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huicitawrites · 11 months

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The Hunt

Yandere! Miguel O' Hara x Fem! Spider! Reader

T/W: yandere (slow-burn(?)), dark fic, violence, assault, spoilers for across the spiderverse.

Status: rewritten.

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Word Count: 2,4k

"Y/N! Get. Back. Here. NOW", swinging away from an infuriated Miguel O'Hara wasn't something you had planned or ever thought would occur, never entertained the thought of it. At least not until now, as you desperately attempted to get away from him and somehow escape him- for your dimension-travel watch (as wild as the concept of it sounded) had been snatched by the same man that was madly hunting you down.

How did it even all come to this? Let's rewind, back to the beginning.

Part I

After being bitten by a radioactive spider in a school trip to Alchemax at the young age of 15, you obtained enhanced spider-like abilities: a sixth sense for perceiving danger, incredible reflexes, amazing parkour skills, extraordinary strentgh and flexibility.

And for the past ten years, you have been New York's one and only Spider-Woman.

Learning to use your powers was a whole trip on itself. They awakened rather clumsily -nothing a leap of faith could not fix- as you began to grasp the ropes of being a masked hero in your teenage years [it's safe to say that your teenage years were truly a heck of a rollercoaster].

Handling a double-life was not easy, that is something you have learned with your ten years experience. You saved a bunch of people and thus many lives, you won many times and saved the city countless more. Yet you also earned a bunch of dangerous criminals and villains tailing behind your back that would want to kill you without hesitation and harm you in any way possible.

In spite of the times you were beaten down, left made a mess in the ground, or at the brink of death- you would always get back up because you were Spider-Woman.

Sometimes, getting back up was hard.

The weight of the sake of the city was on your shoulders. And sometimes, that weight crushed you. When you lost your parents it was devastating, because not only had you failed as a hero, but as a daughter.

[Your dad perished in an attempt to save you from an attack of one of many enemies- the Green Goblin . You two happened to be on a ‘father and daughter’ outing in a nice dinner when the Green Goblin tried to draw out Spider-Woman from her hiding place in Brooklyn (unbeknownst of your true identity and much to your own misery and guilt.) After battling the Green Goblin and imprisoning him, you rose with your dead father in your arms, and an huge crack in your heart that would leave a deep scar.

Months later, your mother's followed suit. That day was chaotic, panic filled the streets of New York as The Rhino, a veteran soldier with super human strentgh and a high-techno advanced armor resembling a rhinoceros, laid waste to the city. You were evacuating all civilians nearby, swinging across and into buildings, picking up and scooping anyone you could encounter and putting them out of danger.

It happened as you held falling debris with your arms. You picked up wailing in between the many cries of people, and your spider-sense guided your eyes up from the ground.

A child, no older than five, was crying. He was glued to the floor, too overwhelmed by the calamity surrounding him. A wall from a building was falling on him and your heart beat raced. You still had people below you that were crawling out and the child was a or two block away. Your thoughts raced in your head, you had to save everyone, down to the last live.

"Come on, come on, come on" you muttered in between gritted teeth as you gathered power and lifted the debris into the air. With the help of your web shooter, you pulled all the remaining civilians out and casted aside the courtesy of double-checking as you swinged toward the child.

You could see how the wall fell over him, and you reached out your arm with your forearm out desperately, attempted to pull him out with your web but the wall was already about to touch his head and-

She pushed the child out of the danger, motherly instincts impulsing her feet at the cost of her own life. The child was pushed onto you and you brought him flush against you with your web, arms encasing him as you witnessed the wall collapse on her.

In shock and disbelief, you gently lowered the child to the ground and ran to the fallen wall. Once again in despair, you clawed through the debris and searched for your mother’s body.

You found her bruised and crushed, her face deformed. You brushed the dust off it. Her pained groan was faint, and you begged her right there and then not to leave you. Not to leave you alone, again.

“Is the kid al…?”

“Yes! Don’t, don’t talk. Help, help is coming. You have to stay, you have to.” But her eyes were already fading, and her limbs growing weak. Your disguised hand snatched up hers and you cried,

“Mom!”

She recognized your voice, the one she cherished the most. Her fading eyes gathered all the warmth they could muster and she reached out a quivering hand to your cheek. Her fingers slid into your mask, and she felt your tear stained skin.

“Ah my baby…[Y/n]…I’m so proud... Your father would be so proud... keep it up”. Her last words were voiced with strain, but you would always remember them.]

They became the fuel for your mission, and no matter how many times you were beaten to the ground and wounded to no end, you stood back up. You would save everyone else, no more deaths, you swore upon your parents' last moments.

Now in your adult life, you found yourself in a stable life besides the implications your side hustle not-so-side -hustle brought. You had an adequate job as a writer for small titles in a decent newspaper, and you had a department you shared with your childhood best friend, Peter Parker [who eventually became your tech-desk guy. Hiding your true identity from your best friend and roommate would have never lasted long anyway. You remember clearly the day you climbed into the living's window, beat up, bruised and tired, when the lights suddenly turned on and a Peter with crossed arms and an eyebrow raised was waiting for you like a parent whose child was past curfew. You were without your mask on. Nonetheless, after stuttering uncontrollably and failing to explain and just simply breaking down in front of him. Without saying any words, he took out the first aid kit and reassured you with a smile. You were so grateful to him.]

So now here you were, crouching on the top of The Clock Tower, the moonlight casting its light on your back and darkening your silhouette. Earlier in the day you dealt with some thugs and minor crimes, but since the sun fell nothing happened. That was odd, NYC was never quite, least of all times at night.

But your spider-sense was running, not rampant, but definetely there like annoying itch on the nape. Something had to be off, you knew it.

"Um, I'm not picking up anything, (Y/n). Maybe you should be calling it a night, you've been doing good work so far. You did lower the crime rate, after all."

"You sure Pete? There's this feeling in my gut and-"

"Your 'spidey- thingy' ?".

"Spider-sense, spidey-thingy sounds dumb" you answered with a small groan, rolling your eyes although he could not see the.

He chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he turned serious " but I'm not getting anything from anywhere. From police radios and stations to our own hidden cameras"

"Nothing? Sure?"

"I mean everything is awfully quiet now that I think about it... All I can pick up is glitching, let's see... let me do my thing and-" you could hear frantic typing through the comms of your suit within the mask, you could even picture Peter hunching and fixing his eyeglasses.

What he said left you pondering. Glitching? It couldn't be a coincidence that all the radio signals he could pick up were glitching.

"Aha! Here it is, your spidey-thingy was right." this time, you chuckled as if saying 'see?'. He continued, "-this should be a very hidden signal from the special forces team. Seems classified, man they should really put a little more money into whatever software they use to protect their privacy" and he pushed on one final 'enter', the glitching and static got louder almost startling you to which your friend apologized softly, but it evened out.

"Report the situation, Lieutenant Stacy"

"Requesting back-up right now, suspect is armed with advanced equipment, we are at the Port, South East, many of my men and women have been wounded and- oh, shit, shit" The man's words died down with the sound of something big crashing and breaking.

Well, that's your cue. You stood up on your toes and balanced you body weight forward, diving to the ground. With your limbs extended, you stretched your forearm and extended your wrist, web shooting out from the slick web shooter Peter designed.

Swinging from building to building under the night sky, you jumped across billboards and slid past tight spaces as you were heading to the location of the conflict, and the closer you swinged, the wilder your spider sense got.

When you arrived at the port, you saw a SWAT truck that was flipped over, it had a huge dent in the form of a what seemed to be a claw mark, and the windows had been broken. There were a few members on the floor, and you noticed there were two trying to lift the heavy vehicle.

"Let me help," you announced your presence and they whipped their heads. Their faces were glistening with sweat and dirt, and you could notice their equipment was damaged. You crouched and lifted the truck, there was one member there below, and his leg was twisted the other way, but he was breathing- well, panting.

Without further a do, the soldiers went and dragged out their friend. A soldier's face lit up, though they seemed hesitant [after all, your line of work was kind of controversial among the government and its forces] but they were thankful. "Thank you, Spider-Woman", their voice was genuine and you smiled below the mask.

"Your welcome, leave it to me" winking at them through your lense, you nodded and propelled yourself to the ceiling of the warehouse. You noticed a roof canopy at the center, lucky you, and brought the palm of your hand to it. Utilizing your sticky finger pads, you carefully removed a pane of glass and entered the building without making a sound.

"Be careful, please" Peter voiced with worry.

You hanged the web from it's strongest point at the peak, and slowly lowered yourself down until your hand gently brushed the cold floor . You got off the web and crawled in direction of the tingling of the spider-sense. You found some warehouse crates, pressed your back onto them, slowly leaning your head out to take a peak.

A man stood there, a middle aged man by the looks of him. He had a round pair of black sunglasses on and a large leather coat on, but the most outstanding feature was apparently behind him. Four metal tentacle-like arms sprouting from his back, with threatening looking claws. That had to be the thing that put such a dent in a SWAT vehicle, the advanced equipment you heard of in the interception.

He was ranting about something, speaking to himself. "The power of the sun at the palm of my hand, only to be ruined by that fucking-"

‘What is this man even talking about…’

His words died down in your ears as it took a few seconds for your spider-sense to peak, and you scrunched your face features. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted, cheeks squeezing up and causing the lenses of the mask to stretch and flatten.

"(Y/n)? Found anything yet?" Peter inquired.

"This man... I think I know him... but also not..." At this point, your spider-sense was rampant. Your gaze still confused as you tried to decipher him. Your spider sense was alerting you of this oddly familiar feeling. It was someone you had dealt with before, but also someone new. Simply off-putting.

Then the realization fell on you, his tentacle-like arms.

"Is that Doc Ock!?" Without getting a hold of your reaction, you accidentally raised your voice and revealed your location. Your spider-sense tingled again, this time, sensing imminent danger as you backflipped and dodged the incoming attack. The crate you were hiding behind of was broken into splinters.

"Come on out, Spider-Man!" he shouted, his voice in pure anger.

Spider-Man? As long as you remember, you never referred to your disguised self as Spider-Man...

"It's Spider-Woman, mind you" You revealed yourself off the shadows, and the light basked in your costume, revealing its signature colors and design. "Do I know you by chance?" you tited your head, inquisitive in your tone as you were trying to figure things out.

The man's expression fell, and his rage was replaced by annoyance.

"Is this some kind of sick joke, Spider-Man? Have you forgotten the name of the man whose work of life you ruined, Otto Octavius." His tongue rolled of his name with spite and you widened your eyes.

"Doc Ock? But, you are different. You are totally human". Last time you checked, Doc Ock was a mad scientist that turned himself half-octopus by bioengineering his genetics in the name of some sort of sick evolution idea. He had tried to turn the city into mutants like himself for 'the sake of humanity's future' and you managed to stop his plans. Furthermore, he had been sent to a high-security prison for villains, where an anti-serum is being developed to turn him back and halt his aggression.

"Are you pulling my leg Spider-Man?" He said with disbelief, and he began to appear more and more angry by the second. He muttered something below his breath, and you swore you saw one of his tentacles turn toward his face as if it were sentient and listening...

"I've told you it's Spider-Woman." You huffed out, chest puffing out. You had a bad feeling about this...

The man's hand ran down his own face and he groaned, visibly tired. "Well, whatever, but you do appear to be an ally of Peter Parker's, your costume and your name leave little room for further speculation". The mention of your friend raised up your guard, how did he know Pete? Any doubts and hesitation erased themselves of your mind, for your friend could be in lethal danger.

"Oh? What's the matter, 'Spider-Woman'," he sneered.

"Picked right on the web, hmm?" He edged on, a dangerous smirk dancing on his face and two claws raising up in the air, ready to pounce.

There was not much to it, as you jumped sideways to dodge whatever that clawed-tentacle-armor was. You found yourself right back at the gig, fighting a villain as the one and only Spider-Woman.

Or so you thought.

A/n: Hi! So when I first saw this fictional man I KNEW I had to write about him, originally, it was going to be a long one shot, but I decided to break it into parts. I expect this story to be up to 3 parts or 4 as most. Anyhow, I hope you come to like it!, and sorry for the long- ass intro, I really wanted to dwelve deeper into reader as a spider person. Next is the real thing. I have seen some people have asked me to tag them, so don’t be shy to ask too!

#yandere #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere blog #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #miguel o hara x reader #yandere miguel #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o' hara x reader #across the spiderverse #yandere across the spiderverse #female reader #yandere spiderman 2099 #yandere spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader

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mo0nfairy · 9 months

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART TWO !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 10.2k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, murder/death, gore/blood, stalking, age-gap, non-con touching, drugging, invasion of privacy, force-feeding, mentions of rape/assault, mentions of vomit, hanging, insinuations of suicide, physical restraint, child neglect/abuse, child abandonment, & a lot of gross shit.

miguel o'hara's yandere traits are . . .

smothering, territorial, & paranoid

──── Electricity. It is what Miguel O'Hara lost you to on October 17th, 2099. And it is what he felt on May 16th of the same year.

A soccer coach, that is all you were. Simply there to guide a gaggle of tiny rascals toward their dreams of becoming Olympic athletes. That is all you should have been. Spending your days beneath the sweltering sun, collecting quick money and soccer-ball-induced bruises, before leaving Nueva York to settle down elsewhere. That is what you could have been.

Gabriella O'Hara was one of your many students. However, her dad was rarely present during her games. The lack of fatherly presence struck a parental nerve in your body, hence your perceptible favoritism for her. The efforts you made did not go unnoticed by Gabriella, either.

The time she had preferred tying dandelion stems to one another instead of participating with other classmates, you joined the lonely girl and taught her how to craft flower crowns. Since then, she has always arrived to practice with light in her eyes as she gifts you another flower crown of millions. And of course, you thank her graciously for the present. Even after they wilt and wither, they will forever have a home in your residence.

Today was a particularly gloomy Saturday in late March. The carpool Miguel relied on had been cancelled last minute, much to his dismay. The parent he couldn't remember the name of informed him their child was stricken with a case of chickenpox. After reading their incessant apologies, he groans in a fit of annoyance upon realizing he would have to chauffeur his daughter for the day.

Soccer Ball and weed-ridden flower crown in her small hands, Gabriella clambers into the back of the car and fastens herself into the car seat. In the process, she finds yet another way to bring you into the conversation. Somehow in the span of a few weeks, everything Gabriella does revolves around you in some shape or form. If Miguel hears 'Y/N,' 'flower-crowns,' or 'soccer' once more, he is positive he will implode on the spot. Clenching his jaw, he mentally prepares himself for the most excruciating car ride he is sure he will ever endure.

When they arrive at the field, there is no hug, no kiss, not even a wave of goodbye. Miguel merely lets his daughter exit the vehicle herself, ignores her exclamation of "See you later!" and zooms off. Despite how harrowing her father's negligence is, Gabriella knows she will see you and that fact aids all. If she were honest, she would say she likes you far more than she does her own family. It is tacitly evident through the attention you give her. You lighten up like a Christmas tree when she runs and engulfs your legs in a tight hug. Gleefully, you accept her gift of yet another flower crown and praise her for the effort she put into crafting such. And after being so deprived of the necessity of love, Gabriella practically clings to your side like a parasite.

In the meantime, Miguel returns home and hastily sorts through reports sent in by Alchemax. From technological hiccups to your average-day Karen, being in this field never failed to make this man roll his eyes in annoyance. Despite the admiratio he holds for his career, he still grumbles when his responsibilities creep up on him. And much like everything else in his life, he despises it all.

A monitor then pops up beside him, the translucent screen displaying a reminder he had set hours ago. "May 16th, 2099. Saturday. 3:45 PM. Pick Up Child." His head is thrown back in a fit of irritation when he is reminded of her presence. Miguel closes the tab and leaves the expanse of his office, counting down the days until his daughter blows out her 18 candles and he can finally be at peace.

After the car ride spent pondering over why he had chosen this life, he soon arrives at the soccer field. Scrutinizing through the cluster of children playing in the field, he cannot find Gabriella through the chaos. Miguel does not worry about her well-being, as opposed to how other parents would react to their child being missing. He merely huffs before departing from the vehicle. His large hand tracks through his hair as he searches for where the brat had wandered off to, ignoring the lustful gazes from mothers who were explicitly unhappy in their marriages.

Tucked away in the corner is the first-aid center. Within the bell tent, he spots his daughter. She is blissfully happy as she laughs hysterically, which makes her father red with rage. His talons dig into the meat of his palms; his fangs protrude into his lips. He had already driven all this way for her, how dare she force him to travel even further!? Stomping across the field and through the threshold, his towering frame suddenly halts when he takes notice of the additional presence inside the tent.

And just like that, for the first time in his entire life, the anger simply... vanishes. It is almost like magic. Through tireless efforts, Miguel has done everything in his power to deplete this suffocating rage. All efforts made by him were brought to no fruition. In this moment, however, the mere presence of this stranger brings such a candy-sweet shock to all his senses, that he forgets where his anger was in the first place.

