiction & obsession dynamics — especially in blood doll relationships | psychological horror undertones — yes they’re hot, but they’re monsters, too | Read accordingly 🩸💋

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Up All Night — Stray Kids « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:51 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

✦ NORMAL VAMPIRES ✦ “pretty monsters with pretty rules”

✦ enhanced speed — fast enough to blur ✦ heightened senses — hear whispers, smell fear ✦ inhuman strength — beauty hides brutality ✦ venomous fangs — release both poison and pleasure (endorphins) ✦ sunlight weakness — enchanted jewelry keeps them safe ✦ charm you to death — seduction is instinct, not choice ✦ heart = kill switch — pierce it, and they’re gone ✦ witches with fangs — yes, some use magic too

Normal vampires follow tradition. They feed. They fuck. They survive. But they break under pressure.

✦ WEAKNESSES ✦

Sunlight ✦ Without enchanted protection: slow, painful burn ✦ Skin blisters, chars, disintegrates ✦ Prolonged exposure = death by ash

Heart Piercing ✦ Silver, wood, obsidian — one clean stab ✦ Instant death, no revival, no glamour tricks

Holy Relics ✦ Consecrated ground, blessed water, crosses — depends on bloodline ✦ Young vampires flinch; elders laugh ✦ More about energy than religion

Magic Overload ✦ Burn out their powers without feeding ✦ Collapse into bloodshock — a magical seizure

Emotional Bonds ✦ Blood dolls, sires, lovers — leverage ✦ The deeper they feel, the easier they shatter

Fire ✦ Slow death. Ugly. Final. ✦ Trapped in flame = done.

✦ ABNORMAL VAMPIRES ✦ “gods made wrong”

✦ speed that bends time — blink and they’re gone ✦ unbearable senses — they can see your heartbeat ✦ monstrous strength — subtlety optional ✦ fangs that seduce & destroy — endorphins first, venom later ✦ no sunlight weakness — they walk in daylight like it’s theirs ✦ seductive presence — feels like drowning in silk ✦ when hungry or angry, veins bloom across the cheeks ✦ bloodlust = feral mode — control is illusion ✦ magic is inherited, not learned ✦ heart-stab = explosive death burst ✦ only way to kill: stab the heart + decapitate simultaneously

They weren’t turned. They were born wrong. Too powerful to obey. Too hungry to stay good.

✦ WEAKNESSES ✦

Rage States / Hunger Cracks ✦ No target. No filter. Just carnage. ✦ They will kill lovers. Friends. Anyone warm.

Overload Feedback ✦ Too much power = blood leaks from eyes, seizures, screams ✦ Their magic eats them from the inside

Silver + Hemlock Resin ✦ Injected or smeared on blades ✦ Slows regeneration, scrambles senses

Dual Execution Required ✦ Heart stab = explosion ✦ To truly kill: stab + decapitate at the exact same time

Sound Magic / Sonic Resonance ✦ Blood-tuned frequencies rupture their internal channels ✦ Rare. Painful. Used by elite hunters only

Psychological Anchoring ✦ Some need rituals, charms, or lovers to stay sane ✦ Take it away = they unravel in hours

✦ SHARED VULNERABILITIES ✦

✦ Fire ✦ Magic exhaustion ✦ Emotional entanglement ✦ Starvation ✦ Bloodline corruption — curses, mutations, or rogue rituals

✦ BLOOD DOLLS ✦ “willing wrists, signed lips, and a heartbeat on loan.”

A Blood Doll is not a victim. Not a snack. Not a one-time indulgence. They’re chosen. Or—they choose.

What are they? Humans under magically bound contracts with vampires. They give blood—sometimes their body—in exchange for luxury, protection, and devotion. A relationship both symbiotic and addictive.

The Deal: ✦ Give blood freely. ✦ Intimacy is common, but not required. ✦ In return:   — you are protected like treasure   — fed, clothed, spoiled   — emotionally obsessed over   — untouchable by anyone else

Some call it soft captivity. Others? A beautiful kind of ruin.

Blood Doll Culture: In high society? It’s prestige. A whispered flex behind crimson lips. In underground circles? Rawer. Carnal. Addiction dressed as devotion. Some vampires keep one doll for life. Others? Rotating contracts. Disposable pleasures.

The Danger? ✦ A vampire too deep in hunger may drain a doll dry. ✦ A bond too strong can turn obsessive—on either side. ✦ If the contract is broken? — blood sickness   — psychic withdrawal   — or they simply… vanish.

But the truth? Some dolls fall in love with their vampire. And some vampires… Forget to see them as anything more than beautiful glass vials waiting to be emptied.

✦ VAMPIRE MAGIC ✦ “instinctual. inherited. never merciful.”

Blood Magic (Sanguimancy) ✦ clot wounds instantly ✦ control heartbeats ✦ pull memories from the blood ✦ trap someone with a drop

“If he’s fed from you, he remembers things you’ve forgotten.”

Glamour ✦ hide their face ✦ charm with a glance ✦ make you forget your own name

Dreamwalking ✦ enter your dreams ✦ plant thoughts, desires ✦ leave you gasping, unsure what was real

dangerous when done too often — it frays the mind

Binding & Contracts ✦ all vampire pacts are sealed with ancient magic ✦ a whispered vow becomes a chain ✦ if a doll breaks it → sickness, blood withdrawal, madness ✦ if a vampire breaks it → backlash that ravages body and mind

“He made you say it out loud. That’s how the chain locked.”

Flame & Shadowcraft ✦ rare, raw, and mostly Abnormal ✦ summon black flame — cold, soul-burning ✦ manipulate shadows that move on their own

Used for combat. Or punishment.

✦ THE PRICE OF MAGIC ✦ More magic = more hunger. Power burns through their reserves like acid. And the only refill? Blood. The more dangerous the spell, the more desperate they become after.

Abnormals? Their magic is chaos. They don’t always control it. Sometimes—it controls them.

✦ VAMPIRE SOCIETY ✦ “the gods don’t live above us. they walk beside us. in suits. in silk. with blood on their tongues.”

They don’t hide in crypts anymore. They walk your streets like they own them. Run your nightclubs. Fund your startups. Slip between hospital floors and studio spotlights.

Their world is layered over ours—Hidden. Ancient. Intimate. And bleeding into everything.

THE VEIL: The World Within the World The Veil is their secret society. A network of old bloodlines, city courts, silent wars, and ancient laws—governing vampires across the globe.

✦ Think: royal courts, underground cabals, centuries-old grudges ✦ Old-money sires rule from boardrooms ✦ New-blood elites pose as models, actors, politicians ✦ And somewhere between exile and chaos… Abnormals thrive.

THE BLEND: How They Coexist With Humans Integration > Isolation. They embed, not separate. They use you. Feed from you. Fuck you. Protect you. Keep you. Lose you.

✦ Blood Dolls are the cleanest way in—luxury, loyalty, control ✦ Elite blood clubs exist, masked as cocktail lounges ✦ Some vampires run hospitals. Others own record labels. ✦ You follow them on Instagram. ✦ You voted one into office. ✦ You cried over his choreography at that sold-out world tour.

One of them whispered into a mic last year and made half the arena scream. The other half… fainted. No one’s talked about it. Not out loud.

HIERARCHY: Power, Not Kindness Each region has its structure—Some modelled after monarchies. Others? Syndicates.

✦ The Eldest / Sires – ancient vampires, rulers of cities or entire countries ✦ The Enforcers – brutal, loyal, rarely seen (unless it’s already too late) ✦ Blood Houses – legacy families with land, power, and secrets ✦ Nomads / Rogues – unaffiliated, dangerous, beautiful ✦ Blood Dolls / Bound Humans – loved, fucked, used, protected

Abnormals? Most courts don’t want them. But the ones who do… crown them in secret.

THE MASQUERADE: Law & Leverage ✦ Don’t reveal yourself to humans—unless arranged ✦ No public feeding ✦ No unauthorized siring ✦ Don’t kill your doll—unless bound by ritual ✦ Protect The Veil. At all costs.

Punishment? Blood starvation. Exile. True death. Or worse—being turned into an example.

There’s a man who used to play violin in Paris. He broke a contract. Now he plays for the Enforcers. No hands. Just his voice.

THE TRUTH? They’re not surviving. They’re winning. They’ve mastered the art of blending—In fashion. In business. In sex. In sound. Some sit in courtrooms. Some run streaming platforms. And some? Some stand under spotlights with voices like spells. They don’t hide what they are. They dare you to notice.

✦ THE ABNORMALS IN HIDING ✦ “they weren’t destroyed. they evolved.”

They were feared. Hunted. Outlawed. Too unstable. Too powerful. Too hungry to be allowed into the pristine halls of The Veil.

But Abnormals? They didn’t die out. They adapted.

How They Hide “Survival meant strategy. So they learned to blend.”

✦ Blood charm suppressants. ✦ Faux feeding routines. ✦ Some even fake sunlight weakness just to sell the lie.

They present as “elite” normals—Charismatic. Brilliant. Seductive. Slightly unhinged. And The Veil? It loves brilliance. So they slipped in.

The Silent Coup: Power in Disguise Here’s the truth The Veil won’t admit: Its most powerful players? They’re not Normal. They’re Abnormal. And they’ve already rewritten the rules.

✦ The blood trade tycoon who never blinks—Abnormal. ✦ The court’s Enforcer whose kills are always “accidents”—Abnormal. ✦ The noble matriarch whose dolls never last the year—definitely Abnormal. ✦ The legal scholar rewriting Abnormal policy? One of them too.

They rose through seduction, brilliance, violence, and perfect control. They wear the mask better than anyone.

The Irony? Normals fear Abnormals for being unstable. But the ones who infiltrated? They’re the most controlled monsters of all. Cold. Strategic. Soft-spoken. Lethal. Some wear suits. Some wear crowns. Some wear leather and lace and velvet and red thread around their throat. But all of them? Are already in charge.

✦ WHEN THEY FEED YOU DURING SEX ✦ “you’re not just wet from bloodloss, are you?”

Some vampires are delicate with their dolls. Some aren’t. Some wait until you’re already shaking—already spread, tied, begging—and then they bite.

Because blood is better when you’re close. Sweeter when you moan. Hotter when your pulse is a drumbeat of want.

Here’s what you don’t know until it happens to you: ✦ When they bite mid-thrust, your orgasm doubles. ✦ When they drink while buried inside you, you go silent—except for gasps. ✦ Some keep their fangs in as they fuck you. They say it’s to “feed deeper.” You think it’s to ruin you harder. ✦ Blood loss makes you float. ✦ Blood bonding makes you cum.

