#sending you strength prev

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 8

content warning: fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI, thigh riding 😙, thigh fucking 🤪, public indecency??? exhibitionism???, katoptronophilia aka mirror sexy time (thanks for the word jelly 🪼), just overall a really good time

word count: 4.4k, not proofread (we're only gearing up to what I assume will be another giant chapter 😷)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who does some sets of push-ups, sit-ups, and leg raises in place of the gym. You watch him while you wait for room service, encouraging him from the side. Your presence was especially needed during the sit-ups when you sit at his feet, holding them down and giving him kisses when sits up.

GymRat!Miguel who sings loudly in the shower after his workout. You have to answer the door with an apology as the server laughs at Miguel belting out Britany Spears.

GymRat!Miguel who finally decides to respond to his texts. He’s had enough time to cool off and your presence was like a calm breeze, kissing away at his skin.

He discards his empty plate, placing it back on the cart. You’re still chewing away at some fluffy pancakes, enjoying the views of the high-rise hotel as the default channel played soft jazz.

GymRat!Miguel who lays in your lap while you eat some fruit. He has his phone in his hands ready to type, but he opens his mouth, silently begging for you to feed him grapes and pineapple chunks.

He hums to himself happily when you comply, combing a hand through his hair. He felt so peaceful like this. Serene.

GymRat!Miguel who sighs as he opens the message app. Here we go.

Abuela 💕:

“Abuela I’ll call you tonight”

“And there will be no babies. Not now”

“There better not be!”

Pa:

“Gracias pa”

“I’m glad you were able to meet her”

“She means a lot to me”

“I can tell”

“Mijo you pack a big punch!”

“Uno más!!!”

“You got that from me 👍🏽”

“Sure did pa 😭”

Gabri 🤡🤏🏽:

“You’re such an instigator”

“It’s not instigating. It’s reporting 😌”

“‘It’s reporting ☝🏽🥸’”

“Shaddap”

“You think I’m letting a member of the robotics team bully me?”

“You have perfect pitch and play the saxophone”

“You’re not winning this battle”

“Aren’t you supposed to be entertaining my girl? 🤨”

“Direct this clown act to her”

“Not sure how she puts up with it but I’ll free her soon”

“Stfu”

“A real man would be doing OTHER things but I digress”

“Did you really have to send a pic”

“You hate me”

“It’s clear to me now”

“Anyway what’s this about Tyler punching things”

“OHHHHH”

“He got him good”

“Square in the face”

“A bloody mouth to match his nose”

“TWINEM”

“Good”

"Pa said he granted me the ability to punch"

“He can dream on about that”

“Because where tf is my strength 😒”

"He punched Tyler before"

"Your time will be soon"

"😕"

"Also Ik about Nancy cheating already"

"Tyler told me in high school"

"I didn't want to be the one to tell Kron"

"Ur better than me"

"I would have told him that after that punch"

"YOUR MOM IS A HOMEWRECKER!"

"That's not what that means but ok"

Dana:

“Does your bf know you’re lusting after others?”

“Not if you don’t tell 😙”

“….I don’t think I want to give you her number”

“You’re perfect for Gabri”

“You’re both unbearable”

“What’s unbearable is I’m not talking to your gf rn”

“It’s too many O’Haras”

“Too much testosterone”

“SAVE ME MIG’S GF”

“MIG’S GF SAVE ME!!!”

Dad….Tyler:

“It’s ok. For what it’s worth, I can tell that you had good intentions.”

“Gabri told me what happened”

“I apologize for acting out of order and punching your son, but I couldn’t let him disrespect my girlfriend and my mom. No matter how difficult she may be, I’m the one who should tell her about it. Not him.”

"I completely understand that. You did what you thought was right, and that's far more admirable than what Kron did."

"In another reality, you and Kron could get along. For now, I will aim for cordial. I will make sure that he apologizes to you, your girlfriend, and Conchata."

"I don't want an apology if it's not genuine."

"Let's move on from that. You said you wanted to make it up to me? I saw that you added more dates to the hotel. Thank you for that, you didn't have to."

"Yes! If you are willing, I would love for you and your girlfriend to meet with me. I actually arranged something for you, Gabriel, and your girlfriends. I want to hear your input before I finalize the details."

"Sure thing. Is this afternoon ok?"

"That's perfect. I'll see you then."

Ma:

Read: 11:10 AM ✓✓

“Ugh,” Miguel groans, shutting his phone off and closing his eyes.

You stop rubbing his hair and look down, “What’s wrong?”

Miguel grunts as he moves your hand to continue, “My mom wants me to come home. Not sure if I want to do that right now. Not unless I know she’s ready to be accountable for once, which I highly doubt.”

You hum in understanding, “She’s still your mom, though. You’ll have to see her eventually.”

“My mom or not, she had no right to talk to you the way she did,” Miguel said reaching his hand up to your face. “It was cruel and…strange coming towards you. She doesn’t know you. Not yet, anyway.”

It’s not like she was trying to know you, either. Miguel seemed to understand this in your silence.

“I have to go grab some clothes so she might just get her wish,” Miguel says, turning his head towards your stomach.

You look down at him, “You don’t have to. Today is my last day here.”

“Well, lucky for us, Tyler extended the stay for a few more days,” he grinned. He started to move your shirt to fondle your skin.

Your stomach twitched as his breath brushed your skin. He started to kiss along your front, head disappearing under your sweater. He hummed as he started to tug at your underwear with his teeth.

“Hey,” you say, watching his head moving around through the material. “Stop that and finish talking.”

You pulled your sweater up to reveal him, his teeth still holding the band of your panties and eyes like a cat that got caught.

He let the band go close to your stomach so it wouldn’t snap, “This visual is making me forget everything.” His eyes are heavy and wandering.

You look to where he’s looking to see that you’re essentially flashing him.

You drop your shirt in embarrassment, letting out a sound of panic.

“No, no, baby let me see.”

“No, you’re at such a weird angle.”

“All art must be viewed up close and personal.”

Miguel sat up from your lap. He watched as you huffed and pinched the neckline of your sweater, moving it for air.

"You're so confident from afar, but when I'm near you like this, you get so shy. Even in public, you can be so bold. It's just you and me here."

"It's just," you watch Miguel as he crowds your space. His mouth goes behind your ear to press his lips into your skin. "I don't know. It feels like...more when it's just us. More real."

"Does it not feel real when we're in public?"

Miguel sits back, eyes wondering to yours. There's a pinch in his eyebrows, so faint you almost miss it.

"It does! That's not what I mean."

"Then, what is it? Tell me. Talk to me."

"I want to do more with you."

"But?" Miguel holds your hands in his, stopping you from picking at the loose threads of the sweater. He rubs them with his thumbs, itching to pull you closer.

"But, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could pass out. I get overwhelmed and nervous. I don't want to say or do anything stupid. It gets harder to control myself. I feel crazy."

Oh.

Oh.

"Then there are moments when my brain fools me into thinking that you don't like me in the way that I like you. Moments when that girl from not so long ago comes back, ashamed of herself and her body. A small part of me that thinks you could date anyone else and you're settling."

Miguel takes a moment to process your words.

He takes a breath, then opens his mouth.

"You really don't understand how much you affect me, do you?"

