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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months ago

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Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.

P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...

Boo.

On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.

The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.

He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.

The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.

Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.

He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.

He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.

"I figured this is where you were."

He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"

Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."

You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”

“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.

"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."

He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.

"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."

“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”

"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”

His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.

Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.

"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"

"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.

"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"

He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.

"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."

"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."

"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."

"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”

"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."

You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.

"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."

“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”

“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.

“Then…”

“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”

“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”

He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”

“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”

“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”

“Yes…!!”

The midnight waltz began.

He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.

“It’s as plain anyone can see,” he breathed.

“We’re simply meant to be,” you returned.

They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.

For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.

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moonyswoony · 5 months ago

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Lost and found

Pairing: Five hargreeves x reader

Summary: You an Five discover more than just plants and strawberries in the greenhouse

Warning(s): kissing, fluff, nothing really

“What the hell is this place?” Five muttered, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“Beats me,” you replied, stepping further inside. “But it’s not like we’ve stumbled upon a better place than this one so far.”

The two of you had been on the run for what felt like an eternity. Your attempt to figure out the subway had gone sideways—again—and now you were stuck in this strange, green timeline with no clear path back.

Five stayed close as you ventured deeper into the greenhouse, his sharp eyes scanning every inch. “This doesn’t make sense. None of this should be here.”

You brushed your fingers against a nearby vine, feeling the life pulsing through it. “Maybe this is just a small piece of the world that refused to die.”

Five huffed, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “That, or we’ve stumbled into some kind of twisted fairytale.”

“Great. Does that make you the grumpy old troll under the bridge?” you teased.

“If I’m the troll, that makes you the annoying adventurer who won’t stop asking questions,” he shot back, though his tone was more fond than bitter.

As you explored, you found yourself drawn to a patch of strawberries growing along the far wall. They were perfectly ripe, a vibrant red that stood out against the greens and browns around them. Without thinking, you plucked one and popped it into your mouth, savoring the sweetness.

Five watched with raised eyebrows. “You sure that’s safe?”

“If it’s not, at least I’ll go out with a decent meal,” you replied, plucking another and offering it to him.

He hesitated, then took it, biting into the fruit with a thoughtful expression. “Not bad.”

“High praise from you,” you quipped.

There was a brief, comfortable silence as you both absorbed the strange beauty of this place. The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter over the past few days—or even years—slowly began to ease, the peacefulness of this place working its way into your entire being.

As you wandered deeper, you came across a patch of wildflowers bathed in golden sunlight. You knelt to touch them, their delicate petals soft under your fingers. “This feels like a dream,” you murmured.

“Or a trap,” Five countered, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

You looked up at him, catching an unguarded expression in his eyes,something softer, more vulnerable than you were used to seeing. “Five?”

He stepped closer, the sunlight casting a warm glow across his features. “You’ve always been fearless,” he chuckled,though his voice was quieter than usual.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? I’m not fearless, I’m—”

“You are,” he insisted. “And I should have told you sooner.”

“Five…”

“I’ve spent so much time trying to fix everything, trying to keep us all alive, that I forgot there are things I want, too,” he said, his gaze pined on you.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut as you realised what he was implying—not in a painful way, but in a way that left you breathless. You had always known there was something between you, a connection that went deeper than partnership or friendship, but his words still had that affect on you.

Without giving yourself time to overthink it, you reached up and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic, but slow and deliberate, a promise in every brush of your lips against his. Five responded in kind, one hand slipping around your waist while the other cupped the back of your neck, holding you close.

The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth. You felt your knees weaken as a wave of heat washed over you, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt as if to support yourself. His hand slid down your back, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything you had both been holding back,years of unspoken feelings, of missed opportunities, all coming to the surface in this one, perfect moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” he said, his voice rough but certain.

You smiled, your thumb brushing against his jaw. “I love you too.”

For a moment, you both stood there in silence, the reality of what you had just confessed settling over you like a warm blanket. The world around you didn’t feel as interesting anymore, not when he was in front of you.

Five glanced around at the greenery, his expression contemplative. “You know, we don’t have to leave right away.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay?”

“Just for a little while,” he admitted, surprising you with the softness in his voice. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a moment of peace. We could use the rest and some proper food.”

You looked around at the lush greenery, the golden sunlight filtering through the broken skylight, and felt a sense of calm settle over you. “Yeah,” you agreed, smiling up at him. “Let’s stay.”

With that decision made, the tension that had been a constant companion began to melt away. You found a spot to sit, leaning against a wall covered in ivy, and Five joined you, his hand finding yours and holding it tightly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax. No missions, no timelines, no disasters—just the two of you, in a place that felt almost unreal.

Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “if we’re staying here, we might as well make the most of it.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring every second. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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evieelyzabethh · 1 month ago

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"soft"

⭒"baby do you wanna touch? look at how you make me blush"⭒ Arcane characters as different romance tropes {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞ slightly pervy jayce, lots of fluff

♞Vi ~ Opposites Attract♞

♞Vi really likes being able to be the protector. It's a bit too much pressure having to be a good role model, she struggles with the idea of people looking up to her. She's brash, she has a foul mouth, she can never seem to make the right decision, the only thing she feels like she's capable of is fighting. She's always rough, her hands are perpetually bloody and bandaged, her lip is cut, her hair cut is choppy and haphazard, she stomps when she walks. No one expects her to be with someone so soft

♞Not Piltie soft, not softness afforded to you because you'd never know suffering. Not soft like a downy blanket or a stuffed animal, soft like a worn t-shirt or like the petal of a flower. Something worn and broken down, something that rather than becoming hard or wilting away, it remained. Soft doesn't have to mean innocent, sometimes the softness is out of spite; out of determination to thrive. Softness as a form of rebellion.

♞ She would be in awe of you. Everyone in the lanes ends up fucked up. Overrun with shimmer, Grey, and cycles of violence, you don't have a choice in being hardened. Theories of evolution don't support softness; no good armor is gentle. And yet, the way you patch up her wounds, the way you communicate, the way you move, is all languid and smooth. You're like water and, for the first time, she isn't oil, she's ice. You aren't all that different, all she has to do is be willing enough to melt into you.

♞This isn't to say your helpless. You can throw a punch just fine but defense may just be the best offense. Turns out, knowing how to punch isn't as important as knowing when. You play defense, you bob and weave through physical situations and have a way with words that isn't often appreciated down here. In a world where everyone is always on high alert, shoulders tensed and fists clenched, you just breathe. It sounds simple, what if you just didn't fight? Not just through actions, but also through how you move. If stealing is inevitable, why not learn to grow? It's not just kindness, it's awareness. Why is stealing inevitable? Why do all of us starve? Why do we fight the neighbor; because the people who built the complex are too far.

♞Your softness brings out domesticity in Vi. Even though she still enjoys pit fighting on the side and the occasional bar fight, it's only because she looks forward to coming home. She enjoys the warm bubble baths and the shoulder massages, she's satisfied to see all the dirty and grime wash down the drain, she likes feeling not just clean but lighter. It's safe. Usually, she's the bigger spoon, but in your admittedly cramped tub, you sit behind her, and she allows her head to sink into your chest, the warm water sitting at her chin as she listens to you giggle as you kiss her sudsy neck and ask how her day was.

♞She indulges you when it comes to your self care days. She rolls her eyes as you slide the fluffy headband over her face, but she can no longer hide her content when you hold her hand to paint her nails after you use some sort of wooden tool to dig the dirt from beneath him. Every night with you feels like heaven after she just dug her way out of hell.

♞The perfect end to these nights is requesting you read something to her. It doesn't really matter what, it could be some cheesy romance or sciency textbook you swiped from Jayce's lab. She forgets how much she likes to read; she often doesn't have the time for it. And sometimes the words tend to swim around, floating through one ear and out the other, fighting to stick into the grooves of her brain but ultimately slipping right out, but even that does matter. It's the time spent. It's the hard cover and the soft pages. It's you and her.

★Ekko ~ Time Travel Romance★

★He is convinced you were made in a lab. He thinks it is impossible that you were just made that way, seemingly made just for him. Sometimes it's like you share the same brain, you think of the same jokes, you have the same ideas, it's like there some sort of bridge between both of your brains where even your synapses connect and blink in unison

★He's sure there's some sort of sappy saying that applies, one or two times of these occurrences just being a coincidence but after ten it's fate. What does it mean if these instances are innumerable, these moments of connectedness. Meeting you was a coincidence, sure, but you were always you before you met him. You laughed at the same things, you laughed in the same voice that from the start seemed to be in perfect harmony with his, the sound came from the same lips he's kissed thousands of times that practically fit together like puzzle pieces. In his mind, maybe even meeting wasn't a coincidence, with how perfectly you slot together, maybe even that was fate

★He was never even a big "fate" guy. He likes to believe that every one's choices are their own just as every one's consequences should be their own. The idea that his forever was already planned and picked for him, even if it was the most perfect pairing he could ask for, wasn't appealing because it wasn't his pick. His choice matters. His actions matter. He doesn't think of it in a "fate" way, he doesn't think he was always destined to pick you, he hardly even thinks of you as a separate entity