And when they pull back, lips stained, fangs bared—you’re already sobbing.

“More?” they ask.

Like they don’t already own your throat. Like your legs aren’t shaking. Like your soul didn’t just leak out with your blood.

And when it’s over? Your thighs are slick with sweat, slicker with cum, and the bite marks throb like a second clit.

Some vampires mark your wrist. Some your throat. The truly possessive ones? Right over your heart. Because when you belong to them, they don’t just fuck you. They feed from you. They fill you. And they make sure you feel it for days.

✦ THE CHOSEN EIGHT ✦ “they don’t need to bite you to own you. but they will.”

THE LEADER // BANG CHRISTOPHER CHAN “he bites slow. he fucks slower. but when he snaps? there’s no going back.” He’ll ruin you with control. Makes you ask for every thrust. Every drop. Calls it discipline. Calls it love.

THE PRINCE OF TEETH // LEE MINHO “don’t look into his eyes unless you’re ready to cum from a whisper.” He’ll glamour you. Then fuck you while you beg to remember your name.

THE ENFORCER // SEO CHANGBIN “you think pain will make him stop. it won’t.” He bites too deep. Fucks too hard. Holds you after like you’re fragile.

THE SIREN // HWANG HYUNJIN “he’ll feed from your thigh just to watch you tremble.” Smiles with fangs. Dances with knives. Kisses like a curse you want to drown in.

THE SHADOW WALKER // HAN JISUNG “you never see him coming. only feel the teeth.” You wake up sore. Tied. Bitten. And loved—so sweetly it breaks you.

THE DREAMER // LEE YONGBOK FELIX “you’ve cum three times before he’s even touched you.” He dreamwalks into your mind. And stays. And feeds. And whispers filth until you’re soaked.

THE BELOVED // KIM SEUNGMIN “He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.” Always calm. Always watching. He’ll edge you with a smile, feed from your thigh like it’s routine, then say “again”.

THE SMILE WITH FANGS // YANG JEONGIN “he laughs while you break.” Playful. Cruel. Charming. You’ll think you’re in control. You never are.

[ficsloverblog]

hiiii just wanted to say i’m obsessed with ur writing, especially ur weems fics. i’m so excited that ur writing for more characters and i was wondering if i could maybe request a lisa cuddy fic? something w like a teacher’s pet kinda vibe (fluff or smut, totally up to u). i swear it’s sooo hard to find good cuddy content no pressure at all tho, just thought i’d ask in case it sparks something fun in that brilliant brain of urs ❤️❤️❤️

Cuddy’s Favourite

Lisa Cuddy x fem!intern!reader

A/N: Thank you for your kind words AND your request. Massive crush on Lisa Cuddy (and half of the other House MD characters…). Hope you’ll enjoy!

You learned quickly that hospitals have their own ecosystems. There’s medicine, and then there’s everything else: hierarchy, politics, gossip. You keep your head down, do the work, try not to give anyone a reason to talk. But it doesn’t matter, they talk anyway. Especially about you.

You hear it in passing, soft laughter behind turned backs, clipped conversations that trail off the moment you enter the room.

Teacher’s pet, they say. Cuddy’s intern. Favourite little shadow.

You don’t flinch anymore. You’ve heard worse. Besides, it’s not like they’re wrong.

She doesn’t exactly hide it.

Lisa Cuddy is demanding. Unforgiving. A perfectionist with a wardrobe better suited for a runway than a hospital, and a gaze sharp enough to cut through steel. No one intimidates you the way she does. No one draws you in, either.

You’re not supposed to play favourites in medicine.

But Cuddy does. And you're hers.

It’s unspoken, never acknowledged aloud, never scrawled into the margins of evaluations. But you’re not stupid. You know what it looks like when she singles you out during rounds, calls you into her office to discuss consults other interns weren’t even allowed to touch, leans in a little too close when she hands back your charts.

You also know you’d chase her approval even if she never looked at you twice.

The truth is, you like being watched. Not by everyone. Just her.

You like it when she finds you in the middle of a shift and corrects your posture with nothing but a look. When she pauses after you answer a question, just long enough to make you wonder if you impressed her, or disappointed her. You like the quiet weight of her expectations on your shoulders.

She never praises you in front of others. But in her office, when the door is closed and the lights are low, sometimes she lets a little warmth into her voice. Sometimes she says your name like she’s thinking about something she shouldn’t.

You never let yourself imagine what.

House is the worst about it.

He never calls you by name. Just golden girl, Cuddy’s favourite, or his personal favourite: obedient intern number one.

You’ve tried ignoring him. Tried answering him in monosyllables. Nothing works. He pokes at you like a bruise he knows won’t heal.

“She’s got you house-trained already,” he tells you once in the elevator. “Cute.”

You grip the file in your hand tighter.

“She’s your boss too,” you reply, too tired to play his game today.

“Oh, sure. But you—” He eyes you with mock awe. “You practically purr when she says good job.”

You say nothing.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he adds, shrugging.“Everyone wants Mommy’s approval. You just work harder for it.”

He steps off at diagnostics, but not before tossing a grin over his shoulder. “Be careful, though. Pets get put down when they start biting.”

You don’t respond. But the words sit with you longer than you’d like.

The pager buzzes at 6:43 p.m.

Come by my office. – Cuddy

You stare at the message a second longer than necessary, then tuck the device into your coat pocket and head toward administration. It’s later than usual. Most of the hospital is already winding down but her light is still on when you get there. Her office door is slightly ajar, like she knew you’d come quickly.

You knock lightly.

“Come in.”

Her voice always sounds different in the evening. Less clipped. Warmer. Or maybe that’s just projection. You’ve been told more than once that you see what you want to see.

She’s seated behind her desk, blazer slung over the back of her chair, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The top two buttons of her blouse are undone. Her posture is as precise as ever, but there’s something relaxed about her, an end-of-the-day looseness that makes her look a little less untouchable.

She glances up at you with a faint smile. “You’re still here.”

“You paged me.”

“Didn’t think you’d still be around this late.”

You shrug. “I don’t mind the hours.”

“You shouldn’t say that out loud. I’ll start assigning you more.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, low and throaty. “Fair enough.”

She gestures to the chair in front of her desk. “Sit.”

You do. She slides a file across the desk toward you. Your intake notes from the morning.

“I wanted to talk about this,” she says. “The patient with the arrhythmia.”

You nod. “Did I miss something?”

“No. You were thorough. Very thorough.” She pauses. “Almost suspiciously so.”

You blink. “Suspiciously?”

“Your note-taking is bordering on romantic obsession.”

You open your mouth, then close it again.

She tilts her head. “Don’t look so alarmed. I’m complimenting you. In my own way.”

“I guess I just… I try to be careful.”

“You try to be perfect,” she corrects. “You think if you do everything flawlessly, I won’t find anything to criticize.”

You shift slightly in your seat, cheeks heating. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. But it’s not sustainable.”

You nod slowly, fingers tightening around the armrest.

She watches you, eyes narrowing slightly, like she’s testing a theory.

“You don’t like being wrong,” she says.

“Does anyone?”

“You take it personally. Like I’m disappointed in you.”

You say nothing.

“I’m not,” she adds, softer now. “But I think you’re scared of that.”

You finally meet her eyes. “Maybe.”

A pause. Her gaze lingers. “You know people talk about you.”

You nod. “I know.”

She folds her hands on the desk. “Does it bother you?”

“Sometimes.”

“They say you’re my favourite.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?”

You hesitate. “Am I what?”

“My favourite.”

The air between you changes. Tightens.

You’re not sure how to answer. You want to say yes. You want to ask her why it matters. You want to ask her what she’d do if you said something you weren’t supposed to.

But all you say is: “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether it’s a compliment or a warning.”

That makes her smile—an actual smile, not the tight-lipped one she uses in meetings. Something slower. Fonder. Dangerous.

“Maybe both,” she murmurs.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until she rises from her chair. She walks around the desk and perches on the edge of it, closer to you now. She folds her arms across her chest, watching you like she’s trying to decide what you’ll do next.

“I know you want to impress me,” she says. “That’s not a bad thing. But don’t confuse ambition with submission.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“I’m not trying to submit,” you say, barely louder than a whisper.

“No?” Her voice dips. “Could’ve fooled me.”

There’s a pause, long and heavy, the kind of silence that crackles with possibility.

Then, mercifully, she shifts the tone again.

“You’re a good intern,” she says, a bit more professionally now. “Focused. Detail-oriented. A little obsessive, maybe, but I can work with that.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you.”

She leans back slightly, one leg crossed over the other. “Tell me something.”

You glance up.

“Do you actually like the work,” she asks, “or do you just like when I notice you doing it well?”

You freeze.

“That’s—” You stop. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Honestly.”

You take a breath. “I think… I like both.”

She studies you again, eyes tracing your face.

“That’s honest,” she says quietly. “And dangerous.”

Your pulse stutters.

“I’m not trying to cross any lines,” you say.

“I know,” she replies. “Neither am I.”

But neither of you moves.

For a moment, it feels like the whole world narrows down to the space between your chair and her knees. A few feet. A lifetime. Her gaze is steady, unflinching. You get the sense she could look right through you if she wanted.

She doesn’t. She sees you, and that’s almost worse.

“Get some sleep,” she says, standing again. “You’ve earned it.”

You nod, rising carefully.

At the door, you glance back.

“If I ever did want to be your favourite,” you say, soft and sure, “would that be a bad thing?”

She lifts a brow. “You already are.”

And then, before you can reply, she’s turning back toward her desk.

You step out into the corridor, heart thundering in your ears.

They can whisper all they want. You don’t care.

Because you are, without a doubt, Cuddy’s favourite.

[butterymangowrites]

dad thief

paring: dabi / todoroki touya x fem reader

warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, cum eating, creampie, childhood friends to enemies to whatever this is, obsessive dabi, possessive dabi, jealousy, non-con filming, blackmail, endeavor is a shitty dad but you both have daddy issues, child abuse, domestic violence, hate sex

word count: 2.5k

Even captured by one of the most dangerous villains in Japan, you still had the audacity to smirk. He wanted so much to wipe it off your face, make you sullen, make you regret. You had always been a pain in the ass, a bitch, and a dad thief.

—

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. 

What Touya saw was you, a girl his age whom he had been friends with for a while now, wearing an Endeavor’s T-shirt two times your size. “That’s my dad on your shirt.”

