#so far i'm enjoying the activity lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weasleyreidstyles · 9 months ago

Text

on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

#hogmarch challenge #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #fluff

1K notes · View notes

forgeofthenine · 1 year ago

Note

Omg in the last few posts you were talking about heat as in temperature but my brain registered it as something COMPLETELY different and it got me thinking…

What if tieflings had some kind of a heat cycle and they get extra sensitive and desperate because of it?? I can imagine Zevlor and Rolan being super embarrassed or nervous to bring it up, maybe Dammon’s more chill about it but still extra needy

So, this has absolutely been a passing thought in my mind and as soon as this request came in I knew I just had to push it to the front of my request queue, purely for my own mental health lol

Gotta admit, I'm a fan of omegaverse dynamics and I actually looked a little into irl animal biology and mating behaviour to get a better feel for what I think tieflings would be the most like. So this has both general headcanons and some NSFW headcanons for the individual bachelors

You probably didn't expect quite this much (over a thousand words of tief content) when requesting but this had me in a chokehold, I hope everyone enjoys <3

TW: NSFW under the cut, very heavy breeding kink, overstimulation, alpha/omega adjacent dynamics

Tiefling NSFW heat and rut headcanons

General

So, I feel like once all tiefs reach sexual maturity they'll start to either have heats or ruts, depending on their biology

Anyone with female biology will have a heat, and I feel like they'd have heats similar to cats but with a slightly longer time between heats

So generally they'd have a heat every two to three months or so unless they're pregnant or have other health issues

For the ones with male biology they'd definitely have a rut

They'd follow similar patterns to the women, but it's not unusual for some tieflings to have longer stretches between their ruts if they don't have a partner

A single tiefling that isn't particularly sexually active might only go into rut once or twice a year

I do think a male tiefling could prematurely go into rut if exposed to a females heat, and couples that have been together for a while will sync up

They have pretty typical heat and rut behaviours with nesting, possessiveness, and a pretty undeniable breeding kink

Nesting, possessiveness, and general mood shifts tend to start setting in during pre-heats and pre-ruts

Pre-heats and pre-ruts can last two to five days, and a full heat and rut can last anywhere from two days to a full week depending on the individual

In saying that, having a partner can definitely shorten both heats and ruts, so single tieflings working through things by themselves will have longer heats or ruts

Heats and ruts can also become more painful the longer they go on without the relief of a sexual partner

Tieflings can tell when others are in heat and rut mostly through pheromones, but a female tieflings tail will also involuntarily lift when she's in pre-heat/heat and around a male

I wonder if I should go so far as to headcanon that they have knots, I did already give them all ridged dicks

Dammon

If you and Dammon aren't dating then he'll be much more shy about his ruts

He basically disappears from his forge and the public for a few days and then comes back as if nothing happened

Once you start dating him is when you find out why he pulls the disappearing act

Dammon is actually very open about it now you're both together and have already been intimate

Blushes slightly while trying to explain some of the more physical, primal aspects

Would flush even more if you tell him you find the whole thing incredibly attractive

The next time he has his rut, you're the only person allowed to see him, and he really is a sight

Naked and tangled in his sheets, all flushed and tense, undeniably hard as he palms himself while looking over at you

Even the way he strips you of your clothing is different, he just about rips it off you as he kisses and nips down your neck and chest

While Dammon is usually one to take his time with making you feel good when he's in rut the only thing on his mind is getting to cum

Though even in his hazy mind frame he still makes sure you're comfortable the whole time

Even a near sex crazed and highly hormonal Dammon is still a very caring partner

You know he's going to bend you in half as he fucks you, he just loves how good you look underneath him like that

Breeding kink go brrrr

This man always fucks like he's trying to breed you but it's off the charts when he's in rut

I hope you're ready to be fucked within an inch of your life because his refractory period ceases to exist

Absolutely watches as he pulls out of you and some of him cum leaks out because he's stuffed you so full

Dammon praises you so well too, you can not shut up this man and his dirty talk

"That's it gorgeous, you take my cock so well."

"You gonna make me a daddy, darling? 'm gonna knock you up, full you up with my cum."

Once his rut dies down enough, he'll scoop you up for a bath

There is no way you could stand after the way this man just wrecked you-

Dammon takes very good care of you, and then you do it all again the next day

Zevlor

Whether you're dating Zevlor or not, he's your personal wealth of knowledge on everything tiefling

So what do you do when a book you read mentions 'the times of year and conditions unique to tieflings' and doesn't explain it?

You go and find your favourite paladin

Zevlor is so embarrassed, dating or not, explaining to you how tiefling heats and ruts work

Can't even keep his eyes on you

When you two are dating and you realise you didn't see him at all yesterday, it's time to go hunting for the man

You have an idea of what might be going on but nothing prepares you for what you find

Much like Dammon, you find him tangled in his bed sheets desperately trying to get himself off

He lets out the sexiest groan when he sees you standing there

He's the gentlest of the three while working through his rut

Even then, Zevlor is noticeably rougher with you than usual

Has you in a missionary position, his whole body pressed to yours as he pants in your ear and thrusts into you

Zevlor can't keep his hands off you when he's in rut, they're all over your hips and chest and giving light tugs to your hair

He gives into the primal need to mark you too, it's the only time he'll give you hickeys

Breeding kink: the sequel

Absolutely tells you he's going to breed you, and fucks you like he means it

Doesn't even think as he uses his hands and tail to spread your legs so he can fuck you deeper

Zevlor loves to look at the way you tremble every time he fills you with cum, using his fingers to help you get off at the same time

Even while he's trying to find his own relief, he makes sure to make you cum so many times you end up overstimulated and about to cry from the pleasure

Definitely has you cockwarm him as the two of rest, the thought of you keeping his seed so deep in you until it takes just gets him going again

You'll know he's ready for another round when Zevlor starts grinding himself into you again

When the worst of his rut is over he gives you the best massages

Apologises so profusely too the first few times you help him through his rut, even if you tell him how much you like it

Rolan

There is no way Rolan is ever telling you anything about heats and ruts

Absolutely forbidd his siblings from mentioning it too, he's just way too embarrassed for you to know

Even when you guys are dating he just locks himself away in his tower for a week while he works through it and recovers

This man will not tell you anything

And then he forgets to lock the door

As soon as you open it you're met with the sight of a whiney, teary eyed Rolan trying to get off by grinding against a pillow in desperation

Unlike with the other two, there's no clear 'top' when you're with Rolan during his rut

He loves having you ride him until he sees stars just as much as he wants to bend you over his desk until everyone else in Ramaziths tower can hear you scream

Rolan loves hearing you when he's in rut

Yell his name, tell him that you belong to him, tell him how good he fucks you, say he looks so pretty when you ride him-

He loves all of it so much

He's also the one that bites you the hardest, expect him to draw at least a little bit of blood by accident

Breeding kink: the trilogy

Rolan isn't letting you leave the room unless he's knocked you up

Absolutely puts a fertility spell on you by brushing his hand over your lower belly and murmuring the words

He also refuses to pull out unless it's to change positions, and if any cum leaks out of you he'll push it back in with his fingers

Overstimulation is the name of the game with Rolan, he wants you both overstimulated and crying and completely fucked out

This man believes in equality and we love him for it

The youngest of the tiefling bachelors and definitely the most pent up, it'll take all day before he calms down enough for the two of you to rest

When things do calm down, after he makes sure you're both clean and fed, Rolan wraps you up with him in his bed and will read to you

It's his own personal flavour of aftercare, cuddling and reading your favourite book as he makes sure you're comfortable and happy

And it all starts over when you wake up the next morning with him hard as a rock against your ass

2K notes · View notes

satorusluver · 1 year ago

Text

Duke!Nanami x maid!reader

Minors DNI

This takes place in the same AU as my Prince Gojo drabble (except the reader isn't with both of them, idk think of it like otome routes lol)

Word count: 700 ish

Tags/warnings: oral (f receiving), male masturbation, uhh idk I can't think of any others I'm tired lol

The difference between Duke Kento Nanami and Crown Prince Satoru falling in love with a servant girl is that Kento wouldn't dare risk getting you pregnant. He is practical, mature, and most of all, selfless. He knows it would ruin your reputation and leave you a single mother because he could never be with you officially, and he could never risk doing that to his precious girl.

So instead he settles for sneaking you into his room (something that's easier for him than it would be for the prince because he isn't nearly as important as the future king) late at night for...less risky activities. Kento's bed is softer and more extravagant than anything your commoner body has ever experienced, with downy feather pillows and sheets of satin embroidered with gold trim, and he often lays you down on it and spreads your plush thighs to feast on your cunt like it's the finest dessert, until your legs are shaking and your cum stains those expensive sheets. Kento is a giver, not a taker. Of course, he enjoys letting you please him with your hands or mouth. But ultimately, your pleasure is his pleasure, and he's quite content with making you fall apart on his tongue.

Occasionally, though, he'll allow himself to indulge a little, rubbing his swollen cockhead through your slick folds, grinding the underside of it and against your overstimulated clit. But even he sometimes struggles with his self-control. One time he shifts a little too far back and the tip of his cock ends up right up against your entrance, just barely pressing into it. Kento clenches his jaw and digs his fingers into the sheets, imagining how good it would feel to be completely enveloped in you, to feel your tight walls hugging and squeezing his cock, to finally be one with you like he's always dreamed of.

Kento's eyes flick to your face, to your blissed out expression, your ruddy cheeks, your parted lips, your glossed over eyes and the sheer desire radiating off of you. And he knows he could do it, he could just slide his achingly hard length into your warm, welcoming cunt and you wouldn't stop him. And he takes a deep breath, and then he just....pulls away and rolls over next to you on the bed.

You ask if he's okay, and he says yes, he's fine. You ask him if he wants you to do something to help relieve the ache in his throbbing cock, and he says no, he's fine, and that he thinks it's best if you go ahead and return to the servants quarters now. You look up at him, your head tilting in confusion and your eyes filling with worry. So he presses a kiss to your temple and reassures you that everything really is alright, that he's just getting a headache - and besides, the longer you stay, the more likely someone will notice you missing from your bed.

You still seem a bit hesitant, but you redress yourself and leave his chambers with one last glance back at Kento, who gives you a warm, reassuring smile. And the moment you're gone, Kento throws his head back against the pillow with a pained groan, his hand slipping under the sheets to grip his cock tight - as tight as he imagines your sweet pussy must be. He strokes himself from base to tip, eyes closed and pretending it was you moving up and down on him, remembering the heavenly sounds you made as you came on his tongue and wondering if you'd make those same sounds when you came on his dick.

The sight of your naked body is still fresh in his mind, helping him hurdle toward his climax with each increasingly desperate pump of his hand. And when he cums, he cums hard, moaning out your name and fucking up into his first as the pearly ropes of his thick release spill over onto his hand and abs. And when the exhaustion sets in as his high begins to fade, Kento breathes a sigh of relief that it's only him who has to deal with the aftermath of his pleasure.

1K notes · View notes

livingformintyoongi · 7 months ago

Text

BTS fic recs

I wanted to do this a while ago, but felt like I hadn't read enough, until I checked my likes and got a shock to the face lol. I wanted to give some recommendations of some fics (and a series) that I quite enjoyed reading, plus leave a small review because I feel like it's very underrated to comment on what you like something (people, comment more, I swear it makes a writer feel so much better than a like). There's the occasional spoiler in the reviews, so I recommend you read it carefully or just skip the comment ^^.

Dawning by @wintaerbaer JJK

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new. warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal. I really loved this fic. For a moment I thought it was some kind of two shot or something, but it only has this one part. Still, I felt the author captured the emotions very well. It felt so realistic that even I was worried when Y/N disappeared lol.

Bottle up old love by @wintaerbaer KTH

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep. warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming. This fic made me remember why I love the exes to lovers trope. I loved seeing Jungkook as a tattoo artist, it's like, I don't know, so him, anyway, I loved it. I just found this account yesterday in the wee hours of the morning and I'm already loving it <3.

Cat-astrophe & Cat-enaries by @dumpywrites MYG

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem. I fell in love with this Yoongi like you have no idea. When I just read the first part I was so eager to keep reading, seriously, I loved it, it deserves so much love.

Two Days by @dumpywrites JJK

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not? I live for Jungkook being simp of the reader, I feel it's so real lol. This fic made me feel so warm inside, it was too cute to read. It's kind of like my comfort fic.

S'more than friends by @borathae MYG

Warnings: subby!Yoongi, switchy!Reader, consumption of beer, so much awkward tension, jealousy, sex in a tent, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, making out aye, Yoongi loves her boobs and she loves his butt it’s a win-win, sex while other people are sleeping, public sex, she has a thing for his hands (but what’s new lmao), fluffy post-orgasm talks because I’m soft. I read it a while ago now, but I remember when I did I felt so soft. This Yoongi is just too cute.

Please don't go by @httpjungkookcom JJK

Summary | Jungkook’s never kept anything from you, ever. Not even the time where he tripped and accidentally kicked your dog, or when he fucked the most popular girl in high school and couldn’t make himself cum (poor guy was embarrassed for weeks), or when he accidentally rubbed all of his acceptance letters in your face without realizing. To put it short, Jungkook is an open book to you. So when he suddenly disappears, there’s a lot to question. Even more to question when he finally gets back and won’t tell you anything, going as far to avoid you. You’re on a mission to figure it out, even if it kills you. Index | Jungkook is so smart, but so stupid at the same time. Jungkook is not sly in the slightest. Kind of angst, fighting, arguing, bickering, etc. Criminal activity, it’s a Spider-Man fic. Injuries and mention of blood. College setting and age, reader and Kook share the same major. Some cute fluffy moments in between all of the action. Aunt Yoon is essentially Aunt May in the Marvel story line. Spiderkook, is more needed to read this fic? It was the first one I read about this au and I was WONDERED. God, you can't imagine how much I loved it. I thought it was so cute the way Jk approached reader being in his suit….