★Not to get existential or anything, but people are born from a hole and get placed into one after they die. Stars hit the end of their life cycles and from their ash come new stars. Every second someone dies and someone else is born. It's all so incredibly cyclical. Everyone ends up back where they started until forever. I mean, there's no proof for it, but surely the heat death of the universe would cause the spark that creates a new one, to be alive is to make life. The very act of breathing gives life to trees, the life of everything is in some way dependent on the life of another, all of which provides life to the whole. And surely our ash won't disappear, just as even the tiny neurons in our brain remember those whose voices, scents, and touch we can't remember. Essense never seems to leave. Your own is your own and it seems to have a never-ending magnetic urge to come back together and be whole. The cycle never ends because everything desires to be whole.

★That's how Ekko feels. With everything desiring to be whole, time is the throughway. It's the channel that brings everything together, not fate. You weren't destined to be together, you were made to be together, you had always been together. Two parts of the same whole which is part of an even bigger whole that has yet to be discovered and found, but you will together. The larger the magnet, the bigger its field of attraction, and you two will grow and grow until either you have become completely whole, or you shatter from passion in the process, the pieces of you mixed and spread to be reunited even stronger just a few moments later. Moments that could be seconds or millennia. When time is the only infinite and the desire to be whole is constant, what significance do those moments matter.

★Ekko knows better than to push the limits of time, so I use this trope very lightly. He does travel through time, but in much smaller ways. 4 second ways. It's a beautiful thing to not be confined to the parameters of time, even better to understand the sheer power of the second. This isn't to say he's never felt the urge to go back further, only that he knows that the universal and personal consequences would be even greater

★Thinking of it less like time travel, it's more akin to a replay feature. To go back further and change too much maybe wouldn't be a sci-fi disaster, but it certainly would be a disaster in his mind. Sure, bringing stopping Powder from blowing up that factory would have maybe prevented the death of Vander and even further instability in Zaun, but he would remember. The weight of his time would never leave him. What he changes in a matter of 4 seconds has changed the outcome of his entire universe, he knows that small time can matter just as much as big time. That big change certainly would change how you meet. If you two ever meet. He cherishes what you two have to even risk knowing what he left behind for the potential to make everything better. In his whole life of being selfless, this minutely selfish act he believes he's owed. He has absolutely no desire to push forward.

★Instead, he replays his little moments with you. Sometimes it's to prevent small mishaps, like dropping your favorite mug or the embarrassment of tripping in public. Sometimes it's just to relive you. It's a guilty pleasure of his when he can't stop you from leaving to replay your goodbye kiss at least once more until he's ready to let you go. Some may say he abuses his control of time, but he never takes what isn't his, so what can be the harm in elongating what's already eternal.

❂Jayce~ She Fell First, He Fell Harder❂

❂Jayce is hard not to love when you understand him. Just visually he's appealing enough, but internally he's very endearing. He's dorky, and sweet, and one of the most intensely loving people you've ever met. It's a real skill to so thoroughly have faith in humanity. Yes, he's naive, and rather dependent, and maybe a bit of a perv, but he's also touch-starved with a deep desire to be affectionate. He's touchy; emotionally and physically.

❂ Things are always sweet, even before he really falls. He does all the gentlemenly things, he holds open the doors, he ties your shoes, he gives you his jacket when you get cold. They're noticeable actions, his consuming hand on your knee as he steadies himself while double knotting your laces, his large jacket swallowing you in his scent and warmth. Eventually, it gets smaller. He keeps hair ties on his wrists, when you can't decide on what you want for dinner, he knows for you, your music recommendations being to pop up on his playlists. Rather than consuming you, he's being consumed.

❂There is no such thing as being too close. He actually gets frustrated that he can't be even closer. His favorite moments are when he's wrapped in you, when he's listening to your music, when you hug him, when your thighs are wrapped around his head. He likes being consumed. He likes knowing how your brain works; what makes you tick. He likes to know what you like, what you don't like, what you think of his haircut, what you think of his projects, what you think of him. He's probably asked you that a million times. What was your first impression of him? Did you love him at first sight? Did you think he was handsome?