“I know.” You smirked, didn’t tell him you stole it from someone, just like all the merches you had at home because you couldn’t afford to buy one. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Having a fire quirk, you related so much to the number 2 hero. Meeting Touya was the best coincidence you could ever hope for.

But Touya hated it, your quirk was powerful, not more than his, but so much more stable. At Least you didn’t get burnt every time you tried to use it. His dad looked at you like you were a gift from God, given to him to replace his own incompetent children. You had become Endeavor’s favorite in such a short time. 

—

“So you’re still my dad’s simp,” the white haired villain said, looking at you from an old couch where he lay down, shirtless, his torso patched up with staples holding burnt skins to the body so they didn’t fall off. He looked like a doll that the owner didn’t want to throw away and chose to keep repairing. 

“Rich coming from someone with daddy issues.” Standing at his feet, you peered down at him. He had changed a lot, appearance-wise. Half of his face was burnt and stapled just like his body. With black hair, piercings, and impassive demeanor, he became someone else entirely, fooling everyone even his own family—he became Dabi. But those eyes, those were Touya’s eyes. “That was a desperate act back there, airing the plot twist on tv and shit.” 

It was amazing how quickly you got on his nerves. Dabi pounced from the couch and grabbed you by the neckline of your hero costume. You staggered forward from his pull but let him drag you to the couch and down onto him who now had his head back on the armrest. His hands adjusted your legs to straddle his waist, positioning you to his heart’s content. Your skin-tight suit was for sure fireproof; yet, you still felt heat emitted from the bare skin of Dabi’s naked torso. 

Seeing him face to face this close, you couldn’t help but tease your childhood friend a tad. “Fuck, you’re ugly. No wonder your dad didn’t remember you.” 

“This mouth of yours,” Dabi tsked, placing his index finger on your hot lips, “fucking needs to be shut.” 

He lifted the finger from your lips to point to the opposite side of the couch where a TV should be if there was one. Instead, there was a camcorder set up on a tripod, an ominous red dot blinking rhythmically. 

“It’s recording us,” Dabi said. “I’m gonna fuck you on it.” 

“Tsk, tsk. What happened to dates and dinners?”

His expression shifted dangerously. And you yelped, loud, when he suddenly snaked his hand around to unzip your suit from the back. 

“Touya, knock it off!” You swatted his hand. But too late, you already felt the suit loosen. 

“As I was saying,” Dabi continued, “I’m gonna film us fuck.” 

Heat crawled onto your back when he slipped his hand under the open suit and started to skim around. 

“But since I’m a generous man, I’m giving you two choices.” He tapped on your back once before saying, “Be a good girl and I’m keeping the footage”—he tapped twice—“or not, and I’m sending it to Endeavor’s office so he can see his favorite intern getting dicked up, down, six ways to Sunday by his eldest son.” 

His body heated up a little more; you knew it was from excitement. 

“Do you think you’ll still be his favorite after that? I don’t think so if you asked me.” 

You were… speechless.  

“Come on, am I really ugly?” He nudged his face against yours, which was so Touya of him. “I’ve heard people say I’m still hot, baby.” 

“Yeah, hot like the fire that burnt you this bad,” you countered.

He guffawed. “So, what will it be?” 

You thought about burning him, burning this whole place down, but your flame was no match for his. Having experienced what he could do firsthand on the battlefield, you would not withstand his flame—you would die. 

Contrary to his belief, you were not Endeavor’s favorite. That spot belonged to Shoto since the day he was born. Touya was just dumb and blinded by jealousy and prejudice to actually see it. You were nothing compared to Shoto—you and Touya were nothing compared to the half-hot half-cold prodigy. But Touya was not totally wrong, you still wanted to be his dad’s number 1, not wanting to disappoint the only man you considered a father figure.

But fuck if you didn’t hate Touya. “I’m not choosing shit.”

So he chose for you, tongue plunging down your throat while his cock drove in and out of your cunt. Standing in front of the camera, Touya stood behind you with his scarred arms around your midsection, forcing your whole body tight against him. Every short thrust made your breasts jiggle and eyes roll. The camcorder got it all—the visual, the sound. Even with Touya’s kiss shutting you up, you weren’t really silenced. And without it, you were loud. 

“Fuck baby, you like it that much?”

You would have closed your mouth if your hands weren’t stuck in his suffocating embrace. “Not—that good.”

Touya chuckled. “Yeah?”

He quickened the pace, and your brain almost shut itself down. 

“Stop,” you cried, legs starting to shake. That was when he really stopped. That dickhole.  

“This is what bad girls get.” He said, withdrawing his cock but still not releasing you from his clasp. When he walked back to the couch, he hauled you with him like a child hauling a big bag of toys to his secret lair. 

Guiding you to sit on him—again—you still faced the camcorder. 

“Dad, are you watching? Look at me. Am I doing good?” One of his hands mapped a path up to fondle your tits, switching left and right to pay his utmost attention into making you squirm out of your human seat. 

But he didn’t plan to let you go. His other free hand jerked his cock once, twice, before rubbing it on your still-wet pussy. No one was gonna believe you did not want this. Endeavor would not. 

“Have you fucked her yet? Do you want to?” He grinned against your temple. 

You swore out a soft ‘fuck’ when his cock eased its way in. It was burnt, too. Not as bad that it had to be patched up, but you could feel the bumpy texture against your moist walls.

“You know my dad is an abusive bastard, right? Fucking neglecting his own wife and children. He beat mom, too, have you heard? Did he have the guts to tell you that?” he said, tilting your head up so you could see him looking down at you. You were so hot he prayed his dad hadn’t touched you, he might never let him, too good of a pussy to share. 

“He’s not a good replacement for your scumbag of a father, trust me.” 

—

“I can do that, too,” you said from behind the bush you had been hiding, starling the boy you directed the sentence to. He jumped. You laughed. You had been watching him practice for almost half an hour. He looked sort of tired now. 

“Look,” you said before doing the same trick you saw him do, making a flame dance on one hand and moving it to the other hand like you were juggling a ball. 

He frowned, not looking very impressed, but didn’t take his eyes off you. 

That was the first day you met Touya—making friends with him—and after that, coming out to meet him almost every day. Soon after, you got to meet his family. Your eyes almost bugged out of their sockets when you saw who his dad was. 

The big man spared you only a glance when Touya first introduced you to him. The second glance, however, came after Touya said you had a fire quirk. 

Shoto was only two at the time, too young for his dad’s intensive training. 

Two years later, when Endeavor asked if you wanted to train with his youngest who had just turned four and you said yes, Touya didn’t talk to you for three days. On the fourth day, he didn’t let you in when you rang the doorbell. 

“Go away, dad thief.” 

But you didn’t want to. The Todoroki house was your paradise, the highlight of your day. Since Touya brought you to his home, you had been here everyday, spending your weekdays’ after-school time and whole days on weekends playing with the Todoroki siblings—Fuyumi, Natsuo and Touya himself if he wasn’t a bitch, complaining that his sister and brother hogged you all for themselves, and leaving dramatically to play alone, expecting you to follow. 

He was possessive like that. One time, he locked you in a room to only play with him. Rei—his mom—had to use a spare key to unlock the room and scolded her eldest. 

Now, the table had turned. Since your weekdays’ playtime had turned into training sessions, Touya was shunning you. 

“Go back to your shitty father,” he said through the crack of the side door before slamming it to your face. 

He played dirty mentioning your dad like that when he was the one who followed you to your ratty excuse of a home one day and saw your dad slap you on the face for no reason. It was a low blow since he was the one who interfered just before your dad used his fire quirk on you and your mother who was trying to shield you from the oncoming flame. Despite being the one who helped you that day, he used the fact that you had one of the worst dads a child could ever ask for to hurt you. You hated him so damn much for that. 

“Just you wait, Touya. One day, I’ll really steal him from you,” you said to the closed door, knowing he was still behind it. Tears were flowing down your face, but it was alright because Touya would not see them—because he would not open the door for you, and you resented him for it. 

How… wrong you were. 

“No.” 

Just when you walked back to the hand-me-down bicycle you got from the person you were most angry at at the moment—he was kind for that; you had to admit—you heard him before you heard the door open. Wiping the tears off your face, you turned to him and haughtily asked, “No what?” 

Touya didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto your shirt. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“That’s my dad on your shirt.” 

“I know.” You smirked. “He’s my fav hero after all.”

Touya scrunched his nose, his hair that used to be red at the ends was now full white. Then all of a sudden, he jumped you. 

You shrieked. It must have been a jaw-dropping scene for a passerby if there had been one—two 12-year-old children grabbing each other’s hair on the floor, fighting with their little hands. 

“Get off me!!” you screamed, but Touya who successfully got on top of you just laughed maniacally. Looking back, he sounded a bit too psychotic for a child. 

He shouted into your ear, “Dad is mine! Dad is mine!” 

From the corner of your eyes, you saw someone’s feet. 

“Touya-nii! Stop!” It was Fuyumi. “Mom, help!” 

The hands in your hair didn’t relent one bit despite the call for an adult who was soon surely going to rip his ears off if he didn’t get off you, but he did quiet down. 

“You’re mine, too,” he said softly into the ear he was shouting into before. “Dad’s not home today. Let’s play. You and me, okay? No Fuyumi-chan and Natsuo-kun. Just you and me.” 

The next thing you knew, he was pulled off you by his mother. Touya didn’t shed a tear when Rei spanked him in the ass, asking why he did that to you. She told him to apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You knew he wasn’t. But he sounded genuine enough Rei let him off with only a one-week-no-tv punishment.

—

To you, he had been… off since that day. Today, he was full-blown unhinged. 

Your legs were spread wide over his own open ones, basically preventing you from trying to close them and hide your fucked pussy from the camcorder. His hands were busy, one grasping at your waist for leverage while the other circling over your clit. You were all bare to the camera with Touya’s cock ramming in and out, concentration drifting like smoke in the wind, so close to coming. 

“Such a good cunt. I’ll fuck it everyday”—he panted—“come in it. You can count on me.” 

“Don’t—” 

“I’ll be a good boyfriend. Will never fucking stray,” he prattled on. “Won’t hit you. Won’t be like dad. You’ll see.” 

You tried to hold it, but the hand on your clit just didn’t stop, pushing you to the top and making your hips buck up uncontrollably Touya had to push you down so his dick didn’t slip out. You felt the throbbing when he spilled inside. The little shit really did it—he creamed your pussy. 