Miguel pulled you in his lap, fed up with this charade.

You grip his shoulders, steadying your balance with how fast he grabbed you.

"Miguel-"

"I don't know everything that your last boyfriend did to you and I don't know everything that you've experienced because of your body. Baby, I don't even know what you've seen all this time to make you think you're not worthy of love and respect, but I'm here to squash it."

"I meant it when I said that I love you. I'll learn it in a hundred languages just to remind you. I'll even tattoo it on my forehead for you to be reminded of it every single time you see me."

"I don't think you need to go that far," you say, eyes warm.

"No, I think I should. Anything for you to understand me. Anything for you to see you like how I see you."

"Letting out my deepest darkest secrets here, but do you know what I did when we first met?"

You shake your head, curious.

"I had a dream about you that was so good, I fell out of my bed. Peter never lets me live it down."

"A sweet dream?"

"Now, you and I both know it was more than that. Two cold showers should answer your questions."

You hide your face in his neck, heartbeat drumming through you, "Did you really?"

"Hand to heart. I understand your feelings. I acknowledge them too, but I need you to understand mine as well. Trust me when I say that you are unbelievably sexy. I love you and your body. My eyes caught your appearance before I came to know your personality. Anybody would be lucky to have you, but I'm the luckiest because you chose me."

Miguel hugged you close and kissed your head.

"Now let's rewind. You said you feel crazy when you're close to me?"

You groan in his neck.

"Uncontrollable? Heated?"

"Miggy, stop."

"My girlfriend is head over heels for me," Miguel hummed as he rubbed his hands down your naked legs. "She wants to ruin me."

"No, I don't."

"She's still wearing my clothes with nothing underneath but her panties and is leaning all over me. Her thighs are around my waist and she just told me that she wants me."

"You put me here," you lean up and stare at him. Your cheeks were hot and your eyes were dewey.

"She's looking at me like she's upset, but now I know that her heart is going crazy. I want to kiss her."

"Then do it," you whisper.

The kiss is sweet, the taste of fruit and syrup still on your lips. You finally relax in his arms, body melted against his. His hands slip under your sweater, dancing over your back. Your skin is soft and warm, a blanket over Miguel's figure.

The time where you two connect extends deeper and longer. You let your hands venture further than the nape of his neck, roaming until you brush across his chest. Miguel's breath hitched as your nails raked his nipple, chest jumping at the impact.

You break for a second, wanting to get air, but Miguel leans back in, desperate. He's whining, groping your body all over. His noises go straight to your core, twitching above him. He matches your pace, dragging your hips across his, reveling in how fast your body was reacting to him.

When he leans back, there's a string of saliva connecting you two. He's breathing hard as he watches you.

"Can I take this off? Please," Miguel grips the bottom of your sweater, eyes pleading.

You bite your lip and slide the sweater over your head, dropping it to the bed. You bring your hands over the top of your chest, arms framing your breasts.

You can't look Miguel in the eyes, too shy, "Is this fine?"

Miguel's eyes almost turn as he watches you, so shy but so seductive. He reaches out to cup your breasts in his hands, groaning when they plush through his fingers.

"You're so," Miguel rubs his thumbs across your nipples, enjoying you twitching and gasping in his hold. "Fuck."

His gaze burned into you, hungry as you lapped his tongue around your nipples. You let out a whimper when you feel him pull your skin in, mouth hot. It doesn't beat his pleased hum, voice like a man finally getting relief.

He massages your vacant breast, movements getting harsher. His grip is like a vice making it harder for you to second-guess yourself.

You hiss and rake your hands through his hair, "B-baby, be careful."

"Lo siento, mi amor," Miguel says, kissing across your areolas. "'M sorry."

You find your breath, fighting to steady your voice, "You're on me like we didn't just do something earlier."

Miguel paused and placed his cheek on your chest, "Baby, I'm a virgin and a man, not a prude. With practice, I could go all day."

The thought of that has you tightening your legs around him, hips stuttering. Miguel shifts to pull you over his left thigh.

"Does that excite you, baby?" Miguel smirks.

You close your eyes and nod, hips rolling over his thigh, keening high as he hikes his thigh closer to your sex and grips your waist. His muscles feel so good against you, the sounds getting wetter and wetter with each swipe.

"God, you're so pretty like this," Miguel sighs. "My gorgeous girl."

Your movements are becoming more frantic, Migiuel's voice in your ears spurring you on. He was sucking into your neck, growling as you scratched against his shoulder blades.

"That's right, baby. Keep going. Use me to get off," Miguel helped your hips keep a steady pace, pulling at your briefs to a makeshift thong. The tightness of your underwear combined with his thigh and his voice sends you into overdrive.

"Miguel!" you sob, hands gripping his hair. Your body trembles as you squeeze your thighs around him, cunt pulsating around nothing but your underwear, release leaking onto his leg.

Miguel cooed as you dropped your weight against him, body limp and hips fluttering with aftershocks. You panted as you kept your head on his shoulder, willing yourself to calm down.

"Are you ok?" Miguel asks, kissing your temple, your ear, your cheek. He feels you nod into his skin, blissed out.

"I like how you called me the needy one and you're the one who came three times today," Miguel mumbled, laughing as you swatted at his pec.

"I already confessed what you do to me. This shouldn't be shocking."

"Didn't say that. 'M just happy you feel more comfortable around me. It's what I want." One last kiss to your face seals his joy.

You lift up on shaky knees, hands holding onto Miguel for dear life. Your thighs were still shaking and your underwear was ruined. Miguel's cock twitched at the essence that seeped onto his leg, watching as sticky lines dragged from his skin to yours.

He grabbed you by the waist with one hand and wiped at your slick with another.

He's about to swipe at it with his tongue until you stop him.

"Miguel! Don't do that," you say, flustered.

"What? I'm just enjoying the fruits of my labor," he pouts as you grab some napkins and clean off his hands and thigh.

"So close to eating you, yet so far," he sighs miserably. "One day."

You ignore him and look down at his erection, taking a knuckle and lining the side. It was your first time really paying attention to him down there, now that you weren't distracted by his advances.

"What about you?"

He twitched as you walked along his clothed shaft, pre-come leaking through the fabric.

"As much as I want you to continue, we have to get ready for today," Miguel jerks as you continue your ministrations with a pout on your face. "And, I need condoms if you want to take this any further."

"Not even a blowjob?" you peer at him with your deer eyes again.

Miguel took a deep breath, "I was right. You are trying to ruin me."

GymRat!Miguel who lets you know that Tyler wants to meet you both after you both have changed clothes for the day. Something about a surprise.

"I love surprises!" you say turning to Miguel with a smile on your face. "As long as it's nothing like last night. I think it'll be ok."

Miguel matches your smile and presses his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who stops at his home briefly, trying to get in and get out. He manages to fill up his travel bag, drop off his laundry, and give Gabriel a heart attack all before his mom notices he's there.

"Where are you going?" Gabriel asks with his hand over his heart, headphones lopsided around his neck.

"None of your business, nosy."

"Uh, it kind of is my business. You think you're grown when you're really not."

Miguel rolls his eyes. He didn't really want to tell Gabriel, but sometimes he couldn't say no to him.

"We're going out to see Tyler. He has a surprise for us. He also said he arranged something for us including you and Dana."