❂If he could crawl into your skin he could. Being a very touchy person, it's not a surprise to anyone that he enjoys having sex with you. It's how he feels most intimate; he likes to be inside you, it's how he feels most connected. It's not the simple fact that you feel good, he likes the warmth, he likes how you suffocate him, he likes to make you feel good, he lives for it, it's the fact that there is no clear separation between the two of you. It's not clear where you end, and he begins, whether it's his cum or yours leaking out of you, whether it's his moans or yours bouncing off the wall. He likes there being ways of separating the two of you, so thoroughly mixed, there's no point in pulling him out of you.

❂While you fell first, there was never a moment where he didn't love you. Certainly never a moment where he didn't notice you. It's kinda like you were always there, and eventually you coagulated into something so great he couldn't just ignore you anymore. You were always in his lab, always in the corner of his eyes, always looking out for him, always lingering. Your scribbles on his notes, the clicks of your shoes, your fingerprints on his machines. He never didn't like you, it's just that the like accumulated to love and, if you can believe it, the love became something else entirely. He's a scientist; The Man of Progress. If nothing else, he is an inventor. He used science to make magic, surely, he can make love into something even greater.

❂He draws you constantly. Your name lives in the margins of his notes, your face can be made from his pointless scrawls, your voice can be heard through his. Even when he's not thinking, he's replicating pieces of you. You are his brain's base state, that is how totally you consume him.

☽Viktor ~ Oblivious☾

☽Viktor is someone who never put much emphasis on a relationship. He liked to focus on his craft, spend all day in his lab, and go home to his empty apartment, maybe crack open a bottle and read near his desk lamp. He just never thought he needed it. Obviously, relationships with others are important, but he never expected to find what he wanted in a partner from Piltover

☽It couldn't be clearer that he was from Zaun. The way he dressed, the way he spoke, hell his illness is a byproduct of him living in Zaun. You can take the man from his home, but you will never take his home from him. This being said, he's no stranger to the cold looks and the effort put in to minimize his efforts. Jayce's name is on the patents, Jayce speaks to the people, Jayce is the man of progress, not Viktor. If he wanted affection and appreciation, he wouldn't think to look where he was at.

☽This being said, he is completely oblivious to you crush on him. It's not even a complete focus on work, it's because he wouldn't assume that of a Piltie. It's also not a self-worth thing, he has never been insecure of his home, and he has even less felt a desire to assimilate better within Piltover and beg for their approval. He is as prideful as he is stubborn, he has never thought he was less than. Due to the arrogant attitudes of the world around him, he assumed you were the same

☽He takes your kindness for pity as for. He assumes you tidy his space as a passive aggressive way of telling him he's a slob. He thinks your warm greetings are all part of some large joke. He assumes the snacks you try and share with him are out of obligation rather than sincerity. He never listens to Jayce when he tries to tell him that you're just nice. What would Jayce know? Everyone is nice to him because he's...well, Jayce. He's been to council meetings, he's seen the Lanes, he's heard the snide remarks since he got here, he knows that kindness to people like him is never just kindness.

☽Still, as you persist, he softens some. He finds that you're quite nice to talk to. The more you come around, the more he expects you to. Almost anxious, he's filled with something in his chest, maybe anticipation. He wants to know the ideas you have on the new blueprints he just drafted. He wants to hear about your studies. He wants to hear about that book you started reading. It's a breath of fresh air to have someone to talk to about non-work matters. A friend is what he thinks of you, and how he thinks you see him. Never mind how your eyes seem to dodge his gaze and your cheeks redden on the rare occasion that his hand brushes over yours or his knee grazes your thigh. He doesn't even try and make excuses for it because he doesn't even notice it.

☽He also doesn't notice a few things about himself. Mainly about how he puts a brush through his hair in the morning or how he straightens his tie while he waits for your knock at the door. His thigh bouncing is surely just because it's colder than usual in the lab. He doesn't notice how much he talks about you. How much he looks back over the notes you leave, both the meaningful ones and the small hearts and stars you leave on his pages. Even worse, he doesn't notice when you ask him to be your date to an upcoming gala

☽He thought you were kidding. Galas weren't at all his thing, he wasn't that smooth on his feet, and to be quite honest, he found most of those around him to be insufferable. He knew you enjoyed things like this, and strangely after mentioning his mind would infrequently wander to images of you all dolled up, but he didn't picture himself with you. Oblivious to your very obvious crush on him, he doesn't see himself as someone you would want in your happiest moments. So, when you asked if he had any plans that night, and he mentioned his lab, and you asked if you could meet him there to escort him to the party, he thought you were kidding. You were not kidding.