“Want a taste?” Touya proposed, his hands spreading and closing your pussy to see the white thick cream dripping out. 

“Don’t be disgusting.” 

“Bet you drink his cum just to please him.” 

“I never fucked your dad, you villain scum.” 

“Mmmm.” You turned your head just in time to see Touya licking his fingers clean. When he saw you look, the menace put his tongue out to show his own cum on it. You knew what he would do next without a word being said and tried to turn away, but Touya grabbed your cheeks, stilling you, then he squeezed to force your mouth open.

His tongue invaded, feeding you his cum, and ending with a kiss. He took his time, like he had a lot on his hands, making sure you swallowed every drop. 

“Not even sucking his dick?” He continued questioning you. 

“No, you sicko.” You felt your body temperature rising, quirk activating, but didn’t let the fire come out. 

“Bet you thought about it, dad thief.” 

“Bet YOU thought about it, obsessive patchy bitch.” 

He laughed with his whole chest, shaking your whole body with it. “Guess we both ain’t shit, baby.”

[eternallyordinary]

“He Belongs to You” - Part 5

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Series Masterlist<3

Summary: After a whirlwind 24 hours, Homelander’s obsession with you only grows. What started as desire has become something darker, more dangerous. But when he realizes someone hurt you before, his need for control turns to vengeance—and whoever’s responsible won’t live to regret it.

Warnings: Possessiveness, power dynamics, strong language, mature content, smut, violence, sexual content, mentions of sexual assault/rape, foul language, murder, yandere (if i forgot any pls let me know <3)

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The morning light filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. You stir slightly, still curled up in Homelander’s lap, his fingers lazily running through your hair.

He hasn’t moved all night. Hasn’t slept. Not once.

He just watched over you. A silent guardian against a threat that doesn’t exist—at least, not in this moment. His body should be exhausted, but it isn’t.

Just being near you keeps him alert, wired, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

A small yawn escapes your lips as you stretch, blinking up at him. “Good morning.”

His hand stills in your hair for a moment before resuming, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Morning, doll,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Sleep well?”

You nod, sitting up and shifting in his lap until you’re straddling him, your legs curling around his waist.

“I did. Did you even sleep?”

Homelander exhales, shaking his head. “No. I didn’t.”

His grip on your hips tightens slightly. “I couldn’t. Just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You smirk. “You know I’m a supe, right?”

It’s meant to be teasing, lighthearted. But the playful glint in his eyes fades almost instantly. His grip tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

“I know,” he mutters, voice dark. “But you’re not as strong as me. You’re not untouchable.” His jaw clenches. “I have enemies, and if they knew what you meant to me, they’d come for you. You think I’m gonna let that happen?”

You try to lighten the mood. “I mean… I do pilates.”

A short laugh escapes him, but his hands move up, cradling your face between his palms, forcing you to look at him.

“I’m serious.”

Your expression softens as you study him. “Who wants to hurt you?” you ask. “Who would want to hurt me?”

His blue eyes darken, full of something unreadable.

“Anyone who hates me,” he says simply. “And there’s a lot of them. They’d do anything to take me down—including hurting you. And I won’t let that happen.”

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you reach up, threading your fingers through his golden hair before leaning in, pressing your lips against his.

He responds instantly. There’s nothing soft about the way he kisses you, no hesitation. His hands slide up your back, pulling you tighter against him, like he can’t get you close enough.

But then you pull away, laughing breathlessly as you cover your mouth.

“Ew—sorry. I should’ve brushed my teeth first.”

Homelander chuckles, the tension in his body easing.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, voice low and teasing. “I don’t mind a little morning breath.”

Before you can protest, he reaches up, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth, his grip firm.

“And besides…” His eyes flicker with something dangerous. “I like it when you’re a mess. Makes me want to ruin you even more.”

“Ruin me, huh?”

Your voice is teasing, but there’s a nervous edge to it as you trace the rigid contours of his suit, your fingertip gliding over the perfectly etched lines of his abs.

Homelander’s eyes darken. “I will ruin you,” he whispers, his voice thick with possession. “But only for me.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Your instincts weigh heavy, remind you your life is entirely in his hands.

His gaze locks onto yours.

“There’s something else you need to know,” he says.

You swallow. “What?”

His expression sharpens, deadly serious.

“I can’t think about you with other people. And I don’t want to. If I ever hear about you with someone else—before me—I’ll have to hurt them. Probably kill them.”

His voice is disturbingly calm, like he’s stating a fact, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t care if it was a fling. I don’t care if it was your first kiss back in grade school. There’s only before and after me now. Anyone who’s ever touched you, will wish they hadn’t.”

His jealousy is suffocating, terrifying—and yet, it sends a thrill down your spine.

“Well…” You hesitate, avoiding his piercing gaze. “You’re the only one who’s ever touched me.” You pause before correcting yourself, voice barely above a whisper. “Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

Homelander stiffens. His grip on you doesn’t falter, but something in his expression shifts. You regret speaking instantly.

Shit. Leave it to you to overshare.

His blue eyes search yours, and without a word, he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is surprisingly gentle.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “It’s like you knew to wait for me.”

But he doesn’t miss the distinction in your words.

The only one you wanted to touch you.

Who the fuck touched you without permission?

Names.

He needs names.

His mind is already conjuring a thousand different ways to make them suffer.

He imagines tearing them apart, one by one, making you watch as he erases them from existence.

Their names.

Their families.

Their homes.

Everything they’ve ever loved—gone.

The thought makes his whole body tense. He shifts, readjusting himself as the dark, possessive hunger coils inside him, tightening like a vice.

But he can sense it—you’re not ready to talk about it.

Not yet.

That’s fine.

You’ll tell him when you’re ready.

And when you do, he’ll make sure you watch as he destroys them all.

So you better be ready soon.

A knock at the door shatters the moment.

“Come in,” Homelander says smoothly—like this is his apartment, like he’s the one in control here.

Your head snaps toward him.

What the fuck? You barely have time to adjust, sitting in nothing but a tank top and panties, the thin fabric of your shirt doing nothing to hide the way your nipples peek through.

The door swings open, and of course, it’s Ashley.

Your boss.

Not his.

He’s his own boss, you’ve come to realize.

Ashley stops in her tracks, her brows shooting up as she takes in the scene.

You.

Straddling him.

And he—looking smug, satisfied—makes no move to let you go.

If anything, his grip tightens, holding you in place like he wants her to see this.

Hell, maybe he hopes she takes a picture, sends it straight to the top brass at Vought.

Let them all see who you belong to.

“Hi… you two…” Ashley starts, hesitantly. She clears her throat, eyes darting between you and Homelander before settling on you.

“Access Hollywood wants to do a piece on your journey to the Seven. I know people your age don’t really watch it, but it’ll be good for pulling in ratings from the 35 to 50 demographic.”

Homelander bristles. “Why the fuck does she need to pull from that demographic, Ashley?”

His mind immediately goes to older men. The ones who’d watch the segment. The ones who’d look at you. They’d be his age, sure—but it’s different with him. Any other man, twice your age, interested in you? Fucking perverts.

Ashley falters. “Just, uh… covering all of our bases, sir.”

The tension in the room is suffocating. You force a smile, desperate to salvage some semblance of professionalism after the chaos of the past twenty-four hours.

“Okay. Great. I’ll get ready now,” you say quickly, trying again to lift yourself off his lap.

His hands keep you locked in place.

So, you shock him with your fingertips.

“Ow! Fuck,” he hisses, just enough of a sting to loosen his hold.

You smirk, tossing a blanket around yourself as you slip off him and head toward the bathroom.

He watches you disappear behind the door. The second it clicks shut, he stands, towering over Ashley.

“Why the fuck are we worried about whether forty-year-old perverts are interested in her?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Who gives a shit about ratings? She’s not doing it.”

Before Ashley can respond, a new voice cuts in.

Sage.

Standing at the door, watching the whole damn thing. Apparently, everyone is making themselves at home in your apartment.

“He’s obsessed with her,” Sage says bluntly, arms crossed. “It’s not healthy how possessive he is.”

Homelander turns, mock surprise on his face. “Oh, hi, Sage. It’s me, Homelander. I’m right fucking here.”

Sage doesn’t blink. “Let’s talk about your ratings. They’re already dogshit. You think screwing a twenty-something-year-old with a baby face is gonna help?”

His smirk fades. She knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think I care about ratings?” His voice is sharp, seething.

Sage scoffs. “Get a grip, Homelander. You brought me onto the Seven to help you. To guide you. This? This is a stupid fucking mistake.”

Is her brain getting fucked by stupid? He doesn’t make mistakes.

“I don’t need you to tell me what is or isn’t a mistake,” he snaps. “You work for me, remember? I make the decisions here. Not you.”

“She’s young. She’s new. You’re putting a target on her back.”

Ashley. Finally speaking up.

He barely acknowledges her, but she pushes forward.

“You have to see how reckless this is. It’s dangerous for both of you.”

Homelander clenches his fists.

“I know the risks,” he grits out. “But I can protect her better than anyone. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Ashley sighs, rubbing her temples. “By not sleeping? You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

His eyes darken. “I don’t need sleep.”

“You do.”

Homelander stares at her. The audacity—speaking to him like this. But there’s no malice in her voice, just exhaustion.

“People will notice,” she continues, her voice softer now. “Just… please. Get it together.”

The room is silent.

Finally, he exhales sharply.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll try to sleep.” A pause. “But I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

Sage and Ashley exchange a look—two women always at odds, finally agreeing on something.

Neither of them speak as they turn and leave, shutting the door behind them.

—

Homelander lowers himself onto the couch, his mind still tangled in the conversation with Ashley and Sage. Their words should mean nothing to him. But they linger.

The sound of the shower running pulls his attention away.

His thoughts shift instantly—away from strategy, away from arguments—to you.

Naked.

Wet.

Warm water cascading down your body.

His pulse quickens.

He stands and heads toward the bathroom.

His hand hovers over the handle, hesitating for only a second before pushing the door open.

Steam greets him, curling around his body as he steps inside.

The air is thick with heat, fogging the mirror and the glass of the shower. But he can still see you—your silhouette blurred, water glistening on your skin.

Slowly, he sheds his suit, letting the fabric fall in a careless pile on the floor. He moves toward the glass, watching you, savoring the sight. Then, without a word, he pulls the door open and steps inside.

You gasp, your arms moving instinctively to cover yourself.