Accidental roommates by @jjkeverlast JJK

summary: moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate. warnings: second hand embarrassment | jungkook's abs | annoying antics | suppressed feelings | both of them are stubborn and petty (it's gets tiring lmfao) | mentions of past relationships | a lot of time stamps | sexual tension | ft. namjoon 👀 | !constant change of perspective between reader and jungkook. I have a tremendous weakness with dilf, no matter who it is, I just love them. I think this was the first one I read by Jungkook. It was so fun and easy to read that the 14.7k words flew by for me.

Silk & Stones by @taegularities KTH

Summary: “Taehyung was a writer… he was a writer indeed.” Kim Taehyung knows his way around words – they cast a spell on your heart and mind, leave you gasping dangerously fast. Until the mystery behind his persona unveils and his touch, along with his words, becomes a vivid memory. warnings: writer + violinist tae 🥺 who’s a gentleman in the 19th century, brief mention of injuries/a mental institution, misunderstandings, heartbreak, secrets, grief, much poetry (and my attempt at writing a poem, pls spot), much disgoosting fluff, flirting and lots of sexual tension; explicit sexual content: 2 sex(y) scenes, fingering on a boat, choking, teasing, begging, praising, soft dom!tae, big dick!tae, tiddie fondling/sucking, some manhandling, dirty talk, they’re just so cute :((, oral (f. and m. receiving), some masturbation, oc is into neck kisses, some biting, fingering, hair pulling, asking for permission :(, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it’s the 19th century...), aftercare; there’s quite some angst ok; lmk if i forgot smth !! This was a work of art for me. I felt so immersed in the story, so confused by the time changes and everything surrounding Taehyung, but I loved it, one of the best stories I've read of Taehyung since I joined tumblr.

17 going on 27 by @hansolmates JJK

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england. I love adaptations, especially ones that add their own touch, and the writer did it so well. She made me hate Jungkook, and then love him, and then hate him again, in the end I ended up resenting him, I wanted reader to stay with Jin lol, but I still loved it. Definitely my favorite part was having Jimin as a best friend, I loved watching him take on Jungkook in the car. We all need a friend like him.

Hot Bot by @httpjeon JJK/PJM/KTH/JHS

JJK: You order a sex robot online after getting a coupon for half off. however, there’s something strange about yours. PJM: Fear is primal and causes one to make stupid decisions. KTH: Your parents have a gift for you, however, there’s been a mistake. JHS: As a product tester, you have one of the most sought after temporary positions in Hot Bot Inc. This is a series that has smut, I think the name gives it away. It's rather sad that the writer is on hiatus, but he left the gems of his works open to the public. The series is pretty good, I fell in love with Jungkook (and Yoongi kskjdsksjds). Highly recommended.

The proposal by @hansolmates JJK

summary; Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. genre/warnings; the proposal!au, fake marriage au, enemies to friends(!!!), friends to lovers, bouts of flangst, dry humping, slight blood but not too bad, lang, alcohol, poor jjk discovers he has the ability to feel emotion, poor y/n is in the middle as always. I was looking for an adaptation of this movie for so long that when I found this one I almost cried with emotion. I LOVED the movie and the concept it had, and I was so happy to read this fic that captures that very romcom essence that the movie has. I loved it.

Marshmallows and report cards by @untaemedqueen KTH

Warnings: Impreg Kink, Marking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Birthday Sex, Spitting, Begging, Praise, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Big Dick!Tae, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, Possessive!Tae, Cock Warming, Creampie. I already confessed, this kind of fics get to me. I remember reading it and melting with the ending. I read it a long time ago, so I can't give a longer opinion, but I do remember that I loved it and came out internally squealing after I finished it.

Orange tulips by @kainks JJK

Summary: You’d remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he’d never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time. Genre: Angst. Fluff. Light Smut. The anxiety and helplessness I felt reading this fic are on another level. This scarred me, I read it once and I was never the same person again. It was wonderful, I felt so many things and I was so nervous during the whole reading that I almost didn't even realize when it was over. It is a very enjoyable fic.

What if I love you too much? by @taleasnewastime

Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself. Warnings: Single mum, small fights, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), safe penetrative sex, reader thinks Jungkook is cheating/playing the field, angst, but also fluff, child gets injured (though not seriously), talks of cuts and a small amount of blood. This fic left me feeling bad, it even made me question some future decisions regarding my relationship with my future partner and the necessary communication that must be had in a relationship from the beginning, especially if there is a child in the middle. It was something I really enjoyed reading, and even though I had my internal dilemmas with Jungkook, the drabbles in the story helped me a lot to let go of my grudge (I swear I have nothing personal with him sksjkajskajsj).

780 notes · View notes

broken-spirit101 · 6 months ago

Text

Douma - Yandere Alphabet

A/N: I'm on my knees for this man 🛐 Yandere alphabets are so fun! I haven't written anything smutty before so some of them might not be too awesome. I thought I might do one for Douma since I couldn't find any lol Original alphabet found here.

Warnings: Yandere themes, blood GIFs, murder, torture (not on the reader), abduction, mentions of NSFW

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Douma would buy tons of gifts for you every single day. If you want a crown, he'd get it for you! Other than that, expect to get showered in tons of kisses. It can get pretty heated, but Douma is a PLEASER when it comes to you. He would want you to enjoy it as well, so he wouldn't take it too far if you don't want him to. That is until his patience runs out.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? He has no limits. A guy has been glancing or talking to you a bit too much? He's getting murdered in a blink of an eye. However, if someone hurts you, they're probably getting tortured the very day you told him about it. His favorite torture method is to throw that person covered in sweet, sticky honey into a room full of insects like caterpillars, cockroaches, spiders, and other disgusting creatures. The person would get eaten alive slowly, getting stripped of their life gradually but definitely.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? This bitch is cocky. He would be so proud of the fact that you're entirely at his mercy. He's sadistic: he would point out that very fact just to get your pissed-off reaction. Other than that, he would give you the PRINCESS TREATMENT™. Want a garden attached to your room? He's got it made for you within a day. Want a crown? He'll get it delivered to your room within an hour. Heck, want the blue spider lily? He's ordering all his minions to go out to search for it and would actually put in the effort HIMSELF to find it for you. Fuck Muzan, you're way more important.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? It wouldn't be Douma if he didn't. Despite being a pleaser, his patience runs thin. He'll coerce you into doing some... special activities with him, even if you don't want to. He's manipulative and would definitely guilt-trip you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? He would go yandere for you only because you help him feel at least some semblance of emotions, if not more. He's drunk on the feeling of love that only you give him. He wouldn't show his vulnerable emotions like sadness or anger often (which started to sprout after you protested heavily when he initially abducted you). You're his most prized possession.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? Of course, he can be emotionally stupid, despite having observed human emotions for centuries. He would actually not have a clue why you'd protest being abducted despite having all the luxuries he could offer. He would gently try to persuade you to just listen to him and live the lifestyle he offers, telling you that you'd grow to love it. You wouldn't even have to lift a finger! However, if you still oppose him, he will use some force to try to get you to submit to him, starting with just breaking the wrist of your non-dominant hand. See, he's actually considerate!

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? Initially, yes. The first couple of attempts of you trying to escape would be amusing to him. It gives prey-predator vibes, and honestly? It turns him on. But not for too long, it would tire him out, because you obviously can't get rid of him. It's pretty cute but annoying.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? The punishments. He's very rough, whether it's breaking your bones or fucking you senseless. It would be torture. He's just showing you the trailer of what would happen if you don't listen to him, at least, that's what he says.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? I doubt he'd care too much about getting married to you. After all, you're already his, so what is the sense of going through a wedding? Starting a family wouldn't be his first priority either if you don't want one. As long as you're with him, he doesn't mind. Oh, yeah, he'd definitely turn you into a demon not too late after abducting you if you already aren't one. Can't afford losing his darling due to some stupid illness or age, can he?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? Does he ever even try to hold himself back? He'd get jealous every now and then, not as an overwhelming emotion, but as just a twinge that pricks at his mind whenever he sees you interacting with anyone other than him. The person who's making him jealous would disappear without a trace within a day.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? He's very sweet and clingy when he's with you, believe it or not. Would pretty much whine for you when you deprive him of physical touch. He'd pepper you with kisses to see you blush. Just the sight of it is eye candy to him.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? Love letters? Hell nah. It's just not his thing. Sure, he'd leave you sweet little notes like "I miss you :(" or "You're so pretty, you know that?" in your room every now and then, and it's adorable. His love language consists of physical contact, gifts, and his occasional sweet little gestures.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? Uh, yeah. We all know the answer to that. As I said before, he's going to be whiny and clingy and sweet whenever he's with you, but don't irritate him by doing anything he's forbidden you to do. A different part of his personality would be revealed in that case.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? :/ don't make me do this. He'd fuck you in the most unholy ways you could think of, like you're some slut or a ragdoll. Would be into exhibitionism. He would fuck you until you're just an incoherently blabbing mess and would gracefully continue to wipe out the followers that would witness the little performance you both put forward for them.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? Your freedom would depend on the ability you have to escape. If you're a demon slayer who can easily overpower his followers to escape, he's caging you in a room with a fucking metal door, him being the only one who's allowed to come in 😭 Expect to be chained even inside your room, if that's the case. If you're an ordinary human, he'd allow some of his trusted followers to let you roam around during the night when he's usually out. Never during the day though, because if you still somehow manage to escape, he wouldn't be able to go after you until the night sets, and by then, you would have covered a fair distance away from him. Other than freedom, he would also control the amount of food you get. If you're being too rebellious, don't expect any meals. He loves the power trip, you being so weak compared to him. A literal asshole.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? Yeah, don't even get me started on that. Douma would let you off a maximum of 2-3 times if you rebel or just don't consent to the kinky shit he wants to do with you. The 4th time's always the last straw.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? For a considerable time, no. If you manage to escape and he isn't able to find you, he'd cling onto that small string of hope that he would eventually find you. You're always lingering the the backrooms of his mind. If you die, however, he wouldn't be able to move on from you for at least a year or two before he forgets all about the emotions you made him feel that he loved when you were with him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? He wouldn't regret it at all, no, but he would slightly feel bad about it if you made it clear how much you despise having your freedom taken away. Douma would never return you your freedom until you manage to win his trust fully that you love him and would never expect. The freedom, too, comes with a cost. You'll have a strict curfew like you're some child. If you don't abide by it, don't expect the same amount of freedom for a couple of months.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? Just the feelings that you manage to stem out from somewhere deep within him that's gotten him addicted to you like some drug.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? Confused as fuck. He can't understand why you'd want to go back to your home. He takes good care of you, no? Why would you want to go back to your friends or family? They don't love you like he does. They never can. Just crying or screaming won't get you much of your freedom back. He has a soft spot for you so he'd feel bad, so he gives you some privileges, if possible. However, if you isolate yourself for longer periods, his patience would eventually run out before he'd punish you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? Not really; his insanity pretty much makes him the perfect definition of a classic yandere, doesn't it?

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? It's how stupid he is when it comes to emotions. He's been observing human emotions for centuries, and while he can't connect with them, he can predict how people will react to certain stimuli. However, deeper emotions can't be predicted; they are only understood. Somehow, if you manage to exploit that weakness of his, get him to trust you, and become vulnerable with him using fake emotions, you can regain your freedom after years. It's a long shot, but it could work.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? Yes. Mentally? He's always mentally torturing you in some way. Physically? Only when you piss him off too much.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? He absolutely is down bad. Extremely clingy. He would do anything to make you love him. Just listen to him once, will you? Douma will treat you like the absolute goddess you are.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? He isn't the most patient person ever, as I said before, so about half a year at maximum.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? Definitely, if you're protesting a bit too much for his liking. He'll manipulate you to the point where you're begging for his touch. He wants complete control over your mind and body.

Map

377 notes · View notes

ak319 · 11 days ago

Note

Haii!, I really like your Arthur Morgan series and I've also read it several times and it's not boring at all!🫶🏻

Can I make a request? If so, can you make the reader jealous because Arthur is close to Mary Beth?🫶🏻 (Arthur and the reader's relationship is not platonic!)

(AN: Tsym! Remind me why we making Y/n suffer again? PS: I'm terrible at writing jealousy shit ngl and I legit dunno why. AND THATS LIT WHAT YALL KEPT ASKING FOR-😭☠) Hope yall enjoy reading lol)

Warnings/MDNI: None, just angst and then fluff to soothe your asses-

You were by the lake, lazily washing clothes. The day had you feeling sluggish, and the pleasant weather didn’t exactly help motivate you. The water was just the right temperature, cool enough to refresh but warm enough to keep you rooted in place. You should really pick up the pace, finish up, and grab some tea--or coffee--or a well-deserved break.

The faint hum of camp activity behind you was oddly comforting, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. That is until you heard footsteps crunching on the gravel, quick and impatient, followed by a sharp curse.

“Dammit! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you, girl.”

You glanced over your shoulder, grinning as Molly stormed up to you, her face a mix of exasperation and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“For God’s sake, Molly, you know my Tuesday routine by now,” you teased, tossing a wet shirt into the basket beside you. “It’s not like this camp is big enough to lose someone. Honestly, I think you’re just bad at looking.”

She didn’t laugh. Not even a crack of a smile. Instead, she stood there, arms crossed, her expression tight with barely-contained frustration. You paused mid-scrub, a curious eyebrow raised.

“What’s gotten into you? You look ready to murder someone.”

“Oh, sure,” she snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Leave it to ever-so-clueless (Y/N) to not notice a damn thing going on around her.” She gestured wildly toward the camp as though you were missing some grand spectacle.

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “What the hell are you on about?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she hesitated as if debating whether you were even worth the explanation. Then, with a dramatic huff, she took a step closer, glaring down at you like you’d personally wronged her.

“Let me spell it out for you. Do I even bother tellin’ you what’s happening? Or should I just assume it won’t make a difference because your ‘dearest cold heart’ won’t care? Or worse, you’ll just laugh it off like you always do!”