"Oh shit! Ok. And if mom asks where you are?"

"Tell her I'll come by tomorrow. I'm spending the next few days with my girlfriend."

"Alrighty," Gabriel sing-songs, placing his headphones back on his head. "You kids be safe. Don't scare my girl away."

Miguel smacks Gabriel across the head and runs out the door before he can catch up.

GymRat!Miguel who just laughs at your face while you frantically unlock the car to let him in.

"Baby, what's wrong?" you ask, voice in a panic.

"A string bean is trying to attack me," he responds, giggling as Gabriel runs out of the house.

"I'm getting you back for that you oaf!" Gabriel yells as Miguel backs out of the driveway. He stops his anger to wave at you, which you return with a sweet smile.

"Baby, you're encouraging him."

GymRat!Miguel who guides you through the doors of a cafe that Tyler recommended. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his stark white hair and light clothing. The only semblance of color on him was his silver jewelry.

He sat there, typing away at his phone, oblivious to the people around him who found familiarity in his form.

"Dad," Miguel said, the word funny on his tongue. He tried to make an effort to refer to him as his father in public, something Tyler appreciated greatly.

"Son!" he got up and engulfed him in a hug, giving you a softer version afterward. "It's good to see you both."

"It's lovely to see you again as well, Mr. Stone," you say, giving Miguel a smile when he pulls your chair out for you. "Thank you so much for thinking of us after all that's happened. Thank you for paying for my stay as well, the hotel is very lovely."

"Anything for Miguel's loved ones," he smiles in a way that has a hint of Miguel. You feel better going into the rest of this meal.

GymRat!Miguel who almost chokes on his coffee before Tyler can finish his sentence.

"A yacht?!"

"Is it too much? I can do something else to your liking," Tyler frets, wiping his hands on his slacks. "I'm not sure what all kids your age like nowadays."

"I've never been on a yacht. so I don't even know how to react," Miguel responds.

The two of them are sporting the same deer-in-headlights look.

"I'm sure it would be a great experience for all of us. If everyone doesn't mind, I'm sure we can get together and have a great time," you say, helping the two of them out. "Something nice to start the summer off."

"That's great! I will have everything ready by the beginning of next month then," Tyler says, mood lifting immediately. He was a lot like a golden retriever. "With that in order, I'd like to grant you this."

He takes his wallet out, reaching in to grab a card.

As he slides it across the table, your eyes grow big.

It's a black card with T. Stone pressed across the bottom.

"What's this for?" Miguel asks, staring at the card with building curiosity.

"You all need clothes for the trip, don't you?" Tyler asks. "And I'm sure you need more clothes to wear this week. Please take this, I don't mind. I trust you not to go overboard. I'll let you know when to give it back."

Miguel took the card in his hands, the weight of it heavier than any of his own.

"I guess it's time for a shopping spree," Miguel said, a smile growing on his face.

GymRat!Miguel who drives you straight to the mall. The windows are down as you both laugh and sing to the song on the radio. Miguel wishes he could record this moment, but for now, he dials it back to replay in his memory.

GymRat!Miguel who is happy to carry your bags and encourages you to buy more. Whenever you start to feel like you've gone overboard, he just whispers "black card" in your ear like a devil on your shoulder.

GymRat!Miguel who convinces you to walk around the name-brand stores. He did have Tyler's card, but he was also thoroughly watching what you gravitated towards. He locked away so many gift ideas for later.

GymRat!Miguel who joins you in the mirror of a shades shop. The both of you take pictures with coordinating glasses and you giggle as Miguel makes silly faces in some of them.

GymRat!Miguel who becomes your doll as you pick out outfits for him. He's smiling down at you as you put different shirts up to his body, mumbling to yourself as you make decisions. So pretty.

GymRat!Miguel who waits while you try on some clothes, giddy whenever you show him a new outfit. You managed to find clothes that coordinated with his and you're super excited about it.

"Close your eyes!" you yell through the door.

He does so and listens for you to walk out. After you take a while, he opens his eyes a little.

"Baby, no peeking," you chastise.

He huffs and waits a little longer.

"Ok. 1, 2, 3, open!"

His eyes land on you in a dress that hugs your curves like no other. Your chest fills out the top perfectly and seeing your stomach through the front is driving him mad.

"Do you like it?" you turned around, giving Miguel a grand view of how your ass was sitting in the dress.

"Do the dressing rooms have a time limit?"

You blink at him owlishly, "No? Why?"

GymRat!Miguel who drags all of your bags and you back inside of the dressing room with lightning speed. As soon as he locks the door, he's attached to your lips, kneading at your ass and hips.

You gasp in his mouth, shocked at how fast he's moving.

"Miguel, what- oh," you sigh as he leans down and pulls your dress up, face buried in your neck.

"You look so good, mi amor. I can't help it."

GymRat!Miguel who almost cums when you pull his dick out. Your eyes grow along with his erection, watching as he twitches in your hold. You've never taken anyone this big and from your hesitance, Miguel can gather this much.

"We don't have to do anything. In fact, you don't have to do that here," he pants.

"You mean take you down my throat?" you ask, running your thumb over his head, watching in awe as liquid seeped out. Miguel bit his hand to quiet his moans. "I'll wait until we're somewhere more private and less noticeable that I'm on my knees for you."

Miguel looks at the open space under the dressing room door, "Yeah that's probably for the best."

GymRat!Miguel who places you in front of him, both of you facing the mirror. Your dress is bunched up and Miguel is rocking his cock in between your thighs.

He's bent down, biting lightly on your shoulder so that he doesn't shout. Your thighs were so warm and plush against him and his pre-cum was spewing out of him like a fountain.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he moans a little too loud after a few minutes.

GymRat!Miguel who watches you in the mirror. Your tits were so close to slipping from the top of your dress, the impact from his hips jerking your entire body. He grabbed at both of them, watching as you moan at the contact. His slaps got louder and louder, milky fluid running down your legs.

GymRat!Miguel who is overcome with need when you turn and run your tongue across his earlobe. He convulses as his release spurts across the room, landing on the mirror. He grips your hips and breathes hard into your skin, the tempo of his heart moving quick.

You pat his head and praise him, heavy eyes following your hand as you rub his tip that's still rubbing through your thighs. He whines, sensitive, but not moving away from you.

GymRat!Miguel who wipes you down carefully with some wipes you have in your purse. Luckily you both haven't ruined yet another pair of underwear.

He kisses you softly when he finishes, little confessions of love traveling from his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who checks the dressing room one last time, making sure he's gotten any evidence of his removed from the area. Your green dress is in his arms and you've changed back to your outfit.

The area is clean, but there are fresh hickeys on your neck, something he got carried away with.

GymRat!Miguel who walks out like nothing happened. You on the other hand, hand over some extra clothes you didn't like to a worker in slight embarrassment. He eyes you both with a look of horror.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you Auntie Anne's in the crowded food court. You hum happily after each bite. He dusts cinnamon off the corner of your lips with a smile.

GymRat!Miguel who moves from dusting to leaning across the table to lick the crumbs off when a table full of guys keeps eying you.

"What was that for?" you asked, oblivious to the hound dogs around you.