He chuckles, amused. His eyes darken, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, voice rough, thick with something dangerous. “I want to see all of you.”

His hands are on your wrists before you can react, pulling them away, pinning them above your head.

The warmth of the water does nothing to cool the fire in his touch.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss—slow at first, then deeper, his tongue pressing into your mouth, claiming every inch like it belongs to him.

A soft moan escapes against his lips, and it undoes him.

Something dark, something primal stirs inside him—something he’s barely been holding back.

His grip tightens in your hair, fingers tangling at the nape of your neck as he tugs, tilting your head back. Forcing you to meet his gaze.

Blue eyes, sharp and predatory, lock onto yours. His chest rises and falls, his breath ragged. He drinks in the sight of you, wet and vulnerable beneath him, completely at his mercy.

And god, he likes it.

He was ready to fuck you, to devour you. He puts his cock against your clit, rubbing small circles with his tip. But he feels the way your body tenses beneath him, the shift so subtle yet impossible to ignore.

And then your words echo in his mind—

You’re the only one who’s ever touched me.

Something dark in him—something selfish, something monstrous—wants to take, to claim, to make you his without hesitation.

To ask for forgiveness later, not permission now.

But the part of him that needs you, that aches for you in ways he doesn’t fully understand, knows better.

You deserve more than that. More than him at his worst.

Your first time should be something close to heaven.

And for you, he chooses restraint.

He exhales sharply, jaw tight as he pulls back, shifting himself away from your center.

The need inside him rages, demanding more, but he won’t let it win.

Not with you.

You exhale, your breath finally steadying—but the moment you do, his voice cuts through the steam, firm and commanding.

“Lay down.”

He doesn’t reach for the faucet, doesn’t bother turning the water off. The warm stream continues cascading over both of you, soaking his hair until strands cling to his face, his eyes dark beneath them.

He watches you, unblinking, unmoving—his presence overwhelming in the small space.

Slowly, you lower yourself, your back meeting the wet tile, your hair fanning out around you, heavy with water.

His eyes drink you in, his voice thick with possession as he commands, “Open your legs.”

He lowers himself onto his knees, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

He studies you like a masterpiece—something rare, something fragile, something that belongs to him.

He gently opens up your pussy with his fingers, slowly massaging the hood of your clit.

You moan without restraint, your body reacting instinctively, back arching in ways you never thought possible.

He continues to rub small circles, then he sticks a finger in.

Then 2.

Then 3.

He couldn’t help himself.

Each thrust is slow and deliberate, a silent reminder that every part of you belongs to him.

Then, with effortless strength, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders, your head tilting back as pleasure overtakes you.

He aggressively kisses and sucks your center.

He’s like a rabid animal—hungry, insatiable.

If he could devour you completely, he would.

He begins to stroke his cock with purpose. Effortlessly, he uses one hand to keep you upright, his grip firm yet controlled, as if you weigh nothing at all.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, your voice trembling with desperation.

Homelander’s grip tightens as he looms over you, his eyes dark with possession.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he commands, his voice low and unwavering.

“You—I—I belong to you,” you cry out, your body trembling as you surrender completely to him.

Suddenly, your body tenses, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you reach your peak.

A rush of warmth spills into his mouth, and Homelander doesn’t hesitate—his lips part, tongue hanging out, greedily lapping up every drop like a man starved, as if he’s been waiting his whole life just for this.

He strokes his cock with more determination—he releases a low growl and lets his cum paint your backside.

Both of you exhale. He gently releases your legs from his neck.

Keeping your legs spread, he uses his cum as a lubricant to rub your clit even more.

Your breath hitches as you sit up, hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His fingers continue their slow, deliberate movements, drawing another soft whimper from your lips. Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mix, shaky and uneven.

You come undone once more, trembling in his grasp.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Always so good for me, you know that?”

His mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply before pulling back, allowing you a moment to breathe.

The two of you sit there on the shower floor, water cascading over your tangled bodies, the heat between you rivaling the steam filling the space. Neither of you speak, just taking a moment to absorb the weight of what just happened.

“That was…” you murmur, still breathless.

Homelander presses a kiss to your forehead, his grip on you possessive yet tender. “Come on,” he says, voice softer than usual. “You have to get ready.”

You blink up at him, confusion flickering across your face.

Just a moment ago, he was adamant about you not doing the interview. What changed?

As the two of you stand, rinsing off the remnants of heat and indulgence, you finally ask, “What did they want earlier?”

Homelander doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls you against him, his grip firm, his lips crashing into yours like he needs to make a point.

His kiss is deep, hungry—like he’s claiming you all over again.

His hands find your wrists, pinning them against his chest as he devours you, breathing you in like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

When he finally pulls away, his expression is unreadable, torn between frustration and something far more dangerous.

“Ashley and Sage,” he mutters, jaw tight. “Being nosy. They think I’m too obsessed with you. That I’m making a mistake.”

You smirk against his lips, tilting your head as you press another slow, teasing kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue flick against his.

“You are obsessed with me,” you whisper, your words a challenge.

Homelander growls low in his throat as you tease his lips, his grip tightening on your hips.

You’re right—he is obsessed with you.

Entirely.

Uncontrollably.

He pulls you flush against him, pressing his body into yours like he needs to mold himself to you, like he wants to brand his presence onto your skin.

His hands roam with purpose, tracing every curve, memorizing every inch.

“I am obsessed with you,” he finally admits, voice thick with an emotion he barely understands. “And it scares the hell out of me how much I need you.”

His grip loosens slightly, his expression shifting—not soft, but vulnerable, if only for a moment.

“And that’s what scares me. I don’t… I don’t need people. I don’t need anything. But you?” His fingers flex against your skin. “You’re different.”

You smirk, your playful nature creeping back in. “You know that’s normal, right? Well… maybe not this,” You gesture between your bodies, naked and pressed together after barely a day of knowing each other. “Never mind.” You giggle.

Homelander chuckles, shaking his head, his grip steadying you against him. “No, doll, this isn’t normal,” he agrees, smirking as he brushes wet strands of hair from your face. “But I’ve never liked normal anyway.”

He kisses you again before turning you around, his hands threading through your hair as he massages shampoo into your scalp.

His touch is slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for him. He works through your hair with a care that’s foreign to him, his hands sliding down to knead your shoulders, rubbing away whatever tension lingers.

Homelander hums in satisfaction, fingers kneading deeper.

“You have no idea how good it feels to touch you like this,” he mutters, his voice dipping lower.

You glance back at him, studying his face through the steam.

“You like knowing you can hurt me, that you can end me… don’t you?” You ask. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

His hands still for a fraction of a second. He absorbs your words, his jaw clenching, his blue eyes darkening with something unreadable.

He doesn’t deny it.

“Yeah,” he finally murmurs, his voice rough. “I do.”

His fingers brush down your spine, barely touching. “I like knowing I could crush you if I wanted to. That I have all the power.” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I want to protect you.”

Homelander kisses you again, slow and deep, but his mind is already elsewhere. Somewhere darker.

Your words haven’t left him.

They won’t.

They cling to his brain like a parasite, infecting every thought, twisting his stomach into knots of rage he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“You’re the only one who’s ever touched me. Well… the only one I wanted to touch me.”

His fingers twitch against your skin, his muscles tightening as he fights the urge to demand their names right now.

He pictures them—whoever they are—small, pathetic, unworthy.

He doesn’t need details.

He doesn’t need a reason.

He just needs to hear you say the words.

Tell him who they are.

Tell him where they live.

Tell him how they did it.

And he’ll take care of the rest.

He imagines their faces caving under his fists, teeth splintering like cheap glass, their pitiful screams cutting off with the wet, sickening squelch of his fingers ripping their tongues straight from their throats.

He’ll tear them open, gut them like livestock, string them up in a place only he can see so he can admire his handiwork when he’s feeling nostalgic.

Maybe he’ll fly them so high the oxygen thins before dropping them—make them fall for miles, long enough to know exactly when they’re about to hit the ground, long enough to understand they’re about to die before their bodies splatter like meat against pavement.

It’s what they deserve. It’s the bare fucking minimum.

But not yet.

Not yet.

He needs to be patient. For you.

So instead of demanding answers, instead of forcing them from your lips, he just pulls you closer, pressing another soft kiss to your jaw.

You don’t notice the way his fingers dig into your skin a little harder, or how his breath turns just a little more ragged.

You don’t see the violent, vicious promise buried deep in his eyes as he whispers against your skin.

“One day, baby… you’re gonna tell me who they are.”

You swallow hard.

They.

You thought he forgot.

Oh, silly girl.

A man like him? He doesn’t miss anything.

Homelander watches your reaction, soaking in every twitch, every breath, every slight shift in your expression.

His grip on your waist tightens just enough to remind you—he’s still in control.

He always will be.

His smile lingers, slow and knowing, a predator savoring the scent of fresh blood.

“I see that look, baby,” he murmurs, his voice smooth but laced with something sharper, something hungry.

His fingers slide up your spine, his nails ghosting over your skin like a warning.

“You didn’t really think I’d let that slide, did you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your heartbeat pounds so loudly in your ears it nearly drowns out his voice, but he hears it. Of course, he does.

He likes it.

Loves it.

Because it tells him everything he needs to know.

“Mmm.” He hums, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

His tone is soft, almost gentle, but it carries the weight of something final. A promise. A death sentence.

“I’ll take care of it.”

His lips curl, pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear as he breathes in deep—like he’s inhaling your fear, drinking it in, letting it settle deep in his lungs.

“And believe me… once I’m finished with them? They’ll beg for death.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather.

But there’s something in his voice—glee.

The kind of twisted, unhinged satisfaction that sends a chill down your spine.

Your stomach knots.

You should stop him.

You should say something.

But the way he’s looking at you?

That wild, feverish glint in his eye?

It’s too late.

His mind is already painting the scene—rivers of blood, splintered bone, screams so raw they tear through vocal cords.

He wants them to suffer.

He wants them to hurt.

To feel every ounce of pain they inflicted on you a thousand times over.

And when they’re on their knees, their bodies broken beyond repair, gasping through bloodied lips for mercy?

There won’t be any.

“I’ll make sure they remember your name,” he purrs, dragging a thumb over your bottom lip. “Right before I carve it into their fucking skulls.”

You swallow hard, your breath shaky.

He smiles.

Oh, he loves this.

Loves the way you react, loves the fear, the hesitation—because it confirms what he already knows.

They’re dead.