☽You looked beautiful. Viktor isn't often at a loss for words, but when he heard you knock and walked over to open the door for you, his bad leg nearly gave out, pushing himself further into his cane. He looks...disheveled. Glasses perched low on his nose, ink on his hands, hair in a state of disarray, wrinkled clothes. Even worse, you looked disappointed. You tried to make a joke of it, asking if that's what he planned on wearing, and he replied in a confused tone that he didn't think you were going to go at all.

☽You cry and for the first time he recognizes that the way he feels may not be as uncaring as he thought. He's bad at comfort, lightly tapping your shoulder as you confess through labored breaths that you really liked him and you thought he liked you back and if he really didn't want to be bothered with you, he could've just said as such. You push away from him, surprisingly, eyes puffy as you notice his shocked impression for the first time. "I didn't know." is all he can muster. He didn't know you liked him, and he certainly didn't know he liked you.

☽Even more surprisingly, as you dust yourself off to spend the rest of your night alone with a pint of ice cream, he pulls you in for a kiss. It's awkward and stiff, but when he realizes what he's doing, his eyes finally close and he holds your face as he wipes the tears from your eyes. He apologizes about the gala, not that it mattered all that much now. You had only wanted to dance with him, which you did all night long anyway.

☼Mel~ Friends to Lovers☼

☼Affections is something that has never come all that easy to Mel. She was always told that she needed to be the wolf, she was supposed to be cold, unfeeling, and ruthless. And while that never would've been her, affection is not her first instinct, receiving or giving. She has gotten quite comfortable with you over the years.

☼The friends to lovers would be so smooth that there is no place you could pinpoint when the friends became lovers. Even as friends, she spent more time with you than anyone else. You took your meals together, you practically lived together, you worked together. So many nights were spent just casually in each other's presence, slowly getting closer as you would move from her couch, then the chair by her bed, to being halfway up under her as you fell asleep sprawled on top of her sheets.

☼Even more than the close proximity, was the emotional and physical intimacy. Learning about her mom, her brother, hearing her question what she's even doing here in Piltover, listening as she dreams of a world with no rulers and no warring countries and just peace where she can live on her own little island and just sleep. A world where her mom feels at peace enough to stop making war, a world where there is no undercity, no topside, just the sun, the land, and peace.

☼And she tells you all of this and more. Simpler and lighter things, that new dress she saw when window shopping, the latest gossip, this new tea she tried a week ago, and she tells you with her hand casually thrown over yours or her head on your shoulder. She doesn't notice when she starts, but eventually her hugs become less sporadic. It's no longer startling for her to just come up to you and hug you, and when you ask her why, she just replies with a smile and says because she wanted to. She does a lot of things because she wants to, lightly running her hands through your hair, lightly bumping into you when walking side by side, plopping down right next to you as you finish work.

☼You two had been inseparable for a while now. While not sharing every moment of the day together, the moments that matter are always spent in each other's company. The hard moments after meetings with her mother, the tiring late nights after a long day of having to be social, the happy times of enjoying the hard work of a new recipe. Even before people started speculating if you had been dating, it was always Mel and You. You two were almost defined by each other, traits being compared in relation to who the other was. You were nicer but Mel was more talkative. You were always linked together in conversation.

☼Ambessa wasn't a fan of this, of course. She knows what it feels like for others to make you weak, and she may have a point when she tells Mel that to protect herself, she also had to protect you. However, Ambessa underestimates her daughter. She underestimates your bond. Mel has no qualms with being your protector just as you don't mind being hers. Mel understands love far better than her mother does, love isn't only having someone to protect but also having someone to protect you. You aren't some princess in a castle, and she is no knight who must keep the dragons from your tower, you can take care of yourself. If you need her, she's there. Love is her willingness to be there, it doesn't force her

☼Mel doesn't question anything about the two of you. She loves the way you both flow. She cares for you deeply. That's all there is to it. She never saw the point in putting any sort of label on it, she's been telling her she loves you since she realized that she did. There's never been any shame in that, because she does love you. What's the point in saying I love you as a friend or as a partner, she loves you in a way that transcends both those terms. She loves you deeply. So deeply it fills her, it fuels her, it makes her feel whole. Though, you've always made her feel whole.

☼So, when she starts referring to you as her lover, there is no big fanfare. The relationship had never really changed, how you felt certainly didn't change either, just the name you told everyone else to put on it.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #arcane x you #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #jayce arcane #jayce x reader #mel arcane #mel x reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane headcanon

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xbellaxcarolinax · 1 year ago

Text

Earth 703

Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

Summary: You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? (Sex pollen. Except it's you this time.)

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: language, smut, p in v, oral (male receiving), cum eating, some soft Miguel, maybe ooc. Not beta-read. Forgive the mistakes.