"Nothing. I just love you, baby."

dividers by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I got a very useful lesson on condoms and BJs while writing this chapter. It won't ever be applied to this fic, BUT it was still kinda fun nonetheless.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! Leave a like, a reblog, and COMMENTS if you did!!! 🩵

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

@samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu

@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

@lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @cl3stevu

@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

@questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @calig0sto @tatatida @haveclayeveryday

@corpsenightmarebride @earth2fae @maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstarlight82

@ladysimp @sonicbutbutter @relatednative

#love lab drabbles 💊 #GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x plussize!reader #miguel o’hara x plus size reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #x plus size reader #x chubby reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x chubby reader #miguel o'hara x chubby!reader #miguel o'hara x plus size reader #miguel o’hara x chubby!reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #atsv x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfiction

[bumbling-in-boogie-land]

I'm gonna start writing the text/translation down here instead in image description :O

prev/next (not done!!)

Text undercut! WARNING!! SOME SUGGESTIVE TEXT/EXPLAINATION OF SOMETHING SUGGESTIVE!

lets leave before it arrives, shall we?

hold up..

WELL I'M LEAVING!

NARINDER!!

WAIT!!! I HAVE A QUESTION!!!

BYE!!!!

Narinder, as your leader I--

WHAT?

FINALLY TAKING YOUR ROLE AS A GOD SERIOUSLY??

WELL GO ON!

I'm at your service after all! DEMAND I TALK ABOUT IT.

Wish for me to spill my guts out for you? just say the word. (just SAYING NARINDER KNOWS HOW TO TEASE THE LAMB AND TURN THEM INTO A BUMBLING MESS, so uhh, here he's kinddaa,, uhhh grinding on them uh uh uh but it's not very obvious but uhh that's what's happening there, hence the suggestive tag but it's okay Lamb loves it and he knows they do so erm)

WEL WELL WELL, DEATH DOING WHAT THEY SHAN'T, AGAIN

THOUGH I MUST SAY... YOU'VE UPPED YOUR TASTES

NO WHINY STORE MERCHANT TO BED YOUR SIBLING TO SEND YOUR KITS TO SEE YOU. TO SAY GOODBYE

THEY HAD NOT THE STRENGTH TO SEND MORE TO YOUR REALM. NOT WITHOUT MY HELP

Nari, lets just go.

YOU'RE WRONG!!

DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A FOOL?

SHAMURA HAD NOT THE WILL OR WIT TO ENSNARE MY YOUNG TO MY PRISON

#cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #true devotion #cotl au #sorta kinda #cotl fanart #cotl comic #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl shamura #cotl leshy #cotl kallamar #cotl heket #cotl the fox #suggestive

[nyoomiin]

roommates: part ten.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

You can't breathe. You can't breathe and it hurts and it burns and oh god, are you dying?

You jerk upright, chest heaving, skin slick with cold sweat. Your hand reaches for your heart, and it scorches with a fiery rage. You died. You were dead. You were killed. You had died and then you hadn't and you had lived a lifetime in a moment and —

Someone's calling your name.

Your vision clears.

A white bed. Oakwood flooring. Sunlit windows. Someone by your side.

Kunikuzushi.

His eyes are wide, marred with concern, and for a second, you can't tell which Kunikuzushi you're looking at.

“Are you okay?” someone else squeaks. It takes you seconds to remember her name. Paimon.

No, you want to snap, but that wouldn't be very fair to her. She wasn't the reason you were feeling like you had been thrown down the Palace of Alcazazaray, then fallen into a rose bush of thorns.

“I need some space,” you say, swallowing thickly.

Aether nods understandingly. You stand, legs shaky, and Kuni moves to follow you out the door.

“You should leave them be for now,” Nahida cautions him.

You can’t see his expression, but you can hear the growl in his undertone. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

You turn to him, and his agitation melts into something softer. He doesn’t expect you’d send him away. But… you don’t have the strength to face him just yet. How could you have, after everything? Was that even the right way to phrase it?

He must see it on your face. He glances away.

“I’m sorry,” you offer weakly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Crossing his arms, he raises a fine brow, as if there wasn’t any reason to be apologizing at all. You suppose there isn’t, but you feel bad all the same. He waves you away. “Sure.”

Shutting the door behind you, you duck into an empty hallway, back hitting the wall. Archons, you think. What a clusterfuck.

You find yourself staggering into Alhaitham’s office. You don’t even know how you got there, but with the way your feet ached, you supposed you had walked. For a second, you wonder why you hadn’t gone home instead. Stupid thought. Kunikuzushi is bound to be there.

Alhaitham’s gaze flicks upwards at you, then back down to his work. Still, he shifts, making some space for you. “You look unwell.”

“Nice to know,” you say, flopping down next to him. Your cheek smushes against his arms. Honestly, this man did nothing but sit around reading all day — why the fuck was he so fit? He was nothing like Kuni. That scrawny ass could never compare, both in the present and back then —

You stop yourself there before your train of thought can derail any further. Suddenly curious, you turn to Alhaitham quickly. “‘Haitham, do you… believe in past lives?”

He gives you an odd look.

“There is no scientific proof on the existence of reincarnation,” he replies slowly. Then, he pauses, and he has that slight squinty-eyed look on his face again, also known as the face he makes whenever he thinks about Kaveh. “Though, I assume my past life would’ve been much less insufferable without having to deal with someone like Kaveh.”

You roll your eyes. Insufferable, he says, as if Kaveh was someone he could ever live without. Sighing, you massage your temples. Gods if you weren’t exhausted. You need your brain to shut up and stop thinking about anything related to all this nonsense.

“I’m going to sleep on you,” you tell Alhaitham.

“You can sleep in your home.”

“But you’re more comfortable.”

( You were avoiding him.

He had expected it wouldn’t take more than a week to settle your thoughts, yet two had passed, and you showed no sign of seeking him out at all. Worse still, these days, it felt as though he lived in an apartment for one. You’d leave at dawn and return after dusk, claiming you were too tired to speak with him. You stopped meeting his gaze and that bright, stupidly endearing grin you always wore turned tight and pressed thin.

How utterly unamusing.

He refuses to let this drag on any longer. Frankly, the entire situation should’ve been resolved weeks ago — and you’d have gone back to being yourself. Bothersome and foolish and the only person in the world he’d allow to treat him the way you did.

Tonight, he decides. He’d speak with you tonight, even if it was the last thing he did. )

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129 @bfajax @mostlymoth @thenyxsky @kiyiiaarchived @skyvella @theautisticduck @someonealreadyhadmynickname @wanderersumbrella

#—stellaronhvnters. #scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #man its been awhile #JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT THEN THE EPILOGUE I THINK #☝️☝️☝️💪💪💪

[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 8

prev | next

series masterlist

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!poc!reader

summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni, some mentions of gore, guilt, trauma (who is surprised. please), angst, a shower scene but it's really unsexy except for anakin on his knees series will have eventual smut, canon level violence, etc etc.

a/n: tagging makes me feel a type of violence that is historic in nature. not beta read. any comments and reblogs and all are so so appreciated thank u so much for reading

You never realized how intertwined grief and guilt are before now. Anakin allows you to pretend that you’ve fallen asleep as he hoists you into the speeder with Obi-Wan, stroking your feverish forehead with his cool metal hand. He’s draped you in his cloak, hiding the blood on your clothes. If Obi-Wan knew you were awake, he’d ask you questions, questions that you wouldn’t have the strength to answer. Anakin lays you down gently with your head on his lap, a comfort you don’t think you deserve. 