They cast a look over their shoulder to acknowledge his sudden entrance. And their features sit like stars on the expanse of their face, their eyes like the sun and moon basking him in its holy light. A kind smile that could rival the luminescence of heaven grows on their face. Miguel is shocked the sight hadn't caused his knees to lock beneath him. They introduce themselves and if he could write their name on his tongue and only ever speak of them, he wouldn't waste another heartbeat.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

The word sounds like flowers in the wind; like an answered prayer for brighter days. Extending their arm out to shake his hand, Miguel fervently takes their hand into his and shivers from the close, yet minimal, contact.

"So, this is the notorious Y/N I've heard so much about." His voice drops to a low husk, attempting to woo you.

Miguel presses your knuckles to his lips and kisses them with fervid haste. The skin, flesh, and warmth pervading the expanse of his lips make him feel weightless. He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body, but with you now in his life, he'd tear every raw bone from his body and place them at your feet if you so much as asked. Just keep making him feel the way you do.

He then introduces himself and punctuates the syllables with the inflection of his accent, knowing of how it drove others wild. In this case, he was not given the heart-lurching sight of you averting your gaze or listening to your flustered giggles. Instead, you yank your hand away from his affections and revert your attention to Gabriella. Miguel had forgotten she was there altogether, and once again, the permeating rage returned once more.

Without your blessed attention, his lost soul returns to the home it built out of anger and misery. He had so greedily absorbed every sliver of good you possessed, he never fathomed how he would feel when it would be inevitably revoked.

Upon closer inspection, Miguel notices how his daughter's cheeks are puffy with stained tears. On her knees are a clutter of superhero-themed band-aids, a few displaying her father in his work attire. You inform him of the tumble she had taken earlier that day and of how there was nothing to concern himself with, gesturing to the bandages adorning her frail legs. He was never worried in the first place, only captivated by your sheer existence.

You then bend down to where Gabriella is seated on an ottoman and take her tiny hands into yours.

"I was going to wait until later on, but I got a gift that I just have to give you!" Gabriella lightens up as if you had told her you were taking her to Disneyland, anxiously anticipating her present.

Quirking your head, you turn to her father. "If that is alright with you, of course." Yes, anything you want. I will give you everything you could ever want.

A nod of his head and you stand to your feet. That mellifluous voice of yours that Miguel could listen to forever apprises Gabriella to close her eyes, which she obliges to and brings her palms to her face. Grasping hold of the gift hidden in the corner of the tent, you begin to tread toward the young girl. Before you had granted her to, she not-so-sneakily peeks through the expanse of her fingers. She can't abstain from squealing in excitement when she catches sight of what is in your palms. She closes the distance between you both and rushes to you, before practically yanking the gift out of your grasp. A harsh scolding bridges upon Miguel's lips for the action. However, when he takes notice of the admiration in your expression, he is rendered speechless with sudden envy.

A flower crown is what you had given her. The detail is exquisite, evident in the sheer awe plastered upon Gabriella's face as she studies it. Strawflower, lavender, eucalyptus, and daisies adorn the garment, as well as strands of amaranth that would cascade down her back. In addition to this, a myriad of other ornamentations clung to the crown. Vibrant gemstones, pastel buttons, and a pink, silken ribbon that ties the crown together in a flawless bow — it is a tiara befitting the most beautiful of princesses. And you told Gabriella she fit that standard effortlessly.

Meanwhile, Miguel stands in the background and seethes. How despairingly he wishes the gift were for him instead. In any other light, he'd say the garment was tacky. Ugly, even. He would have no resourceful use for it, either, and it would inevitably be chucked into the garbage. When it is you who put all care and detail into the gift, however, the story changes. Mere seconds have gone by since he has learned your name and still, he'd flaunt that crown for the rest of his life if you had gifted it to him. No matter the judging heaps of laughter he'd receive from others.

Gabriella thanks you profusely and engulfs your legs in another hug. Her gratitude is met with a reciprocated squeeze, as well. The act of affection is given to one another entirely oblivious to the third party overwhelmed with jealousy. His thick brows are plastered in a permanent furrow and his lips have morphed into an envious sneer. You are so effortlessly good with children and Miguel can't refrain his brain from catapulting to conclusions.

What does your life look like outside of being his daughter's favorite person? Do you have children of your own?

Is there someone else?

You and Gabriella then perform your secret handshake. It had been choreographed during one of the numerous soccer meets after her father neglected to collect his daughter on time. Soon, the two are leaving the tent. And every step away from you feels like walking on hot stones. The further Miguel treads, the scorching temperatures increase. He cannot look back. One glance and he'd be barreling for the poor tent like some rabid animal, desperate for another taste of your bottled happiness.

May 16th had only been the beginning of the Miguel-ridden chaos that would soon embark into your life.

Considering his negligence, you were stunned to see how he had signed his daughter up for several classes a week. But, you become entirely aghast with shock when you find him attending every meeting and game, remaining in the same spot for the entire course. Most parents twiddle on their phones while others mingle with the other adults. Miguel O'Hara was different. His sole, undivided attention was reserved for the actions taken on the field. And his sweet child could not have been more elated.

You presumed this alter in behavior to be a spark of realization that manifested into becoming a better parent. However, as the weeks go by and he continues to attend, you are quick to realize how his attention isn't appointed to his daughter, but it is set on you instead.

It is impossible for you to disinter what about yourself he finds so entertaining. With his eyes glued to you, it fills you with a sense of insecurity when you assume he may be mocking or judging you. The seemingly permanent dead emotion cast on his face makes you squirm with discomfort.

Upon closer inspection, or during the constant chatter he provokes when you're not occupied with the children, you swear the pupils of his eye almost appear... heart-shaped? You also cannot remember a time when he looked you directly in the eye, either. You're sure if you asked him what your eye color is, he'd be dumbfounded (he knows the exact shade by HTML color code, but that fact remains unknown to you). They are locked onto your lips, instead. Do you have something on your face? Maybe something in your teeth? The lack of emotion he communicates through facial expressions has you ridden with worry.

The most evident response you've been able to perceive in his expression was on a random day after practice. In the midst of a conversation with Miguel, another father interrupts him. His face morphs into something murderous when the unwelcome guest has the audacity to ask for your number. He claims it is to inquire you about his son's performance while he is not physically present in the game. With the way his eyes leer to your body, Miguel knows exactly what kind of revolting, perverted visions are plaguing his mind.

Clenched jaw, tense frown, eyes blown wide — Miguel’s chest rises and falls with rapid breaths while he glares bullets into the man. It takes everything within him to not release his talons, flash his fangs, and rip this pervert into nothing but a bloodied mess of gore on this very soccer field.

He is dead by dawn.

Exposed to several counts of rape and assault, Spider-Man hanged that man with his red web-matter beneath a bridge. His written confession was pinned to his chest with a hunting knife.

The disturbing events led his wife to officially resign her son from your practice. On live television, the widow swears on her life that her husband would not do such a thing. The sudden exposure of random crimes without any victims or proof does seem a tad suspicious, you think to yourself. Due to the circumstances, however, you cancel soccer meetups for the following several weeks so parents and children can process these disturbing events.

While you are typing another empathetic message to the apparent-criminal’s wife, another message pings on your device.

The culprit is no other than Miguel O'Hara. As if the news that had spread amongst the city like wildfire had chosen to leave him intact.

As if nothing happened.

Miguel invites you to an ice cream parlor with him and Gabriella, a weird undertone that implies it's a date while his daughter is the annoying third wheel. To get your mind off the poor boy whose father was brutally murdered, you agree to the rendezvous. His response is far too ecstatic to be deemed platonic, but much like all of his other flirtatious insinuations, you ignore it. You are juggling much more important, colossal matters in your life, after all.

Early afternoon rolls around and you arrive a mere five minutes early to the parlor, only to find the two were already seated beneath a pastel-striped umbrella. Gabriella is adorned in the flower crown you gifted her weeks ago, babbling about frivolous matters while her father sits beside her. Chin rested against his palm, you have never seen a more bored expression on a human's face.

Double-checking the clock to ensure Miguel's apathy wasn't a result of your poor planning, you're relieved to see your suspicions were false. You briefly scroll through the new messages on your phone from parents and neighbors regarding their children. As much as you adore your job, juggling the well-being of so many lives can be exhausting.

The click of your car door opening cuts your actions short. Looking at the sudden intrusion, you find Miguel O'Hara towering over you with Gabriella at his side. Her eyes beam beneath the flower crown you crafted, while her father perceptibly softens at the sight of you. Almost as if a tidal wave of relief washed over him after years spent breathing in trepidation. Not wasting another second, Gabriella crawls into the car and engulfs you in a hug. You are able to reciprocate the affection before her father pulls her away from what's his you. He is rather rough with her, but the smile that paints her face aids the dread inside of you.

Miguel lends a hand, which you take with reluctance. He guides you from your beat-up, engine-sputtering vehicle as if you were royalty. Your other hand was now held hostage by Gabriella, who attempts to conquer her father's strength and guide you to where they were once seated. Her efforts are futile when you are yanked into Miguel's sudden embrace. He was never shy with his affections, but this is the first time he was so close to you. And God, is it overwhelming. His imposing frame envelops every inch of you, to where all your senses are deluged in all of him. His cologne, his muscles, his warmth — he is everywhere and it is wholly suffocating.

"I missed you so much..." A beat passes before you realize he is referring to the mere week you have spent without seeing the O'Hara family.

Slowly and painstakingly, he releases you from his tenacious hold. Gabriella is then swift to fill the silence. She grasps your attention easily, something her father has struggled immensely with.

She pantomimes about the fashion show she hosted for her dolls back home and the success she earned during her P.E. class a few days prior. So indulged in the stories of this poor, attention-deprived child, you failed to notice how your hand was still held in Miguel's grasp. His lips find your knuckles, as they always do. The sensation of his kiss against you was nothing out of the blue. The act of affection had become a strange routine for every encounter you both shared. Without your resistance, Miguel fully indulges himself in how much he has missed you and plants more long, abiding kisses to your hand.

When you finally perceive his actions, you swiftly yank your hand away from his relentless affections. An awkward, forced smile sits on your face as you look at him with furrowed brows, seemingly scrutinizing him for some sort of explanation of his actions. Gabriella then pulls you away and drags you like a dog to their reserved table. Not without a sharp demand from her father to be careful with you.

On the surface, you find a colossal bowl of your favorite ice cream. The question lurks of how they had known this fact, but you merely brush it off as dropping the information to Gabriella a while ago. Besides the treat, a bouquet of paper flowers scribbled with bright-hued markers sits. She expresses how she crafted it for you during her time in school. Students were given art equipment and assigned to create a heartfelt gift for their parents. In the brain of Gabriella, she neglected her actual parent and put all her love into creating something perfect for you. And to you, it was all of that and more.

The three of you sit. You thank the young girl for the beautiful gift. Then, you pretend to inhale the scent of fresh flowers and jokingly compliment her on how she picked the finest posy from her garden. Before you can continue to pantomime about the process she went through to craft the bouquet, her father interrupts her. He proposes a gift he has gotten for you, as well.

A box is then placed before you. It is enveloped in vermillion velvet and silver tracings of 'Cartier' are threaded among the sides. You restrain from expressing your shock at the expensive appearance. Flicking the small latch that probably costs more than your bedroom alone, you gently clutch the two adjacent covers and open the box.

Sat inside is a diamond ring. The way the July sun reflects against the gift and into your eyes is harsh. You're shocked you hadn't gone blind from the unwelcome pervasion. The intricacies of the garment are delicate and precious, to where you are afraid of even putting your hands on such finery. You become entirely ridden with shock and terror when you grasp the thin thread attached to the box and read the price tag.

$2,000,000 is written in bold letters, almost as if the striking font was ridiculing you.

As heard through the fits of gossip from bored parents during practice, you were aware Miguel was a billionaire working at Alchemax. In these past few weeks spent handling nagging parents worried for their children's safety, the fact seems to have escaped your brain. And even with receipts that look like phone numbers, you still cannot fathom how pure diamonds are mere pocket change to him.

Jaw on the ground, you don't realize just how much time you spent gawking at the ring. A hum of amused, affectionate laughter clutches you away from your state of captivation. You shift your gaze away to see Miguel and those all-too-familiar heart-shaped pupils. Staring into your soul. It is the most emotion you have seen on his face since you met him. You wonder how many times he has looked at you like that when you were occupied with other matters.

He moves closer to you. You stalk his movements with curiosity, watching as he grasps your hand for the zillionth time since you met him. Uncomfortably pressing himself against you, Miguel reaches over your shoulder and grasps the ring. He evidently indulges in every second spent in close proximity with you. The hot, heavy breath fanning against your ear informs you of what captivated chaos is taking place inside his brain. Goosebumps bloom on your skin when the frigid diamonds meet the flesh of your ring finger. He assumes the sudden shiver engrossing your body is due to his closeness and he does little to hide his perceptible excitement.

You loving him nearly as much as he loves you — that is all he could ever want.

You lightly tread your digits among the ring, almost afraid to dirty the expensive jewelry with your mere touch. You stutter through an attempt at thanking Miguel for the gift. And your awe mending with your gratitude has his heart lurching in his chest. God, you are just so sweet. He is surprised his teeth haven't all rotted just from standing here in your presence.

Gabriella is in a similar state to you, as well. Any child in the presence of jewelry meant to be worn by a deity would react in a similar manner. Though, her childlike wonder fogs all the polite manners she prided herself in having. Her small fingers reach to touch the diamonds, but her efforts are halted a mere picosecond after they had begun.

Miguel snaps his fingers. That is all he does. Gabriella freezes at the sound, turning her attention to her father, and then cowering like a scolded puppy. She scoots away from you, abandoning her endeavors the second his fingers meet his palm. You fear what occurs beneath the roof of their home when there are no prying eyes there to witness anything.

A sultry whisper of "you look perfect" in your ear and the state of discomfort you were in only intensifies. Miguel's finger drags from your left shoulder blade to the other as he begrudgingly moves away from you, returning to his original seat.

Nearly incoherent blabbers of the ring being too much money tumble from your lips as you try and rid yourself of the diamonds. However, no matter how tireless your efforts are, the ring almost seems locked around your finger. A gentle tap to your elbow from Miguel beside you and you halt your efforts. You've heard he is quite scary when angry, after all.

With melted ice cream left on the table and diamonds superglued to your finger, you come to the conclusion that leaving your house today was probably a mistake.

When you do return home, however, you now realize you should have seen the blatant red flags long ago and left Miguel in your shadow. Your incessant assurances of how he just has an odd way of expressing kindness halted you from accepting the truth.

Standing before your bathroom mirror, a myriad of cleaning products from beneath the sink sit before you. Your laptop sits there, too, and displays countless YouTube videos adhering to removing a tight ring. Attempting to unravel the glimmering, red knot tying the ring to your hand, the revelation of Miguel's intentions finally begins to settle. These matters are so important, that you don't even acknowledge how the vermillion string looks oddly familiar to what you see the city's superhero using to travel.

Deep within your thoughts, the sharp vibration of a text message startles you out of your inner turmoil. A hologram expands from your phone left against the bathroom countertop. Lo and behold, no other than Miguel O'Hara has messaged you. He thanks you for joining him earlier (avoiding mentioning how his daughter was there, too). He slides an additional compliment of how diamonds look stunning on you. You're glad the toilet is so close to you, as you may need to vomit from the rotten sweetness of his words.

Instead of replying, as you would normally thank him for his kindness, you ignore his message. You are far more interested in trying to rid your hand of this ring without harming the accessory and washing his $2,000,000 down the drain.

With fruitless efforts and exhausted arms, you slouch against the bathroom wall and wave a white flag. You decide to succumb to the stubborn ring's desires and move on with your nightly routine. Instead of having your usual shower, however, you run a bath instead to avoid harming these damned diamonds. It is almost comical to lay in these bubbles completely nude while still wearing this single piece of jewelry. You wonder how Miguel would react to seeing you like this, physically scowling at the lust-ridden response you know he would have.

Speak of the devil, another message from him chimes on your phone. The hologram expands from its spot on the counter, once more. He inquires why you haven't responded to him, as if you would drop everything just to converse with him. He would do the same for you in a heartbeat, but that fact remains unknown to you.

A mere minute passes before an onslaught of messages begins to pour into the room. The rapid ding! of your phone causes you to clench your teeth with fervent irritation. You groan before abruptly escaping the warm embrace of bathwater to grasp your phone. Ignoring all incessant begs for your attention, you put your phone on mute and savor the tranquility that follows. You also overlook the mentions of "not being able to see you" and "his cameras disconnecting" in favor of returning to your peaceful bath.