They just don’t know it yet.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡

[guilty-cheese]

Aaron Hotchner x nanny!reader

author’s notes// Hey gang! I know you guys mostly know me for writing for one piece but I’m doing a re-watch of criminal minds and have become obsessed again. Need this grumpy old man so effing bad.

Synopsis: you are Jack’s nanny and Jack gets sick at school. Hotch is grateful to have you there to take care of him

content: age-gap (20smthn reader), sick kids, mentions of case, fem-bodied reader in mind, mentions of Haley

—————————————————————

You had been working for Aaron Hotchner for a couple months now. Ever since his wife passed and Haley’s sister moved back home, he needed extra support to take care of Jack. In need of employment and a place to stay you were thankful for your friend, Penelope, who put you two in touch.

It was awkward at first when you moved in after only a week of knowing about the family, but Jack took a liking to you almost instantaneously. That made the transition into your work life much easier.

The dynamic between the three of you was simple. You tended to Jack when Hotch was at work. Took care of all the chores, making sure dinner was made and Hotch’s suits were pressed and ready. When he came home you listened poured him a small drink and heated up his dinner. He never divulged any work details just hoping to keep work at the bau.

The day was pretty much normal. You woke up at 6 to make sure you were up in time to make Hotch his breakfast and coffee. He woke up got dressed and took his breakfast with him sparring a “morning” and a “thank you” before heading out.

You made Jack his breakfast and noticed he didn’t seem as cheery as usual. Shrugging it off you dropped him off and school and went back to do laundry.

In the middle of preparing the stew for dinner you got a call from Hotch. He never called you while he was at work so you picked it up confused.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

You waited until his voice came over the speakers, cool and quiet, “Can you please pick up Jack? The nurse called saying he was sick and needed to go home. I told them you were coming to get him.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Yes of course. I’m on my way.”

“Thank you. Please text me with updates on his condition. I’m on a case in New York right now and hope to be home by early tomorrow morning.”

You nodded, “Yes, of course sir. Stay safe.”

“I will. Goodbye.” And with a beep the call ended.

You put the phone down and went to go wash your hands and put away the cooking supplies.

When you got to the school and saw Jack looking miserable on the medical bed your heart sank. You went up to him and lightly shook him awake.

You smiled softly, “Hey Jackers. Let’s get you home.”

He groaned as he opened his eyes and saw you. He whispered your name and shivered. You frowned and picked him up in your arms and grabbed his school bag. You thanked the nurse and brought him to the car.

On the way back to the house you looked in the rear view mirror, Jack was slumped against the window.

“Jack how are you feeling bud?” You asked concerned.

Jack whimpered and with a weak voice said, “Head hurts, I feel cold, weak.”

“I’m so sorry buddy. We’ll be home soon and I’ll get you some medicine and soup okay?” You cooed.

“Mmkay,” he murmured.

Once at the house you brought him inside, “Go change into your warm pjs.”

Jack nodded and weakly walked over to his closet. You closed the door and went back to the kitchen to make some chicken broth. As you heated it up you knocked on his door and peaked in. He was curled up in bed and shivering. You went into his bathroom and got a cool washcloth and laid it on his head. Then you put another blanket over him and tucked him in.

“Jack, you think you can stay awake for 10 more minutes so I can get you soup and medicine?” You asked as you pushed his hair off his forehead.

He nodded and you got back up and went to the kitchen. Looking through the cabinets for medicine and coming up with nothing you found that Hotch probably had it in his medicine cabinet . You tentatively went into his room and into the connected bathroom. You nervously opened his medicine cabinet and avoided looking at any of the yellow pill bottles.

When you saw the brightly colored pink packaging of kid’s medicine you grabbed it and went back to the kitchen. You mixed the syrup in some juice and poured the soup into a bowl.

As you went back into Jack’s room you saw him resting his eyes. Gently kneeling down and tapping him, he looked up and noticed the juice and food.

“Here’s some chicken broth and some juice to hopefully make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” He said weakly.

You helped him sit up and held the bowl of soup as he slowly took sips from his spoon. Once he finished most of the soup and all the juice he leaned back.

You got up and grabbed his dishes.

“Can you stay?” He murmured.

Your eyes widened slightly, “Yeah of course. I’ll be right back.”

Once you rinsed the dishes you went back in his room and knelt back by his bed again. You took the now damp and warm washcloth off of his head and onto the nightstand.

“Book?” He asked.

“Want me to read to you?” You asked as you ran your hand through his hair.

He nodded.

“Any requests?” You asked as you continued to pet his hair.

“Mm..Holes”

“Holes?” You chuckled.

He nodded.

You stood up and looked for the book on his shelf. You found it and crouched back down by his bed and began reading.

Two chapters in Jack was asleep. His shivering quit and his chest rose normally. You were about to get up but Jack’s hand remained wrapped around your wrist. Not wanting to wake him up you set the book down on his nightstand and laid your head down on his comforter.

———————————————————————

Hotch had arrived home that same night. The case wrapped up quickly than anyone thought it would. He walked into the house and saw medicine packets and left over broth left out in the kitchen.

Setting down his duffel and hanging up his suit he walked into Jack’s room. As he walked into and saw you holding Jack’s hand and resting with him, his heart swelled.

He walked over to you and kneeled gently tapping you. You woke up with a sharp inhale and looked up to see him.

“Mr. Hotchner. You’re back.” You said as you rubbed your eyes.

“Hey, Y/N. How is he?” He asked.

Shaking the sleep from your head you put your hand on his forehead. “Fever seems to have gone down. And he’s not shivering anymore.”

“Let’s let him rest.” He said and offered you his hand. You smiled and grabbed it as he hoisted you up.

You followed him out of the room and into the kitchen. “Sorry for leaving the mess. I’ll get right to cleaning it up.”

“No, no. I couldn’t possibly ask you to do more right now. I’ve got it. You go and do what you want,” he said as he rolled up his sleeves.

You waved your hands, “No sir, you just got home from work. I just took a long nap. I should be cleaning this up while you relax. Please, I insist.”

“You sure?” He asked quirking a brow.

You smiled, “of course.”

He nodded and walked off to his room. You ran your hands over your face once more. You’d be lying if you said that he was not attractive. Living in his house didn’t help and sometimes you passed by his room while his door was cracked and caught sight of his bare torso.

Shaking off the thoughts you began your cleaning duties. As your were finishing up cleaning the counter Hotch walked back out into the living room and laid down on the couch.

You wiped down the counter one last time and then joined him on the couch. He was looking over a case file, brows scrunched in thought. “How was the case?”

He soared a glance over at her, “Thankfully quick.”

“That’s good. One less psycho out there,” you commented.

“Mm.” He nodded.

With the coming silence you went on your phone. Scrolling through friend’s posts you were thinking of something to talk about.

“Thank you by the way,” he suddenly said.

“Hm. For what?” You asked as you looked over at him.

“For all that you do for us,” he said simply.

You smiled, “It’s literally my job Mr. H. No big deal whatsoever.”

He looked over at you, “You know you can call me Aaron.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “I’d feel weird though.”

He raised the corners of his lips slightly, “I feel weird when you call me “Mr. H” or Mr. Hotchner.”

You smiled, “Didn’t think of that. Okay, Aaron.”

A rare smile adorned his face before he went back to the case file. For the rest of the night the two of you sat in comfortable silence. All was well in the Hotchner house.

[nekoboydreams]

Hello (\*´▽｀)ノノ!! I've recently become obsessed with the yandere game you created! It's ignited such an uncontrollable desire in me—I can barely hold myself back! I'm absolutely dying to write a fanfiction based on *The Freak Circus*. But before that, I wanted to ask for your permission, because I truly don't want to offend or trouble you in any way...If it's okay, may I ask you a few questions?

① If Pierrot were to be voiced in the future, what do you think his voice would sound like? And what kind of tone and voice would best suit Harlequin, considering his character? Knowing this would be a huge help to my writing.

② Also, the circus food! Does it have mind-controlling, thought-distorting properties? Could it possibly amplify the eater's deepest desires, growing more intense over time until those poor souls completely lose their self-awareness—becoming obsessed with the circus and the clowns who perform for them? I also suspect the female assistant who was killed by one of Pierrot’s thrown knives might be one of the captured victims. She’s probably really dead. And what if she was actually one of the player’s missing colleagues? That would mean all those missing women in the town might be connected... OMG 🙀🙀🙀

③ Suppose the player has a strong self-destructive tendency and often keeps to themselves outside of necessary social situations. How would Pierrot react to this? Would he feel worried—or secretly delighted? And if one day the player collapses to the ground, quietly crying while clinging to Pierrot's clothes and begging him to kill them, what would he do? Especially if they said things like, “Only dying by your hand could bring me peace,” or “My darling, my savior, please kill me and eat me, so you’ll never leave me and I can finally rest.” Would Pierrot be moved?This is my first time asking, and I couldn’t help but say so much…!! I really hope I didn’t bother you 😔🤗🥰

Wow, I’m really glad to hear all this! And I’m impressed by the length of your questions, haha! Feel free to write as much as you want I’d love to see it! Now, about your questions:

About the voices: A lot of people ask me this, but since I’m not a native English speaker, I don’t have a huge repertoire of voices for them. What I can try to explain is that Pierrot would have a calm voice when talking to the MC, maybe slightly hoarse from being silent so much. When he makes those kind of disturbing statements to the MC, I imagine his voice thickens a bit. As for Harlequin, he has a sarcastic, somewhat mocking tone. His voice probably wouldn’t be that deep, although his laugh carries a dark, deep tone. Does that make sense to you? If I find voices that fit them in some content, I could do a post about it, since it’s a question that keeps coming up, haha.

About the food: You have some interesting theories. On Day 2, you’ll see Pierrot talk a bit about it. So what I can say for now is that the food can put you into a euphoric state. It gets hard for whoever eats it to think clearlythings get confusing, and you might start misinterpreting stuff. The MC feels their heart racing and isn’t sure if it’s because they likes Pierrot, for example.

Self-destructive tendencies: That opens up a lot of possible reactions for Pierrot! If he sees the MC isolating themself but they’re okay with it, then to him there’s no problem there. But if the MC isolates themself and seems to be suffering from things like that, he’d get worried and try to help, but in his own way. He’s not very social either, so his way of helping wouldn’t be very conventional. Now, about the MC asking to be devoured, that’s a complicated threshold. Pierrot isn’t the type of yandere to hurt the MC intensely, but there could be a scenario where he’d fulfill that request. It’s something very specific, so let’s just say it’s not something I can to detail right now heh.