Your hands stilled in the water, the soap slipping through your fingers. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

"Y’know, what I just heard and saw?” Molly huffed, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. “Mr. Arthur Morgan, having a chat with Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth! That same snake who’s all over Dutch, and now, apparently, your man, (Y/N)!”

Her voice rose with each word, and you blinked, caught completely off guard. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge your reaction. “I swear to God, she was asking him to buy her another one of those silly romance books for her lovesick brain. I mean, why Arthur, huh? Why doesn’t she go pester Kieran’s ass instead?”

Hearing her rant, you stood up, gripping the damp shirt in your hands as you processed her words. “Wh--sounds like a friendly chat to me, Molly,” you said, trying to brush it off with a shrug. “I mean, Arthur brings stuff for everyone. He goes out the most, doesn’t he? And, well, Kieran… he’s not exactly allowed far from camp neither he can afford anything right now. They still don’t trust him, y’know. And Arthur, he’s like a brother to Mary-Beth-"

“Don’t even start with that ‘brother’ shit, (Y/N),” Molly snapped, cutting you off. “It's just a facade.”

Your mouth fell open, heat rushing to your face at the implication. Uncertainty clawed at your chest as you tried to stammer a response, but she wasn’t done. Molly’s jealousy toward Mary Beth only seemed to fuel her fire, her words coming quicker now, sharp and biting.

“And don’t act like it couldn’t happen. You think she doesn’t see how kind he is to you? How he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching? Oh, she sees it. And she’d snatch him up the moment she gets the chance.”

You clenched your jaw, her words making you shift uncomfortably. Sure, you trusted Arthur, but the venom in Molly’s tone, the way her words seemed to twist around your insecurities, left you feeling just the slightest bit unsteady.

"Did he even say goodbye to you before he sprang into action?” Molly pressed, her voice softer now, almost pitying. “And the other day, weren’t you telling me you needed some cream for your hands? You even told him, and look, just look at your hands.”

Her gaze dropped to your chapped and reddened fingers, and you instinctively tried to wipe them dry on your skirt, as if that would somehow make them better. Her words were digging deeper now, clawing at something vulnerable in you. Did he forget to bring it? Or worse, did he not care enough to remember? Had your wishes, his woman’s wishes, stopped mattering to him altogether?

“This is bullshit, you should have run away with that pen pal of yours, to be honest when you had the chance,” Molly muttered, crossing her arms. “You didn’t listen to me when I told you she’s after Dutch. And now she’s after both! I swear, those books she reads must be teaching her these tactics. Manipulative little-"

“I--y’know what?” you cut her off, your voice suddenly firm as your gaze drifted to the camp, your eyes narrowing.

“What?” Molly asked, surprised by your sudden shift in tone.

“Let’s just go,” you said, your voice laced with resolve.

“Go where?”

“Town.”

Without waiting for her to argue, you kicked the bucket of soapy water, sending it tumbling into the river, the suds spilling out and disappearing downstream. The laundry lay abandoned on the grass as you turned and marched toward the stables, Molly following close behind.

Damn everyone, then.

❀˖°

Arthur returned to camp, expecting to find you in his tent as usual. But when he stepped inside, the familiar space felt oddly empty. A frown tugged at his lips.

"Hey... um, Sadie?" he called out, spotting her near the campfire. "You seen (Y/N)?"

Sadie glanced up from sharpening her knife. "Oh, yeah. She and Molly went to town."

"What?!" The word escaped him before he could stop it, his voice louder than he intended. Clearing his throat, he muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and walked back to his tent, feeling heat rise to his face. He slumped down onto his cot with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.

You know how he felt about you going far from camp without him, even if you were with one of the girls. It wasn’t a matter of trust, it was fear.

And still you did.

There were too many dangers out there, too many things that could go wrong, and the thought of you out there without him stirred a storm in his chest.

It was 5 p.m., the time when you two usually sat together to talk about your day over supper. The time he looked forward to most whenever he was at camp. And now? He sat there, staring at the flap of his tent, the minutes ticking by painfully slow.

But what bothered him more was why you’d gone. And with Molly, of all people. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he didn’t have a problem with her, not really. But something about the way you two were together always set him on edge.

He’d told you how he felt about it once. About how Molly seemed to lean on you a little too much, how her sadness and drama sometimes seemed to pull you down with her. But of course, you’d defended her, saying you couldn’t just turn your back on your best friend. That Molly found her only comfort in your company.

And you were right. He knew you were. But that didn’t make it any easier to sit here, waiting, imagining where you were and what could happen.

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, his appetite gone. Instead of heading to the campfire for supper, he threw himself onto his cot, pulling his hat over his face in an attempt to block out the growing worry gnawing at his chest.

But even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t shake the unease. Images of you and Molly wandering through town, far from the safety of camp, flickered in his mind. He trusted you, of course, but the world out there? That was another story entirely.

“Damn woman never listens to me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with equal parts frustration and concern.

Sleep didn’t come easily, and even as he tried to rest, he knew one thing for certain, when you came back, this was a conversation he wasn’t going to let slide.

❀˖°

Arthur woke with a start, roused by Bill’s loud guffaw somewhere in the camp. With a groan, he rubbed his face, taking a moment to shake off the haze of sleep and piece together his scattered thoughts. Then it hit him, the memory of you leaving with Molly, and the worry twisted sharply in his chest again.

He pushed himself up with a sigh, his body stiff from the restless nap. Moving through camp, he glanced around, hoping, praying, to catch sight of you. But there was nothing. No sign of you or Molly.

He considered asking Dutch, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. Dutch would likely know even less than he did, and Arthur wasn’t in the mood for meaningless chatter.

Back at his tent, he sat on the edge of his cot, pulling out his journal in an attempt to distract himself. The flap of the tent was open, giving him a clear view of camp, but his eyes kept flickering toward it, waiting for you to appear.

His stomach growled, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to eat, not until you came back, served the meal, and sat down beside him. That was how it went. That was how it had to go.

He was about to get up and go to find both of you himself when-

"Um, Arthur?" Abigail’s voice broke through his brooding. She appeared by the flap of his tent, holding a coffee pot. "There’s some coffee left, and I’ve got to wash the pot, would you like a cup?"

He shook his head, barely sparing her a glance. "Why’d they go to town?"

"Molly and (Y/N)?" Abigail tilted her head, her tone casual. "Oh, they’ve been back. Got back about half an hour ago. They’re in my tent, just hanging out."

Arthur blinked, first in shock, then confusion, which quickly morphed into anger. Half an hour? You’d been back for that long and hadn’t even bothered to come see him? Not even a word after being gone all day?

He shut his journal with a snap, the sound echoing his rising temper, and stood. The muffled chatter coming from Abigail’s tent grated on his nerves as he stalked toward it, each step heavier than the last.

What the hell was going on with you?

He cleared his throat outside the tent before pushing the flap open, only to find you and Molly sitting cross-legged, enjoying supper.

"Where were you? I was waiting for you."

You swallowed your bite, not bothering to look up at him. "Needed a few important things from town, actually, so I had to go."

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Can you come with me? I want to talk."

"I’m already talking to Molly," you replied, your tone curt, still avoiding his gaze.

Damn it. Why the hell weren’t you even looking at him? That gnawing frustration in his chest boiled over. He had enough of this.

"I said, Come. With. Me." he demanded, his voice low but firm, the tone sharper than he intended.

Your head snapped up, eyes glaring at him with such intensity that, for a moment, he regretted using that tone. Hell, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him just a little.

"Oh, excuse me, Mister. Don’t you dare order me around like a maid, alright? I sit, talk, and walk when I want to. And right now? I don’t want to. Now go away, we’re busy."

Arthur ignored Molly’s taunting scoff, still fixated on you. Something about this--about you--just didn’t sit right.

"I’m sorry, okay? I’m just hungry. I was waiting for you... Can we eat now?" Arthur’s chest tightened, guilt creeping in. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anger softening. "...I was just worried as hell."

Hell, I still am.

But you didn’t let it go. "I’ve already eaten, and I didn’t ask you to wait for me. There are plenty of people around here you can share your meal with, Arthur. Plenty."

You turned your attention back to Molly, flashing her a rueful grin with your hair covering your face but he definitely caught it.

The Irishwoman gave you a knowing smile, her voice full of mischief. "Oh, girl, there’s always someone around."

This is how it's gonna be huh?

His first instinct was to walk away, but no. Arthur wasn’t the type to run from problems. With one swift movement, he grabbed your arm and dragged you out and behind the tent, just past the tree line. He stared down at you, his expression a mix of annoyance and desperation.

"What the hell is that all about?! And you know I hate it when you go out alone-"

"I don’t care! I don’t care anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "I hate going out for some petty stuff too, which, by the way, I clearly asked you to get, and you forgot! I guess books are more important than me, huh?."

Arthur’s chest tightened. He rarely saw this side of you ever since you both got together, the frustration, the hurt, the coldness. "See, this is the problem," you continued, your voice rising. "When men find someone vulnerable enough to control, to fix, they get bored. Then they move on, find someone else to repeat the same damn cycle. Am I right?"

His mouth went dry. The words cut deep. But what hurt him the most was the thought that maybe... maybe you believed that.

He wasn’t asking for much, was he? Three meals with you, a cup of coffee, that was it. Simple things that made him feel like you cared. That made him feel loved. But you didn’t... or did you?

The silence between you two was deafening as he tried to process what you said.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur started, his frustration mounting. "See, this is why I don’t like when you and Molly-"

"Oh, no, no, no. Shush. Don’t you dare," you interrupted, your voice sharp, but there was a deep hurt behind it. "She’s always been right, Arthur. I was the dumb one. I’ve been working my ass off for you, and you didn’t even bother to say goodbye this morning, huh?"

Arthur froze, guilt beginning to gnaw at him. He wasn’t ready for this. "You know, I had a chance to leave this life, you know exactly who I’m talking about. But I didn’t. I chose you. But if I’m just gonna be sidelined like this? Nuh-uh. My ego doesn’t allow it. Nobody gets to disrespect me like that."

You took a deep breath, eyes blazing. "If you don’t want me anymore, then say it. Don’t play these stupid-ass games with me. I’m not Molly, not when it comes to this."

Arthur’s stomach dropped as the weight of your words settled in. He could feel the hurt radiating off of you, the betrayal that had built up. And now it made sense. Molly had probably warned you, just like she always did. He could almost hear her saying it a dozen times in the morning,

'Don’t let him treat you like that, they are all shit.'

"There is NOTHING like that, woman!" Arthur snapped, his voice rising in frustration. "Is that what this is about? You’re ready to just forget, hell, even think like this over a misunderstanding?"

"Call it whatever you want," you replied coldly, not backing down. "But not gonna lie, the pattern makes sense now, Arthur."

He took a step back, trying to steady his breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Don’t say that... c’mon. You know it’s not true! She’s like a sister to me! For God’s sake, how can you even think--"

Without another word, you grabbed his satchel, the leather creaking in your grip, and flipped it upside down. A book slid out and thudded onto the ground.

Arthur froze, his eyes darting to the book, then to the scattered contents of his bag. He watched, his heart sinking, as you threw the satchel aside in disgust. "Bravo," you muttered, the bitterness in your voice sharper than a knife.

"Don't even bother explaining. I’m tired." You began to walk away, but before you could get far, Arthur grabbed your wrist.

"Don't you dare, no way you’re... sleeping away from me." His voice started strong, then faltered into a desperate plea, but you didn’t turn around. With a sharp jerk, you freed your hand from his grasp and continued walking.

Arthur stood there for a moment, his breath heavy as he watched you leave. With a defeated sigh, he bent down to gather the scattered contents of his satchel. Tilly approached, offering to help, but he shrugged her off with a tired wave and handed the book over to Mary-Beth, who was standing a few feet away, her face filled with guilt and sadness. His hand lingered in his pocket for a moment, pulling out the cream he had meant to bring you, adding it to the pile with a sharp scoff.

His posture was slumped, his movements slow and burdened. He didn’t need to say anything, his body language alone was enough to tell Tilly, Mary-Beth, and anyone else watching that this sulking would last for days, and you... you weren’t someone who accepted apologies easily.

❀˖°

And that’s exactly what happened. Arthur waited every day, hoping you would just come, sit with him, and listen. He longed for you to let him explain, to sort things out, so he could hold you in his arms again. Dammit. He missed you at night like a child misses their favorite doll.

But you weren’t just any doll.

You were his doll.

And when it came to you, he was nothing but a man-child.

Everybody knew his routine, the gang enforcer's routine. Simple, predictable. Come back, chat a little, handle his business, talk and eat with you, then the tent flaps closed, just the two of you, a world away from the chaos of the camp.

But now?

Come back, brood in one corner, pace to another, sleep with the flaps wide open.

Arthur’s mood soured every time he saw you doing something that wasn’t just being with him. Chores, errands, anything that took you away, even for a moment, made him restless, agitated. He needed you with him, in the tent, with the flaps closed, where he could hold you, even if it was just in the silence of the night.

Every night, he asked you to come with him. But you ignored him. Yet, he kept asking, unable to stop the desperate hope that you’d return, that you’d see it the way he did.

"Damnit. Damn stubborn ass woman." He grumbled for what? The millionth time? Sighing he petted his horse as it trotted at a leisurely pace, just a few meters from camp. How the hell had it all gone so bad? What was even the point anymore? Are you happy now?

His horse huffed as if sensing his despair, nudging him gently, but Arthur barely acknowledged it. The familiar sound of the camp in the distance only served to remind him that nothing was the same anymore, not the meals, not the quiet talks, and certainly not the comfort of his cot. That's it. This ends tonight.

He is going to carry you over his shoulder if that takes you to talk to him. To hell with your protests and stubbornness.

You were crouched down, sorting through vegetables with Abigail, your hands busy with the task at hand.

It wasn’t long before you saw Molly moving quietly, eyes darting back and forth, heading toward the girls' area.

You knew Molly. You had spent enough time with her to understand that when her instincts kicked in, she often acted before she thought. There was an impulsive streak in her, a tendency to let her emotions guide her steps, and that could be dangerous. Especially now, when tensions were already high.