Your state of relaxation is short-lived, much to your dismay. Not even several minutes later the tumultuous sound of fists banging on your front door permeates. The sudden intrusion of noise sends a shock of terror into your heart. Due to recent events, you fear the crime that has spread throughout Nueva York is now standing outside your home. Could it be someone begging for help? Or could it be someone eager to take your life? Swiftly ensnaring a robe around your body, you hastily tie the knot as you rush to identify the one responsible for the clamor.

Another groan of vexation escapes your throat when you see Miguel at your doorstep through the peephole. The fear simmers but returns when you can't piece together how on Earth he knew where you lived. You hesitate to open the door, but it isn't like you have much of a choice in that matter.

The door creaks open. And the reaction Miguel has seeing you in a robe and his diamonds is more than perceptible. Almost as if whatever excuse he conjured up for being at your home at this hour had been snagged from his brain. His eyes travel from your head to your toes, then back upwards, before reality slaps him across the face and forces him out of wonderland. The fear pumping through his body depleted the second Miguel saw you, to where nothing but a hot canopy of tranquility embraced him. The confused, puppy-like expression on your face, the thin robe protecting you from exposure, and his precious diamonds on your hand — nothing about this sight could save him from the tsunami of devotion that has swallowed him whole.

His arms are around you faster than you could think. And he just melts.

You meekly attempt to escape his tenacious hold, but your efforts are never brought to fruition. With his large hands clasped onto your body and his face nuzzled into your neck, escaping this man and his smothering love was a mere pipe dream.

If the emotions coursing through Miguel in this moment had somehow become a physical matter, he would care for it like he would a newborn baby. Tend to its every need, soothe it when it fusses, give away every ounce of love his heart can possibly accommodate. It contradicts his current performance as an actual parent, but all of his soul was reserved for you, after all.

"I can't live without you." It has only been several hours since you last saw him. Why is he acting like this?

Your efforts to escape accelerate when the razor-like point of his teeth poke against your neck. A harsh shriek then emerges from you when fangs protrude into your flesh. Something unfamiliar pumps through your system with rapid speed. It courses through your body and envelops every inch with profuse lethargy. The exhaustion satiates everything. It is all you can perceive. You slump against Miguel's toned physique like a wet noodle, to where he fully supports your weight with adoring fervor. Whispers of praise and gentle proclamations of love are the last thing you perceive before you drift off.

The dizzy sight of blurred city lights and bedsheets is what you see next. No Miguel, no bathrobes, no ensnaring embraces. Just you and your warped, distorted vision. You attempt to pull your head forward, only for gravity to fail you when you loll back onto the puffy pillows. When your hazy vision fades into something more distinct, you are finally able to discern some of your physical surroundings.

A bedroom that certainly does not belong to you is what you are met with. It is luxurious. Expensive. Lush. An incredible contrast to the small, decrepit bungalow you called home. The tall windows display the remarkable city from its highest point. The gentle, red-hued lamplight frames the late-night clouds drifting about and the planes soaring through the sky. You are laid against a circle-framed bed where several exorbitant comforters are draped around you. The robe you were adorned in hours ago was gone, too. Now, you are dressed in a high-quality, silken pajama set you do not recognize.

Your head relentlessly aches as you attempt to study the entire scene before you. The sensation is alike someone slamming a hammer into your brain. You bring your hand to your temple in a feeble attempt at easing the ache, but the freezing touch of the diamonds on your finger make you hiss from the stimulation. It channels a groan from your throat. The sound you make is simultaneously met with the distorted echo of a stranger's cooing. They purr out whispers of comfort and love, failing miserably in mending the fear stirring within you.

"Oh, button… You have no idea how long I have wanted this." Miguel fucking O'Hara. That revolting, candy-sweet voice belongs to no other than Miguel O'Hara.

He towers over you, as he always does. Dread tickles your bones and dances among the goosebumps trailing your flesh. Questions swarm within your brain as you attempt to scrutinize what you could have done to anger this man. You've heard through the grapevine how catastrophic his fury is, after all.

Contrary to popular belief, however, Miguel is not the flaming ball of rage he appears to be. Well, he at least isn't like that with you. Everyone else has clear evidence of the absolute rabid dog this man can be. It is evident in his greedy, adoring hands that have been stained red more times than he can count. It is evident in the warm pool of his brown irises that only appear blood-hued when you are not around. It is evident in absolutely everything he does.

This fact doesn't change at this moment, either. With the speed of a predator stalking prey, Miguel steadily climbs onto the bed and straddles you. You can only lay paralyzed and stare at the man above you in trepidation. With frail efforts, you are able to garner a sliver of mobility when you attempt to push him off. He resorts to grasping hold of your wrists and pinning them beside your head. So much for that plan. His abnormally sharp nails dig into your flesh; his nose pokes the bridge of yours when he bends down. His breath fans against your face and the familiar sight of his heart-shaped pupils is now overwhelming. Once again, his eyes are glued onto the one place they always seem to be: your lips. You can practically taste the need exuding from him.

A hologram then appears in front of his face. A monotone, robotic voice emanates into the silent room. "Your heart rate is 110 BPM. This has alarmingly exceeded your average BPM. If you are in danger, please press-"

The anger you heard rumors of fills him to the brim. Something daring to refrain him from drowning you in his love is equivalent to ordering a one-way ticket into the depths of Hell. A grunt and curse emerge from him. With a rushed flick of his finger, the hologram disappears as quickly as it came.

And without another second to perceive his actions, his lips are on yours. It is an almost god-like fervor he possesses. Your relentless struggling flies over the head of the absolute beast on top of you. It is instead met with the sharp prick you felt the night before on your lips. The same sensations flood through your veins, once again. This time, however, you are still able to regain consciousness and the small dosage succeeds in immobilizing your body. Now, you are entirely susceptible to whatever your kidnapper intends to have you endure.

Meanwhile, Miguel is utterly convinced he has left Earth and is now resting on Cloud-Nine. The unadulterated affection and sheer giddiness derived from your kiss bubble in his chest like a fizzy, sugar-ridden soda. He even considers he had somehow gotten drunk on the beverage, even though there is no physical indication of the beverage even existing. The way his heart batters like a savage animal locked in a cage is enough evidence to convince him otherwise, though. This kiss was only done to debilitate you, yes, but he would be a fool if he believed he could hold himself back from indulging in this moment.

Forehead pressed against yours, he speaks with breathless tremor. "I..." He gulps, "I got you another gift, button."

Once Miguel deems himself satisfied, he laps up the drops of blood that cascade from your lips with bone-chilling glee. Reluctantly, he withdraws from the close contact. His attention then begrudgingly drifts from you and to something on the bedside table. You are unable to turn your head and identify his actions, you can only lay on this bed in complete, paralyzed submission.

In his hands is a bowl of your favorite ice cream. "You never finished your bowl at the parlor. Remember?" You are still unsure of where he learned this was your preferred flavor.

When you expect him to bring the plastic, pastel-pink spoon to your lips, he does the opposite. Instead, he feeds himself a spoonful of the ice cream. Then, much to your horror, he presses his thumb to your chin and indulges in another kiss. His tongue slithers into your mouth, to where he coerces you to consume the sugary substance directly from him. Like a fucking mother bird. Your moans of discomfort are mistaken for sounds of pleasure. The noise elicits a muffled grunt from Miguel that vibrates against your lips. After all, the guttural groans protruding from him are enough to inform you he is enjoying this far more than you are.

"You can't just walk into my life, take my heart, then try and leave." Another quick, yet deep, kiss is forced upon you before he continues. "I won't let you. I can’t let you…”

A mess of ice cream, saliva, and stained blood paint your abused lips. Miguel backs away from your mouth and the separation provides you ephemeral comfort. For the umpteenth time, he hastily scoops another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and fervently forces it into yours. It is absolute torture.

Any attempt at pushing this monster away from you and puking out any trace of him left in you was entirely fruitless. The spongy muscle of his tongue continues to explore your mouth with more heaps of ice cream. Miguel kisses, slurps, and guzzles all remnants of you he can garner. You wonder if he had bought the entire parlor with how much ice cream he appeared to have.

"I love you too fucking much..." All you can do is let him relish in the euphoria he feels upon his actions and pray to God that it will end soon.

This is what life looked like for the following months. Miguel forcing his love onto you the way he forced ice cream down your throat.

And it is what life looked like when he lost you. Miguel forcing the universe to adhere to his needs the way he forced you into being his lover.

October 17th. It was all his fault.

He remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. It was a frigid Saturday morning. Miguel dropped Gabriella off at school for soccer practice, not bothering to wave or kiss his daughter goodbye, once again. Instead, he leaves quickly to purchase an expensive necklace and another order of your favorite ice cream to surprise you. Diamonds and sugar are the best way to someone's heart, right?

The ice cream falls from his hands and splats against the ground when he finds you. The diamonds are now chipped and dented from falling onto the hardwood floors. His breath is lodged in his chest as if his lungs had been crushed beneath the weight of the sight that stood before him. His eyes are blown wide in confused horror as if the mere action of blinking would kill him in his stance.

You lay on the floor of his office.

Lifeless. Cold. Dead.

The vibrant spider webs he used to tie the ring to your hand had conducted an electric flow from the watch he had been working on and into your body.

The electricity you made him feel was now the reason you were dead.

However, Miguel refuses to see this. He brings your body into his embrace, choosing to ignore the lack of reciprocation and silent pulse. You are just asleep, you are just asleep, you are just asleep. Tears overwhelm his vision, hiccups penetrate his chest, and unruly sobs fill the air. Still, he clings to you and persists in what he is desperate to believe as the truth. You are just asleep. You're always so sleepy, it is just too adorable! Maybe some ice cream will wake you up. Right? Right...?

Incessant demands to open your eyes fill the air, which soon turns into a series of relentless, incoherent pleads. Miguel webs the battered necklace and spilled ice cream into his hands. He ensnares the jewelry around your neck, a choked compliment of how beautiful you look barely able to escape through unruly sobs. His trembling hands then bring a spoonful of your favorite ice cream to your lips, ushering you to open your mouth and let him feed you. The tears staining his vision make it hard to see what he is doing. He loses the mobility of the spoon, to where it then clatters against the ground.

Large hands then cling to your face as he forcefully shakes you and calls out your name.

"WAKE UP! Y/N, WAKE UP!" The desperate, thunderous roar could have torn the world asunder with its violent force. It surely would have woken you up, had you been alive. Miguel knows this and it destroys him.

Miguel grasps the watch on top of the desk, you still in his arms. The desire to absolutely destroy the very thing that took you from him was almost feral. When he thought of the intentions he originally had upon creating the machine, however, he sought against it. Clicking the metal walls back into place, he taps a few buttons in the correct order. The room is then adorned in neon colors that frame a pitch-black portal. From here, Miguel stands to his feet with you in his arms and ventures through.

He abandons his daughter, abandons his life, abandons everything.

When he first learned of the existence of the Multiverse through his job at Alchemax, he fantasized about creating the perfect world where you and him can be together. He crafted it from scratch, but it still needed a few more knots tightened and screws fastened before he could have given it to you. Blinding sunshine and vibrant blue skies; healthy green grass and a single house on a hill. The clouds drifting in the sky resemble a myriad of different shapes, where Miguel had hoped you and him could do cloud-gazing with one another. The flowers planted in the soil all contrast in variety and color, where Miguel had hoped you could make him a personal flower crown like you did for his daughter. And of course, an invisible force surrounds the small plot of land to ensure you won't go wandering.

Where it can be just you and him. Where you can never escape his love. Where you can be happy together.

Things are much different now. He was too late. Miguel can only stand here with your lifeless body in his arms, surrounded by the clean home he intended on spending forever in. The satiating grief had turned into desolate numbness. He doesn’t waste another second before taking action. Laying your body into the bed you two were intended to share, he assures himself you are just taking an afternoon nap. Then, he begins to forage the home for something, anything, that will wake you from your slumber. Like sleeping beauty, he desperately muses to himself.

Within several weeks, your poor body had been strapped to the bed with numerous tubes and IVs protruding into your body. Miguel stands by a desk, a myriad of holograms displaying information that would be incomprehensible to even the smartest of people. Eye bags sit heavy on his face from restless nights; his eyes are swollen and red from the lack of sleep.

He doesn't care if he has to kill every person in the Multiverse, endure the most gut-wrenching pain known to man, or even sell his soul to the devil himself. He will do anything to see you open your eyes again. Even if it is just to slap him across the face or to scream at him for taking you from your old life, he still needs it. You'd be home. And that is all Miguel could ever want.

However, he was so occupied in doing everything within his power to bring you back to him, that he hadn't realized just how uneducated he was about the Multiverse. When he wakes up after falling asleep at his desk to the strange sound of something sizzling, he looks and finds the furniture around the room begin to glitch. Almost as if he was living in a simulation. The closer the malfunctions accelerate to you, the quicker he is to take every device plunged into your body and bring you into his arms.

The foundations of the home vibrate beneath his feet, and he then sprints from the bedroom and down the stairs. A violent crash echoes from behind him when he finally escapes through the front door. He doesn't dare to look behind him, he only holds your body closer to him and sprints forward.

A few taps to his watch and a portal unfolds just several yards from him. When he was a mere footstep from escaping with you, the force of the destruction snatched you from his embrace. He tries to fight against the energy pulling him into the gateway he summoned and practically flails his body around like a dying insect. His desperate efforts to retrieve you are of no use when his strength is overpowered by his own machine. Inevitably, he falls into the portal.

A harsh cry of "NO!" flees from his mouth before he finds himself back in Nueva York. Alone.

The world Miguel had put his blood, sweat, and tears into creating had crumbled right before his eyes. And right in the middle of the mess is where the only thing he has ever loved is.

As the story of all Spider-People goes, Miguel uses every bit of energy derived from his grief. He, however, does not use it for the sake of others or to ensure no one ever feels the pain of losing a loved one. Instead, he vows to study more of the Multiverse and create technology that can bring your body back to him. He was so close to waking you up! He just needed a little more time!

During his endeavors, he soon meets Jessica Drew, and all delusions he claimed to be the truth shattered like glass onto concrete. Here, Miguel learns of the "Y/N-Curse," as she so called it. How every Spider-Person is destined to fall hopelessly in love with a version of Y/N, only to lose them in the end. She tells him of how she was in love with her own version of them, too, during her teenage years, which made Miguel spark with territorial rage. After beating around the push for too long, what she tells him causes his entire body to go rigid with shock.

Everyone was so used to the stoic, cold, terrifying Miguel O'Hara. Only Jessica Drew had seen that exterior disintegrate when he learned your body had been destroyed and it was impossible to retrieve you. His absolute worst nightmare had manifested into reality and nothing could ever conquer the amount of pain he feels now.

You are gone.

Forever.

If it wasn't for Jessica's high-speed, spider-induced senses, Miguel would have succeeded in killing her and then himself right in that moment.

From here, he agreed to Jessica's inquiries about starting a society of Spider-People all across the Multiverse. If not for others, then for you. Even if it is not the same Y/N from his reality, any version of you does not deserve to suffer. Still, to live every day watching millions of versions of you die through the numerous holograms sat on his desk tortures him in ways he cannot fathom. It is killing him, but when it is for you, he will do absolutely anything.

He will find a way to stop this curse. Even if it is the last thing he ever does.

With that, your life was over. May 16th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara met the only thing that ever mattered to him. And October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost them.

A year has now passed since Miguel lost you and your story on Earth-1610 has kicked into full gear.

March 30th, 2023. Roughly a month has passed since you began these tutoring sessions. One hour every Tuesday and Thursday. That is all it was; that was all it was supposed to be.

Within the short expanse of 18 years, Miles Morales has never felt such exhilaration then when he is with you. Life has exploded in various hues of rapture, enchantment, and those all-too-familiar sensations of goosebumps blooming across his skin. When he miscalculates an equation on purpose to hear your euphonious voice correct him; when he feigns frustration to feel the warmth of your comfort and reassurance — oh, there is nothing that could ever equate to these newfound emotions. These two hours a week have become the highlight of his life and will forever remain so, he is sure of it.

3:27 PM flickers in neon green on Miles' wristwatch. 33 minutes until he gets to reunite with you. The love of his life, his soon-to-be spouse, the future parent of his beautiful children. It is impossible to contain the effervescent excitement as he sits here atop the numerous pillars adorning the Brooklyn Bridge.

A sketchbook sits in his hand, a technical pen in the other. Only several more empty pages are available, as the other ones have all been painted with your face. More sketchbooks contained with similar drawings are hidden in his bedroom back home. The amount of money his mother has spent on sketchbooks this month has become alarming. Rio is starting to edge over suspicion when his excuses of "I lost it" and "I spilled water on it" have been wrung dry.

And the drawings on these pages are a picture-perfect definition of lovesick. Sketches of what you would wear on your wedding day, illustrations of you and him on adorable dates, and of course, the alarmingly accurate depictions of you. Every detail of your form has become muscle memory now; every feature and "blemish" of yours is imprinted in Miles' brain. His foot taps with anticipation against the stone surface. Oh, he cannot wait to see you again.