[pxpecxdy]

Hi! Congrats on 200! I’ve been around a few days now after becoming ridiculously obsessed with Pope and finding your content lol. I can’t pick my favorite prompt so I’m gonna let you decide but I liked 52, 55, 64, and 154.

Thank you! 🤍

Okay I had an idea for 3 of the 4 but then I thought of yet another idea I might write later! I thought this was going to turn to smut but unfortunately it didn't. Thank you so much! I really enjoyed writing this one

Tw: Canon typical violence, harassment of reader

The plan was solid. The heist was going to be some elites only club. You were going to go in first, flirt with the men, cause a distraction, while the boys robbed the place. You were to play the lonely widow, all dolled up and looking for company.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Pope lamented again in the car.

He was trying his best to keep his eyes off of you. If he could barely look away, then the other sleezy men with no self control wouldn't even bother trying. "You're going to break an ankle in those heels" he uttered his newest lame excuse. The twinkling of the ring on your finger pulled his attention from your nearly bare thighs. " And what's with that, are they just going to ignore that massive rock on your finger?" He questioned.

"Pope clearly you haven't spent enough time around other men" you chuckled. "They don't care if you're taken or not. Plus I gotta look the part to play the part."

The plan was going off without any problems. Almost everything was wrapped up. A group of business men had sought out your attention almost immediately. You play with their ties, ran your heel up and down their calf, sighed about the lack of affection since your late fiance passed. You got up from the table and left the members lounge to find a waiter to get you a drink, when in reality you were checking in with Craig about the plan. Pope was watching them, making sure they hadn't caught on that they'd been robbed blind. However, he wished he hadn't with the things he heard.

"She has a great ass." One man said. "And the tits to go with it" another added on. "She'd look real good on her knees" "We could convince her to go to one of the suites" another sleaze added. "I don't think we even need a suite. Just lock the door when she comes back!" He laughed and the others joined in.

When you got back to the lounge, you had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noise. All of the men were brutally beaten, blood pooling beneath them. You couldn't tell if they were dead or alive or somewhere in between.

"Andrew!" You whisper yelled at him. He finally looked up from the man he was punching over and over again. "We need to go. Now."

How you got out of there without getting caught, you had no idea. Craig and Deran had the cash and other goods while you and Pope rode together. He didn't say a word the entire time. His jaw clenched and his knuckles would be white if it weren't for the blood splattered against them.

"You could have blown the whole thing Pope!" You finally snapped at him.

"They were saying awful things about you. Every last one of them had it coming" He didn't take his eyes off the road. His tone was final. He didn't elaborate more. "I don't want you doing jobs like this anymore."

[societyfolklore]

Dangerous Notes – Part 4

Title: Dangerous Notes – Part 4

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Female Reader

Fic Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to fill in for her sick friend at a prestigious jazz club, The Armoury, Reader finds herself thrust into a world of old-world glamour and unknown danger. The club’s enigmatic owner, Bucky Barnes, has set his sights on making her a permanent fixture on his stage—and in his life.

Chapter Summary: You curiosity about The Armoury’s deepens as she begins to notice subtle details about the club’s patrons and staff. Meeting  Wanda she hoped to get a few more answers, but is only left feeling unease. Which only grows as Bucky’s focus on her remains unrelenting.

Word Count:  2.6K

Fic Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI, Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Possessive/Obsessive behaviour, Violence, Smut (eventually) No Beta... so yeah.. forgive things  Chapter Warnings:  None…just slightly Possessive/Obsessive behaviour if ya squint.. I promise stuff will start happening!

A/N: Ok, moving forward this fic will be updated every other Thursdays (I need more time with these, and I want to be working on other fic too, so.. Bi weekly, unless I want to post extra.. so :p)

Rehearsal had gone well, you were seemingly gelling well with the band. But The band and watch Pietro put on his little show the piano just made you smile.  Instead of leaving and returning later for your performance, you decided to stay in your dressing room, tinkering with a new arrangement to keep your mind occupied. Maybe something to add to the set before Kara came back? Nah, you didn't want to act like you planned on staying.. This one might just stay for you, or even give it to Kara. The fact way working on things like this soothed you, grounding your thoughts until the faint hum of music from the main room drew you out. maybe you'd just go watch the band in the wings for a while. 

The lounge was dimly lit but inviting, though the stage lights didn't reach the stage wins in such a dramatic way that you couldn't see out into the club. But for the moment you were just watching Pietro’s fingers flew across the keys, his playful energy infectious as the other musicians kept up effortlessly. You leaned against the wall, letting the music wash over you, filling a space inside you that had long felt empty.

There was something about this place-the music, the camaraderie among the performers, the way every note seemed to breathe life into the room. It made you feel part of something. Here, you didn’t feel like a failure, like you often did at the high school where you taught. Music had always been your escape, your sanctuary, and being around people who lived and breathed it reminded you why you’d fallen in love with it in the first place.

You began to notice details you hadn’t paid attention to before. The men in tailored suits who approached Yelena with whispered words before slipping into private rooms. The subtle, almost imperceptible nods exchanged between staff members. The glances toward the 'Staff Only' door that seemed to lead to places unknown. A creeping unease settled in your chest. Maybe the rumors about The Armoury weren’t entirely baseless after all.

“Dinner,” a voice interrupted your thoughts. A woman stood before you, holding a tray of small dishes. She had sharp features softened by a warm expression, her dark hair pulled back neatly. “Come on, let’s eat. Been told I've got to make sure you eat before your set.”

You followed her back to your dressing room, where she set the tray down on the small table. The spread was modest but thoughtful: cold cuts, pickles, toasted bread, and other light snacks-exactly what a singer would need to keep their energy up without feeling weighed down. The fact that once again a glass of whiskey was also included made you smile.  “Oh, I’m Wanda, by der way,” she said, glancing up with a small smile. her accent the same as her brothers “Sorry, I just started my shift, so I 'aven’t been able to say hi properly.”

You blinked, feeling a twinge of guilt as you sat down. “Wanda? Hi. Your brother mentioned you worked here too."  guilt hit you in the stomach, you'd taken this poor girls job. "I’m sorry, I-” You gestured vaguely at the meal in front of you. “I didn’t realize there was a backup singer already lined up when Kara called she- she asked if I'd cover and-”

Wanda waved off your apology with an easy shrug. “Sweetie, you don’t have to be this apologetic. I only fill in on occasion.  If it 'ad been for more than a week, the boss would’ve called in someone else. I’m not as good as I like to think I am.”

You gave her a curious look. Modesty seemed to run in the family-Pietro had the confidence of a showman at the piano, but even he downplayed his skill. “Music run in the family?” you asked, trying to make conversation as you picked at the food.

Wanda smirked slightly, moving her head a little. 'Somet'ing like that. Pietro’s the one with the real talent, though. My skills are, else where.”

You let the statement sit between you, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying, but you didn’t press. Instead, you changed course. “Have you been here long?”

For the briefest moment, her expression stiffened, but she recovered quickly. “A while,” she said vaguely, you weren't sure what the issue was.  "I noticed a lot of people seem to work here. Well I kept seeing people go through the staff door, I didn't think somewhere this size needed that many people, must be a lot competition for shift."   She hesitated before answering, "Not 'veryone you've seem works 'ere, I mean." Her tone deliberately casual. “Mr Barnes likes to conduct business from one location sometimes it's here, others its" she waved her hand about "He like to treats this place like 'is 'private boys’ club' you know? So you'll probably see people using that door that work for him in other places.” There was something in in her tone that made you realized talking about things might not be the best idea. "Wouldn't think too much about it.”

You nodded, but her words only reinforced what you’d started to suspect. There was more happening at The Armoury than its vintage charm and live music suggested. The suits that came and went, the hushed conversations, the careful movements of staff-it all added up to something larger, something you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

Still, you pushed the thought aside, forcing yourself to focus on your meal. Your set started in half an hour, and you needed to warm up.

The performance was going well. The crowd responded organically, their applause and murmurs of appreciation fueling your confidence. The initial and familiar nerves that had gripped you at the start dissipating as you lost yourself in the rhythm. Maybe you weren’t as rusty as you thought. Maybe last night wasn’t a fluke. There was a certainty settling inside you now, a quiet realization that you could still do this-that you still had it in you. As you glanced over at the band, you caught sight of Pietro shooting you a small, encouraging smile, his fingers dancing effortlessly over the piano keys. Ted gave you a subtle nod of approval while he strummed out his bass notes, but it was the drummer Leo met your gaze with an approving wink between beats that made your smile grow that little bit more. The warmth of the spotlight, the support of the band, and the way the audience seemed utterly enthralled made you feel weightless, like you belonged here more than anywhere else. You were growing wings again. 

Standing under the lights as the next musical intro started your eyes wandered, scanning the room taking it all in, it was packed tonight, but then again it was Saturday, the sight of patrons lounging in deep booths and seated around dimly lit tables, glasses clinking softly, pleased and relaxed smiles. Maybe after Kara came back you'd come and enjoy a night here. 

Then, your gaze landed on the back of the room. To one of the booths against the back wall.

Bucky Barnes.

He sat with a group of men, looking every bit like a king surrounded by his court. The men around him were engaged in conversation, discussing something of importance while enjoying their drinks and their own company, but Bucky was completely still. His eyes were locked onto you, unwavering and intense, his gaze tracing your every move as if committing them to memory. You could almost feel his suspicion, his distrust, pressing against you, wrapping around you like a silent demand, the weight of it making your breath catch in your throat.

Even from a distance, the power of his presence was undeniable, an anchor amid the ever-shifting currents of the club. The men around him spoke in low tones, exchanging words over glasses of dark liquor, but Bucky remained distant, seemingly uninterested in their discussion. His fingers rested lightly on the rim of his glass, tapping an almost rhythmic beat, but his attention never wavered from you.

You could feel the heat of his stare, the quiet intensity of it sending a shiver down your spine. It was as if he was daring you to acknowledge him, to let your eyes linger just a second longer than they should. And for a brief moment, you did.

Your gaze met his, and the air seemed to shift between you, thickening with an unspoken tension that curled around your skin like invisible tendrils. A slow smirk ghosted the edge of his lips, not just a look but an invitation, a silent declaration that he could see through every carefully placed wall, peeling back each layer with disturbing ease. It was a challenge, a provocation wrapped in calculated amusement.