Part 2 of the sex pollen ask, by popular demand. Can be read as a stand alone but the lore stems from that ask. Hope ya'll like it.

...

Drowning. It felt like drowning.

The air suddenly felt thick as you fought to remain calm. The sensation of pins and needles ravaged the surface of your skin under your digital suit (designed by Miguel himself, as promised), running down your arms and abdomen until a burning heat settled between your legs.

Sweat began to bead along your brow, and you bit your lip to control your accelerating heartbeat.

Shit. You fucked up. Badly.

You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel?

You’d recognized the daisies immediately—remembered the giant stems and the bright white petals, how it made Miguel greedy and depraved.

The New York jungle of Earth 703 was just as dense as the last time you’d visited. It was a second mission in search of the anomaly, and you’d decided to complete it independently. That’d been a mistake. And not telling Miguel about it was an even bigger mistake, but unfortunately, you hadn’t put much thought into that last part. You wanted this mission done and over with.

But mostly, you wanted to prove you could do it yourself.

Miguel would be furious if he knew the predicament you were in. But there was no need for him to find out, right?

The Prowler had a strength that you’d underestimated, easily tossing you into the mass of pollinated daisies before darting off, glitching with an array of colors as he ran away.

You’d been knocked out, waking up covered in pollinated dust like a pastry dusted in powdered sugar. You’d sneezed a couple of times before stumbling out of the daisy patch disoriented before finding the nearest tree and leaning against it, dusting yourself off.

And that is where you found yourself now, sprawled out with your back against the tree and your legs spread wide, your cunt burning with a need to be filled.

Okokokokok. This was fine. You could manage. If you just sat there patiently, the effects would wear off and you could go back to HQ without anyone noticing you were gone. However, that was easier said than done.

You fought the desire to touch yourself.

You knew that if you did you’d be in trouble, and no one would be able to help. But you were weak of mind, slowly trailing your hand down your abdomen to lightly press your fingers over your throbbing cunt. You groaned, thumping your head back harshly against the tree.

It felt good but it did nothing to ease the growing sensation. You tapped your cunt again, the arousal running through you immediately. You were panting now, letting your mask fall so that you could breathe better.

The burning increased and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. You pushed your sweat-slicked hair away from your face with both hands, pausing for a moment to help yourself get a grip.

You felt so incredibly empty. You couldn’t tell for sure but you just knew your core was dripping wet, waiting to be filled by someone’s cock.

You didn’t want to think about that someone just yet, knowing that if you conjured up his image (and his cock) in your mind's eye, you’d be a salivating, mewling mess.

Again, you tried to alleviate the discomfort, this time pressing the heel of your palm over your core. You mewled in response, resisting the urge to cry out in pain and frustration.

It was beginning to hurt, the burning flaring into an intense heat, and you swore you could feel it running down your legs, making your toes curl uncomfortably. Your vision blurred as your eyes tried to make sense of your surroundings.

Suddenly your watch went off, and when you struggled to raise your arm to answer the call, an image of Miguel appeared.

“Where are you?” He demanded, “Why’d you turn off your location? I’ve been looking everywhere for you at HQ.” You wanted to respond, you really did, but when you tried to speak the only sound that slipped out was a pained gasp, followed by a sob as you pressed your free hand over your suit-covered pussy.

“Are you—are you crying?”

Were you? You hadn't realized, couldn’t feel the fat tears rolling down your numb cheeks and past your chin. You could hear the subtle panic in his voice, his image seemingly appearing closer as he pulled his watch toward his face to inspect you.

You did nothing but whimper in response, choking on humid air.

“Baby, listen to me,” Miguel reasoned, his tone measured and confident but not free of worry, “Are you safe?”

“T-think s-so,” you managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain running through you. You groaned, your head dropping forward as your muscles tensed.

“Can you tell me where are you?”

“E-earth s-seven—” Miguel cut you off with a great sigh, his pixelated form running a hand down his face.

“Stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”

You didn’t need to finish. He knew exactly where to find you.

…

At least the new suit came in handy.

When you couldn’t wait for Miguel any longer you deactivated your suit, leaving yourself stark naked in the middle of the jungle.

Normally, you’d be completely mortified, but the throbbing in your cunt overpowered the embarrassment. You simply didn’t care, not when you were desperate for physical touch, desperate to be filled to the brim.

You’re assumption had been correct—you were absolutely soaked. You sighed as you allowed your fingers to swirl through your folds, your creamy juices clinging to your skin as you pulled out to inspect them.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, finally plunging your fingers into your needy little hole, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Your bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you let your other hand skim up and tweak at one of your sensitive nipples.