You keep remembering the spray of blood on your face, its metallic, coppery scent staining you forever; you did that. You took away her life, forever, without hesitation, without stopping. While it felt like a blur in the moment, it feels crystal clear now: the sight of your hands, tangled in the roots of Reyna’s hair, blood muddying the sand as dark rivulets formed from the pool of blood forming from Reyna. And that lifeless look in her eyes, the one she had before you had actually managed to kill her… she wasn’t afraid. She knew you were going to kill her. She knew she was dead before her heart managed to stop beating. 

The thought of that alone terrifies you. So you cling tighter to Anakin’s thigh, a shiver running through your body as you try to hide from your guilty conscience. He says nothing, just holds you tighter; you imagine he’s doing the work of shielding both yours and his emotions from Obi-Wan. You feel guilty that you can’t even muster the energy to care. Reyna’s face haunts you in the dark space of your eyelids every time you blink. There is nowhere to hide from her, from your guilt. 

Anakin can feel your turmoil. He strokes the top of your head, hand shaking as he tries to hide his own sins. How many bodies has he buried, now? If he hadn’t been talking with Obi-Wan, distracted by the thought of you instead of living in reality, would he have been able to protect you from Reyna? That, too, scares him. When did death become his shadow? 

“It has been a long time since you last meditated, young Anakin,” Obi-Wan comments quietly, just barely audible over the hum of the machinery. Anakin wonders if Obi-Wan can see the movement of his hands, the way that he’s seeking comfort in you. He hates that Obi-Wan is right about this whole thing. This is attachment. He’d do—did— dark things for you. But if it’s so dark to keep you safe, to protect you, how can the darkness be all that bad? It’s tearing him apart. All he knows now, all that makes sense to him now, is keeping you safe. Whether it’s for himself or the galaxy is a question Anakin does not have an answer to. 

“How can you tell, Master?” Anakin asks. You’re restless on his thigh and, worried you’ll give yourself away to Obi-Wan, he quickly brings his hand over your face, willing the Force to send you into a dreamless sleep. Some peace for you, he hopes. Obi-Wan does not answer his question immediately, only giving him that knowing smile that drives him absolutely mad sometimes. 

“You forget, Anakin, that I know you just as well as I know myself. Even if you have hidden your Force Signature from the world for the protection of the Queen, you cannot hide your emotions from me. They are written plainly on your face,” Obi-Wan responds finally, placing a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder. He knows it’s meant to guide him, comfort him, but it just feels… oppressive now. All Anakin can think about is getting you to somewhere that no one can hurt you, where you won’t have to put yourself through what you did ever again. His selfishness tears through him, cuts into pieces his resolve and wish to be a good Jedi. “Anakin, I… I worry for you. In this lonely palace, with only the Queen to keep you company. The Force will never abandon you, Anakin, but you must take care not to abandon it. There is light within you, light that you must foster and protect.” 

“And what happens to that light if I’ve done something horrible, Master?” Anakin asks quietly, trying desperately to find that light within him. Maybe it was snuffed out long ago. Obi-Wan seems stunned by his question, but Anakin’s question remained. Everything that happened today has brought his past to the forefront of his mind. The Sand People, his obsession over Padme… maybe there never was any light in him. 

“It is never too late to turn back to the Light, Anakin.” Obi-Wan doesn’t press further. For his own sake or for Anakin’s, Anakin doesn’t know, but the guidance soothes him anyways. He’s tired. The cold of Tattooine’s desert at night has caught up to him, so many years later, sinking into his skin, threading through his tissues until his heart pumps sluggishly. 

“You and the Queen look unwell,” Obi-Wan observes. “Perhaps the both of you can get some rest, and I’ll talk to Padme to get a lead on which Ministers we can use.” 

“Padme’s here?” Anakin asks. He’s acutely aware of the unchanging pace of his heart, the steadiness of his breath and he realizes that his love for her has faded. All that remains is a genuine, pure fondness for her. It only makes him feel more hollowed. “Give her my regards, will you, Master?” Obi-Wan nods wordlessly as the speeder reaches the service entrance of the palace. Anakin rouses you quickly, the short window of time serving as cover for your silent departure.

Your bleary eyes take in the palace groggily, the beautiful stone walls seeming more and more like a prison as your knees buckle. Before you can fall, Anakin lifts you into his arms, hooking one arm under your knees and the other across your back. You feel safe in his arms, a temporary comfort as he sneaks the both of you back to your chambers. 

By some sheer luck, you reach the room completely undetected. Anakin sets you down and ushers you to the shower. Anakin had done his best to wipe the blood off of you, but it stains you still. The sight of it confronts you as you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, rings of blood and tired eyes staring back at you. Anakin, noticing the unforgiving scrutiny of yourself, turns you away from the mirror and begins to ease the clothes off your stiff form. He’s hesitant but there’s no choice— you aren’t in the state of mind to be able to take care of yourself, and the longer you stay like this, with the dirt of your crime still smeared on your body, the worse you get. 

“Do you think I’m a monster?” You ask him softly as he undoes the last piece of clothing, leaving you bare to him. The physical vulnerability does not cross your mind as he guides you into the steam of the shower, studying you for a moment before he realizes you shouldn’t be alone. Privacy is not a luxury you can afford right now. He washes his hands, still caked in blood and sand, and joins you in the shower. 

“No, my queen. I think you were forced to make choices that no one should have to make. I think you’ve done your best to keep your conscience,” Anakin responds. He washes his hands and brings them to your face, wiping the blood and dirt from your cheeks with his thumbs. Your eyes flutter shut from his gentle touch, overwhelmed by the intimacy of his care. He moves slowly to your shoulders and neck, easing away the tension in your muscles with each knead of his hand. Your eyes look downwards, to the foamy stream of red dripping off of your body, but Anakin catches the movements and directs your gaze back to his eyes. The spray of the water soaks his clothes, making it cling to his skin as he gently cleans your face. “Hey,” He says quietly. “Forget about that. Just look at me, okay?” You nod, and he quietly washes any blood from your arms. He does it delicately, keeping his eyes fixed on yours even as water drips from his eyelashes onto his cheeks. The shower stream drenches him, making his hair plaster to his forehead, but he doesn’t look away, even as he works down your body, getting to your legs. He’s respectful about it, doesn’t break his gaze away from your face as he kneels at your feet. And from your feet, looking up at you under the harsh bright light of the shower, he thinks that you look like a terrible goddess—powerful, so powerful, burdened with a task that will forever remain thankless. You are a remorseful goddess, the deity of those who never got to keep their humanity. Beyond the hollow sheen of your eyes, he sees it all; the guilt, the sadness, the knowledge that you’ve done something that will stain your soul forever. He cannot look away, captivated by you and the sheer energy you hold. To Anakin, this is right; this subservience to you, bowing at your feet because there is some part of your spirit that demands respect. 