Your skin prickled, a ghost of awareness crawling down your spine, warning you that you were seeing something you weren’t meant to. A shiver rolled through you, but you held his gaze, trapped in the unrelenting force of his scrutiny. The intensity of it made your breath feel shallow, your pulse just a beat too fast.

And yet, despite the quiet battle raging in the air between you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away first.

The spell broke when the dark-skinned man next to Barnes spoke to him, drawing his attention away. Bucky’s smirk vanished instantly, his expression hardening as he turned to listen, the relaxed grip on his glass tightening. Though the group seemed to find amusement in whatever comment the other man was making. The momentary reprieve allowed you to glance away, your gaze sweeping the room.

That’s when you noticed the older blonde man speaking with Yelena at the bar. Something about the way she held herself made your stomach twist. There was a stiffness to her posture, a tension that hadn’t been there before when you'd looked over towards her earlier.  Her expression remained composed, but her head turned towards  Bucky’s table before returning to the man, something wary lurking just beneath the surface.

She wasn’t just giving directions-she was pointing him there deliberately. And not out of politeness.

You weren’t supposed to be seeing this. The realization struck like a bolt of lightning. You were witnessing something quiet, something subtle, but unmistakably important. Your presence here was incidental, but suddenly, it felt invasive. Like an observer to a conversation not meant for outside eyes.  You forced yourself to turn and have your eyes move across the cross the room. But when you looked back at Bucky, his expression had shifted once more, the mask of cool detachment slipping back into place. His sharp blue eyes remained fixed on you, but there was something else now-an edge, a calculation, like he was already deciding his next move.

The newcomer approached Barnes, his movements steady, unhurried. He leaned down, murmuring something in Bucky’s ear.  Whatever was said had drained the air from around him, replacing it with something cold, something urgent. The shift was nearly imperceptible, but undeniable. But you witness it move to effect the others at the table.  A thread of tension wove through the group, their casual postures straightening, amusement dissolving into something heavier.

Bucky gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before rising smoothly from his seat. The movement wasn’t rushed, but it carried weight, his control evident in every step he took toward the Staff Only door. The men at his table followed without hesitation, their conversations abandoned, their drinks forgotten.

No one  else seemed to notice, the patrons seemed blissfully unaware, too wrapped up in their own indulgences. You couldn't work out why you felt cold, was it that last look he gave you, or maybe just him being absent drained the heat you felt. Curling fingers gripped the microphone a little tighter, you forced yourself to keep singing, to maintain the illusion that nothing had changed, but your mind buzzed with questions.

You had no idea what had just happened-but you were certain of one thing:

Something was wrong.  For now, though, you pushed the thought aside and focused on the music. There would be time for questions later. Though ones you had a feeling you had no business asking- ones you'd keep to yourself. 

Bucky leaned back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the back of the booth, his fingers tapping idly against the dark wood as his sharp blue eyes remained locked on the stage. The music curled through the club like slow-burning smoke, filling every corner with its sultry pull. But it wasn’t just the music holding him still. It was her.

She made it look effortless. The way she leaned into the microphone, the way the lyrics slipped from her lips like she was breathing them, as natural as the hum of a record spinning late into the night. It should have been a relief to see her fit in so seamlessly, to watch her take to the stage like it had always belonged to her. Instead, it put his nerves on edge.

It looked right. Felt right.

And that’s what unsettled him.

She wasn’t just some temporary fill-in, someone fumbling to make the best of a situation. No, she carried herself like she’d done this forever, like she had an unshakable rhythm of her own. But it was more than that-it was the way she absorbed the room, her gaze drifting across the patrons, pausing a little too long on the right people. She wasn’t just performing. She was taking things in.

She was noticing too much.

And that made her dangerous.

Bucky had spent a lifetime spotting threats before they could take root. It was instinct, an unrelenting hum in his bones. But this? This was different.

“You’re doing the staring thing again,” Sam murmured, his tone half amused, half exasperated. He lifted his glass to his lips, watching Bucky with a smirk. “You’re gonna burn a hole through her.”

Bucky didn’t so much as blink. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, maybe that’s a good sign. Not everyone can handle your scowling ass all night.”

The conversation around the table continued, drifting in and out of his awareness, but Bucky remained focused. He wasn’t just watching her sing. He was studying her. The way her fingers skimmed the mic stand, the way her shoulders moved just a little too deliberately, the way she seemed to lose herself in the music-but never quite enough. There was a sharpness beneath it, an attentiveness she couldn’t quite shake.

Then he saw it. The moment her attention faltered, her gaze shifting past the stage lights, locking onto something-or someone-at the bar.

He didn’t turn to look. He didn’t have to.

“She’s too observant,” he muttered under his breath, already feeling Clint’s presence beside him.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder. “We got eyes down by the docks,” Clint murmured, voice low. “Stark’s people were seen near the water. Watching one of our shipments come in.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening just slightly. It wasn’t unexpected, but it was still a problem. “How close?”

Clint leaned in. “Close enough.”

Bucky set his glass down with a quiet clink, fingers curling around the edge of the table. He didn’t move yet, just watched. One more moment.

Then he stood, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. The men around him followed without hesitation, falling into step as he made his way toward the Staff Only door.

But not before he looked at her one last time.

She was still singing, but there was something in her expression. A wariness. A quiet, creeping awareness.

She wasn’t just a performer. She was watching. That meant he’d have to watch her too. But right now, there were bigger matters at hand. 

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

PAIRING — tangerine x f!reader

CONTENTS — drabble; blind dates; tan’s a bit of a dick here; but so’s our reader; blood and implied violence; coarse language; reader is horny, okay? and i’m not sorry; one (1) brief reference to hate sex.

SUMMARY — your blind date is a walking red flag (he’s literally covered in blood), but you’re going through a dry spell and god damn it if he’s not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

WORD COUNT — 958

NOTES — please excuse me, i am just obsessed with aaron taylor-johnson lately and i am in such a mood this friday night 😩 also, idk if i’ll write more for this guy solely because his codename is so damn dumb lmao! but i guess never say never 🤭

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

This is the last time you ever say yes to a blind date, even if it has been ages since you were properly and thoroughly laid. Where the hell did your friend even find this guy?

The man sitting across from you in this quiet little cafe is certainly handsome—and definitely overdressed in his expensive-looking three piece suit that compliments the colour of his eyes… well, what’s left of the thing anyway… his jacket looks almost to be in tatters—but he’s all cagey and jittery. His eyes keep darting around the place, and he hasn’t made full eye contact with you once.

He didn’t even introduce himself when he arrived (nearly half an hour late), just slid into the seat on the other side of the table, draping his checkered coat over the back of the chair.

“Wanna tell me why you’re covered in blood?” You ask, arms folded over your chest. The tea you’d ordered for him has gone cold long ago, but he still lifts the cup by the handle and takes a careful sip. He grimaces, but shakes his head.

“You don’t wanna know, luv,” he says, signalling the barista to make him a fresh cup. You want to bury your fingers in his dishevelled hair and yank. At the unimpressed look on your face, he tuts and practically barks, “What? I should say that I came here straight after killin’ some poor bloke, then?”

“Fucking hell, you killed a guy?” You scoff, taking in the blood splattered all over his shirt and smeared on his skin. Some of it is his, you note, but he doesn’t seem phased—nor does anyone else as the barista comes around with a new steaming hot cup of tea. She casually places it on the table before walking away without another glance at either of you.

“No, darling,” he snarks, so condescendingly sarcastic you want to splash that tea right into his pretty face. He gestures to his crimson-stained collar, which lies open enough to give you a good view of his smooth upper chest, “I’m tryin’ to start a new trend. You think the designers will go for it?”

“Figures. Out of all the men I could’ve been set up with, I get set up with a murderer.” But that doesn’t stop you from wondering how that moustache would tickle if you kissed him. Or if he kissed you… in more unorthodox places.

“And yet you’re still fuckin’ sitting here, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes, sighing when he takes a sip of his warm beverage before mumbling, “Mm, that’s more like it.”

“What’s your name then?” You huff, lifting your latte to your mouth, needing to do something to stop you from actually biting your lip, to calm the fire raging inside you. A fire that can surely only be extinguished by sinking your teeth into his neck—

“Well,” he seems to hesitate a bit here, “people call me Tangerine.”

“Tangerine?” You sneer, slamming your coffee cup back down onto its saucer with a loud clank, your latte sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the table. “Okay, that’s fucking ridiculous. I’m not calling you that.”

“Aw, come on, luv,” he tuts again in disapproval, grabbing some napkins from a nearby dispenser and wiping up the spill, muttering sarcastically about your lack of table manners. The sight of those clunky rings on his long, thick fingers makes you shiver. “Also, that’s bloody rude. Are you actually surprised you’re single?”

That’s the final straw, you can practically hear the camel’s back snapping. You stand up abruptly, the legs of your chair screeching loudly against the linoleum.

The guy finally looks right at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Giant waste of time. Not gonna sit here and make small talk when we both know this isn’t going to work out,” you practically growl, winding your scarf around your neck and grabbing your coat. “Where’d you grow up? How many siblings do you have? Ugh, barf. I’d rather you fucking kill me.”

“I have a brother,” he offers casually, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, really?” You ask, not believing him for a second as you grab your purse and loop your arm through the strap. “And what’s his name, Clementine?”

His neatly trimmed moustache twitches, one side of his mouth quirking up into something resembling a smile.

“We call him Lemon, actually,” he smirks as he pulls out a vibrating phone from his pocket. “Speaking of—” he presses the phone to his ear, “Lemme call you back.” Pause. “Tsk, sod off! I’m on a fuckin’ date, bruv. The job’s done, I can do whatever I want with my free time.”

Shit. You curse mentally at that smirk, both taunting and delicious in the worst ways possible, wondering why you haven’t marched out of the cafe yet. On top of everything, the moustached fucker takes a phone call from his brother, who is named Lemon, in the middle of you telling him off?

“Eh, she’s got a bit of a temper, to be honest.” And as a matter of fact, you’re about to blow a god damn gasket, but then his eyes slide to yours. His smirk widens. “But Jesus, Lem—”

You shake your head. No, don’t do it, you bastard. His eyes are positively gleaming.

“—why do I find it hot as hell?”

Damn it.

Yep, you heave a mental sigh. You’re totally gonna fuck him.

And the son of a bitch gives it to you so damn good, you only feel partly silly for repeatedly calling out the name “Tangerine” in the throes of heated bliss.

You make a mental note to send Beetle a thank-you care package. Y’know, later. When you can feel your legs again.

fin.

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