Without much thought, you excused yourself from Abigail, your voice quick and unsteady. “I’ll be right back.”

You left her with the vegetables and slipped away from the campfire, your steps light as you tried to stay out of sight. Moving quietly, you found a small, hidden spot behind a tent, where you could just make out the faint sounds of voices, though you couldn’t yet hear clearly what was being said. Your heart pounded in your chest.

"(Y/N) and I were so close, in fact, like sisters, but you ruined that too! I don’t know what you told her-" Mary-Beth’s voice cracked, and for the first time, it wasn’t the usual calm, polite tone she carried. There was raw emotion, maybe even a hint of fear, but more than that, it sounded like heartbreak.

"You did it! Just like you're trying to ruin my relationship with Dutch."

"Are you in your senses, Ms. Molly?!" Mary-Beth gasped, trying to defend herself. "How can you even think that?!"

The past few days, you couldn’t help but notice her glances at you, brief but meaningful. It was as if she was caught between wanting to reach out and not knowing if you’d welcome her presence. Her eyes would meet yours across the camp, filled with a mixture of concern and hesitation, as if she longed to approach, to console you, but the fear of intruding, of making things worse, kept her frozen in place.

You understood her hesitation. She was a kind soul, someone who cared deeply for those she loved, and in these tense moments, you knew she wasn’t sure how to navigate the space between you both. And neither did you try to clear the air.

"You and your pretty face are going to be your downfa-"

"Molly, enough." You stepped in, your voice firm. Molly turned to you, arms crossed over her chest, her face filled with frustration.

"(Y/N), don’t tell me you’re under her spell too, for God’s sake. She needs to get a reality check-"

"Molly," you interjected, stepping forward and gently taking hold of her arms. You guided her a few steps away from Mary-Beth, the tension between them thick. "Let me handle it, alright?"

"Don’t pity her, let me make that clear. Otherwise, you’ll be the one regretting it." Molly threw one last angry glance at Mary-Beth, shaking her head before storming off, muttering under her breath.

You stood there, a heavy sigh escaping you as you rubbed your forehead, watching Molly retreat. Turning back to Mary-Beth, who sat on the ground, you softened your expression. "I apologize on her behalf..." You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. You knew you’d have to work hard to get Molly to let go of her anger, but that's for later.

"It's... alright, (Y/N)." Her voice croaked, and you didn’t miss the tremble in it, nor the quiet tears she tried to hide. Your gaze shifted to the book resting on the makeshift table in the corner. The one she had requested. You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat.

"You’re not reading it?" you asked, your voice gentle.

She looked up at you, shaking her head slowly. You could see the weight of her emotions pressing down on her, and it hurt to see her like this.

You walked over, picked up the book, and sat beside her. "Why not?" you asked softly. It caught her off guard, and for a moment, her eyes softened. She hesitated before returning the smile, albeit faintly, her sadness still lingering behind it.

"I am sorry... (Y/N), if you... if you misunderstood my actions, but I swear it’s nothing. There’s nobody else, except Mr. Morgan that we feel comfortable enough to ask for things... but if you mind it, then we won’t--"

"No. No. You can ask without hesitation, and I am sorry. I was quick to jump to... conclusions," you interrupted, your voice soft with regret. You hugged her, and she gladly returned the embrace. The warmth of her arms around you soothed the tension in your chest.

You placed the book gently in her lap and shifted your body closer, not wanting to break the moment. "I just... y'know... when I love someone, I do it fully. And I don’t tolerate when that gets disrespected, y'know? That’s one thing I will never forgive." Your voice trembled slightly, the depth of your feelings evident. "But anyway, do read it, and then we’ll have a chat about it. You know I love hearing you yap about your books more than reading them myself."

She chuckled softly, her eyes lighting up with a glimmer of her old self, and you watched her face brighten as she held the book. You stood up, feeling a sense of relief, but also a lingering desire to stay.

"Definitely. But for now, I must go work too, don’t want Susan to bury me alive."

"You better." As you were making your way back to the kitchen wagon, a figure stepped in your way.

"Am I forgiven too?" His voice was teasing, but his expression was genuine. You deadpanned, folding your arms.

"Ummmm... let me think about it," you replied with a mock thoughtful expression, your gaze narrowing slightly.

He mirrored your posture, folding his arms with a smirk. "Not fair, woman. Not fair."

"I never said I was." You gave him a pointed look before turning to walk past him.

As you continued your walk back to the kitchen wagon, you felt a lightness in the air, a shift that felt... right. Arthur, still a few steps behind you, watched you quietly with an almost childish pout. There was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that told you he was waiting, waiting for you to acknowledge it all, to say what neither of you had dared to say yet.

You stopped for a moment, as you placed the cutting board, and turned to face him. The sunlight caught the edges of his hair, giving him a softer, not to mention the dark circles, giving him a more vulnerable look than you’d seen before. There was no teasing now, no masks, just Arthur, looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time again.

"I’m sorry, too," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. "For the things I said."

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don’t like it either. I swear, I’d rather fight a hundred men than have you angry at me. But..." His hand reached out hesitantly, as though unsure whether he had the right to touch you, to pull you close. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I apologize too...for making you feel that way. But I swear it wasn't in my intention."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words. It wasn’t the grand gestures or flowery promises that touched you. It was the simplicity of it, the honesty in his voice, the vulnerability he rarely let show. "Well then let me tell you that," you whispered back, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I’m not going anywhere."

With a relieved exhale, Arthur stepped forward, his arms wrapping around you firmly, pulling you into his chest. It was as though all the tension from before melted away, and in its place, there was just the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. "I love you," he murmured into your hair, the words so familiar now, but somehow more precious each time.

You nestled into his embrace, letting your worries fade for the moment, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I love you, too," you replied, your voice barely above a breath, but you meant it with everything you had.

"Y'know darlin'...I was very close to shootin' myself if I had to sleep on the cold bed any longer. It took strength to control myself and not drag you out-" You rolled your eyes and pulled away.

"Right, now go away, I have work to do."

"Absolutely not. To hell with these damn chores. You are coming with me."

You shot him a skeptical glance, hands on your hips as you paused in your tracks. "Really?" you said, raising an eyebrow.

A grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer, his broad frame encroaching on your space. "What do you think, darlin'?" he teased, his hands coming up to cradle your face, nearly squishing it with playful force. He gave your head a gentle shake, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s been too damn long. You’ve had me sleeping like a corpse for days. You cruel woman."

You tried to hold back the laugh that bubbled up in your chest, but his determination was infectious "Fine," you muttered, giving in more to his presence than anything else. He grinned, his hands reaching for you, pulling you effortlessly toward the flap of his tent.

"Atta girl." His voice held a triumphant edge, but it was softened with affection.

And finally, after days, the enforcer's tent flaps were closed at night--and so was the distance between you two.

(AN: Req/asks closed for now, guys :/ do keep in mind ur ideas and send once I'll announce them open. But u can always send me ur thoughts or dm.)

145 notes · View notes

antlergrave · 10 months ago

Text

hi everyone, the only days where i'm able to work on commissions and other drawings are on wednesdays and weekends. i'm still very busy with life and i hope you guys can bear with me. 🥲

i realized i never really addressed why i haven't been active much on here (i dont use this app that often) but i've been getting back into working out and staying fit; getting my athletic physique back and eating healthier. i haven't been sleeping normally nor living my life healthily the past several months (i pretty much blame myself for staying up too late and drawing too much lol). i'm also trying not to spend a lot of time online and enjoy my life outside of social media, and it's honestly going great for me so far. hope you guys understand :)❤️

345 notes · View notes

emotionalmessss · 7 months ago

Note

Hiii! Can I request yandere Chrollo when reader tries to escape? Hc? Fic? If you want 🥰

A/N: I feel like I haven't written anything in so long (school is going to be the death of me I swear). I'm trying to be more active with my writing now that I've officially graduated, I'm sorry for ghosting! Anyways, enjoy Yan!Chrollo :)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, implied kidnapping, slight mention of violence and non-consensual touching, and psychological abuse. Chrollo is basically a warning himself lol.

Chrollo is always one step ahead. After all, he is the head of the Spider, so if you think you can escape from him--good fucking luck. He is cunning, meticulous, and devoted to having you back where you belong--in his arms. But that doesn't stop you from trying, does it?

Congratulations for managing to slip through his fingers, but it won't stay that way for long. There is nowhere in the world for you to hide from Chrollo, he will hunt you down using whatever means that will ensure his success. So, enjoy the freedom while it lasts, because it won't last very long.

Sure, Chrollo might be slightly ruffled at the fact that you actually managed to escape. But will he let that affect his calm composure? No, definitely not. Chrollo plays the long game, and he does it best. And who's to say that he didn't intentionally let you escape? To give you that brief, sweet taste of freedom, only to rip it away at the last second?

Chrollo’s expression remains impassive as he lounges on the plush couch in the middle of his expansive living room. Reclining comfortably into the cushions, he folds one leg over the other while using one hand to flip through the book in his lap. He is perfectly aware of your absence from the apartment--how could he not notice when the air lacks the usual animosity that only you can bring?

Despite the apartment lacking its usual vibrancy, Chrollo remains calm and composed, a trait that has always irked you. His composure never slips, even now. He finds it pitifully endearing that you thought you could outsmart him--have you learned nothing? Chrollo doesn’t know if he wants to praise you for your bravery or laugh at your naivety.

Sighing, he stretches his legs out across the coffee table, idly smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on his dress shirt. You thought escape was an option? How quaint. His lips curl into a faint, knowing smirk; his predictions had been correct--like always. While Chrollo can’t deny that he finds your actions mildly irritating, they are more entertaining than anything else--not that he’d ever show it.

“It’s intriguing, really, how you thought you could just slip away from me,” Chrollo mutters to himself, his voice measured and almost serene. His big, gray eyes finally look up from the antique book in his lap, drifting towards the large window that offers a view of Yorknew City’s skyline. Somewhere out there, you’re hiding, and he can clearly picture the mixture of relief, fear, and paranoia etched on your pretty face.

He taps his fingers on the armrest of the couch--the only sign that his mind is working in overdrive. Clicking his tongue thoughtfully, Chrollo tilts his head back down to the book resting on his thighs. Running a hand through his raven locks, he lets out a hollow chuckle, quickly followed by a deep sigh. For now, he’d let you play your little game, but in the end, you would not win.

Just like everything else, Chrollo's response will be chilling and methodical. As the head of the Spider, he'll use all the resources he has to get his love back. But for the time being, he will let you enjoy your little game. He's more than confident you'll be back where you belong. Make sure to keep looking over your shoulder every so often, he won't be far behind.

Chrollo will have you back in his grasp, no matter how much you kick, cry, and scream. He will remain unflinchingly composed, acting as though you were merely a small animal that needed to be handled with gentle care. The entire time, he'll have that small, almost invisible smile tugging at his lips--that smile that you've come to hate and suggests bad things for you.

Once he finds you--if he hasn't already been watching you the entire time--he'll strike when the time is right, and when the circumstances align in his favour. He won't be openly aggressive, definitely not towards you. Chrollo will take a different route, one that involves planning, scheming, and manipulation.

Consequences? Oh, there has to be some consequences for your disobedience. But, Chrollo would never lay a violent hand on you. No, that's not his style. He could never physically hurt his love. He can hurt you in other ways, though. Friends and family? That's a whole other story. Chrollo being Chrollo, will do whatever it takes to ensure you comply. Only if he's pushed to that point.

In Chrollo's twisted mind, he is protecting you from the dangers of the world--like a good lover should. He firmly believes that the only place for you to be happy and safe is by his side. He'll manipulate you into believing that you need him, and that even the thought of escaping is utterly impossible.

You’ve been sprinting through the empty streets of Yorknew City for hours, and no matter how far you run, you can’t seem to shake the terror that threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, your feet sting, your lungs burn, and your mind is a jumbled fucking mess--is this what insanity feels like or has Chrollo corrupted you so much? Neither of those reasonings are favourable, but you’d probably choose insanity over Chrollo.

Frantically, you examine your surroundings as you come to a stop, panting and keeling over. You sluggishly move towards the corner of a large building, slumping back against the bricks and wipe the glistening sweat from your forehead. This is Hell, isn’t it? Clutching your chest, your mind races with a slew of possibilities; different escape routes, places to hide, and potential consequences should you get caught.

What would the reincarnation of the Devil himself do to you if he were to catch you? Would he hurt you? The odds of Chrollo physically hurting you are slim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t harm you in other ways. Despite spending an unwilling amount of time with him, you could never fully understand the bastard. You weren’t entirely sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

“Get it together, fuck.” Your voice comes out strained and raspy as you forcefully compose yourself, shoving off from the wall to round the corner of the building. Every detail about that man pisses you off--his calculated mannerisms, his unflinching composure, his studying eyes that make you feel like he’s staring into your soul, and that god-awful smile that never looked genuine.

Just when you soothe your chaotic mind and turn the corner of the building, he appears before you. Your heart plummets, and your feet drag across the pavement as you abruptly halt, completely paralyzed under his scrutinizing gaze. You watch him like a cornered animal, prepared to flee at the slightest sign of malice. But, of course, there is none--perfectly expected from a man like Chrollo.

“My dear,” Chrollo begins, using the endearing nickname you’ve come to loathe. His voice completely devoid of aggression, showing no hint of the manipulative thoughts that are definitely running through his mind. “Wandering the streets alone at this hour isn’t wise,” he chides gently, his tone tinged with condescension. “Come now, let’s get you back home.” His hand extends towards you, as if he’s giving you a choice.

You muster up a sliver of self-control, refraining from cussing him out. Instead, you take a cautious step backwards--away from the beast. Noticing this, Chrollo’s lips pull into a slight smile, and his hand returns to his side. He doesn’t move an inch, letting out a resigned sigh that suggests he had anticipated this outcome. His gray eyes never leave yours as the sound of approaching footsteps begins fill the silent street.