But even goddesses stumble. The distant look in your eyes makes him stand without second thought, holding you up before you crumble into his chest. You shed no tears, merely closing your eyes as Anakin holds you to his body, surrounding you in warmth with the help of the warm water. The warmth of being next to you, the privilege of holding him warms him even as the soaked cloth clinging to his skin chills his bones. He hesitates before he slowly puts his chin on your head, holding you tightly as you breathe shallowly. 

“Remorse is a luxury few can afford,” you mumble into his clothes. Anakin knows you’re right, but Maker, if you don’t deserve that luxury, no one does. Your breathing slows and deepens as you regulate your emotions and distance yourself from it all. 

You are a monster. It couldn’t be clearer to you. Anakin’s handling of you as though you are made of glass only shows his revulsion. He must have held you out of fear, out of responsibility, but it’s a kindness you do not deserve. Is the value of a life worth so little to you? It wasn’t a clean death. It was messy, vengeful, and there was no walking back from this guilt. You killed someone. You’re no better than the woman you killed. 

And then you look into Anakin’s eyes. Eyes like the oceans, like the horizon of a clear blue sky. Eyes filled with compassion, softness, and you realize that you don’t regret your bloodshed. You’d do it again to protect him. To protect his goodness, and the goodness just like his, you’ll take the sins of the world as your own. You’ll become something awful, metamorphosize into something unrecognizable to those who loved you, but it’ll be worth it. Deep down, you’ve always known your fate was something like this; you are a lamb, raised for slaughter. You’ve been staring at the knife that will bring your death for so long. It only makes sense; the death of the Queen of Naboo would only serve the final blow to the people of Naboo. They’d be left defenseless, with no protection against the Separatists, who’d tear the planet apart. You’ll die at their hands or someone else’s, you’re certain. But here, you feel as though your death will mean something. To protect Anakin, to protect Padme, and all the others that you’ve loved in the small moments of kindness that you’ve borrowed from them. You’ll kill, again and again, and be killed, for their sakes. 

“I must see Padme and Obi-Wan,” You say, pulling away from Anakin’s embrace. Your movements are swift, methodical as you get dressed. You’ll act as though nothing happened. You’re a monster, you might as well act the part. You don’t want to see the expression on Anakin’s face as he watches you return to normalcy. You’ll protect him from your guilt, too. “Don’t stay in your wet clothes for too long, you’ll fall sick,” You add. You don’t deserve to care for him, but you care anyway. He’s silent for a beat before he responds. 