Hastily, he shoves the art equipment into his cluttered backpack. A silver web sprouts from his wrist when he jumps from the skyscraper-high pillar. He soars through the city and hums to one of the numerous love songs on his playlist dedicated to you. Swinging past several graffiti pieces he's made of your face and ignoring a poor woman whose purse was being stolen, Miles soon makes it through his bedroom window.

At record speed, he rids himself of his sweaty suit and dresses himself in the best articles of clothing from his closet. A pair of jeans he hadn't doodled on, a Brooklyn Nets jersey over a white tee, and a pair of freshly-bought Air Jordans. For a final touch, a spritz of cologne he stole borrowed from a Tom Ford store. He would wear a tailored suit, but his request to have such was rejected by his parents. You needed to see how serious he was about you. After all, who knows how many others are in line to snag your heart? Miles' body erupts with chills at the mere thought.

Patching up the final efforts of his outfit in the mirror, he hears the front door creak open and the elated tone of his mother escapes through the thin walls. Then, there is your voice. And in our entire universe, there is absolutely nothing that can compare to the sheer music of your voice. He takes a deep breath to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision, before finally leaving his bedroom. When he turns the corner and makes eye contact with you, the sweet shock it brings to his senses is almost enough to make him collapse onto the kitchen tile.

"Hey, Miles." He certainly would not mind waking up to that every day.

"Y-Y/N! It's good to see you! No, great, actually. It-It's great to see you! I'm happy you're here... Very happy, heh..." The fact he is able to muster a single syllable in your presence is nothing short of a miracle.

A mere 20 minutes has now passed since you have entered the Morales residence. You and Miles are sat at the dining room table, surrounded by a mess of highlighters, study guides, and practice quizzes. And this boy could win an Oscar with how well he plays dumb. Miscalculating equations, picking wrong answers, and misspelling simple words. With the few questions he purposely answers correctly, every "Nice job!" and "You got it!" has him staring at you as if he had looked into the night sky for the very first time. Oh, the sight of your sunlit smile and the sound of your mellifluous voice are seconds away from making him melt into a puddle.

Rio then enters the room with her phone in hand, much to Miles' dismay. As he is about to groan at her presence and demand through clenched teeth for her to leave, she then speaks.

"Y/N/N! Your boyfriend's on the phone! He said he had some trouble getting a hold of you." A knowing smirk is sat on her lips. However, there is also a gleam of disappointment over the fact she couldn't have someone as amazing as you join the Morales family.

With zero romance in your work-induced life, you are puzzled upon receiving this information. However, you then playfully roll your eyes, assuming it was a friend of yours playing a stupid prank. This action, however, told Miles all that he needed to know. The person on the other line has been granted the absolute privilege of calling you theirs.

And his world shatters.

With a "Thank you, Mrs. Morales," you take the phone and leave to the other room. Unbeknownst to you, you leave behind a downhearted mother and a devastated boy trying desperately to gather the pieces of his broken heart. His agony is almost palpable, which Eio takes notice of immediately. She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. She then informs him that there will be so many other fish in the sea the young boy will meet in his life, but she is oblivious to the weight of her son's devotion.

There is no one after you; there is nothing if it can't be you.

Meanwhile, you sing out an amused "hellooooo?" into the phone's speaker. You say your friend's name, exclaiming of how you know this is them and that this stunt they pulled against the infatuated student you tutor was cruel.

You wait for their witty response, to where there is none. All you can hear is the sound of someone's trembling breaths. You say their name in question a few more times, inquiring if the creepy mood was just another silly joke. When all you are met with is sheer silence accompanied by heavy breathing, you bid your friend an annoyed goodbye and end the call.

When you return to the dining room, you are muddled to find there is no one there. Before you are able to call out anyone's name in question, a loud and sharp bang! shakes the entire house. You can hear Rio's muffled voice through the walls. Although you are unable to discern her speech, the perceptible worry in her tone shakes you to your core. What has happened while you were gone? You follow the sounds, only to find her at Miles' bedroom, begging him to unlock the door and let her in. Within said bedroom, it sounds as though a tornado had formed within the small expanse and was destroying anything within its path.

Rio sees you in her peripheral and is swift with taking her phone back, ignoring your worried inquiries, and guiding you back to the dining room. A forced smile is planted on her face as she advises you to pack your things since Miles has suddenly "fallen sick." She begins to pack your things for you and of course, you aid her in these efforts, but she is far more frantic than you are. She slaps several dollar bills in your hand and when you try to inform her this was triple the pay she is meant to give you, your efforts fall on deaf ears. Rio then puts your backpack on you as if you were her child on your first day of Kindergarten.

With a gentle hand on your back, she leads you out the door. On the way, she gives you thanks and apologizes profusely for the unexpected trouble. Before you can reply, the door is slammed in your face. You are left in the dark expanse of the hallway, wondering what on Earth had just occurred. As much as you wish to help, you know there is nothing you can do at this current moment. You consider sending them a gift basket later on to aid Miles through his unexpected "sickness," before returning home as Rio advised you to.

You leave, blissfully unaware of what events are taking place within the Morales household.

When you had left to take the phone call, that is when disaster struck. With tears seeping down his cheeks, Miles abruptly stood from the dining room and stormed off to his room, his mother close behind. He slammed the door shut, locking it before proceeding to take out every sliver of emotion within his body on whatever helpless matter sat closest to him.

Miles' room became a complete disaster within the matter of seconds.

Action figures have been dismembered, posters are torn down, and art equipment has been destroyed. The dents in the wall from what he has thrown about are accompanied by the fist-shaped hole he left in the wall. A window has been shattered, his bed has been upturned, and his desk has been split in half. All emotions barreling through his body wreaked havoc on anything within his path.

His clenched fists form moon-crescent shapes into his palm; his chest rises and falls rapidly with infuriated breaths. His entire body is shaking with misery, rage, and horror. He feels everything at once and it is destroying him. The sobs being pulled from his chest feel like knife wounds through his heart. The tears falling from his cheeks paint his shirt wet and stain his hands from consistently attempting to wipe them away.

How could he not have known?

Through bleary vision, he glances at the door of his closet which has suffered immensely from his havoc, with violent indents and chunks of wood protruding out. Miles then drags his exhausted body across the room.

He enters the closet and locks the door behind him.

How could he not have known?

Just outside all of this destruction, you walk through the bristling streets of Brooklyn. A sharp chill sits on the back of your neck, almost as if someone was hot on your tail. It has you whipping around to verify no sudden danger was there to welcome you to your demise. Usually, walks through the city are calming to you. Tonight, for whatever reason, was different. You excuse it as still feeling perturbed from what had happened moments before with Miles, but the sensation still lingers.

Swinging from building to building behind you is Miguel O'Hara.

He had sat on the top of a neighboring building with a 2023-modeled phone in his hand. Hearing your voice, after a full year of being without the euphonious melody, had his heart halting in his chest. Even after you ended the call, he still sat there. Flabbergasted. Stunned. Euphoric.

The plan he conjured up was swift and flawed. Anyone in their right mind would be devastated to hear your heart belonged to another. Especially Miles Morales. Acknowledging this, he ushered the boy into a full mental breakdown right before you. The sight would surely terrify you, leading you to run away and leave him in the dust of your past. However, this was not the case. Instead, you were concerned about his well-being and wished to stay. The sharp envy coursing through Miguel led him to chuck the phone against the concrete surface of the roof, a few of the shattered remains piercing his skin.

What prevents him from tearing out Miles' throat, scooping you into his arms, and taking you far away is the state of the Multiverse. He refuses to make the same mistake he made a year ago; he refuses to put you in any sort of danger ever again.

For now, he'll create a ridge between you and the boy you're destined to fall in love with. Forging messages, fabricating lies, causing another childlike meltdown of millions. Miguel will do everything in his power to ensure you feel nothing but contempt for this boy while protecting you from your impending death in the process.

He just hopes nobody else in the Spider Society finds out you are alive, as well.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ YOU SAID I WAS THE MOST EXOTIC FLOWER,

HOLDING ME TIGHT IN OUR FINAL HOUR . . . ❞

pinterest owns my heart so i couldn't stop myself. here, here, here, here, and here are some examples/inspiration i used for miguel's penthouse.

gif creds :: miguel.

tag list :: @honey-beeuwu, @thel0v3hashira143, @cailey1011, @mickxxstxvxns-blog, @flaming-vulpix, @puthypirate42069, @dolliemoons, @mikalovesnoodles, @explosiongamora, @thegalacticnacho091, @brinleighsstuff, @shinsou-hoetoshi, @uselessbutinteresting, @amortentor, @fried-milkfish, @officiallypoopoo, @lu-lupe, @belladonnashifter, @forgottenbynature, @marooseshawnash, @funtimefoxybae, @ethnicbratz, @painpainflyaway, @shadepelt4673, @vivacioussaint, @palepettycharmer, @rqdior, @clownwiki, @clever-username96, @bisoudoll, @darlingdontwe, @naiomiwinchester, @weskennedysgirl, @chubbuart, @simpfo, @neytirisarrow, @leilani04, @lizzymizzy-blogg,

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cybrsan · 3 months

Text

Light It Up! — K.HJ, P.SH

STORY SUMMARY: The year is 2077, and the world is a lawless dystopia where tech giants and major corporations hold all the power. Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa are an infamous criminal duo who have made names for themselves fighting against the "techno brainwashing" of society. Discovering they're on the brink of getting caught, they decide to go out with a bang—and who better to help them than their favorite plaything?

PAIRING: Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader x Park Seonghwa

RATING/GENRE: M ; smut ; criminal / cyberpunk / dystopian AU

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Arson, breaking and entering, clubbing, alcohol + drug use, pet names (doll, precious), rioting, violence

NSFW WARNINGS: Choking, creampie, cum stuffing, cunnilingis, deep throating, exhibitionism, fire play, fingering, free use, hair-pulling, knife play (light), multiple orgasms, play party, public sex, spitroasting, sub drop, threesome, overstimulation

A/N: Don't blame me, blame the MATZ m/v.

LINKS: Masterlist, cross-posted on AO3.

“And… there!”

After days of meticulous planning, organizing, and making shady, back-alley deals, it’s finally done. The last camera is in position—everything is ready for the big event. All that’s left for you to do is step back and admire your work.

Switching on your illegally procured holodeck, you press a few buttons and watch as the space around you completely transforms. What was once an abandoned warehouse is now a club that could rival any in the city center. Neon lights pulse to heavy synth, serving bots whiz from place to place, and the makeshift bar looks inviting enough with rows of expensive bottles on display. Whether or not the liquor in the bottles is worth the price, well… Hopefully people will be too distracted to notice.

The focal point, the one thing you are most proud of, is the transparent stage that extends at least 15 feet above the dance floor. Taking in the grandeur of it all is more than enough to get you excited for what's to come. You're certain that Hongjoong and Seonghwa will put on the performance of the century.

Today is incredibly important for both of them, and the fact that they have trusted you enough to include you more than makes up for the long hours and strenuous work. They’re currently out setting up their "grand finale," which they have been painstakingly cryptic about. You have your suspicions, not that you need or even want to know the specifics.

A low whistle pierces the air. "You really outdid yourself this time, doll."

You turn to look at Seonghwa as he enters, and your heart practically skips a beat when you take in his appearance—he must have changed in preparation for the big event. His hair, pulled away from his face, lets you focus on his features; dark eyes, full lips, all beautifully accented by his smoky makeup. His outfit is one you haven't seen on him before, but it suits him perfectly, from the gold chains hanging around his neck to the deep cut of his silk shirt.

"Thanks, Hwa," you reply bashfully, dusting off your hands on your jeans. "Just trying to do my part."

He approaches you, a smirk tugging at his lips. The way he stares at you, drinks you in… it makes you feel like a prey animal who has found itself in the sights of a predator. You blush and cast your gaze to the floor, suddenly fascinated by the specks of dirt at your feet.

"And you have done it spectacularly." He lifts your chin with his pointer finger, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "I think you deserve a reward."

Seonghwa drops his gaze to your lips for just a moment before he leans in, closing the space between you with an almost agonizing slowness. The kiss is gentle and commanding all at once and you shiver, immediately pulling him closer. The fatigue, the stress—all of it melts away.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling on it with just enough force to make you gasp. His tongue slides expertly against yours, the taste of him something sweet and darkly rich, like cherry liquor. It’s addictive. But the moment ends too soon for your liking, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Seonghwa doesn’t pull away entirely, resting his forehead against yours as he lifts a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. He lets his touch linger as he traces a path down your neck, lithe fingers playing with the necklace dangling above your chest. Three dainty, silver hearts. One for you, one for Seonghwa, and one for—

The rev of a motorcycle engine cuts through the air, and your head snaps toward the sound just in time to see Hongjoong park his bike at the door. He takes off his helmet and shakes out his hair which you’re surprised to see is freshly dyed. It almost makes you laugh; of course even as he’s out running errands for his coup de grâce, he finds time for fashion.

“Not starting the party without me, I hope?”

Hongjoong’s heeled boots click pleasantly atop the concrete flooring as he walks over to the two of you. His synthetic fur coat is a bright orange, the complete opposite of what one might expect a criminal on the run to wear. But both he and Seonghwa have never been ones for hiding.

“Never,” Seonghwa replies, clapping a hand on the back of the younger’s neck. “Did you get it done?”

Hongjoong scoffs in a teasing manner. “Did you doubt I would?”

“Of course not.” Seonghwa squeezes Hongjoong’s neck once before letting go and clapping his hands together. “Looks like it’s time for the show.”

A few hours later, the party is in full swing. The once-empty warehouse is now filled to the brim with people dressed in cloaks and masks for the sake of anonymity. Some are on the dance floor, grinding against each other, while others have drifted toward the bar, downing shots and laughing.

Toward the back of the room, there's a group huddled around a table, huffing glitter, black lace, and who knows what other kinds of drugs. Meanwhile, others are tangled together on couches, lost in the throes of ecstasy. The air is so thick with the smell of smoke and sweat that it almost makes you dizzy.

A hand wraps around your neck from behind, pulling you against a warm body, and you gasp. “That’ll be us later, precious,” Hongjoong whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear. Your nervousness ebbs away, immediately replaced by eagerness. “Do you like watching them? Or maybe you’d prefer to be the one being watched?”

You lean back against him, the hand around your neck a welcome pressure. “Both,” you breathe.

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “Good.”

He separates from you, and you turn to face him. He seems so confident, so excited, that it’s hard to believe he and Seonghwa are about to paint targets on both of their backs. Hit by a wave of anxiety, you lean forward and kiss him. He immediately reciprocates, nipping at your bottom lip and eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue.

Kissing him is always different than kissing Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s kisses are controlled, with a hidden power brewing behind them. There’s always a promise of more, a hint at what is to come when he finally lets go. On the other hand, Hongjoong kisses with reckless abandon. He is uninhibited, always ready to devour you whole. When he pulls back, a string of spit hangs between you before snapping.

“You nervous?” You nod, and he gently tweaks your chin between two fingers. “Don’t be. Those tech bastards have no idea what we have in store.”

“I just want the two of you to be safe.”

“And we will be,” he assures you. "After everything goes up in flames. Trust me, precious. Trust us.”

“I do.” And it’s true. You trust them with everything that you have.

“That’s our girl.” He kisses you again. “It’s time to go live.”

You take out your holodeck, and with the click of a button, all the cameras you set up switch on. You hurriedly switch channels through all the local stations, thrilled to see that it worked and the entire club is being streamed live to every device in the city.

You stop the music and make the lights go out, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. You shine one beam of light directly onto the stage and you watch as Seonghwa steps out to address the throng of people below. He is captivating and has no problem commanding all of the power in the room.

“Welcome one and all,” Seonghwa begins, voice booming over the speakers. “If you’re here, it means you are brave enough to fight against the corporations that enslave our society!”

Hongjoong steps up next to him, and while he’s smaller in stature, he exudes no less power. However, he stays silent as Seonghwa continues, “We will not be silenced any longer. Tonight, we raise our voices in defiance; we will no longer bow down to those who seek to control us!”

The crowd explodes into thunderous applause but immediately falls silent when Hongjoong raises a hand. "But tonight isn’t just about the revolution—it is also a celebration of our freedom, our individuality, and our unity. So let loose because everyone in the city is watching and we all know that, deep down, they wish they were us!”

Cheers and shouts fill the room once again as everyone raises their glasses in solidarity. Your heart swells with pride as you take it all in. You have become a part of something far greater than yourself and, just like your boys, you are willing to do whatever it takes to see it through to victory.

You switch the music and lights back on and the party resumes in full force. People seem to go even harder than they were before, playing up their hedonism for the cameras. Seonghwa and Hongjoong have disappeared into the crowd, likely to mingle and spread their message one-on-one.