“Please, let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Chrollo continues, his attention focused on you, purposely feigning ignorance of his loyal Spiders who are slowly encircling both of you. He remains the epitome of calm, acting as if your escape attempt was just a minor inconvenience. You stand still, and the Spiders close in, strategically blocking off all paths except for the one leading to Chrollo.

400 notes · View notes

qu1cks1lversb1tch · 5 months ago

Text

A Deal | Vox x Gen Z Reader

A/N— Decided to turn my little drabble into a little series of one-shots based off of ideas I come up with and any requests y'all may have for it 💅🏻 ALSO a huge thank you to @writteninlunarlight-years for the idea that inspired me to kickstart the series! It's very much 'enemies to lovers' core (kinda, I guess?), but I have no idea how far this will go lol. Hope everyone enjoys this — sorry it took so long :)

Warnings: Reader is implied female, Valentino existing, mentions of souls being owned, reader is close to being an overlord

Word Count: 1,724

Summary: You were a growing threat — and what better way to keep an eye on said threat, than to have you start living under the same roof as three of the most influential overlords in Hell? This is only the beginning. . .

Since your arrival to Hell, things had been nothing short of interesting — from your offers that couldn't be refused, all the way to the demon's that warily approached or backed off when you were near.

It was quite the spectacle.

You were quickly rising within the ranks of Hell, from a mere sinner to damn near an overlord — for all the souls you claimed in a few short months. It was noticeable — your social climbing.

What you hadn't expected was two overlords reaching out in the same day, both itching for some sort of deal.

You'd heard whispers of the feared Radio Demon and practically laughed at the thought of people being scared of him — sure his smile was off-putting, but other than that, you didn't really see the hype.

So when he approached you outside of the Café you'd began to frequent, striking up casual conversation as if you were old friends, you quickly understood what was going on.

He was powerful. You were becoming more powerful. He offered guidance and you knew there was a 'but' coming.

When it dropped, you sighed, before sipping on your warm beverage.

"I can offer you guidance, and in return, I want your soul as a pledge of undying loyalty, my dear!" He made a hand motion, as if he planned on writing your name in the stars — could you even see the stars from Hell?

"I'm sorry — but other than guidance, what do I get out of it? I've done well on my own for the last six months."

Protection. Respect. Free housing. It had almost been tempting — especially the free housing, especially in that economy. . . But in the end, you had told him that you'd think about it.

In reality, you wouldn't.

Giving up your freedom for half the shit you could get on your own? He had you fucked up.

Then there was Vox; the wide open rival of Alastor. You'd actually seen him around, having been in a couple clubs he was coincidentally visiting at the same time.

When he approached you, it was three hours later and you were actively sending a message to the group chat of demons whose souls you owned, over Sinstagram. You were simply reminding them of the consequences if they took the food that CLEARLY had your name written on it.

You didn't care that you were sitting in a restaurant — if any of them touched that leftover sub quarter, you'd kill them, and not in a funny or ironic way. You'd actually kill them double dead with no return.

When you looked up, he questioned your business with 'the fossil' and was met with a blank stare rather than words.

He clarified that he meant Alastor.

"Oh. I don't have any." You replied simply, reading the few messages that popped up on screen.

At the revelation, he was pleased and began listing off all of the things he could provide that Alastor 'would fail miserably at'.

Money. Protection. Respect. A sounding board for ideas. Anything your heart desired. All at a small cost of being under his surveillance almost 24/7.

That snatched your attention away from the two demons who began arguing in their native languages. Did you understand them? Fuck no. Would you be translating that later? Abso-fuckin-lutely.

"And what's in it for you?" You asked the TV demon. You didn't like the thought of being under surveillance and having little to no privacy, but his deal had already been sweetened by Vox not wanting your soul.

"Power all the way around. With my influence, you can be a billion times better than that staticky prick. You'll practically have demons begging on their knees."

"Tempting." You admitted.

"What do you think?"

"Eh, fuck it. Why the hell not?"

From there it was a flurry of events — you remembered eating, but then you were leaving with Vox and then quickly found yourself in a meeting room with the other Vees and shit you had to sign, stating that you wouldn't spill any details of the inner workings of any of the three companies.

Who did he take you for?

Once you read each document thoroughly, making sure it wasn't a contract for your soul, you signed your name on the tablets screen and sat back in your seat, pulling out your phone to begin translating the argument from the beginning.

"Great! Ground rules — our private spaces are off limits unless we explicitly tell you otherwise, that includes bedrooms, offices, and basically everything that isn't a —"

"Uh-huh, got it." You mumbled — snorting at the beyond creative insults that began to flood the screen in English.

"Listen—"

"It's my nap time, TV boy. If you can put this conversation in a text, do it." You sighed, stretching your limbs. They popped as you stood — who showed these fuckers how to make gifs of each other?

Oh.

You did. HA!

"You know I can kill you, right?" Vox questioned, his claws digging into the table.

"So could a really motivated duck — or a Canadian goose. Those things are straight out of Hell, Box."

"It's Vox." He growled.

Ooh spicy. "Whatever —"

"Can you be serious for five minutes?"

"Ok boomer."

His screen glitched and his claws dug further into the desk as he stared at you.

Velvette barked a laugh and looked away from her phone long enough to see Vox on the verge of malfunctioning, a smirk slipping onto her face. "Can we keep her? I like this one."

"This one's more tolerable than the last." Valentino mused, blowing his smoke into the air. He leaned forward in his seat, uncrossing his legs. "And we don't even know her name."

"The name's Y/N. Don't wear it out." You winked before turning around and exiting the door you had been ushered through, however long ago. The moment the door closed, you heard Vox angrily talking with Velvette and Valentino, who were much calmer than the TV overlord.

Oh, this will be fun. A good idea, for sure.

Thirty minutes later, when you were in the room Vox had told you was yours, both Velvette and Valentino followed you on Sinstagram before adding you to the Vees official group chat.

Your first week living with the Vees went by rather quickly — of course, you respected their privacy as requested, spending most of your time in your room or the common areas which mostly consisted of the kitchen, living room, and game room.

Still, you'd managed to piss Vox off three more times, and got Velvette and Valentino to join in without trying.

Velvette quickly picked up your terminology, calling Vox a boomer at any given opportunity. It pissed him off to no end. Valentino had only done it twice, mostly because they both spent a lot of time working and only interacted with Vox when he had the time to.

Within the first seventy-two hours, you noticed the weird obsession Vox had with Alastor and you sarcastically quoted a scene from a movie at dinner that night.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

And he had looked at you weirdly, pausing mid rant. Later you had to explain to the other two that it was from a movie — and who Agent Romanoff was.

Vox avoided you mostly, which you chalked up to him thinking you were annoying. Good.

By the end of the first month, Velvette had you chilling with her while she worked, usually with you being the sounding board for her ideas.

More often than not, you had good ideas.

That little fact prompted her to throw you a sketch book, telling you to get to work.

You were getting paid to be there, so whatever.

When you weren't with Velvette, you were declining Valentino's countless invitations to sit with him while he worked — you wanted nothing to do with that. Porn wasn't really your thing, even when you were alive, but you had a bunch of friends who were super into it.

Instead you went out alone, claiming you were getting lunch for yourself. You'd get lunch, after making a few deals with wayward demons who would thrive under your influence.

That one particular day, you hadn't noticed either presence behind you, until a fight broke out, causing you to turn around to see Alastor and Vox going at each other's throats — and not in an interesting way.

You somehow broke it up just after Alastor cracked Vox's screen.

"Why the fuck are you here?" You bit out harshly, directed at the two overlords who now stood three feet apart like scolded children, neither pleased to be there.

"You left without saying anything." Vox crossed his arms.

"You hadn't reached out, my dear." Alastor hummed, distastefully glancing over at the TV demon.

You groaned, throwing your head back. "Listen, get the fuck over yourselves! At this rate, I answer to Velvette, not the two of you boomers. Got it?"

Alastors eyes began to twitch as static filled the air, whereas Vox's cracked screen glitched as you walked away.

Later, when Vox approached you, you noticed that his screen was fixed. That was good.

"Got a minute, [Y/N]?" He questioned.

You looked up from the sketch book in hand and nodded, mumbling 'sure' as you closed it. You were tired from the long day.

So his next question caught you off guard.

"Why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Why do you purposely piss me off? You get along with everyone else, yet you call me names and disrespect my entire existence. Why?"

You sighed, not really having a real answer. "That's just the way I am, how I've always been. . . And in my defense, I call everyone names. . . Not just you. So, don't think you're special, Box—"

"— Vox —"

"I'm a bitch to everyone, just most don't realize it because their bitch scale broke a long time ago. Now, go. I have shit to do that doesn't involve stroking your fragile ego."

Vox wasn't sure what it was, but he knew he was going to keep a closer eye on you. What was so different about you?

You were close enough in biological age to Velvette, yet while there were similarities, there were so many differences. . . He wasn't sure what to think about any of it. Especially with you climbing up the power ladder.

235 notes · View notes

forzalando · 6 months ago

Note

💛 hi 🥹 CONGRATS ON 3K THAT'S HUUUUUGE !!!!

I am obsessed with this idea and also my favourite activity (as of recently lmao) is drunk karaoke and of COURSE my dream would be to do it with lando !!!!

drunk karaoke with Lando would, and i'm not exaggerating, mean everything to me. i am in love with just the idea of this.

thank you for supporting me through the many phases of this blog and for entertaining my every thought/idea. adore you, mel💛 i hope you enjoy this blurb that was meant to be 300-400 words but ended up being 800+ lol

celebration post: here

Drunk Karaoke with Lando Norris under the cut😊

You quickly downed the shot thrust into your hand – sambuca, which meant it absolutely came from Lando since he was the only one who knew of your preference.

He was on your left, sweaty and somehow wide awake despite the fact you’d been out for hours. Oscar was on your right, slowly swaying to the music with his eyes half shut. Somewhere across the club Charles and Pierre were dancing on an elevated surface while George videotaped them like a suburban soccer mom at her son’s first game. Here in Monaco, everyone partied post-race as if they themselves had made it to the top step over the weekend.

Out of nowhere, Lando fell into you as he shouted in your ear – “Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

Oscar caught you before you could topple over, steadying you on your feet before shooting Lando a dirty look.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lando giggled. He centered himself and then put his hands on your shoulders, looking the most serious you’d ever seen him. “Anyway, do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Win at Silverstone? Become world champion?”

“Well, yes, but think smaller, you lunatic. Something I could do right now.”

“Out drink Max?”

“What? No, I don’t care about outdrinking Max, where did that come from?”

“Well, I just thought since he usually wins every race that you’d want to beat him at something – ”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” Oscar interjected. “He wants to do drunk karaoke. When we went out in Miami he was practically on his knees begging me to sing with him.”

A giant grin spread across your face as you playfully swatted Lando’s chest.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I happen to be an excellent karaoke partner,” you boasted.

Lando clapped his hands and jumped around like a toddler at your remark – “So, you’ll do it with me?”

Instead of answering, you snatched his hand and pulled him through the club at an impressive speed. You weren’t in a karaoke bar, quite far from it, but you planted yourself in front of the DJ booth and gestured to Lando. Security immediately pulled you both into the booth, perks of having Lando at your side, and the DJ of the night asked what she could do for you.

“Hi! Lando Norris wants to do drunk karaoke and I’m trusting that you can make that happen. It’s very important to him,” you professed.

“I think I might have a couple instrumentals or could make some magic happen. Any specific requests? You won’t have any lyrics on screen, though. And you’ll have to share a mic.”

Before you could ask what your options were, Lando was shouting, once again, in your ear.

“DO YOU HAVE THE SPICE GIRLS? THAT ONE SPICE GIRLS SONG?”

“Lando, we won’t have the lyrics,” you reminded him.

“I don’t need them,” he declared, crossing his arms with attitude. “Maybe you need them, fake fan.”

“I most certainly do not,” you yelled back to Lando. “DJ, roll the track. Pretty please. You're amazing."

She chuckled and handed you the singular mic, Lando immediately snatching it from your hands.

“It’s my dream, I get to hold the mic.”

You rolled your eyes and fought back a smile, stepping into his side as he threw an arm around you.

The deafening bass from the speakers grew quiet as the DJ addressed the crowd of people – “we’ve got a special surprise tonight! These two lovely friends of mine up here are going to perform a special number for everyone. Please welcome – ”

She paused, waiting for you and Lando to introduce yourselves.

“LANDO NORRIS AND Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Please welcome Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N to my booth. Show them some love!”

The clapping and cheering brought the volume in the club back to an obscene level – the loudest cheers coming from a VIP table not far from the booth where all of your friends had gathered.

Before you had a chance to feel the slightest bit self-conscious, the infamous laugh rang through the speakers and Lando was scream-singing into the mic.

“YO, I’LL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT!”

The two of you in perfect sync, passing lines back and forth, singing (if you could call it that) in unison during the chorus. You could have sworn you heard George shout out that this was “his song” and Max was most definitely telling anyone who would listen that he personally knows Ginger Spice.

You tore your eyes from the audience to look at Lando – the smile on his face rivaling the brightest sunny day. With his arm around you, squeezing you to his side, your closest friends cheering for you, your heart was sure to burst from happiness. There was no place you’d rather be in that moment than making a drunken fool of yourself with the most important person in your life by your side.

And if Lando was thinking the same thing, about how he was happier in that moment than he’d ever been, podiums and race win included, he’d keep that to himself for just a minute more.

#forzalando 3k #sof1shticated #moots💛#lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff

168 notes · View notes

imagineanime2022 · 2 years ago

Text

You Find Comfort In Their Demon Form

Lucifer X Reader Mammon X Reader Leviathan X Reader Satan X Reader Asmodeus X Reader Beelzebub X Reader Belphegor X Reader

Requested: @your-next-daydream

Request: I'm back with another obey me ask! Lol I know you might be getting tired of obey me, so if you want to skip this that's okay.