You bit your lip, breathing in harshly through your nose. It was good but it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t what your pussy craved.

You continued to thrust your fingers inside, holding on to whatever semblance of relief you could get.

A portal appeared in the middle of you working yourself open, Miguel stepping through. Your eyes reflected the bright yellow glow of the portal until it disappeared behind him.

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he did so often when facing a predicament.

“Baby…” he began, squatting in front of you, his red eyes observing your nakedness, your tear-stained cheeks and red lips, swollen from worrying them. You hadn’t stopped for even a moment, mewling as your fingers worked your messy pussy. You were so incredibly wet, the squelching loud enough for you both to hear.

He wrapped a large hand around your wrist in an attempt to stop you, but you hissed, pushing him away with a weak kick before continuing to stuff yourself.

“Stop,” he said, grabbing your feverish face in his hands, “activate your suit. I’m taking you home.”

“Don’t wanna move,” you cried, more tears rolling down your cheeks, “it hurts.”

“I know, baby, I know, let me take you home.” He was barely successful in removing your hand from your sopping cunt, your fingers pruned with how wet you were. He fought to ignore the strong scent of your arousal and the way your slit glistened.

Miguel held your body close, feeling how your limbs trembled. He stroked your hair to soothe you, running a hand up and down your back in comfort. His cock began to swell when you rutted against him, pushing him down so that he was flat against the ground.

“Coño, wait—”

You ignored his protests, grinding your cunt against him in deliciously slow circles, mewling all the while. Your mind felt hazy, the arousal so powerful that you couldn’t think properly, too overwhelmed by the immense pleasure of your cunt rubbing over Miguel's bulge.

“Miguel,” you whined, your hands firmly planted on his chest as you moved skillfully over him, “I need you, please, just—just put it in real quick, I’ll be good, I swear, I just need your fat—”

“Shh,” Miguel, placed his finger over your mouth to silence you, his chest heaving as he watched you move above him, “I’ll give you what you want, yes? Then I’m taking you home.”

“Yesyesyesyes, whatever you want, please—” In a matter of seconds you were able to feel Miguel’s bare skin under your fingertips, his large cock springing to life, bobbing angrily against his stomach. Your eyes sparkled at the sight.

You shuffled down clumsily, gripping his cock and quickly spitting on it to lubricate it. It was hot and heavy in your hands, and your mouth watered, desperate for a taste. You wasted no time in devouring him, lapping at the sides and swirling around the fat head, his precome already coating your tongue.

“Damn,” he groaned, his head propped up so he could get a proper view of you. He licked his lips, watching you suck his cock as if you’d never have the chance to taste him again.

His fingers weaved into your hair, careful not to tug on the strands too hard. You set a vicious pace, moaning around his shaft as spit dribbled past the corners of your lips and down your chin. His cock twitched in your hands when you began to jerk him, a sure sign that he was close, “You’re gonna make me come.”

You hummed in response, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and gagging when he hit the back of your throat.

“S-shit—” Miguel slammed your head down into his pelvis, his hips lifting slightly away from the ground as he came down your throat, his large load making you sputter over his cock. “Fuck.”

He was a panting mess, his eyes lidded as he watched you lap up the come that slipped past your mouth and onto his dick, making sure to clean him thoroughly.

Before he could get a word out you straddled his lap, taking his hardening cock in hand and lining it up with your needy hole.

You looked up at him for a second, searching his eyes for protest.

“Take what you need from me, hermosa.” He panted, his hands running up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Ride me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You cried out when you slammed down on his cock, the stretch of him intense but nothing you weren’t used to. Your greedy hole swallowed him, coating his shaft with your creamy juices as you began to ride him.

You came within minutes, your body quivering and your cunt squeezing him tightly, gushing all over him. He was moaning beneath you, helping you ride out your orgasm before he choked, filling your womb with thick ropes of white.

Miguel lifted you up by the waist, your pussy fighting to hold onto him as his cock flopped out, his spend and yours dripping down your thighs and over his hips and abdomen.

“M-Miguel,” you whined, your fingers searching between your legs to scoop up some of the mess, quickly shoving your digits in your mouth for a taste. You moaned around your fingers, your eyes fluttering at the taste of him mixed with your tanginess, creating a devilish mixture that had you craving more.

“Shit, baby,” Miguel groaned, his eyes trained on your mouth as you sucked on your fingers, searching for every last taste of him, “you okay?”