Seonghwa favors the dance floor, hypnotizing those around him as he moves. A contented smile tugs at the corner of his lips as his hips sway to the beat, as beautiful as he is provocative. He flits from person to person, holding them close as he whispers into their ears. He occasionally catches you watching him, always making sure to tease you with a wink.

On the other hand, Hongjoong stalks the perimeter of the room, moving from group to group. His skill lies in charming people with his words, and tonight is no different. Everyone who speaks to him smiles and laughs, completely enamored with everything he says. He shakes hands, claps shoulders, and you have no doubt that if people weren’t loyal before, they will be when he’s through.

You stick to one of the quieter corners of the room in order to keep an eye on the cameras. You need to make sure that everything is running smoothly both in and out of the club; the last thing you need is for someone to reveal your location or try to hack into your network and ruin everything. You also keep a close eye on your boys, making sure they stay safe.

It’s past midnight by the time they come and find you. Hongjoong sits on your left, placing a hand on your thigh as he leans toward you and kisses your cheek. His lips linger a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he purrs, “You should be out there, dancing, having fun.”

“I am having fun,” you say, taking the champagne glass offered to you by Seonghwa.

Seonghwa sits on your right, throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “You would be having even more fun if you put down the holodeck.”

“But—”

Hongjoong takes it from you, throwing it haphazardly onto the cushion beside him. “Don’t argue.”

He leans forward again, this time lightly nibbling your earlobe with his teeth. You gasp, knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on your glass out of instinct. Seonghwa watches the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his hand trailing down your side and slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to trace patterns over your flushed skin.

“It’s a night for celebration, doll,” he murmurs. “You have done your job. The only thing we need from you now is… well, you.” He squeezes your hip and you jump slightly. “The badges will be here in a little over an hour according to one of my sources. While not as long as I’d like, it gives us just enough time to have a celebration of our own.”

Your thighs clench in anticipation—you know exactly what he’s hinting at.

"Lead the way, then," you say, setting your half-empty glass down.

Seonghwa’s gaze meets Hongjoong’s over your head, an unspoken agreement passing between them. They stand up and pull you toward the dance floor, surrounding you, one at your front and one at your back. You sway between them to a slow, seductive rhythm, closing your eyes as you let yourself enjoy their attention.

Seonghwa’s hands rest on your waist, pulling you against him as he starts to move his hips in tandem with yours, grinding against you. Meanwhile, Hongjoong cups your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip. His eyes are dark and intense as he captures your mouth with his own in a searing kiss.

Seonghwa’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he watches Hongjoong devour you. He keeps one hand on your hip while the other snakes around to cup the back of Hongjoong’s neck, causing the younger to moan into your mouth at the touch. Now with a possessive grip on you both, Seonghwa gets to work nipping and marking the exposed skin of your shoulder.

The room seems to disappear around you as they continue to explore you, their mouths and hands feeling like they are everywhere at once. It's intoxicating, even more so than the champagne you were drinking earlier. You feel Seonghwa’s hand trail even lower, disappearing under your waistline, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin.

You gasp and Hongjoong laughs against you, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Let’s give them a good show, hm?”

You let the two of them drag you onto the stage, cheeks ablaze as you realize exactly what they’re planning. You’re hyper aware of the fact that you are being watched; even though most of the club-goers are lost in their own pleasure, the viewers that are steaming have nothing better to do than keep their eyes locked on you.

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Look at our girl, acting so shy.” His fingers find your heart necklace, tugging at it just hard enough to make you gasp. “As if wearing this doesn’t mean we can do whatever we want to you, whenever and wherever we want.”

Hongjoong takes a switchblade out of his pocket, flipping it open with a maniacal grin on his face. He uses it to cut away your clothes, exposing your body for everyone to see. Your knees shake and whether it is out of anxiety or anticipation, you can’t tell.

He traces the tip of it against your skin, the cold metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. “We know you love it, precious,” he says. “Don’t you want everyone to see how good we make you feel? Think of all the viewers out there that will feel oh-so-scandalized but still won’t be able to look away. Not to mention all the greedy whores who will be getting themselves off to us, wishing they were in our places.”

Seonghwa pulls you against him just like he did on the dance floor, once again letting his fingers tease his way down your stomach. But this time, he lets them travel even lower, dipping into your folds.

“Look how wet you are just from this,” he remarks, bringing his fingers back up and spreading them so you can see the evidence of your own desire. He then extends them to Hongjoong who greedily laps at them, sucking them clean.

You whine, trying to keep your legs closed from embarrassment, knowing anyone below the stage can look right up at you and see exactly how aroused you are. But Seonghwa won’t let you, shoving his knee between your thighs. Almost instinctively, you grind down on it, letting another pathetic sound slip past your lips.

Hongjoong’s eyes glint with wicked delight at your reaction, his own hands reaching out to cup your breasts. “Someone’s eager,” he teases, tweaking a nipple between two fingers.

You hear a few wolf whistles from the crowd, a few lewd comments being thrown your way, but they only make you more excited.

“I…” You’re panting heavily, making it hard for you to speak. You have to take a deep breath before trying again. “I want you. Please.”

“Anything for you, doll,” Seonghwa coos, returning his attention to your core. He pushes in one finger all the way to his knuckle with no warning and, if it weren’t for his hold on you, your legs would have buckled.

“Fuck.” The curse slips from your lips, half whimper, half moan, as he continues pumping his finger inside your wet heat.

Hongjoong lowers his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he pinches and tugs at the other. You grip his shoulders for purchase as your head lolls back to rest on Seonghwa’s chest, whining at the onslaught of sensation. The feeling of Seonghwa inside of you while Hongjoong lavishes his attention on your breasts is unlike anything you have ever felt.

As Seonghwa adds another finger, Hongjoong’s lips mark a path from your breasts, to your stomach, and then lower as he sinks to his knees in front of you. He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your skin, just as his tongue finds your clit. His tongue draws figure eights around it as Seonghwa continues to pump his fingers relentlessly inside of you.

“T-too much…” you gasp. But neither of them slow down—if anything, feeling how close you are makes them double down on their efforts. Hongjoong sucks your clit into his mouth at the same time Seonghwa adds a third finger, curling them inside of you.

Seonghwa kisses the back of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs.

That small bit of praise is all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge, eyes rolling back as your body goes taut with pleasure. Hongjoong eagerly laps up your release, only prolonging your orgasm. Seonghwa gently removes his fingers from you and you hear rather than see when he brings them to his mouth, tasting yourself on his skin.

Hongjoong pulls back, licking his lips to clean them of your release before his trademark smirk returns. “I think it’s time for you to return the favor, precious. Don’t you think, Hwa?”

Seonghwa trails a hand down your spine, humming. “I don’t know if she can handle it.”

“I can,” you gasp, eager to please them just as they did you. “I can, I promise. Anything you want.”

You almost jump from surprise as some spectators in the crowd start yelling their vulgar suggestions as to how exactly they think you should please your partners. You’re sure if you looked at your holodeck, the live chat would be filled with similar comments as well.

Hongjoong laughs, grabbing your face in his hand. “Don’t worry about them. You can have us however you like.”

Blushing, you say, “You choose.”

His eyes light up and he immediately looks behind you to Seonghwa. Just like earlier, some sort of silent communication passes between them, and then you feel Seonghwa’s hand on the small of your back, urging you to bend over.

“Why don’t you show our Joong what that pretty mouth of yours can do while I fill you up, hm?”

You barely have enough time to nod your agreement before Hongjoong is unbuckling his belt and freeing himself of his constraints. You nearly salivate at the sight of his cock, red and wanting. He grabs your hair and pulls, tugging you forward as much as he can with Seonghwa’s bruising grip on your waist keeping you in place. Tears prick at your eyes but it’s as pleasurable as it is painful, and you take him into your mouth eagerly.

The head of Seonghwa’s cock teases your folds before he finally pushes forward into you. He starts moving at a slow, torturous pace, pulling out of you before slamming right back in. Each thrust propels you forward, forcing you to take Hongjoong deeper into your mouth. You feel so full, so used. It’s incredible.

“Look at her,” Hongjoong coos, staring down at you. “Look at how well she takes us.”

Seonghwa just groans, grinding into you so deeply that you have to choke back a moan around Hongjoong’s cock. He’s gotten quieter, his thrusts sloppier, a telltale sign that he is losing himself in his own pleasure. Meanwhile, Hongjoong’s grip tightens around your hair, guiding your head back and forth on his length. Each thrust cuts off your air supply, making you see stars.

Seonghwa’s hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. You moan again, and Hongjoong echoes you as the vibrations travel up his cock.

“Shit,” he curses. “So fucking good.”

Seonghwa’s thrusts grow increasingly erratic and you hear his breath hitch; instinctively, you clench around him, and he spills into you. His release sends you spiraling into your second orgasm of the night, walls fluttering around him as you milk his cock of every drop.

Hongjoong pulls out of your mouth not long after, squeezing the base of his shaft to prevent himself from following the two of you over the edge. The second Seonghwa steps away from you, he is taking his place, forcing himself inside of you before any of the elder’s cum can drip out.

“Hongjoong,” you gasp, nearly falling forward from the force of his thrusts. Seonghwa maneuvers himself so that he can support you, holding you in his arms as Hongjoong pounds into you with bruising force.

“Gonna fill you just like Hwa did,” he growls. “Make you mine. Ours. You’re ours.”

“Can’t… can’t…” Words escape you, your mind going blank.

“Yes, you can,” Seonghwa says, stroking your hair. “You can take it. You can come for us one more time.”

His voice is comforting, but you also hear the command in his tone. You choke out a sob, nodding weakly as Hongjoong guides your hips back against him again and again. You can feel another orgasm coming on already, the coil tightening in your stomach. Seonghwa continues to murmur words of praise, stopping only to pepper kisses along your heated skin.

The coil snaps and you cry out as you come undone, Hongjoong’s cock still buried deep inside of you. His hips stutter and he curses, his warm release mixing with Seonghwa’s. He slowly pulls out and you can feel as some of their cum trickle down your thighs. You collapse against Seonghwa completely, no longer able to stand on your own two legs.

You feel light-headed and blood pounds in your ears, muffling the cheers you assume are coming from the crowd. You’re too far gone to be embarrassed, and a lazy smile tugs at your lips—the three of you surely gave them the show of a lifetime.

Suddenly, you feel heat lick at your skin, and you snap back into yourself fully, cringing away from it. Your eyes focus, and you see Hongjoong flicking a lighter open and closed, open and closed.

“There’s our girl,” he remarks. He brings the lighter to your skin again, just close enough for you to feel the heat of it without it burning you. “I think we were a bit rough with you, precious. You were totally out of it, shivering and everything.”

Seonghwa is behind you again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. You press further against him, squirming as the heat tickles your skin.

“Back with us?” Seonghwa asks.

You nod. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Hongjoong—enough.”

Hongjoong stops immediately, flipping the lighter closed with a tsk. “Fine. It’s gonna get hotter in a minute anyway.”

Now that you’re focused, you finally hear the shouting and crashing coming from below. The very people who were just watching you on stage are now rioting, destroying the warehouse and everything in it. The cameras, the bar, all of your hard work—now there is just destruction, everywhere you look.

You shoot up, hurriedly dressing yourself so that you are no longer the only one naked as panic begins to take hold. “What’s going on? Seonghwa, Hongjoong, we need to—”

You waver on your feet, nearly tripping. Luckily, Seonghwa catches you. “Calm down, it’s okay,” he says, hushing you. “This is all part of the plan.”

Hongjoong gestures to the crowd, pointing out some things you missed. “See how some of them are drenching the place with gasoline? We’re gonna light it up.”

Maybe you’re still delirious from your multiple orgasms, but you are having trouble understanding what the two of them mean. “Why? I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“This was all a distraction,” Seonghwa explains. “The club, the livestream, us putting on a show. We did it so that all eyes would be on us, and all the badges would be wasting their resources trying to find our location.”

You nod slowly as the pieces begin to come together. “So, while I was setting all of this up…”

“We were out there. Planting bombs at some of the biggest tech headquarters in the city.” Hongjoong smiles, spreading his arms wide. “Our coup de grâce, just like we’ve been saying.”

Despite all of your suspicions, this is something you never would have been able to guess. Before you can even begin to truly comprehend the magnitude of what they’ve done, sirens pierce the air. Everyone screams and begins to run out of the warehouse. Seonghwa grabs your hand, and nods to Hongjoong. “Now!”

Hongjoong throws his lighter to the ground below and flames erupt instantly, devouring everything in sight. Luckily, most of the crowd has already escaped, and you feel confident no one should get caught in the aftermath. Still, it’s pandemonium, and smoke fills your lungs as Seonghwa pulls you closer, shielding you with his body as he hurries toward the nearest exit.

Hongjoong follows after you, but lags behind as he keeps looking over his shoulder at the fire with a sadistic grin on his face. “That’s how we do it,” he yells, voice barely audible over the blaze.

“Get yourself together,” Seonghwa barks. “We need to get out of here before the cops realize what’s going on and find us.”

Suddenly, Hongjoong trips, his foot catching on some loose debris. Seonghwa reacts instantly, yanking him back to his feet and throwing an arm around his waist. The three of you continue onward as the heat of the fire licks at your back. You crash through one of the exit doors, and stumble away into the night, disappearing into the sea of masked faces.

All across the nation, devices light up with the same headline: “City in Chaos as Blazing Inferno Distracts from Large-Scale Bombing of Tech Giants.”

“Nation-wide manhunt underway. Suspects Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa believed to be connected to an underground criminal group called The Black Pirates…”

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie @nebulousbrainsoup @ad0rechuu @sanniesbunnie @seonghwaddict @fruitcakebin @kickti @abby-grace @fireseo @yunhofingers @ohflorah @oiminho @baekbao @byuntrash101 @hyukssunflower @thatnerdytomboy @straykidsholicleigh

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a-capricorn-ohfuckthat · 1 year

Text

philza: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

tommy: Several traffic violations.

techno: Three counts of resisting arrest.

wilbur: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

y/n: Also, that’s not our car.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #mcyt incorrect quotes #dsmp incorrect quotes #dream smp incorrect quotes #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt incorrect quotes x reader #dsmp incorrect quotes x reader #dream smp incorrect quotes x reader #wilbur soot x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #tommyinnit x reader #techno x reader

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anarchy-and-piglins · 6 months

Text

Actually I'm making my own post because I'm so passionate about this. Both Phil and Technoblade are very different but very distinct flavors of chaotic. And their friendship works so well because they can both be the other's voice of reason OR hype man going along with the chaos, depending on the bit.

Yes, Phil is way more often faulty characterized as the 'calm, reasonable dad guy' when he's anything but. Overall, I'd agree that Techno is generally more 'reasonable' in his actions because he's a logic thinker and a strategist at heart, he's good at risk assessment. But he's definitely still impulsive. And while Phil does things for the sheer lolz of it, Techno also does things without worrying about consequences a lot and then weasels his way out of those consequences. Techno definitely does not have a reason for everything he does - unless you count "I'm doing it because I can" as a reason.

Phil is not the reasonable one. Neither is Techno. They're both chaotic as fuck in vastly different ways. Portraying either of them as the Reasonable One and the other as nothing but a Chaos Gremlin at all times is a disservice to how well they can both fall into either role - or better yet, when neither is being reasonable at all and they just amplify each other's chaos!

#technoblade #philza #thoughts

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nahoney22 · 6 months

Note

hi hello I don’t know how to use tumblr but your blog convinced me (I had no idea there was such a gold mine of E V E R Y T H I N G on tumblr whew). Anyway I’m a slut for some slow burn romance, can I request something with Echo? Maybe reader has known him since 501st days and liked him since, and learning he lived and joined the bad batch just made her NEED to find him again? Ps I love you, you’re a beautiful soul ok bye

All Roads Lead to You

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 1.7k

Learning from Rex that Echo was alive, you knew you had to find him and after so many years and confess how you really feel for him before it’s too late again.

warnings: Fluff, cute reunion, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, brief mentions of Echo at the citadel, mentions of death. Safe for work. Female reader. Not proofread.

authors note: oh my darling @burningfieldof-clover I’m so sorry for the delay 🙈 this got lost in my drafts. Enjoy 🤍

"Hey, are you alright?"

Rex's voice reached your ears, but the words remained trapped in your throat. You stood there, rooted to the spot, a whirlwind of emotions raging within you. Tears welled up in your eyes as a million thoughts raced through your mind. Then again, how does one react to the miraculous news that the man you had loved for countless years, the man you had believed to be lost forever, was now alive?

It took the gentle wave of a hand in front of your face to snap you out of your daze. Blinking back your tears, you focused on Rex, who wore a concerned expression. "You okay?"

"Echo's alive?" you finally managed to croak out, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

A soft, reassuring smile graced Rex's lips as he nodded. "Yes, he's alive. He's been with another squad for quite some time now."