But if you wanted to I was wondering if you could write a MC that pulls at their demon parts (horns,tail, wings, ect) when they are anxious or stressed? With the demon brothers? Preferably just keep this gender neutral 😅

A/N: I had ideas for this the moment that you sent this in so I hope that you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Lucifer

📚 Lucifer took a little while to realise what you were doing by extension the reason for it. 📚 He’d usually have his demon form active when he could see that something was bothering you, that prompted you to hide behind him but it was only after the situation was dealt with that he realised that you were running your hands through the feathers of his wings. 📚 You might even have to tell him one day when you are in serious need of his wings and he is too busy to come out of his office. 📚 You're probably the only person that he lets that close to his wings, he might even teach you how to properly care for his wings so that he can benefit from your anxious or stressed habit.

Lucifer had already been in demon form when you walked into the office, you moved behind him with practice ease and started to run your hands through on of his wings, he waited to see if you would say anything but you didn’t instead you continued to sort through the feathers laying them properly and removing any loose feathers. “Are you going to tell me what is going on?” He asked as he continued to work through paperwork. “Nothing.” You answered as you continued your work, he folded his wings in to stop your finger working through them as he turned his head to look at you. “Try again.” He ordered. “It’s nothing, it’s just we turned in some assignments today and I’m nervous about this one.” You explained as you reached for his wings as he relaxed them again. “Why are you nervous about this one? Did you spend all of your time caring for my brothers again? Please tell me you didn’t write this one in one night.” He pleaded as he remembered the state that you came to him after that, exhausted and stressed, he had to hide you from his brothers for 24 hours so that you could rest properly. “No, I just worry that it isn’t as good as it could have been.” You shrugged and he sighed before pushing his chair back and inviting you to sit on his lap. “But you tried your best at the time?” Lucifer asked and you nodded, hand still reaching around to his wings. “Of course.” You mumbled. “Then there’s nothing that you need to worry about.” He said “take time to relax here, I’m sure my brothers can fend for themselves for a little while.” “You’ll regret saying that later.” You mumbled already far more relaxed than before. “I’ll never regret making the best decision for you.” He promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Mammon

💳 The first time that you touched his horns you nearly gave him a heart attack, any other time that his horns have been touched it’s been used to control him in some way and only ever resulted in pain. 💳 The same went for his wings so when you showed such care when touching them it confused him but was confused him more were the times that you chose to touch them. 💳 Mammon would pride himself on being the one that you came to or called when you needed reassurance or safety. 💳 Mammon doesn’t mean to distract you but he becomes a stuttering mess no matter how many times nestle into his side and thank him for being there.

You had called Mammon after getting home from RAD, you were a little later than he was so had time to get changed but when he walked into your room he saw that you were still laying in your uniform. “Hey what's wrong with ya?” He asked as he walked closer to the bed. You reached out dragging him onto the bed and curled into his side, the surprise itself caused him to change to his demon form, his wrapping around you as you reached up to touch and mess with his horns. “What are ya doin’?” He asked. “Had a bad day.” You mumbled as you buried your face in his shoulder. “What happened?” He asked. “Just some demons with too much time on their hands and nothing to do with it.” You explained. “Wait! What’s that got ta do with me?” He asked. “You always make me feel better.” You explained and he froze at the declaration. “I do?” He asked. “Mm.” You hum “thank you Mammon for being here, for being my first.” “Yeah, yeah, you have to show me who they are tomorrow, give ‘em a piece of ma mind for upsetting ma human.” He explained and you looked at him for a second and then smiled. “Thanks.” You finally say before going quiet, he glanced down to see your eyes closed peacefully and breathes a sigh of relief, he meant what he said he was going to get rid of anything that upset you.

Leviathan

🎮 Levi was pretty anxious himself, you were the only person that he allowed this close to him in any form but it did take a long time before he showed you his demon form consciously. 🎮 You were careful with him but one day you were more anxious then you had been in a long time and went to Levi to hide before either one of you noticed you were running your hands over the scales on his neck relaxing both of you. 🎮 Levi looked forward to the times that you’d come to his room and run your hands over his scales, at some point he redirected your hands to his stomach where more scales were located. 🎮 Well that is until he found out the reason behind it, now it made him worry a little bit whenever you came in and started tracing the scales while laying with your face buried in his neck, while he played whatever game.

Today was the same as every other day that you came into his room seeking comfort, you walked around the sofa and laid half across his body while your other hand loop under his shirt to rest over his scales, you slowly started tracing his scales, he glanced down at you his face a little red as he looked over your face. He waited a little while before he asked about anything, he knew that you wouldn’t be ready to talk for a little while. “What happened?” He asked. “Just some work things.” You answered. “Like what?” He asked, taking in a deep breath as your hand ran over a ticklish spot. “Oh just some annoying customers, I think I recognised them from school, probably just having fun ordering me around, and making me clean up after them.” You explained with a shrug. “Yeah? You know their names?” He asked. “What? No, it doesn’t matter even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.” You mumbled eyes falling closed. “What? Why?” He asked. “Because no one deserves what you call revenge.” You answered with a small smile on your face as your hand fattened out over the patch that you had been tracing. “Am I that bad?” He asked. “You are when you involve Lotan.” You sighed as you looked at him and he shrugged. “They deserve it for messing with my Henry.” He mumbled pressing a kiss to your forehead before swapping you to the other side of the couch where you could rest against the back, his tail wrapped around your waist to keep you close as he continued to play, he knew that Beel was with you today, so he’ll ask him at breakfast in the morning and then make those normies pay.

Satan

🐈 Satan was a little worried at first, he knew that his tail was dangerous but he realised that his tail provided comfort for you so instead of stopping you from touching it he got you a pair of gloves to protect your fingers. 🐈 He realised that you playing with his tail gave him a level of comfort as well, one he didn’t know that he’d enjoy. 🐈 You're the only person that’s allowed that close to his tail, that being said that’s only in the safety of his room. 🐈 He’ll often take this time to read something that he liked to you and take your mind off of whatever was happening.

Satan walked into his room where you were waiting with an arm over your face “are you okay?” He asked as he walked over, you lifted your hands making grabby hands in the direction that his voice had come from. “Where are your gloves?” You just whined and he raised an eyebrow, as he got closer he could see stray tears on your cheeks, he reached for your bag silently and grabbed specially made gloves taking your hands one by one and slipping the gloves on before allowing his tail to fall into your hands, you opened your eyes once you felt the weight in your hands. “What happened?” “Nothing just didn’t do as well as I wanted in one of the papers, I need to rewrite it as well as write the new one and there is an exam.” You explained and he felt the way that your hands tightened around his tail, you didn’t hurt him but he was worried that you might hurt yourself so he stood walking over to his book shelf, he heard you whine. “One minute, I’m coming back.” He promised, he just wanted to give your hand a brief break by pretending to look for a book to read, he chose one that was as far away from school work as he could get, a tale from the demon realm. He walked back over and held up the book “how about we forget about that for a little while? We’ll make a schedule and I’ll help you with the rewrite okay?” “You will?” You asked. “Mmm.” He hummed laying on his back letting his tail fall over your lap as he opened the book and started reading.

Asmodeus

💅 Asmo was probably the one that introduced you to using his demon form as a way to relieve stress. 💅 He told you about the way that his heart shaped birthmarks needed extra lotion because the skin dried out quicker and he couldn’t always reach them right. 💅 Or how his horns after constantly growing and he needs help filing them down and making sure that they didn’t grow weird directions or grow too long. 💅 While you're working he’ll use that time to slyly ask about your day and fish out any information or event that you need to vent about.

Asmo sat on his bed back leant against the headboard with a pillow for support and he manoeuvred you so that you were sitting on his lap, you started your work gently filing down his horns the way that he had shown. “So what did you do today?” He asked gently, rubbing his thumbs over your hips. “Me?” You asked. “Who else would I be talking to darling?” He asked. “Nothin much, just some annoying stuff.” You mumbled as you gently brushed some of the shavings away from the base of his horns. “What annoying stuff?” He asked. “Mammon got into some trouble with a witch, that I had to bail him out of.” You mumbled. “Are you okay?” He asked, you smiled on the concern on his face and nodded. “Promise I’m fine, Solomon helped me out and we managed to get what she wanted.” You answered. “Anything else?” He asked. “Had to stop Satan and Lucifer from killing each other after a misunderstanding.” You answered. “Those two need to learn how to communicate.” Asmo muttered as you shrugged. “They never will.” You mumbled all the while finishing off another perfect filing session. “How’s that look?” Asmo tapped your thighs signalling for you to get up so that he could get a proper look, he looked at you through the mirror and smiled. “Maybe we should start up a business.” He suggested. “You want me to sit on other demons' laps?” You asked with a smirk and he narrowed his eyes before turning back to you. “Would you?” He asked. “Would you let me?” You countered, there was silence for a moment before he dove at you pinning you to the bed. “You're my human.” He whined. “Yeah I’m your human.” You laughed finally in a better mood than when you had walked into the room.

Beelzebub

🍔 Beel realises the connection before you do, he’d usually be holding you in a stressful situation anyway so in the situations where his demon form was needed, he’d always feel your finger in his hair and around the base of his horns. 🍔 Beel would encourage the behaviour no matter what but he’d encourage it even more if it replaced a more dangerous nervous habit. 🍔 He’s always there and would be your personal stress reliever no matter what the situation was, he’d always focus on you first, there were others (Belphie and Mammon) that would get rid of the problem for the both of you. 🍔 Beel had always been good at seeing the way that a situation affected you and no matter where you were or who you were with he’d sit you on his lap and direct your hands to his head to calm yourself down.

Beel could feel you tense next to him as Satan and Lucifer started arguing, he frowned as he looked between the two, before looking at you, you had stopped eating, your hand fiddling with your trousers, he reach over moving you to his lap where he dropped his head to your shoulder, letting you run your hands over his horns “It’s okay I’ll keep you safe.” He promised. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled but he tightened his grip on you. “There is nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbled “they are scary when they start shouting, they used to scare me too.” He stood from the table completely unnoticed by everyone except for his twin and carried you back to his room. “Aren’t you hungry?” You asked as you looked at him settled in bed. “Don’t worry we’ll get a snack later when they all get lost.” He promised as he gently ran his hand up and down your back, you were still straddling his waist so you could reach his horns. “You sound angry.” You mumbled, you seemed to be relaxing. “I’m annoyed.” He answered honestly, “I don’t like that they make you feel unsafe.” “They don’t make me feel unsafe, your brother would never hurt me, I just don’t like them fighting.” You explained as one of your hands came down to the marks that peaked out of his shirt and started tracing them. “You want them to stop fighting?” He asked. “Mmm, we might have a better chance of uniting the 3 realms though.” You shrugged and he chuckled a deep sound that you missed when you didn’t hear it. “Well I’ll be here whenever you need me.” Beel promised.

Belphegor

💤 Here’s the thing, Belphie probably didn’t know what you were doing for the longest time, he was asleep whenever you played with the tuft at the end of his tail or along his horns. 💤 So you can be sure that he’d never know the situation that had caused you stress or anxiety. He’d always be able to sense the feelings though so he knew what you needed. 💤 Sometimes he doesn’t say anything. Instead he’ll pull you close and keep you there until he is sure that you are asleep, then he'll wrap his tail and arms around while intertwining your legs and that’s how you'll wake up. 💤 Belphie would spend hours trying to find out what happened to make you so tense or teary but the only person brave enough to tell him is Beel and when he does it’s game over for whatever hurt you.

This time he felt you climb into the bed behind him, he was hiding in the attic and it seemed so were you, you sat cross legged behind him and he felt you playing with his tail, he waited a moment to see what you were going to do and when he heard you sniffle slightly he turned immediately and pulled you into the a hug his tail wrapping around your waist as he run his hands through your hair, your hand reached down to catch his tail as you continued to play with it, he watched as your face changed from one of sadness, to relaxation and then you were asleep.

He pulled out his DDD, careful not to let the light shine on your face, he opened the chat with the rest of his brothers.

Belphie: Thought you were all supposed to look after them, why have they been crying? Mammon: Cryin’ who’s cryin’? Belphie: Y/N. Asmo: What happened? Belphie: I don’t know, they’re asleep, you should all know if you were doing your job right. Mammon: Woah someone’s protective of the human. Belphie: You better hope that you had nothing to do with it otherwise I’m going to flush that stupid credit card down the toilet. Lucifer: Belphegor please find out the reason that Y/N is upset and then report to me immediately. Belphie: Whatever.

Belphie glanced down at you and gently ran his knuckles over your cheek, he knew that his twin had been unusually quiet during that chat and he’d have to chase it up, then once he’s dealt with the problem the way that he saw fit and then he will report to Lucifer. However when he tried to move one of you hands moved to the base of his horns and the other other gripped the tuft of his tail and he stopped moving immediately, instead he decided to stay with you, you needed him more anyway.

Request Here!!

1K notes · View notes

t-lostinworlds · 1 year ago

Text

The Grump & The Drunk | Miguel O'Hara

》 PAIRING: miguel o'hara x spider-woman!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x (drunk) sunshine, fluff, humor

》 SUMMARY: You were clingy, feisty with no filter when you're drunk. Miguel had front row seat of it—literally. You're lucky he didn't mind. In fact, he was glad it was him and not anyone else. The thought made him seethe in jealousy even though you technically were not his girl. But he wasn't sure if that still rang true after tonight's drunken confession (or that make-out session).

》 WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, soft!miguel (also emotionally constipated!miguel but what's new), r calls him miggy to tease him, height difference (he's 6'9" he's an effin giant), r thirsts over him in front of his face lol, some innuendos, brief argument about feelings, overall very cute and fluffy.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.1k+

A/N: can anyone guess what movie i watched recently. is anyone surprised that i liked the grump with a side of trauma lmao. ANYWAY. this is the first time i'm writing miguel so pls be nice. wrote this fairly quickly too and it's barely proofread sooo. but i hope you still enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was late.

Quiet.

Well, for now, at least.