“Their meeting is secret. You’ll find them in the hidden passageways of the palace, known only to the Queens. Obi-Wan was led there, but I’m sure you know where to go,” Anakin states. He sounds tired, but you don’t have time to dwell on that. You bid a quick farewell, and head to find Padme.  

~~~

“Padme’s told me that the Political and Economic Advisor Horace Vansil is trustworthy,” Obi-Wan informs you as you join the duo in the shadows of the secret passageway. The lit beacons flicker some distance away from you, casting shadow on to your figure. You’re grateful for it. Padme can read you like a book, so you can only hope that the lowlight will obscure the numbness upon your face. 

“We’ll task him with increasing the import of grain and long-term food sources, then,” You conclude. There’s levels to your response, but you need to be prepared. And to be prepared, you need to be detached. Cool. Collected. 

You blink, and Reyna’s face, bloodied and bloated from death smiles at you in the darkness. She’s laughing, lips pulled into a grotesque, mocking smile. She’ll get away with it, she’s telling you. Listen, she says. Listen to me. You’ll fail. You’ll fail them all. We’ll kill you last, so you’ll have to watch them die before you. You shudder involuntarily. 

“...Milady?” Obi-Wan asks, snapping you out of your nightmarish trance.

“Apologies,” You say, blinking rapidly to refocus. Obi-Wan’s scrutiny is unforgiving, but you pay it no mind. “Yes. We’ll do it,” You respond absently. Padme also looks oddly at you, but says nothing on the subject. 

“There’s one more thing,” She adds. “Something is off about Chancellor Palpatine. I can’t place it but he seems more antsy these days. Getting much more involved in the business of not only Naboo, but nearly every planet and system that has any power in the Republic. It’s… odd, to say the least.” “Speaking of the Republic,” You respond, recalling the interaction you had with Darth Sidious, “there’s something odd that Darth Sidious said to me. He said our forces will be too occupied to help Naboo. I believe that like with the government of Naboo, there’s someone with great power in the Senate who is more than they seem.” Padme nods. “I’ve gotten the same feeling. Things are changing, and I don’t think we have much time left.”

“We’ll give them what they want, then,” You sigh. “If I can arrange a visit to Coruscant, I’ll be in a vulnerable-enough position for them to want to make a move. If we can draw out the mole, we can act.” 

“Padme, your suspicions of Chancellor Palpatine… will Anakin’s friendship with him jeopardize this in any way?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“On the contrary,” You smile bitterly. “I think it could be of great help.”

“It’s settled, then,” Obi-Wan sighs. “You’ll have to come back to Coruscant.”

#royal flowers series #distortionbobble's fics #my writing #fic #anakin skywalker series #star wars series #star wars fanfic #star wars #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin x fem!reader #anakin x f!reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #x reader star wars fanfic #anakin skywalker x fem!poc!reader

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 2

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: Your first week on the job with Miguel

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/notables: AU story. 18+, cursing, smut, p in v, masturbation, handjob, it gets messy, workplace nonsense, use protection people! a brief moment of throat squeezing. not beta'd we die like everyones uncle ben... mentions of blood. a mention of violence and death

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook those thoughts from his head. It was next-level annoying to have super powers at his disposal but still feel like shit half the time.

Blood was the key.

But in sustaining his body, he felt he was losing his soul.

He smelled you coming off the elevator.

New blood.

Fuck, he was hungry. He should have just fed last night. Then he wouldn't be distracted by--

"Miguel, your new assistant is here," LYLA chimed.

Miguel nodded to the hologram figure of his artificially intelligent assistant. "Thank you, Lyla. Send her in."

"I hope you're not attempting to replace me," Lyla voiced. "My capabilities are--"

"Yes, yes, I know," Miguel huffed. "She's not here for that. She's working on her doctorate and needs some practical--"

"Experience. Yes, I'm aware."

"Do not interrupt me," Miguel chided. "Just...send her in."

Miguel was a man who had no trouble getting a date. He didn't hire you for your looks. But damn if you didn't take his breath away as you scurried into his office, dressed to kill.

"Mr. O'Hara," you cheerily intoned, smoothing your sleek suit before extending your hand. "What an honor to meet you in person."

"Pleasure," he smoothly returned, taking your smaller hand in his while minding the retraction of his talons. "I've been anxious to meet you. We have a lot of work to do."

He shouldn't have touched you. Miguel rarely touched anyone unless he needed something specific from them. The blood temptation was too intense, and between talons and fangs and super strength - well it was better to just not bother.

Outside of the bedroom, he was sure he hadn't even hugged or held anyone since his daughter died... Better that way.

So the soft skin of your hand, so confidently extended - the gentle squeeze of your fingers as you smiled up at him beautifully - it made him jerk his hand away abruptly.

His eyes, which you noticed were dark red? in person, roved freely down your figure as if sizing you up, rather than checking you out. As his gaze returned to yours, you wondered how he managed red irises. They had looked light brown on your video call.

"You have excellent taste, but I’m afraid you’re overdressed," he voiced, turning his back to you as if he were busy with 100 other things. "I think you'll find that the work we do lends itself to a lab coat and goggles. I’ll see that you get some."

"Of course, sir," you swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. So much for a first impression. You would just have to impress him with your mind instead.

Hearing you call him sir sent a jolt of desire through his body.

You were a little caught off guard by the pierce of his crimson gaze as he turned back to you - and by the massive span of his broad shoulders. He was far more handsome in person, but you quickly reminded yourself that you were here for his brilliant mind.

"Let’s take a look then, shall we?"

Your first day in the lab completely blew you away. Miguel's intelligence somehow exceeded his good looks, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. He admitted to you that he had hired you because of your specific theories on genetic coding an gene splicing.

"I've read all your papers," he admitted, "and studied your coursework, all the way back to high school."

You were floored. You might as well have been an aspiring songwriter hearing that their favorite artist wanted to record their song and sing it as a duet.

What Miguel didn't tell you was that he was looking for someone specific. Someone with your intelligence and specialties, but someone...pure. Someone uncorrupted by mega corporations, or too much success or money. Someone young and eager, whose ideas on genetics lined up with his own. He needed someone to eventually help him get rid of his affliction.

He didn't want to drink blood anymore. He didn't want to be Spider-Man anymore. After all his dark deeds, after losing his little girl - he only wanted to see if he could ever be human again.

Unfortunately...or perhaps fortunately, the mutual attraction between the two of you filled the air with questions for him. He could see the effect he had on you, and he was pretty certain that resisting the softness of your smile, the angles of your face - the curve of your body ... it would be a losing battle for him.

He wanted you.

The two of you didn't last a week.

Longing gazes lingered, hands "accidentally" brushed. Complimenting one another's intelligence finally led to remarks that really weren't quite suited to the workplace.

You weren't an idiot. Suspecting Miguel had likely slept his way through his entire staff, you assumed that giving in to this burning in the center of your chest (and between your legs) would make you a name on a very long list. But you were a modern woman. You could fulfill your desires without it reflecting on the quality of your work. Hopefully Miguel would feel the same.

The tension while working together became unbearable and you really started to believe that relieving that tension would actually help your progress in the lab.

The thing you loved most about being around Miguel was that, inside the lab, he was all business. A reputation for being demanding and condescending aside, he really did treat you like an equal. He listened, he challenged you and he did not flirt or make anything personal. In the lab, there was only the science. You felt free to express your ideas without feeling inferior or objectified.

In his office, however, his desires were quite clear - a little more each day.

"You look stunning today." Your third day.

"Come take a look at this, will you?" Your fourth day. He beckoned you around his desk, prompting you to lean over to peer at the screen he'd been studying. Your side pressed against his thickly muscled arm. Your face was close enough to brush up against his cheek. What you wouldn't give to climb across his lap and sink your fingers into his dark waves.

"I thought I told you not to dress up." Your fifth day. You wore a skirt and explained to him that you could still dress professionally under your lab coat. You liked to dress nicely and, honestly, you wondered how he would react. His scarlet stare fixed itself on your legs the entire day.

"You're so beautiful I can't think straight." Your sixth day. Miguel had thought that he would get your gorgeous legs off his mind by draining a criminal over the weekend. Today he was well fed, but it did nothing to lessen his desire to have you. If you planned to tell him to fuck off, or otherwise reject his advances, he'd rather know sooner rather than later. The tension was killing him.

"How do you think I feel?" You fired back cheekily. "I have a thing for shoulders. And dark hair. And jaw lines."

"I have a thing for legs," he darkly responded, easing out of his office chair and stalking toward you. "Can't stop thinking about how yours would feel wrapped around me."

"Can't stop thinking about how you would feel between mine," you shot back as he rushed forward, scooping you up to do just what he said. Your back hit the wall with a thud as he pulled your shapely legs around his waist, pressing himself against you.

"Best not to tease me like that, hermosa," he growled, pinning you in place with his hips while pushing up your skirt, his thick fingers caressing your thighs.

Hooking your heels into the round shape of his ass, you rolled your hips against him. "I don't tease when I want something this bad."

"Fuck," he gasped out, your delicious body writhing in his arms - your beautiful eyes just begging him to take you. "Better be sure, baby." Even as he asked for permission, he helped you hop down just long enough to yank down your lace panties while you pulled open his pants.

Shoving things out of the way and pulling him free, you let out a little whine at his sheer size. Grasping his hand, you guided his fingers to your center, rubbing your wetness over his knuckles.

"I'm sure," you panted.

"Careful," he chided, swiftly pulling his fingers away. He hadn't exactly explained his retractable talons to you. They wouldn't hurt you as long as he concentrated on keeping them down. But as you stood there, flushed and panting, soaking wet, he wondered if he would be able to keep his concentration in tact.