The shock of the revelation left you struggling to grasp the reality of the moment. Rex had delivered this life- news with such casual ease, unaware of the immense significance it held for you. He couldn't possibly fathom the depths of your feelings for the Arc Trooper.

Rex guided you to a quiet spot and began to unravel the incredible story of Echo's survival. To your horror, he painted a vivid picture of the ordeal Echo had endured from the Techno Union, how he was rescued and his choice about joining another squad. You truly had no ideal to cope with all this information, other than stare at Rex dumbfounded.

You had abandoned your position within the GAR years ago, unable to bear the pain of Echo's supposed death. But now, a chance had emerged, a chance to find Echo and to finally confess the love you had hidden away for years. However, the question of whether it was too late, whether Echo even held the same feelings for you, loomed large. But you had to find out one way or another. “How do I find Clone Force 99?”

Rex had been kind enough to provide you with the coordinates of the last known location Echo was heading to, and you had promptly booked a shuttle to get there. The journey was arduous, with doubt gnawing at your thoughts the entire way. Your mind whispered that this might be a foolish mistake, but the need to see Echo, to confirm his existence with your own eyes, outweighed all hesitation.

As the shuttle touched down on the unfamiliar planet, you felt a sense of disorientation and timid uncertainty. You questioned whether you should first explore your surroundings or make an attempt to find Echo yourself.

However, your gaze was drawn to the vast expanse of the ocean. It had been too long since you had witnessed such natural beauty, the sun's gentle rays dancing on the water's surface. The clean, fresh air was a stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere of the deeper levels of Coruscant. You had overheard that this planet served as a refuge for many after the Clone Wars, and it seemed like the perfect place for it.

Lost in contemplation, you were brought back to the present by the presence of a small girl standing beside you, her bright brown eyes and short blonde hair catching your attention. She gazed up at you and inquired, "Are you okay?"

You offered her a warm smile and nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Just... taking it all in."

She eagerly inquired, "I love it here. Are you visiting someone or staying?"

Your soft laughter filled the air as you found her nosiness to be quite charming. Truth be told, you didn't see a reason to hide the purpose of your visit. "Visiting someone."

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Who? Maybe I know them?" Her eagerness was infectious, and you couldn't help but notice the familiarity in her eyes, a certain resemblance that tugged at your memories.

You began to answer, "Alright, he's called Ec—"

But before you could finish, a commanding voice interrupted, "Omega, come. We need to get going." The voice sent a shockwave through your heart, and your breath caught in your throat. It was a voice you had longed to hear, one you thought you'd never hear again.

Omega let out a sigh and offered you an apologetic look before turning and hurrying to the source of the voice. As you turned to see the speaker, your heart skipped a beat. Echo stood there, so different yet unmistakably the same. His gaze on you was strong, as if trying to piece a picture together of who you were.

"But Echo, I was helping her find someone," Omega protested, gesturing towards you. Her words were distant as Echo's gaze locked onto yours, trying to recognise the changes in your appearance from the last time he had seen you. Your hair, clothing, and your civilian guise had replaced the uniformed visage he remembered.

Interrupting the profound moment, Omega's question rang out, but both you and Echo remained captivated by the connection rekindled in that shared gaze. Soon, the other members of Echo’s squad gathered by Omega's side.

Hunter's curiosity was piqued as he observed the unfolding interaction, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's going on?" Omega simply shrugged, her eyes trained on Echo and you.

With a few more tentative steps, Echo closed the distance between you, his head tilted slightly as if to analyse you, to confirm that it was really you. Your voice quivered as you managed to say, "Hi, Echo," and he echoed your name in a soft, heartfelt tone.

A warm smile graced his lips as he admitted, "I can't believe it's you."

A gentle, albeit slightly teasing, response escaped your lips. "I could say the same."

Finally, the emotional barrier gave way, and you found yourselves locked in each other's arms, holding each other as though afraid to let go. "

I've missed you so much," you whispered into his chest, your glistening eyes revealing the depths of your longing. The tears threatened to spill, impossible to hold back any longer.

And then, an unexpected comment from one of Echo's companions, "I didn't know Echo had a girlfriend,” broke the tender moment and you could not help but laugh.

“Let me introduce you to the others,” Echo pulls out of the hug, offers you a reassuring smile and guides you to his new comrades.

Later that evening after some good, really good food, yourself and Echo take a walk down by the shore. Making small talk and catching up on everything you both have missed, it felt like nothing changed between you both. It was everything you could have hoped for.

"I really can't believe you're here," Echo chuckled, a sense of disbelief lingering in his voice. "I never thought I'd see you again."

A soft smile graced your lips as you matched his pace, coming to a stop as you spoke. "Me either."

Then, with a touch of hesitation, you blurted out, "So, uh, are you seeing anybody?" The question took even you by surprise, and it seemed to have a similar effect on Echo. His curiosity was piqued as he observed your flustered expression.

He folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "No, are you?"

Your reply came swiftly, perhaps a bit too swiftly for your liking. "No." You didn't give yourself a chance to consider the implications of your response, and Echo didn't press further.

His next question, however, held a hint of teasing, and his voice carried a subtle tone of curiosity. "Oh yeah? And why's that?" It seemed as though he was studying you, and for a brief moment, you thought he might have moved a bit closer, but it was hard to tell if it was just your imagination.

Your breath wavered as you gazed into Echo's eyes, your heart racing just like the first time you had ever met him. It felt like the right moment to lay bare the truth, to let him in on the emotions that had been tucked away for far too long.

"I have feelings," you began, your voice steady but your eyes now avoiding his, "for you. I have feelings for you."

Echo's eyes widened, and he blinked in astonishment, his words caught in his throat as he grappled with the unexpected confession. "You have feelings," he repeats, taking a step closer, his voice barely more than a whisper, "for me?"

You dipped your head, nodding as you ran a hand through your hair nervously. "I always have, Echo. I've loved you for so, so many years." The truth hung in the air between you, a confession that had been kept in the shadows for far too long.

The crashing waves almost drowned out the deafening silence that followed Echo's lack of response to your confession. Regret started to surge through you, the weight of the confession now hanging heavily in the clear air, making the situation uncomfortable and awkward.

"Sorry, I should go," you quickly uttered, turning to leave, but before you could take a step, his hand swiftly caught your wrist, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled slightly, finding yourself suddenly close to his chest, confusion painting your eyes.

In a moment that felt like a dream, Echo leaned in, nose nudging against your own and his breath brushing against your face with his lips hovering close to yours. "Echo?" you whispered, a rush of chills coursing through your body.

"I love you too," he finally uttered, his eyes closing as his lips met yours in a tender, affectionate embrace. "I've loved you since the first night I met you," he confessed, his warm breath mingling with yours as his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer.

The kiss unfolded slowly, a perfect and intensely romantic connection, a moment that exceeded all your imagined dreams of being with Echo. It felt surreal, but his touch, his lips, assured you of his reality. When the kiss finally parted, he breathed, "Stay with us. Stay with me."

In that instant, any doubt vanished. You knew you would never even consider leaving his side again. Echo's confession sealed the bond, and you embraced the certainty that this was where you belonged, in his arms.

Masterlist

Taglist if you want to be added or removed (please note I’ll remove you if you’re not interacting with my work 🤍)

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @imalovernotahater @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @photogirl894

#echo x reader #bad batch echo #the bad batch #tbb echo x reader #the bad batch echo x reader #tbb #nahoney22 writes

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fabled-fiction · 11 months

Note

Hiii!! I saw ur across the spiderverse update and I was wondering if you could do Hobie Brown headcanons for maybe a reader in his Earth who’s more techy, and works in like DJ or Techno themed music. It’d be pretty kool

Soundwaves

Hobie Brown x Techy!DJ!Reader Headcanons

Summary: Headcanons for a Techno DJ reader on Hobie’s Earth. How y’all go from strangers, to friends, to something else entirely ❤️💙

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: N/A (could possible have SPOILERS for ATSV but Im pretty sure there isnt)

A/N: I KINDA WENT OVERBOARD??? I had alot of fun writing this and hope it meets expectations!! ☺️

— When you live on an Earth thats as messed up (politically) as Earth 138 you have to find an out. Something to keep you from going crazy.

— For you that was music.

— More specifically techno.

— It was just, easy for you to sit down and plug yourself into your already well loved computer and not come out until you had produced at least one or two songs.

— Soon after you realized you could do so much more with this music.

— It start out small. You would show a few friends, who would show other friends. And soon after that it started to snowball.

— You were starting to hold “shows” if thats what you could call it. After Dark DJ sessions and Midnight rave rallys.

— It was just the beginning of the role you would take though.

— After a while you had started to spread this message through your music. Your flyers for your shows started to also be flyers for change.

— And soon enough you caught the eye of a certain spider. Who’s message wasn’t so different from yours.

— Especially when you were holding an exclusively inclusive rally in an old abandoned Fisk tower.

— He was curious how the hell you were gonna get in the building, it was guarded per say but it had locks even he couldn’t break.

— But as he watched you, he was impressed with how you worked your way around the keypad.

— You had this small little mechanism, which he could tell was homemade, that you plugged into the devices. All you had to do was press a few buttons and reprogram it.

— With two zaps you were in, and the keycards with your calling-card that were on the flyers handed out on it made much more sense now.

— The show itself was probably the hardest you had put on. The music and the lightshow alone were impressive. He especially had a good view from above in the rafters.

— You were in your element. You were moving to the beat, your stage presence alone told him that you truly loved what you were doing.

— After everything was said and done, you stayed on that stage till the very last person left

— Or so you thought

— As you were breaking down your equipment (also all handbuilt, he’d have to figure out how you made all this bulky equipment compactable) he decided to make himself known

— Slowly, he lowered (upside down) till he was technically in front of you. You had your back turned to him though as you were clipping a particularly difficult suitcase closed

— “Need help?”

— Needless to say you were caught off guard, because you whipped around holding what looked like a keyboard ready to smack him

— Luckily he had caught your wrist, and watched as the electronic face on your own mask turned from an angry emoticon to surprised.

— Were you surprised that THE Spiderman was at your show? Yes and No.

— While you’re sure your music wasn’t his style, based off his spike hawk and battle vest, you were sure that your views matched up.

— “Ive got it, thanks though.”

— With one more press of a button, everything else collapsed down. You were left with only two suitcases to carry.

— “‘ow you do all that? Its quiet impressive.”

— “Its quite simple, I could show you sometime.”

— That small little interaction would later spiral into an interesting friendship between the two of you

— While he never called you his person in the chair, he did find himself often coming to or contacting you whenever there was a code he couldnt crack or a person he needed identifying

— And whenever you needed a little extra help spreading the word about another one of your rave rallys there was no doubt he would have a handful of flyers accidentally falling out of his arm as he was swinging

— The night you both showed each-other your faces definitely solidified your friendship

— You were working on a new track, headphones plugged in when your phone started buzzing.

— SPIDEY P: open the window

— When you opened said window, (mask on btw) he had rushed in and then slammed it shut

— He had drew your curtains shut and grabbed your dresser, sliding it infront of your window

— You were very confused

— But when he had explained to you that Osborn had gotten wind of him and your friendship he apparently raced right over to your place

— While you were now a little scared for your life, you were more flattered

— It seemed like he had raced right over, cause he was huffing and puffing as he leaned on the edge of the bed

— “What if I…showed you my face? That way you could know like…who to look out for?”

— You could tell your question had caught him off guard, but he didn’t hesitate to reach for the edge of is his mask. And your were just as quick to reach to the clip on the back of yours

— Maybe this is also when your relationship…changed

— Not only because you both were seemingly breathtaken by both of eachother but…the fact the fact that you both had without question went to rip your masks off

— It was a raw…personal type of respect that had been shown that night

— Afterwards Hobie (whos named you had learned literal seconds after the mask off) started coming over more

— It was usually in the after hours, he would come and relax. You both would start getting to know each-other more personally.

— He started giving you samples to include in your sets, and you EVENTUALLY got him to download some of your songs

— The first time he takes you web swinging you swear you almost lost your life

— Despite the fact that he was holding onto you with dear life

— Because at this point he wouldn’t know how to react if he accidentally got you hurt

— Thats why he rushed over as fast as he could when he saw a screencap of you at one of your shows

— Whenever he went to your place, and your curtains were open he’d take a moment just to watch you in your natural element.

— He loved it when he was listening to one of your songs, and he heard his sample mixed in perfectly

— Your medleys and his always seemed to blend into each other perfectly, despite being from almost two completely different genres

— You started to notice how your heart would flutter whenever you saw him in the rafters of yourshow

— Especially if he shows up as Hobie?? OH BOy does your heart pick up

— You noticed he started being…closer? He would put his hand on the small of your back or between your shoulderblades whenever he would lean over to look at your computer

— He would “accidentally” leave one of his spiked cuffs behind, and lemme tell you he knew you would wear it so you wouldnt forget to give it to him

— So when he sees you wearing it at one of your shows (since it had become almost a tradition for him to help you pack up after a show) his heart always feels like its gonna jump outta his chest

— You guys dance around each other for a while. You both know theres gotta be SOMETHING there. You’ve both noticed the how soft you’ve come around each other

— Both your smiles become sweeter. You hug him for longer, you grip onto him just a bit tighter when he takes you out swinging to his favorite spots.

— Those are your favorite hang out nights. When you just go to sit ontop of whatever building or tower Hobie decided to take you too. Sometimes he even takes you to a tower thats right across from an art piece he had dabbled with.

— It all comes to a boiling point though, one night when you were on a call with Hobie as he was slinging around.

— You’re talking his ear off about some new sound board you were thinking about getting. He was eating it up.

— But then he starts breaking up, and you hear alot of scuffling. When he completely cuts out you lose it.

— You cant go out there, you dont have any weapon of any sort. You also know Hobie would lose it if you put yourself in danger because of him

— So all you can do is keep restarting his tracker and hope he’s okay

— You’re on your apartment fire escape in an instant just waiting for him to come back after a while, to keep yourself from going crazy

— You knew he would, especially since you cut out

— So when he slowly comes into your view, with his mask half down he smiles at you.

— He…SMILES?? SERIOUSLY??

— You don’t know what to say as you stare at him with tears in your eyes, but he does apparently

— He was always a man of action, actions do speak louder than words

— He had pulled the bottom of his mask down just enough to show the bottom half of his face

— And then he’s kissing you, his gloved hand coming to hold the side of your face. It takes you a second before you react, but then you go to hold the edge of his mask and really just sink into the moment

— After that your dynamic changes. You two become MUCH closer physically, share more private kisses and nights actually spent together.

— Those late night swings turn into dates on top of buildings, where he will sometimes (usually every time) play a song for you

— You are permanently always wearing one of his cuffs

— And suddenly the infamous Spiderman has a new patch on his battle vest, that has your stage name on it

#marvel x reader #x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #headcanon #hobie brown headcanons

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denzartriste · 18 days

Text

Bedrock bros drawing based on this stock photo provided by @epicaxolotls

Alt versions + closeup + talking a LOT under cut about this drawing <3

^ this is technicly the original version, but i really liked the tinted effect i slapped on last minute so thats the one im putting above the cut.

v Crashed my drawing app when doing these effects, it was so worth it look its shiny. Im a simple man i see shiny i eat my own art

v Closeups!!!

The rambling is lightly edited from me blabbing about this drawing in a discord server, so if it's very 'steam of conscious' it is because i was literally texting these thoughts

Okay so the BRAIDS. The braids in it are IMPORTANT okay they are they are

The designs aren't timeline consistent, because i was doing the drawing for me and also @epicaxolotls and both of us solely care about the fact there is bedrock bros and nothing else. So the white in Tommy's hair (THE PART THAT'S BRAIDED!!!) is from being revived.

But Techno doesn't have a braid in his hair, only Tommy. The Blade is a weapon, not something to be cherished and cared for and loved. Braids as a form of love, braid as a love language i will not take criticism because I'm so correct about this. The white in Tommy's hair being the part that's braided, also, that's surely something isn't it that's something that is SOMETHING.

Techno braiding the white part in Tommy's hair, it will still be in the corner of his eye but it will be wrapped in love. It will have bedrock dangling from it. The bedrock is on Tommy's braid because it is a symbol between the two of them, it's something gentle but strong held up by string and neither of them will let the string snap. They won't let is snap.

Techno's bedrock is on his sword - it's on his method of violence, the method of violence Tommy is CALLING ON!!! The violence Tommy is COUNTING ON the violence he is using to protect himself. The sword is made of marble (because it looks cool but ALSO--) Techno's violence is a PROMISE it is a swear an oath from a blood god who will not break it.

No matter what, Techno will be the blade he needs to be. He is as much of a weapon as the tool in his hand.