Moments like these were rare to come by, where there wasn't much to do except to let things happen. The multiverse was stable enough not to need any intervention.

It usually was the epitome of the calm before the storm.

Nevertheless, everyone—well, those left at HQ and weren't on stakeout—in the Spider Society took advantage of it.

There was always some sort of activity going on during these types of days. Most of it were small get-togethers in the cafeteria, or perhaps a low-key karaoke in the cinema room. Other times it was much more on the nose.

Right now, there was a party held on the rooftop.

The music was blaring—muffled for him, thanks to his soundproofing—as it jumped from genre to genre depending on who successfully bribed the DJ.

It was rowdy—that he was sure of. What, with the modified alcohol strong enough to affect any Spider-Person as if they weren't enhanced, how could it not be?

Miguel wasn't one for festivities. Not to mention, strobe lights always gave him bad migraines. So after showing face for about ten minutes—he wouldn't have shown up at all but was begged to go by someone he couldn't say no to—he decided to call it a night.

Well, back to his…Spider-Cave.

He was sure there would be copyright issues if that was made official.

But it was dubbed by you so it simply stuck.

You, with bright eyes and a sweet smile as you pleaded for him to come with you to the rooftop even if it was "just a couple minutes, please?"

You, who wore a simple yet gorgeous black dress as you all but dragged him into the elevator, bouncing with excitement because it was going to be your first party here at HQ.

You, who enthusiastically sipped on your Pink Señorita—a margarita with pink lemonade—giddy to feel the buzz of the alcohol after years of being unable to.

You, who was so joyful and uncaring as you danced to your heart's content when your favorite song came on, right in the middle of the floor, shining as bright as the sun as the others revolved around you.

Miguel only watched from the sidelines, his chest aching with longing. So close but out of reach because he couldn't.

He'd only put a damper on your light.

It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

He couldn't do that to you.

Soft spot.

Miguel had very few of those.

Anyone who dared to give their opinion on his life with the bravery to say it right to his face said one was occupied by you.

Some would even imply that you held the biggest one.

And sure, the first time Lyla scouted you and suggested for you to be recruited into the Spider Society he might've said yes far too quickly than he should've. But that was only because he saw the way you took down a sector of the Maggia all on your own. He was thoroughly impressed.

There were also times when he let you get away with annoying him scot-free. Whether that was teasing, various nicknames, talking his ear out for hours as you refused to leave him alone to do work, and sometimes even pranks. If it were any other person doing the same things you would've done, they would be leaving the premises at least fearing their life.

He also let you spend time around his magic carpet—as you so unoriginally named it. You were constantly testing those copyright issues—quite often to the point that some of your stuff had migrated the space. There were little trinkets scattered around, evidence that you'd been here.

Miguel finally bought a desk chair perfectly suited for his big and tall stature all because you complained about not having anywhere to sit while you were up here with him.

It was more your chair than it was his, to be honest, since you definitely sat on it far more than he had.

Sure, he could've bought an extra one for you but he didn't want to encourage the teasing—that had been nonstop since you waltzed into his life—that he was playing favorites.

He preferred to stand while he worked, anyway.

Fine.

He could kinda see why many people would say he had a soft spot for you.

Speaking of…

Miguel could hear you before he could even see you.

You were giggling to yourself, followed by poor attempts at whispered apologies when you knocked over something or bumped against something else.

It made him worry a little.

Sure, you were too enthusiastic for his liking, all optimism and sunshine despite everything that you had gone through—it harshly contrasted with his personality.

But he wouldn't particularly classify you as clumsy.

He waited for you to call for him, anticipating which way you'd say it this time around. Your most recent one was: "O'Hara, O'Hara, let down your floating chair."

You thought you were really funny with that one.

But silence.

No cheeky way of asking him to let you come up.

Where'd you go?

Suddenly, he heard a very annoyed and frustrated groan, prolonged and all dramatic.

Then, that familiar thwip rang in the air.

You couldn't have been more impatient.

He was aware of exactly where you were, shooting your webs in random directions so long as you hit a column that took you higher and higher. But even if he didn't have his enhanced senses, your constant giggling would give you away.

Yet as loud as you had already been, your shriek was even louder.

Miguel didn't hesitate to jump off the platform.

His heart was pounding as he clocked your falling figure, adrenaline and fear all at once.

You looked dazed in your freefall, unable to comprehend that your cartridges were empty as you kept trying to shoot your webs.

In the nick of time, he caught you by the waist—upside down.

He let out a huge sigh of relief at the same time you turned into heaps of giggles.

"This isn't how I imagined us getting into this position," you snorted as if you weren't dangling a couple of feet above the ground, feet in the air, arms limp and swaying. "Wow…your thigh is bigger than my head!"

Miguel's whole body warmed, not only from your comments but also because you were still in your dress.

Thank fuck it wasn't a loose skirt.

Not that he would ever look. He might be a bit of a grump—temperamental at times, he'll admit—but he was still a gentleman.

Though he was glad you couldn't see the obvious fluster on his face given your current upside-down predicament.

He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm flipping you around," he said.

"Like a pancake?"

He didn't answer. He simply tossed you into the air, your squeal echoing off the walls. He caught you again but the right way up this time—your hands clinging onto his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Miguel tried not to dwell on your closeness as he shot a web and pulled you both back up.

"You flipped me like a pancake!" you giggled, stumbling onto the platform once you reached it.

What on earth is going on with you?

One look in your eyes, his unspoken question was swiftly answered.

"Widely irresponsible to swing while drunk," he reprimanded, arms crossed over his chest.

You blew a raspberry, waving your hand dismissively. "Am not drunk."

"Then why did I have to save you from falling head-first into the ground?"

"I slipped!"

"You could've just called me to let the platform down."

"And have it take so fucking long?"

Miguel blinked.

Oh you were so drunk.

"I know it's an intimidating tactic or whatever the fuck it is you're doing. Either way, it's a choice, but it doesn't have to be so damn slow, Miggy!"

"I told you to stop calling me that," he said, no heat in his tone. He simply couldn't stand the way his heart did a funny thing whenever he'd hear that nickname slip past your lips.

"Sorry, sir," you said, sarcasm lacing each letter.

Miguel took a deep breath.

"Don't call me that, either," he said, voice an octave deeper.

You rolled your eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Someone's extra grumpy today."

"Night."

"What?"

"It's night."

"Pfft, you know, you should loosen up your suit," you said, waving at all of him. "Maybe the tightness is making you grumpier somehow, suffocating your muscles and everything."

"The tightness of my suit has nothing to do with my mood."

"Could've fooled me," you scoffed, glaring at him from head to toe. "You're probably chafing in weird places and it's making you irritable. I bet—no, I know you're naked underneath because even though I haven't seen you naked I can still see…stuff, many stuff, big stuff, you know, imagination and not leaving any and shit."

"Dios mío," he grumbled in disbelief, rubbing a palm over his warm face. "How drunk are you?"

"Zero percent-o, Miguelito."

He bit back a smile.

"Could've fooled me," he said, raising a brow at you.

"Don't you dare throw my words back at me," you warned, attempting to appear threatening with your chest puffed out, chin raised as you got all up in his face. You slumped with a pout a second later. "You are so fucking tall!"

"And you are so drunk."

"M'not!"

"Uh-huh, sure," he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh I am very sure—Miguel, can you sit down," you complained, brows deeply furrowed as you tried grabbing onto his shoulders, urging him to settle on the chair.

He decided to mess with you a little, planting his feet firmly so you weren't able to budge him even with your enhanced strength.

Your inebriated state wasn't helping your case.

It was the first time he ever got to see you annoyed and he actually found it cute. What, with your brows deeply furrowed and that pout in full play, huffing and puffing as you pushed at his chest with your full body strength, how could he not?

"Miggy sit the fuck down!" you growled.

He resisted the urge to laugh, throwing his hands up as he obliged, "Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Now, he was the one looking up at you.

Yet you still looked frustrated.

"Is that not any better?" he asked, confused.

"No," you mumbled, glaring down at him, pout still prominent.

The next thing he knew, you were already grabbing onto his shoulders, pushing yourself up the chair.

You sat right on his lap.

Miguel was rarely surprised these days, considering what he did for a living.

But he sure as hell wasn't prepared to have you on top of him.

He could almost feel his brain short-circuit, taking a bit more time and effort for it to get its bearings back into place.

But then, you turned shy, eyes blinking at him all wide with shock as if you didn't know that climbing onto his lap resulted in him and you being so close.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hello," he murmured, fingers twitching to hold you. He gripped the armrest instead. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're doing?"

"What…was I doing?" you questioned, almost to yourself, scanning the nearly non-existent space between you both before your face lit up. "Oh! I'm trying to talk to you without spraining my neck, genius."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! You try talking to a six-foot-nine Adonis of a man and see if your neck doesn't hurt after a while."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Adonis, huh?"

"Not like that," you quickly said, voice shyer. "I mean like…huge, muscular, a-and plump."

"Plump?"

"Yeah!" You nodded enthusiastically, pressing your palms right on top his chest, one on each pec. "You've got plump boobs and ass."

He almost choked on air.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"You, hopefully."

"Diosito, ayúdame," he muttered, resisting the temptation to take your word for it. You were drunk. You had no idea what you were saying.

Miguel shook his head when you stared at him confused, still slow on your Spanish. Then again, he'd only ever taught you a few phrases so far.

"How many lemonades did you have?" he asked instead.

"Why are you asking me so many questions!" you groaned, head thrown back as dramatically as you could. "It's my turn to ask questions!"

"Fine," he sighed, ignoring the urge to nip at your exposed skin. He heavily disregarded the thoughts that brewed in his head from the way you were innocently squirming on him, trying to get more comfortable, your skirt hiking up in the process.

He was good at keeping his composure, mastered it after years. He could do it for a couple of minutes more.

"Why'd you disappear?" you sighed.

"Too bright. Too loud."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"You were having fun. Didn't want to spoil your mood," he stated the obvious. "Besides, my absence didn't affect anything."

"But it did," you insisted, bottom lip jutting out. "Was gonna ask you to dance."

His brow rose at that. "And what made you think I'll say yes?"

"You always say yes," you said, shrugging as if it was a known fact to the universe.

If it was you asking? Maybe.

He honestly felt a little glad he left the party early. He wouldn't even dare to imagine the outcome if he was seen out on the dance floor with you.

He would much prefer it with no audience—just you and him.

"I don't always say yes."

You narrowed your eyes, obviously not believing him by one bit.

But you didn't bother to argue.

Instead, you plopped forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face pressed against his neck.

Miguel froze.

He honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

Well, he wanted to do so many things at once, he just didn't know if he should—too many boundaries, too dangerous to cross.

A battle between logic and emotions.

You chose for him, though.

"Will you just—" You pulled his arms off the armrest, wrapping it around you instead. "Want cuddles, please."

How could he say no?

And for the first time in a long while, Miguel finally let himself go.

Body relaxing into the seat, he pulled you a little closer, palms rubbing soft patterns on your back as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head.

It had been so long since he'd cuddled with someone, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. But still, he didn't remember it feeling this lovely—not until now.

Or maybe because it was you.

And if he didn't know any better, he'd say you were purring.

"Comfortable?" he hummed, rubbing the tip of his nose against your crown.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, humming soon after, "I've always wondered just how nice you smell up close."

He couldn't stop the flush that crept up his face.

"You're warm," you whispered, rubbing your face against his neck like a cat.

It made him wonder if you'd been hanging around Spider-Cat too much—or Meows Morales.

He'd rather not think about it.

Instead, he commanded his suit to uncover his hands, one less barrier between his palm and your skin. The fabric of your dress did very little to conceal your warmth as he continued giving you comforting rubs.

It made you bury yourself deeper into his arms as if you could go any further.

"This feels nice," you murmured, voice muffled against him.

He hummed in agreement.

You both settled into a comfortable silence after that.

But if he listened closely, the steady thump of your heartbeat was soft against his ears. He found the sound relaxing, and the minuscule romantic part of him imagined it was syncing with his own.

A peaceful rhythm.

Your soft breaths tickled his skin as you snuggled closer, his smile unabashedly painted on his face.

No one was here to see it, anyway.

After a few more moments of calmness, he assumed you'd already fallen asleep. He was already preparing himself to carry you across universes and back home when you suddenly spoke up,

"Can I touch your fangs?"

He blinked.

"What?"

You shifted, pulling back a little so that you could meet his eyes, face so close your noses almost touched.

"Your fangs," you repeated.

Before he could even respond, your hands were already on his face, one thumb lifting the corner of his lip while your other hand found his chin, holding him still.

"Wanna feel how sharp they are," you muttered, opting to use both hands now to pull his lips and expose his canines.

"Very sharp and dangerous," he chuckled despite himself, gently grabbing your wrists to stop your prodding. "Just take my word for it."

"You're pretty when you smile," you said, beaming and proud as if seeing his fangs was an accomplishment.

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning.

You smiled wider in return.

Holding your hands between you both, he absentmindedly started stroking your palms with his thumb.

It guided your gaze toward it.

"Your hands are naked!" you gasped, grabbing his wrists and bringing his fingers up to your face, wonder and awe in your eyes as if it was the first time you'd seen them without cover—it wasn't.

You'd seen him in casual clothes before.

Miguel couldn't stop his laugh from escaping even if he tried.

"I didn't know you could do that!" you said, fully amazed before your brows furrowed, pout coming back. "Why can't my suit do that? I have to get all naked just to feel my fingers."

He didn't dwell on that picture.

"I'll tweak it for you if you'd like," he said instead.

Your whole face brightened.

"Really? You'd do that?" you giddily gasped, bringing his hands up to press your palms against his like a double high five. The way your hand was much smaller than his made his heart warm.

He interlaced your fingers together. "Really."

"We're going to make a suit together!" you laughed, lovely and sweet. "That's a big big step."

He chuckled, gaze carefully tracing your beautiful features, each curve and divot glowing with happiness. He felt tempted to count every perfectly imperfect mark that littered your skin, wanting to know if it was there naturally, or if there was a story behind it.