“I-I need more, I need you,” your core began to burn again after being left empty for only a few moments, “i-it still hurts.” You rubbed your soaked core over his cock, making it hard again. “Let me ride you again.”

Miguel’s brow twitched, and with a grunt he sat up, holding you flush against his skin. He placed a kiss over your sweaty brow, pressing his nose in your hair to inhale the earthy scent.

“Let me take you home, preciosa. Please.”

“I need you now.” Tears began to blur your vision once again as you looked up at him. His expression was one of concern as he held you close, his lips set in a tight line. You were never this whiny with him, ever. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, baby, I know. I’ll make it better, I promise, just let me take you home.”

You allowed him to fiddle with your watch, pressing a few buttons to activate your suit before he activated his own. You were clawing at his shoulders as he lifted you in his arms, your nails hardly breaking the barrier of his suit but still sharp enough to cause discomfort.

He ignored it, summoning a portal as you shook in his arms, and took you home.

…

He came down your throat for a second time.

You’d been so eager to take his cock in your mouth again as soon as he brought you to his apartment, sucking him off until he felt he had nothing more left to give you.

And for the second time, you rode him, bouncing over him with a vigor he didn’t know you had, making him come deep within your walls. Your pussy was a drooling, sticky mess, unsatiated with the number of times Miguel filled you.

You shuddered as another orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs ached and trembled as you pulled away, covering his skin in his spend.

It still wasn’t enough.

Miguel lay motionless on his bed, his hair a matted, sweaty mess, his body spent from the number of orgasms you took from him. His hands fell from your waist when you shifted away, his tired gaze regarding the wild look in your eyes.

“Amor, please,” he hissed, his eyes screwing shut as you took his cock in your small hand, slapping it over your mound to awaken him for another round, “s’too much. You gotta let me—fuck.” You spit on his shaft, pumping him a few times and bringing him back to life.

“I need you, Miguel, need your cock,” you whispered, feeling him twitch delightfully in your hand before lining him up over your ravenous cunt, and sinking down.

Miguel choked, his claws sinking into his sheets and causing tears in the delicate fabric. He brought his legs up, bending them at the knees, hoping to slow down your movements but you couldn’t be contained, riding him for all he was worth.

You caught a glimpse of his fangs protruding past his lower lip, and that was enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm, clamping down on him and causing him to cry out as he filled you (again) to the brim.

When you replicated the same steps from before—pulling out and allowing him a second before attempting to stuff him back in you— Miguel stopped you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“No more,” he begged. You’d never heard him beg before. It sounded so pretty with the tiniest hint of vulnerability that had your cunt aching for more.

“I-It’s okay,” you panted, leaning down to kiss him, “one more, okay? One more.”

You carefully sat on his large cock again, sinking down carefully.

And whenever he hissed and groaned, you ignored it.

…

When you woke up you were in the bath.

The warm water smelled of lavender and jasmine, caressing your skin pleasantly.

Miguel loomed above you, hair wet and a white t-shirt clinging to his moist skin. He lathered a bath sponge in soap before lifting your arm, gently scrubbing your skin.

You blinked the sleep from your tired eyes, gazing up at him. He looked beautiful. His lips were pursed in concentration as he focused on each individual finger, making sure to scrub the grime from under your fingernails.

“Miguel?” You called to him quietly, your fingers twitching in his hand. His red eyes shifted to your face, the concerned look from earlier still plastered over his features. “Are you mad at me?”

Miguel grunted, dropping your hand to dip the sponge in the water before taking up your other hand.

“My girlfriend’s an idiot,” he muttered, scrubbing away at your fingers. You frowned, sinking deeper into the water until your mouth was barely above the surface. Your body ached but your pussy ached more. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered sadly, “I thought I could handle it on my own.” Miguel heaved a sigh, urging you to sit up so that he could scrub your back.

“I know, baby,” he answered softly, “but I don’t want you doing that again, ¿me escuchas? You need to communicate with me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your head hanging low in defeat. You didn’t know how much you’d slept, but you were still exhausted, your eyes heavy with the threat of sleep.

Miguel grunted in response, before placing a kiss to your brow—his silent way of forgiving you.

“I told you to stay away from the daisies the last time we were there.”

“It was an accident.”

Another grunt from Miguel.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, brushing a wet finger over the bulge on his briefs. He hissed, slapping your hand away.

“Off limits.” He snapped.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I can’t count how many times you made me cum.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Cállate.”

You giggled, carefully reaching up to place a kiss over his pouting lips.

“Love you too, Miguel.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv #spiderman 2099

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