No matter what. He scars and bleed cold, before he even makes the first swing the sword is covered in gold it is dripping it is his

The words 'BLADE' is intertwined with his sword, the word is golden and blends into it

Mentioning this now, but the only colours in the drawing (if i don't count the effects i did that was just me having some fun with it and crashing my drawing app) is only two colours, red and gold. Tommy's bruises are a shade of magenta, the grey is a desaturated red, the whites are just a very light shade of red

It's something i thought a lot about while drawing so i did want to mention it in more detail than just the id

ALSO. Tommy is wearing Techno's crown, and Tommy is also pretty much in the position a crown would be on Techno's head (if you squint a bit)

He's also holding onto Techno's ear - I didn't draw it very well, but he is, he's using Techno for stability, pushing against him with his foot to stay upright. And Techno is something solid for Tommy to dig his nails into, he is solid and he can and will be stability.

Tommy is just another voice in techno's ear, screaming blood for the blood god

And Tommy's pupils are just pinpricks, he isn't in control and he isn't calm. He's bruised and bloody, he is clinging onto the first thing he sees and trusts that it wont topple over. Tommy trusts because that is the only thing he can do, the only thing he can ever do. He's angry he's clinging on with his nails and teeth and blood but he is trusting.

NOW IM GONNA TALK ABOUT COLOURS AND THE COLOURS I USED BECAUSE :D!!!

Techno has dark red colours - Very dark, dark as in the colour of a lot of blood. A river flowing with blood would be near black and that is what Techno is. He is an endless stream of bloodshed he is an endless steam of violence because that is all he is. That is all he is, in this moment, at least, but this moment is all that matters right now. Right now, he is the blood god and he is the blade. He's a sword about to be stained and constantly being sharpened because he needs to be.

He NEEDS to be blood and he's ALWAYS been blood and he doesn't ENJOY being blood, no, he walked away from everyone to avoid it but for tommy!! He'll be that for Tommy because Tommy NEEDS him to be (<- that paragraph is from Epic but it was very accurate)

BUt ALSO Techno has light colours too. Not as obvious as Tommy's light colours (his shirt, his shoes, his hair) but it is still THERE. It's just hidden. The white, not stained (protected) in the inside of his cape near to his heart. Because Techno's heart is gentle but he has to fight to keep it like that, the outside of his heart (heart=cape just go with it this is the metaphor I'm going with it doesn't make sense but also shhh sure it does) is DARK it is VIOLENT

Inside his heart (cape. again. silly metaphor but its fine) he is the Blade - the letters reveal themselves with his cape blowing in his wind

I dont know what any of these words mean but maybe they mean something idk :D

ONTO TOMMY'S COLOURS v

hehe okay sooo Tommy has lighter red. Still very clearly red, but the cape he has is an imitation of Techno and it isn't nearly as stained. His cape doesn't hide anything, it doesn't hide him, its short and also the lightest obviously-red colour there is in the drawing. On him is also the only actual depiction of red blood and fresh injuries. He is BRUISED his pants are ripped and at the edges there is still-fresh blood. He's wiped the blood off of him he tried. but all he did was spread it from his nose to his knuckles. He is not violent but this makes him look violent, and it wasn't on purpose. Dripping from his head is blood, again, and all of it is his. He has a fresh bruise around his eye and the only bandage to the dripping blood from his head is Techno's crown. That is the closest thing to care he has right now - later, he will get bandages, but to him care is a symbol of blood. To him, care is Technoblade's sword and he doesn't view the bedrock around his braid as gentle in anyway, he views it as a rock that is special and the string is weak but it wont break because Techno tied it there, and that means it won't break. It means it can't break.

On Tommy is Techno's crown. Because Techno views him as an equal and is letting Tommy command him in this battle, because this is Tommy's fight. This is Tommy's fight, and Techno gives him his crown with trust on his gold-scarred hands and care and a promise that he will be there and fighting by his side. He believes in him, not because he needs to but because he does. He holds him steady because he just does and he acts as a weapon because that is what he does.

Ight that's all :) If anyone reads this far they have my hand in marriage and whatnot, adding tags then hitting post without rereading <3

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bump1nthen1ght · 7 months

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A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 4 (Prostitution)

Kink: Prostitution

Pairing: Male!Android x GN!Reader

Other Kinks: Deepthroating, Cum Swallowing

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1047 words

Kinktober Masterlist

"Wow, it's so soft." Axel half-whispers, warm digits massaging your ass cheeks. His modulated voice is full of awe, so enraptured by the feel of flesh and muscle. Since coming to this planet where 90% of the populace are androids, cybers or other kinds of techno-life, this was a reaction you were getting used to.

Especially when it comes to your clients.

"You like?" You purr, wiggling your hops in his face. The audible whirr of his cooling fans kicking on makes you giggle.

"Y-yeah, I do." Axel mumbles, still in awe of the jiggling flesh. He gives your ass a timid slap, cooing at the recoil.

Axel was shaping up to be one of your favorite clients. He'd walked into his appointment, face flushed blue with coolant and stuttering out an introduction. He had muttered out that it was his first time with an organic, which you had already assumed but pretended to be shocked anyway. Most of your customers requested you because of the novelty of your fleshy body; you'd grown used to several minutes of petting and observation before they eventually asked you to spread open.

But Axel had been different. He had asked your name, asked if the way he touched you was okay. Even the way he fondled you felt different. It wasn't detached fascination, it was a desperate awe. He'd whispered sweet things about your body, admired your specific stretch marks, your dimples, and your skin's imperfections.

You think you'll give him your card after this session. It’s reserved for your most well-behaved, respectful clients.

But for now you have a job to do, and you want to show Axel all the things your fleshy body can do.

You flip around, pulling Axel into a hug. He squeaks, not unlike an old computer mouse, but quickly sinks into your embrace. He rubs his face into your warm skin, moaning at the sensation. Just a kiss to the cheek has him shuddering with a moan.

"Let me make you feel good, baby." You whisper in his audial port, Axel responding with an eager nod. His body readily complies as you push him back on the bed, slotting in between his legs. The sleek wiring pulses green and blue in between his segmented joins, flaring as you trace your fingers down them. It's adorable.

His modesty player is buzzing, whirring machinery underneath betraying how eager he is, if you couldn't already tell from his shaky whines and stuttered words.

"W-what are you-" Axel whispers, caught in a moan when you press another kiss to the plate, his hips jerking upwards. "Ooh, do that again, please."

"I can do you one better, handsome." Your hand caresses the seam of his plate and Axel is quick to let it pop open, sliding to reveal a pulsing phallus. It drips with a neon green lubricant, more like a vibrator in shape than a human penis. It also has several bumpy nodes, which only excites you for later.

Wasting no time, you lick up his shaft, paying special attention to those nodes, wondering how sensitive they are. Axel throws his head back with a breathless whine.

"O-oh, stars. That feels good." His voice catches with another moan as your hand wraps around the base of his shaft and squeezes. More neon lubricant gushes out of the slit at the top, which you lap up eagerly.

Yum, lemon-lime flavored.

You suck at the eager slit some more, Axels flailing hands grasping at your shoulder and neck, gently pulling your mouth closer, chasing tbe high.

"Your mouth...it's incredible!" Axel yelps. His whimpering voice sends a shiver down your spine.

You're definitely giving him your card after this.

"Your tongue, your lips, I've never felt anything like it. It's amazing."

"Hmm, and how about this?"

Before Axel can even mutter a "Huh?" you have him half-down your throat, cheeks sucked in. His voice processor glitches as he groans, those eager digits digging into your skin. "Oh stars!" He shouts as your tongue lathers around the shaft, slowly moving your head up and down.

He's a little too thick at the base for you to properly deep throat him, but you don't need to. You can see his wires pulsing in your peripheral, hear his pants and moans, and can taste the excess lubricant bubbling to the top. Axel grows bold enough to hold onto your cheek and fuck into your louth, although quite gently.

"I think-" Axel stutters, hips still humping into your throat, "I think I'm close."

You humm, the buzz around his shaft making his thrusts falter. Your lips pop off the top of his member for a second, quickly replaced by your hand. Licking excess fluid off your lips, you look Axel right in the eye.

"Oh yeah? Where do you want to come? Down my throat?" Axel nods, voice chip struggling to form words amidst his groans. It makes you smirk, giving one long lick up his phallus before deep throating him again. You set a more moderate pace, urging him to climax.

"Oh stars, ohh-" Axel's voice, even glitchy, is melodic. He sound so sweet, coming undone below you. "S-shit!" His chip distorts the audio, wires pulsing a bright flash as hot streams of lubricant shoot down your throat. It's a little sour, but also quite sweet.

You slowly let Axel out of your mouth, savoring the flavor of his phallus as you do. The running of his cooling fans reminds you of a kitchen vent, his phallus slowly sinking back into his modesty place for a quick recharge.

You climb up Axel's body, giving him gentle kisses as you do. He readily nuzzles into your skin, despite his systems already warning that he might overheat.

"That was....fantastic" Axel whispers.

The sheer reverence in his voice makes you giggle, pecking again at his jaw.

"Well, I'm not sure how long it will take to recharge but..." You run a finger up his wiring, batting your eyelashes. "We still have another hour left in our session. If you'd like to see some of the other things I can do."

Despite the warnings in his processor, despite the way his modesty plate slowly beeps as he lets it open again, Axel is eager.

"Yes please."

#my writing #kinktober 2023 #reader insert #monster romance #gender neutral reader #kinktober

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fandomnerd9602 · 3 months

Text

Time Off

Julia Carpenter x reader

Being part of the Spider Society is rarely easy. You work as the technical support for your girlfriend Julia Carpenter. You come up with her gadgets and even help her from the comfort of your laptop.

It may not have been much. But Julia appreciated all the help you gave. It always put a smile on her face to know that she wasn’t alone in the war on crime. She could always count on your arms to hold her after a long night on patrol. Your words of encouragement and the occasional techno jargon put her to sleep.

Today was one particularly harsh battle. One bruise, one too many cuts and hits. She was worn out. Julia needed you more than anything.

She barely made it back to your shared apartment/ hideout which you dubbed the Web. She weakly pushed open the window and crawled in.

She gave you a weak smile, “hey”

“C’mere” you gently whispered before walking up to her and hugging her tightly. You picked her up bridal style and carried her up the steps of your apartment and into the bathroom.

You diligently went about your task. You removed her outfit with the delicateness of a spider. You bandaged her wounds, whispering sweet words in her ears and topped off each bruise with a kiss.

“How do you put up with me?” She asked. “I always come home looking like this!”

“Because you’re the only one I want to come home to” you answer back. You put her favorite shirt of yours on her and carried her out of your bathroom and laid her down gently on your bed.

Julia groaned and moaned. It felt good to be in her own bed, but it felt bad that you had to set her down.

“Stay” she practically commands you in her gentle yet sultry voice.

“Just give me a sec,” you answer back before giving her a kiss and heading out. A quick shut down of all your equipment and you were right back to your room and into her arms.

Julia Carpenter, the Spider Woman, she’s always busy saving the world but luckily she’s got you to save her.

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #spider woman #julia carpenter #sydney sweeney #madame web #Julia carpenter x reader #spider woman x reader #madame web movie #across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #spider society #Sydney Sweeney x reader

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jackinthebox80085 · 6 months

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What the SBI + Others would dress up as for Halloween

Philza - Biker (leather jacket and all) (he probably had a motorcycle when he wasn’t old and decrepit lmao L imagine being old)

Techno - a princess. (That’s it.)

Wilbur - A vampire if he’s feeling serious (would definitely overdo it with fake blo0d), and an M&M if he isn’t (you know what color + he would put his hair into pigtails for both)

Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo - Those ghosts that are just sheets with sunglasses (would switch out their costumes into cheap masks and double back on their trick or treating to get extra candy)

Michael - Pumpkin (or some other fruit themed children’s costume, preferably with a little hat)

Shroud - a roller skater (mostly so he could wear roller skates on all 8 of his feet) (also an excuse to shoulder check people)

Niki and Jack - Thing 1 & Thing 2 (from the Cat in the Hat) (they definitely argued about who was #1, and of course, Niki won)

Kristin - Dragonfly (or other cool shiny/elegant creature)(I love you mumza)

Quackity - Cowboy (yes, he did bedazzle his hat himself, yes, he is wearing platform boots, and yes, he is paired with Slime and Foolish) (has a toy g*n that shoots silly string)

Slime and Foolish - one of those two person horse costumes (Slime in front, Foolish in back with two coconut shells to clop together like hooves)

James Marriott (yes I’m counting jamesdoesmining, screw you) - Scooby Doo (he thought that they were doing a group costume, was sadly mistaken)

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crosshairlovebot · 8 months

Text

building feelings / tech x gn!reader

pairing: tech x gn!reader (no y/n)

description: tech teaches you how to fix something on the marauder, and you've always admired him and his intellect.

word count: 1,819

warnings: none. tech is a sweetheart.

two fics in several days?!?! what?!? this is ANOTHER request from another lovely twitter mutual who asked for tech teaching the reader how to fix something on the marauder! i have never written for tech before but i had?? so much fun?? i loved writing his dialogue so much. i loved writing HIM. i hope you enjoy it!

disclaimer: i don't know anything about mechanics, let alone mechanics in the star wars universe. but i tried my best!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

Your feet echoed as you came down the Marauder’s gangplank. Currently situated in a Tatooine landing bay, Clone Force 99 had made a quick stop between missions for repairs after being damaged in a firefight as they left nearby Christophsis. While the other members of the squad had been ordered by Hunter to gather and replenish their supplies from whatever vendors they could find, you and Tech had been ordered to stay with the ship. You, as their official GAR liaison and medic, and unofficial cheerleader, took stock of medical supplies and caught up on filling reports as Tech tinkered with the hull.

But having finished all your tasks, and the boys still weren’t back yet, you ventured out of the stuffy and slightly odorous Marauder, and out into the Tatooine sun that bathed the landing bay.

You heard the spark of a welding tool and the clattering of rummaging through the toolbox before you saw him. Rounding the corner, you found Tech with his back to you as he faced the open belly of the Marauder. His tall lean frame reached up to tighten a valve, and you watched his body strain with the movement, and you imagined his face was screwed up, an intense furrow on his brow and his jaw clenched. You felt your face heat up.

You would be lying if your heart didn’t flutter a little around Tech. There was something so endearing about his eagerness to share his knowledge, and his conviction in whatever he did. He was kind, even if he wasn’t actively trying to be. He excelled at anything he did, and most of all, he was a good brother. He cared so much about them, but in ways you had to look for. Modifying the ship so it performed the best it could, ensuring their safety when flying. Volunteering for the first watch and staying up extra late working on a project so they could get extra sleep. Researching anything they came across, so everyone was informed and no one got hurt. And more recently, enhancing Echo’s cybernetics so they were comfortable for him, and caused less strain and increased efficiency for his cerebral interface.

You knew that to Tech, these things were just things he did. But once you noticed, it wasn’t hard to see the care and love behind them.

“Hey, Tech,” you called out to him as you approached.

Tech turned around and met your gaze. He greeted you with your name.

“How’s it going?” you asked.

“Quite well. Though more systems were damaged than the initial diagnostic detected, everything is fixable. I have even increased the efficiency of the power flux stabilisers, so there is less strain on hyperdrive priming and more output for faster ignition.”

You smiled at him and moved to sit on a crate. You only partially understood what he was saying. “That’s good to hear.”

Tech nodded and resumed his work. You watched him, fascinated. His aptitude for engineering of any kind was admirable. Though you weren’t techno-illiterate – you could work a datapad and fly a ship, you knew nothing about mechanics beyond recognising the names of things. Tech always knew exactly what parts were what and how to use them, which tool to take to them. You could stitch up wounds, but this was different. He could build things – pull together seemingly complicated and unrelated components to make something tangible and operational.

“How can you remember what part is what? And how to fix it?” you asked after a stretch of silence.

Tech stopped and looked at you. “My genetic enhancements are increased intellect and aptitude for technology.”

“I know, but how do you remember it all? How do you have space for it up there?” You tapped your temple with a curious smile.

You could see gears turning in his head as his hands stilled. “I’m not sure I understand the question…I just simply do.”

Tech put down the Harris wrench in the box and met your gaze, which must’ve been furrowed pensively at his vagueness because then he picked up a calibrator and continued talking as he turned back to the ship.

“Though increased neuron capacity and information processing factor into my abilities, I still had to learn; to form a basis of knowledge that could be built upon as my understanding of concepts grew. I wasn’t born knowing the schematics of a T1 Hyperdrive and how to wire its various transmitters.”

You tittered but listened as he turned back and placed the calibrator away.

“However, we all have our aptitudes. The same way you know all the ways a body works, and how to fix them – I know all the ways machines work, and how to fix them.”

You smiled at his words. “I suppose you’re right.”

He twirled a tool between his fingers. “I often am.”

You grinned, meeting his honey-eye gaze behind his goggles. Tech’s mouth turned up at the corners slightly before turning away again, the open hull engulfing him as he rewired something. He suddenly stopped, head lifting up and turning to you with a thoughtful look.