It was supposed to be a swift glance.

He didn't mean to settle too long on your lips.

Nor did he plan to get caught.

"Stop staring," you whispered shyly.

"You're right in front of my face," he deflected, eyes back on yours.

"I know but…" You trailed off, shifting slightly, the tips of your noses brushing in the process.

"But?" he softly prodded.

"You're looking at me weird."

"How so?"

"Like…" you started, voice dropping into a whisper as if you were disclosing a secret. "You want to kiss me."

He couldn't even bother to deny the truth.

"I'll stop staring," he hummed, words holding no weight as he never removed his eyes from you.

"No!" you protested, turning flustered a second later, shyer when he smirked.

"I thought it was weird?" he teased.

"'Weird' was the wrong word," you said, scrunching your nose in thought. Adorable. "I meant different."

"How different?"

"I don't know," you admitted, leaning a little closer. "But I like it."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hands finding their way to gently cup his cheeks.

Miguel leaned into your touch with a soft smile. "Now who's staring?"

"It's because I want to kiss you," you admitted shamelessly. Your fingers traced the outline of his lips, your eyes following their path.

Miguel kissed your fingertips.

You leaned down and kissed him.

He gasped, eyes wide in shock.

A split second, they fluttered shut, head tilting, whole body melting as he kissed you back.

He spent countless amounts of time daydreaming about this moment, different scenarios, wondering what you tasted like, how it'd make him feel. But fuck—nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

It was so many things all at once.

Relief, hunger, satisfaction, desperation, fondness, fear, mind stopping, heart beating faster, soft lips, warm skin, so lovely, so sweet, so fucking addicting.

Now that he'd gotten a taste, he couldn't get enough.

Miguel cupped the back of your neck, arm snaking around your waist to keep you steady, close.

Your hand held onto his shoulder, the other finding its way into his hair, your fingers combing through the strands.

He lost any sense of control when you pulled.

Gripping your hips, he teased his tongue against the seam of your lips, slipping it in the second you opened up for him.

He groaned at your taste.

You whimpered in response.

The sound made him want to devour you.

But then you started moving your hips.

It was awakening, in more ways than one.

But the rational part of him prevailed because it was for your sake.

He pulled away, gently grabbing your chin, when you tried going back in.

"Slow down," he rasped, holding your waist and keeping you still. "Estás borracho, corazón."

"You know I don't understand," you breathed out, chest heaving, lips all plump and tempting.

"You're drunk, sweetheart," he clarified.

"I don't care," you whined, squirming.

He cupped your face in both hands.

"I do."

You pouted.

"Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Don't pout," he sighed.

"I'm not pouting," you denied.

"You are," he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your pout only turned more prominent.

The beep of the clock broke him out of his trance.

It was midnight.

Miguel stood up, taking you with him before gently urging you to stand on your own two feet.

"It’s late. You should go," he said monotonously and stepped back.

You frowned.

He looked away.

"Why do you always do this?"

You were frustrated—no, you were getting angry.

He turned his back on you, eyes on the holograms even though there was nothing worth looking at.

"Do what?" he said, acting oblivious.

"Confuse the fuck out of me," you said, loud with frustration. "You act cold and distant one minute and then you're being nice and sweet the next. You keep your distance but then call me all these cute nicknames sometimes—and yes, you say them in Spanish but I asked Lyla about it once and she told me what they meant."

Traitor—thrown under the bus by his own invention.

"But then sometimes you give in and we get closer but the second I chip your walls you push me away," you continued, getting angrier by the second. "I thought things were getting better between us. But now, you won't even fucking look at me even after we just kissed—"

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back!" you screamed.

It took him by surprise.

You had never raised your voice, much less yelled at anyone.

But honestly? There was no one else who deserved it more than him.

Slowly turning around, his heart sank when he met your tear-filled eyes.

By instinct, he reached out to try and comfort you.

It only made you angrier.

"You're doing it again!" you growled and stepped back, hands balled into fists.

Miguel stopped, hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he softly said.

"Protect me?" you scoffed. "Or protect yourself?"

"I'm doing what's best for you," he reasoned, wanting nothing more than to wipe your tears away and kick his own ass for making you cry in the first place.

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe," he said, hands dropping to his sides, dejected. "But I know myself.

"Someone like me shouldn't be with someone as pure and as bright as you."

"No one gets to decide who I should and shouldn't be with," you gritted, taking long strides until you were squaring up to him. "No one but me. That's my choice."

Despite your boiling anger, despite the fact that you were glaring at him in a way that should scare him, despite the absolute animosity that lingered in your voice, your next words couldn't have brought the most opposite reaction from him.

"And I want to be with you."

Happiness, warmth, euphoria—the few things that made his heart burst at the seams.

But Miguel shook his head, eyes dropping to the ground, quickly stomping down emotions.

"I'm only going to end up hurting you," he sighed, pacing back and forth as he rubbed a frustrated hand over his warm face.

"I trust you that you won't."

"Well, you shouldn't," he insisted, eyes filled with longing, wanting to pull you close and taste your lips again despite his words saying otherwise. "You deserve so much better."

"If you believe that so fucking much then be better."

With that, you turned on your heel.

So many things flashed before his eyes, one of which was if he let you walk away now, he was going to lose you, for good.

He fucking panicked.

So much so that he jumped—right over your head.

You squeaked in shock when he landed in front of you.

Miguel didn't waste a second.

He grabbed your face and kissed you senseless.

You stumbled back, Miguel quickly webbing the chair, pulling it just in time for you to land on the cushion.

Not once did his lips leave yours.

He was bending over, hands grabbing the backrest, trapping you against it. You cupped his face, a shiver running down his spine when you trailed your hands down his chest.

But then you gently pushed him back.

He ignored the ache in his heart as he pulled away.

Miguel dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, placing a kiss on each palm before he pressed it against his cheeks.

"I want to be with you so badly," he confessed, eyes never leaving yours so you could see it—all of him at your mercy.

"But I'm scared," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "I'm terrified that all I'll ever do is fail you, that I will never end up being the man that you deserve."

"How would you know if you won't try?" you said, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with the sweetest smile. "And I know you think otherwise, but you deserve to be happy, too."

Miguel didn't know what to say.

So he didn't.

He kissed you instead.

It was slow, reassuring, a soft touch of your lips on his, but never less passionate.

He would've opted to deepen it a little more, but then you downright yawned between the kiss.

And here he thought you couldn't get cuter.

"You need sleep," he chuckled.

"I don't wanna go home," you grumbled, burying yourself into his chest. "It's too far."

"My room, then?" he offered.

You quickly nodded. He could almost feel you grinning against his suit.

He kissed your forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Bed?" you gasped, emerging out of your hiding spot to wriggle your brows at him teasingly. "Gosh, take me out to dinner first."

"What am I going to do with you," he grumbled, shaking his head

"Many things, I hope."

He rolled his eyes, pressing the button to let the platform down.

"Miggy, can you give me a piggyback ride?" you asked, pouting for good measure. "I'm tired."

He sighed, turned around and crouched down.

"He doesn't always say yes he said," you giggled.

"Are you getting on or not?"

"Okay, okay, geez." You grabbed his shoulders and hoisted yourself on his back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Cheek pressed against his shoulder, you grinned. "Always eager to have me ride you, huh?"

His face warmed.

"I'll drop you if you won't stop."

"No you won't."

Miguel loosened his grip.

You yelped, quickly tightening your hold around him.

"You're so mean!"

He chuckled, turning his head as much as he could and puckering up his lips.

You giggled as you gave him a chaste kiss, pressing your cheek in between his shoulder blades with a deep sigh.

"Lyla, please send extra blankets and pillows to my quarters," he said, smiling to himself when you suddenly got heavier on his back.

He was sure you'd already fallen asleep.

Lyla appeared in front of him a second later, her grin far too wide for his liking.

"Not a single word about this to anyone," he interrupted whatever it was she was starting to say. "Please. Just…give us time to figure this out."

"Gotcha, boss," she said. "But for the record, I'm doing it for her."

"Good."

•••

You squinted at the bright glare that roused you from your sleep. You always close the curtains, it was part of your nightly routine. Why did you forget it this time?

Sitting up, you flopped back down with a deep groan.

Your head was pounding.

Hungover.

You didn't miss this part of drinking at all.

After a few moments, you slowly opened your eyes, the ceiling looking too unfamiliar.

Glancing down, the color of the sheets wasn't the sky blue you recently changed it into. As a matter of fact, that bed was much bigger than you were used to.

This wasn't your room.

In fact, this wasn't your world.

"What did I do?" you whispered, glancing at the nightstand. You saw the tall glass of water first, then the few pills of aspirin.

It was the framed picture that made you realize where you were.

This was Miguel's room.

Memories from last night came rushing in like a train, using your brain as railroad tracks which made your headache worse.

You quickly gulped down the water and meds, throwing the blankets off of you only to flush at the discovery.

Boxer shorts and a huge jacket—you were wearing his clothes.

Stumbling into the en suite, your heart warmed at the extra toothbrush that was already waiting for you.

You quickly made yourself as presentable as possible before making your way to the only place you knew he would be at this time of day.

First to clock in, last to clock out.

The platform was already down when you got there.

It was as if he was waiting for you.

"Morning, sleepy head," Miguel greeted without looking away from the screens.

"Good morning," you responded shyly. You picked at the hem of his jacket, second-guessing your choice of not changing out of it.

You honestly didn't know where to even begin.

As if sensing your discomfort, he turned his chair to face you.

Something flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, something primal as he regarded your figure. It was gone the next second you might as well have imagined it.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching out both hands for you to take.

Walking over to him, you slipped your hands into his, the platform beginning its ascend once you did.

You gasped in surprise when he suddenly pulled you onto his lap.

He placed your hands on his shoulders, his strong fingers curling around your waist.

You couldn't look him far too long in the eyes.

It felt like you'd combust if you did.

"What, now you're shy?" he teased, smirking freely. It was a good improvement, but you didn't know if your heart could take it having him smile at you like that. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this last night."

"Don't remind me," you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

Miguel chuckled.

God this was so new.

It felt like you were drunk all over again—no sense of what was real and what was all in your head.

But with the soft squeeze on your waist, and the gentle fingers circling around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face, you knew this was as real as it was going to get.

"What else do you remember?" he asked, thumbs drawing random shapes on the insides of your wrist.

You scrunched up your face. "Everything?"

He hummed, leaning a little closer to nudge the tip of your nose with his, urging you to keep your eyes on him.

"I have no idea how to do this…relationship thing. It's been a while," he started, a faint blush on his cheeks that made him so much more endearing. "But I'm willing to try this—with you."

Your heart grew ten times its size, you were sure of it.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, kissing your knuckles. "If you'll let me."

"We'll figure it out together," you said, holding his face in your hands with a smile.

"I'd like that," he whispered, grin turning cheeky. "On one condition."

"What?" Your brows furrowed.

"Morning kisses are mandatory."

You let out a hearty laugh, sound quick to turn into giggles when Miguel pressed his lips against yours.

It didn't take long for things to get heated.

You were picking up right where you left off last night, a little further given that alcohol wasn't in the equation anymore.

Yet with the way Miguel's hands were roaming your body, grabbing and groping whatever he could reach, tongue hot and heavy as it slipped past your lips, his deep groans vibrating against your palms as you rested it on his chest, his kisses moving their way onto the warm skin on your neck, softly nipping, tongue soothing—it was far more dizzying than any modified alcohol and then some.

It was a familiar voice that broke you off this time.

"Ahem! Uh, hello, I'm here!" It echoed from below. "The baby, too, by the way. So make sure you're…uhm, decent when you bring that thing down."

Miguel pulled away with an annoyed groan, eyes landing on the floating figure that appeared behind you.

If he could kill Lyla with one look—

"What?" she exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"She didn't! You guys just weren't particularly…quiet," Peter B. defended on her behalf, chuckling. "And this place has the worst echo."

"Yeah, that's your fault," you whispered against his lips, pecking him one last time before getting off his lap.

He wasn't particularly happy about that either.

You pushed the button before he could say anything, the platform descending, smiling at him all innocent.

"I'm not done with you," he warned, voice deep with lust it made your whole body tingle.

"I'm counting on it." You winked, hopping off the platform before he could even respond.

Mayday landed in your arms before you could take a step.

"Hi, beautiful girl!" you greeted cheerfully, her chubby cheeks lifting as she giggled at you. "

"I wouldn't rush it," you heard Peter say.

"What?" Miguel gritted, still so annoyed.

"I know you're thinking about having a baby with her."

You bit back a laugh.

The utter silence from Miguel made it so much harder.

"You know nothing," he grumbled.

"Maybe," Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. "About time you made your move though."

Miguel grumbled something incoherent and turned back towards the screen.

Still, you caught the smile he was trying to hide.

It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

You walked over to him with Mayday in your arms. "Say hi to Uncle Miggy!"

Always your best accomplice, Mayday made grabby hands at him, blubbering, "Middy! Middy!"

Miguel sighed, carefully taking Mayday from you, before giving her a soft smile—the only other person he wasn't grumpy to. "Hello, peanut."

She giggled in response, climbing onto his shoulders, settling on them with her arms above his head. She always loved being so tall.

Miguel shot you a glare then, no heat to it at all. If anything, it was filled with pure fondness.

You grinned at him.

"You're a bad influence," he whispered to you.

"I don't think I am, Middy," you teased, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

The way he suddenly turned flustered was adorable.

And when Mayday made a yucky sound, and Peter B. laughed, you knew your work of teasing him for the day was done.

"Come on, bub, let's go get you ice cream," you called, the little girl giggling in delight before jumping into your arms. You sent Miguel a wink before leaving him to deal with his beloved friend's teasing. Peter was practically waiting for this moment.

Many people regretted what they had done while drunk, especially when it involved something embarrassing.

Not you.

You regret nothing at all.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#tg&td #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara reader insert #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spider-man: across the spider-verse #atsv #my writing

665 notes · View notes