“What?” you frowned in concern.

“Come here.”

Your frown deepened and you pushed yourself off the crate, moving closer to him. He guided you closer with a hand to the small of your back, and you brushed up against him as he maneuvered you to stand in front of him. Your face flushed and you were very glad he couldn’t see it.

“These are the wires to the power couplings that syphon power from the auxiliary engines to the main thrusters,” he told you, his gloved fingers running along the four coloured wires in front of you slowly.

You look up at him slightly confused before nodding. “Okay?”

Tech pointed and ran the tip of his finger over one of the wires. “See how one is slightly more charred than the others?”

You swallowed and nodded.

“That wire has short-circuited, causing lag when the Marauder accelerates because three wires are doing the job of four. What do you think will happen to the other wires if we don’t fix the short?”

You looked back at him, frown increasing. “I thought you knew all about this?”

Tech raised an amused brow at you. “I do. I am teaching you.”

“Oh!” Your cheeks flamed and butterflies swooped in your stomach. Embarrassed and nervous, you cleared your throat to answer his question. “Um, well I suppose if the other wires are being overworked, then they’ll short out too?”

“That is correct,” he nodded. “If wires transmit more power than their capacity, then not only can they short, but they can also degrade the ship’s performance.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” you joked lightly.

“No, we can’t. So, you’re going to help me rewire this one.”

Tech stepped away to grab a new wire from the case next to the toolbox, and your heart sped up, hands tingling with nervous energy.

“Are you sure? What if I do something wrong?”

Tech pushed his goggles up his nose. “You won’t. I’m an excellent teacher.”

And he was. He guided you through the process clearly, showing you the parts and the tools before he watched you use a micro-welder to fix the shorted wire.

“Keep it steady,” he said, placing a hand on yours, helping you move it across the ends of the wire. Your heartbeat quickened and your face heated up. His slender and dexterous hand engulfed yours, and you could feel the grooves of his white plastoid armour against your shoulder as his body brushed against you. If you leaned back, your back would meet his chest, and those dexterous hands of his might even steady you with a hold of your hips. You pushed the thoughts from your mind, doing everything you could to focus on the tool in your hand and not how close he was, and how easy it would be to get even closer.

“There,” Tech declared, removing his hand from yours. “That should do it.”

You cradled the tool to your chest, tightening your grip on it as he took a step back. You simultaneously felt cold and hot all over as you watched Tech grab his datapad, pressing a few buttons before hovering it over the length of the wire. “The diagnostic report shows that the wire is functional.”

You blinked in surprise. “I did it?”

“Of course, you did,” Tech adjusted his goggles. “With my excellent instruction and your intellect, changing a shorted wire is quite simple.”

Your chest tightened. “You think I’m smart?”

Tech paused for a moment before he started tapping the screen again. “You’re a proficient medic, that takes high levels of understanding.”

Your face stretched into a grin, warmth pooling in your stomach as your grip on the tool loosened. “You think I’m smart.”

Tech looked up at you before the corner of his mouth lifted impishly. “Well, perhaps not as smart as me.”

“I don’t think anyone is as smart as you, Tech,” you gave a lilted laugh, placing the micro-welder in the box with the other tools, feeling light inside. Tech’s smile was sort of everything…and to earn one was a privilege.

To be a witness to Tech in his most honest, comfortable form was not something experienced by many people outside of his brothers, and now, you too. You looked at him now, so engrossed in whatever the screen was telling him, and felt your heart swell and fall for him just a little more. You wanted to know why he decided to show you how to fix a shorted wire, but you didn’t want to ruin this moment by revealing feelings that may not be returned. So instead, you settled for:

“Thanks for showing me how to do that.”

His eyes slid to you before nodding and returning his gaze to the screen. “It is a useful skill to have. I’m happy to teach you whatever else you’d like to know.”

You took in a breath. Teaching you this was just another small thing to Tech, but it still showed how much he cared, just like everything else he did. “I’d like that,” you told him after a moment, your heart beating fast, even though you were sure he was just offering to be nice.

Tech’s hand stilled over his datapad before he fully looked up at you, a wrinkle in his brow that softened at your hopeful expression. Tech smiled again, his eyes shining behind those yellow-tinted goggles. And maybe it was just the Tatooine heat, but you could’ve sworn you saw the tips of his ears go pink before he adjusted his goggles and turned back to the Marauder, letting the mechanics envelop him again.

“The landing array needs recalibrating,” he said as he tugged on a part. “Shall I show you how to do that?”

You smiled at him. “Yes, please.”

thank you for reading! i have more requests to get through so i'll likely get through those in a couple of weeks!'

banner art by @vimse

taglist: @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @seriowan @thrawns-babygirl @freesia-writes @bobaprint @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @crosshairsnose @wreckerswife @leavingkamino @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @snarky-mans-gf @mylifeisactuallyamess @cloned-eyes @chopperbase @wenalena @bluebird-dreams @pb-jellybeans @a-streakofblue @rexamongthestars @r2d2staser @theawkwardartist12

please let me know if you'd like to be removed/added

i'm gonna make a taglist form one of these days trust

#larissa writes #tech x reader #tech x reader fic #tech bad batch #tech bad batch fic #tech fic #bad batch tech #bad batch tech x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech fic #the bad batch #tbb tech x you

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rkay07 · 7 months

Text

The One Who Speaks

C!Technobladex Fem!Reader

(You and Techno used to be best friends until he developed a crush on you now suddenly 10 years have passed and all you want is a glimpse of him)

Warnings - A/N: Physical Touch, Make-out session but nothing too heated.

FLUFF!

Word Count: 2.5k

Traveling to Philza’s place for your monthly visit was a nice time to reflect, maybe to do something different, maybe don’t travel through the ocean with nothing but your backpack until you come across a shipwreck to make a boat. Yeah, reflecting. Visiting Philza gave you a sense of peace, hearing his stories, seeing he’s doing alright after everything, seeing it’s possible to move on from things you thought would be forever. He gives you hope that one day you might move on from your own problems, like being alone 24/7, traveling to pass the time, and having this stupid “crush” on Technoblade. When you were pre-teens he all of a sudden stopped paying attention to you and all you could do was accept it, you left him in the dust on your horse, sent away to live with your aunt that was hundreds of miles away. You only started visiting Phil when you heard about the town being blown up, you wanted to make sure he was ok. He was like family to you, so one year ago you decided to make the trip to see him and now you go once a month to catch up. When you first went the first thing you asked him was, “Is Techno ok?” He smiled and shook his head softly, “Y/n, you know him…” he walked to the table you were sitting at with two mugs of tea in his hands, “Technoblade never dies.” You smiled with him, “I don’t know him now but yes. He never dies.” He pressed his lips together at your comment, putting one of the mugs in front of you. You thanked him, and picked it up to warm your hands, “Where is he, if you don’t mind me asking?” Phil looked at you with pity written all over his face, “I don’t mind and remember that, but darling I’m going to be honest with you.” He sighed looking down at his mug, “I haven’t seen him in weeks, he rarely speaks to me anymore…” Your eyes widened, you felt a rush of coldness washed over you. You became cold to the touch even with the hot cup in your hands, “I take that back actually,” You looked up from the mug, ready to take anything he had of Techno, “He checks on me from time to time, sometimes even spends the night but he walks around like I’m not there.” Your eyes soften at his words, sorry for what’s happened between them. You looked at his free hand, taking it into yours and squeezing it, “I’m sure he has his reasons.” He nods, flashing a quick smile. You were worried but you “knew” Techno and he would never neglect someone or something unless he had a reason to but you still questioned it when it came between you and him.

You were still miles away from Philza’s house, and wondering if you might have taken a wrong turn somewhere. You slow your horse down and take a look at your map, glancing in all directions trying to see anything familiar, then you see a landmark that’s on the map. You exhale, the anxiety dissipating as you put the map back into your bag. You snap the reins to walk again when you see a shadow on the ground, a shadow that could only be made if it was in the air. You have your horse come to a complete stop, sliding off and looking at the shadow then up into the sky. A bird was flying high in the sky, making circles around you. You whistle, bringing it down to you. The bird lands and you notice it was a crow! All you could think were negative thoughts, hoping to God that Phil was okay. You pull some seeds out of your side bag, pouring some on the ground for the crow. The crow hops over and sets a scroll down before pecking at the pile of seeds. You pick the scroll up, standing to look at it better.

My dearest Y/n, you’re probably worried that something’s happened to me but I couldn’t be better, I just wanted to give you a heads up that I’ll be having company over while you're on your way. I don’t know how far you are but I hope you aren’t too far. I would like you to see them before they have to go, Love Phil.

You smile down at the lovely note, thinking that Tommy might have been there but you have talked to him before at Phil’s house so who could it be. You ponder on it for quite a moment before your eyes widen and your jaw drops.

It could be Techno, you thought.

You roll the scroll back up and put it in your bag, seeing the wonderful crow ate all the seeds up, you chuckle and decide to give him more just out of likeness of the note. You get up on your horse, snapping the reins one last time before setting off to Phil’s house, which wasn’t more than a few miles away.

You see Phil’s house appear in the distance, grinning and kicking at your horse to go faster for this last stretch. All you could think about was possibly seeing Techno, finally locking eyes with him after all these years. You slow your horse down as you approach his house, hopping off before he even comes to a complete stop. You shake dust out of your hair and pat yourself down before knocking on the door. You knock on the door and wait for someone to open it for you. You turn around to your horse that’s neighing at you from behind, you try your best to shush him but he decides to be stubborn after a long and hard ride. You wave him off as the door clicks, you whip your head around to meet Tommy, “Tommy!” You yell, “Ay!” Tommy yells back pointing finger guns at you. You smile at him, raising your arms up to hug him. Laughing as he picks you up and spins you around in the house. Closing the door as he sets you down, “Come on, I want you to see someone.” He says, too fast for you to understand but grabs your hand just as quickly as he spoke pulling you towards the kitchen. Light-headed from the laughing and spinning you stumble behind him, trying to not fall to the ground. He slows down, walking into the kitchen. You keep your hand in his, waiting to see the one and only Techno but when you round the corner you’re met with a transparent figure, almost shiny with the sun beaming through it. You narrow your eyes as it turns around, “Guess you weren’t expecting me?” It says, you’re left speechless, mostly trying not to cry. It was Wilbur. Phil told you about the war, when Wil told him to kill him. Holding back tears, you cover your mouth, “Wil?” You knew it was him but you had to make sure. He nods, making you whimper. You walk up to him knowing you would go right through but you wanted to be close. You breathe out as you look at his face, so dark and light. You raise your hands, roaming the air where his face would be but all you could feel was freezing air. He brings his hands to your wrists, marking them with cold rings. You chuckle softly as tears fall from your face, trying to smile but wince at the every-longing want of his hands in yours. He was such a big inspiration of yours but when you heard he had turned evil it was hard to think of him highly. But then, you heard of his death and it shattered you. When you were little, he was always there for you, especially when Techno started to grow distinct, he was there. You missed him so much but now seeing him, his presence, you finally had closure.

You take a deep breath in and let it out, keeping your eyes on him as you step away. Walking backwards to Tommy, you look at Wilbur one last time as he waves at you. You give him a small wave back before he dissipates into thin air. You turn around to bury your face into Tommy's chest, he hugs you back with watery eyes. You could hear him sniffling, you chuckle, “It’s ok Tommy, he’s in a better place now.” He rubs his eyes and scoffs, “What do you mean, I know that, why wouldn’t I know that. I mean look at me.” You remove your face from his chest, as you look up at him, “I know you needed that as much as I did.” He scoffs again, “No I didn’t, I was perfectly fine without him.” You laugh, making him laugh too, as he shakily breathes in and out, “Oh, how I missed him.” You wipe tears off your face, “Me too Tommy, me too.”

You and Tommy were sitting at the kitchen table laughing when the both of you hear the side door open and loud boots fill the house as they stomp off whatever was on them. You look at Tommy with confusion but all he does is smile, making you even more confused. A loud nauseated voice booms through the hallway, “Hey Phil there’s a random horse eating snow in the front, it has a bunch of stuff on it too-” The giant stops in his tract, this time very real. When he sees you, he pulls his mask down from his face, “Y/n?” You stand up, your eyes not believing it, your mind not believing it, but your heart does. Your heart believes it’s really him, it’s really Technoblade. You clear your throat, not sure what to say, “Uh- hey-” You were always speechless around him, never knowing what to say, how to say it. He takes a step closer as he pulls his gloves off, “Uh…” He couldn’t speak either, his eyes were roaming your body, he wanted them to do all the talking. You and Techno stand there in place just looking at each other for a good moment.

Tommy stands up, making sure to make as much noise as possible, “Hey big guy, how was work-” Techno leans down to Tommy ear’s, “Get out.” Tommy mouths ok and walks off to the front door, saluting at you. You watched him as he walked and saluted back at him. You put your gaze back on Techno noticing he was a little closer than before. You don’t think you can hold it in anymore but with it being 10 years, you didn’t know if he felt the same way. You watch him as he stops just a couple feet away from you, your breathing becomes heavy, heat rushes to your cheeks. You open your mouth to speak but nothing except a chuckle comes out, he watches you look at the ground and to the side looking out the window. Every inch of you is on his mind, he takes his hand and brings it to your chin to draw your attention back to him. You look at him with doe eyes, thinking about all the times he looked at you with those same charming eyes. You pull away though not wanting to get too close, not wanting to feel the same urge you felt when you were just a kid. You look away towards the window for a second but he pulls you back, now arm around your waist and hand on your chin, keeping your eyes on him.

You find it hard to not look at him with your faces only inches apart, his long pink hair falling over his shoulder and into his face. You cave in finally, your eyes traveling his face for it has been too long since you’ve seen him, “Techno…” You breathe out, his breathing becoming just as heavy as yours. You find the back of his neck with one hand and the back of his shoulder with the other. Gripping at his shirt, he looks down at your lips, “Why did I wait so long?” Your heart flutters at his words as they roll off his lips and onto your own. You mouth I don’t know, giving him a weak smile. His lips part as he moves his hand from your chin to your cheek, running it along once before diving into a deep kiss. You took a breath before his lips crashed down on yours, interlocking your fingers in his hair. He pushes you against the table a little rough, “Sorry.” he says in between a kiss. You couldn’t care less about being rammed into a table but you loved that he cared for you, “It’s ok.” You whisper, keeping the kiss going and placing your hands on the table to brace yourself. He slowly snakes his tongue into your mouth as he finds your hands and intertwines them with his. You whimper at the feeling of his tongue roaming your mouth, you grip his hands tight, making him moan. He continues to kiss you like it was the last time you were ever going to see each other, touch each other. But he wasn’t going to let that happen, he wasn’t going to pull himself away from you ever again. He wanted you more than ever before, finally having you in his arms.

You slowly start to pull away but Techno wants one more long kiss before accepting your movement, resting his head on your shoulder. He needed that break as much as you did, his breath raspy and deep on your neck. You wrap your arms around him, as he does the same. You look up to the ceiling with tears in your eyes, happy tears. Happy that you finally get to express your loving feelings to this hunk of stoicness. He glides his touch from your waist to the back of your legs, picking you up and putting you on the table with no effort. You gasp when he picks you up, looking deep into his eyes to find love and affection. He pulls you as close as possible, making you wrap your arms and legs around him. You rest your forehead on his, smiling and giggling. He couldn’t help but do the same. Your smiles always gave him warmth, from his ear tips to his toes. He always liked that about you and it has never changed, even after all these years his memory of you has never faded. He leans back so he can see you better, scanning for any new details.

He cups your cheeks and rubs his thumbs on your skin. He’s hot to the touch, making you want to melt in his arms. A single tear falls from your eye, he’s quick to gently wipe it away, kissing where the droplet was then kissing your forehead. He looks down at you, taking an impossible step towards you, “I’ve loved you for too long, to give up,” He pauses and glances at your lips, “I’ll make it my life’s mission to never let you go…again.” Your breath hitches, you couldn’t believe he was saying this to you, finally. You let out a breath with a big smile and your head vigorously nodding at his remark. He smiles back with a sigh of relief escaping from his lips. He picks you up and spins you around for a moment then plants you on your feet. Your arms still wrapped around his neck, you give him a couple of nice soft pecks on his chapped lips. You were forever happy to have him by your side now, even if he had to work. The both of you hear the side door open, “Techno! I need your help with the hay bales!” Philza’s voice rang through the house before you both heard the door close and footsteps went down the outside stairs. You look up at him and pout. His eyes narrow down the hall towards the side door, “He can wait.” Before you know it you're off up the stairs to the spare bedroom Techno sleeps in, making sure to lock the door behind him.

#c!techno #c!technoblade #c!technoblade x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #technoblade fanfic #technoblade fluff #technoblade never dies

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