Frowning, you peered up into his ruby eyes. Didn't he want this?

"Come here," he breathed, lifting you right back up to where you started, but this time, as he pulled your gorgeous legs around his waist, he used one hand to guide his hard length between your wet folds - rubbing himself up and down, just feeling you. Shuddering at how hot and wet you felt on his tip, he somehow managed to control himself just a little longer.

Pushing the tip of his cock over your clit, he felt your wetness mingle with his. He grinned wolfishly as you hissed in pleasure.

"M-Miguel, god, please," you moaned, the sound of it sending desire thundering through his body. Lining his cock up with your center, he pushed inside, all the way in, and stopped.

Your body was suspended there against his office wall, held in place by his hands gripping your thighs and his thick cock shoved up inside you. But he didn't fucking move.

Your hands gripped his muscular arms, attempting to pull yourself forward, or use gravity's advantage to plunge you down - something to feel some friction.

"Wh-what are you--"

"Look at me," he darkly ordered, squeezing your hips to almost a painful point.

You complied, but he still didn't move - his scarlet stare burning you alive as his thick, dark hair tumbled across his forehead carelessly.

"This is how I feel between your legs," he gruffly teased, reminding you of your flirtatious words from several moments ago. "Tell me what it feels like."

God, you felt like an insect caught in a spider's web. If you only knew how apropos that analogy was.

Pressing one strong hand to your lower abdomen, he pushed down firmly. "Tell me," he growled, his playful disposition dissipating.

"Just like I imagined," you panted. "Thick. Hot."

He groaned.

"I feel so full of you, Miguel." You squeezed your inner thighs against his torso, using that leverage to manage a small thrust.

How he was able to hold his shit together was beyond you. He hadn't even fucked up into you yet and you were about to come, mostly clothed, against the wall.

Pushing the hand on your abdomen up over your breast, he squeezed, then moved all the way up to your throat. He didn't apply pressure, but just the thought of it made you moan again.

"Love the sounds you make, hermosa. I'll make it good for you," he darkly whispered, giving your throat the faintest squeeze. "But I'm so bad for you."

Letting out an embarrassing whine, your head thumped back against the wall. He was driving you insane.

"What do you want?" you pleaded, digging your heels into his ass impatiently. "You want me to beg?"

"I just want you to understand," he purred against your cheek, his hot breath making you shiver with want. "I want you to be sure."

No. You weren't going to beg. Not today.

"Then let me down off this wall and I'll show you I understand." You stared right into his glowing eyes, locking your arms behind his neck. If you had to push him down and ride him hard, you would. But you had to have him now.

Apparently, he agreed.

Easing both hands back down to your thighs, he began to fuck you...slowly. You found his sudden switch so tender that you were sure he would kiss you...but he didn't. Instead, he breathed hotly on your ear.

"Wanted this...you...from the first second you walked in that door."

The rate of his deep thrusts quickened slightly - the power of his solid body and thick cock easily bucking you like a doll.

"Gonna try not to hurt you. Want to fuck you so hard," he panted, every jolt of his hips, juust a little deeper, faster.

"Please." Now you were begging. You didn't care. "I want you to. I need you to."

You thought, then, that he would start mercilessly pounding into you, but he didn't. Pulling away from your ear, he gazed down into your eyes, loving the way your lips fell apart as you gasped for air. If only he could kiss you. But his fangs were not retractable and he could really hurt you. No, kissing was something he never, ever did.

Kissing was for lovers and no one could love him. Not the real him - the spider. The monster.

So he buried his face in your neck, pumping just a little faster.

Mistake. Fuck, your blood smelled good. He jerked away quickly, deciding it was better to stare down at you and watch you fall apart, rather than tempt himself with his mouth on your throat.

He was right about working you up slowly, going a little faster and harder with each thrust. He was pretty sure you would be expecting him to hammer you into the wall, but he wasn't a college freshman. He knew how to make your beautiful body fall apart.

The two of you had worked up a delicious pace, bouncing together against the wall, the sound of slapping skin and harsh pants music to his ears.

Just a little more speed, and a slight tweak of his hips to see if he could just find the perfect spot...

"Yes, yes, Miguel, right there. Right there," you gasped, gripping his solid biceps once more as you started to bounce wildly.

"Knew you would look so pretty like this," he growled, pushing the palm of his hand down over your mound. The force of his length inside you combined with the heel of his hand roughly rubbing just where you wanted pressure made you shriek in pleasure.

"Don't stop," you begged, heat flaring up your torso and over your neck, punching gasps and whines from your throat. Buzzing, searing, thrilling pleasure twisted through your body, until a wave of rapture pulled you under like a rip current. Pleasure surged through every part of you, from your fingertips down to your curling toes.

Miguel had expected to work you up and watch you come before he finished, but he wildly underestimated how your tight cunt would feel gripping him as you came. He gushed inside you before he could even think to pull out, groaning at the wet mess the two of you made together.

Pulling out of you suddenly, he turned away and stuffed himself back into his pants, leaving you there - skirt bunched around your hips and the heat of him slipping down your inner thighs.

"Shouldn't have done that," he voiced aloud, reaching down to grab your panties as some sort of weak offering. "We have to be more careful."

You thought he meant the sex. Or perhaps the noise you both made.

But he knew he shouldn't have done that. Not without you knowing the risks of who - what - he really was. His...genetic material was not something to mess around with.

Grabbing your panties out of his hand, you shoved your skirt down, feeling a little foolish. You knew this would just be a bit of fun for him - a quick fuck with new assistant - but you didn't expect to be scolded the moment he finished inside you.

Whatever. At least if felt good.

Seeing he had made you uncomfortable, Miguel reached for your arm. "You can clean up in my private bathroom," he said softly, nodding toward a small door you'd yet to go inside.

Rolling your eyes, you did just that, feeling humiliated. Oh well. You had really put yourself in this position.

As soon as you shut the bathroom door, Miguel sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He had hoped that giving in to the sexual tension between you would make things easier. It was inevitably going to happen at one point or another anyway. He thought maybe he could just douse the spark you two shared.

Being inside you was gasoline on a flame.

You exited the bathroom a few minutes later, your irritation thinly cloaked under the sheen of professionalism. Without even looking at him, you rattled off a few questions about a hypothesis you'd been thinking through.

If Miguel wanted to be all business, then you would oblige.

You amazed him - how easily you could switch modes from vigorous sex to brilliant hypothesizing. It was just as enticing as your gorgeous legs or beautiful mouth.

He couldn't concentrate - it was the first time you had been all business and he had been distracted. Well, did he want to work or did he want to play? Maybe the two of you should head to the lab to get some real work done.

"What are you staring at, Miguel?" you impatiently huffed.

"You," he quickly and openly answered.

"Why? I thought we 'shouldn't have done this'," you quoted him.

Then he understood.

"Wait, no. Come here," he beckoned you over to his desk, where he was seated.

You hesitantly complied. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized, peering up at you. Reaching for your hand, he pulled you to stand between his legs. "I wanted to do...what we did. I never want to stop doing it," he confessed. "I just...I should have talked to you before I...finished like that."

Ohhh. That's what he meant. Well, fair point.

"You're right," you agreed, raking your fingers through his dark hair. "I guess we got a little carried away."

He rested his forehead on your stomach, pulling you close. "I didn't mean to, I...you felt so good. So fucking good." Pulling back, he gazed up at you hungrily. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you. The things I could do." His strong hands had wandered from your hips around to trace the curve of your ass.

"Even now, I want to...already...again."

Without asking, he roughly turned you around, using his hands to push your skirt up your thighs - again - while pulling you down on his lap. With your back to his chest, he spread your thighs wide, slowly starting to thrust his hardening length against your ass.

"Miguel," you whispered, completely ready to be putty in his hands. So much for getting work done.

He growled in frustration, but you took it as desire. The two things he wanted to do right now were difficult for him - he wanted to kiss your neck and finger you until you came. He needed to show you how good he could make you feel, but he couldn't. Not like that.

If his mouth went anywhere near your neck, especially while he was hard, he wasn't sure he could continue keeping his fangs from piercing your soft skin. Or his talons safely retracted. He was used to the things he couldn't, or shouldn't do to a woman, but you made him want to do exactly those things. Even the thought of laying you across his desk and eating you out was too dangerous - not until you knew more about the creature he was.

Obviously, he found ways around these things from time to time, but there was no way he was going to risk hurting you. If he somehow scared you away...well that was just not an acceptable option. Not professionally, and now he was starting to think he didn't want to lose you on a personal level either.

"I want you to touch yourself," he finally whispered on your ear, "while you bounce on my cock."

All you wanted to do was turn around and kiss him hard and then give him what he demanded. You wanted to ride him until he came inside you again.

But he held you in place.

"Show me," he purred, pulling your panties aside, deviously using one talon to slice them free of your body.

You moaned, thinking he had ripped them.

Rubbing your ass against his erection, you slid two fingers between your folds, making a show of masturbating for him. "I'll show you, Miguel. I'll show you what I do in bed at night when I think of you fucking me."

"Oh fuck," he growled, pushing you over on the desk long enough to shove his pants back down. Reaching for your hips, he gripped you firmly, pushing you down on his cock.

Letting out one of the little whines he already loved to hear so much, you did not do the slow and steady game he had played with you up against the wall.

Obediently, you rubbed firm circles over your clit and started to bounce.

Gasping, Miguel had to restrain himself from shredding the rest of your clothes with his talons. Instead, he worked open the buttons of your blouse and pulled it off your arms before unclasping your bra. Your breasts sprang free, bouncing freely as you worked yourself over his cock, there in his lap. Your fingers returned to your clit, pleasuring yourself.

"Look at you, using me like this," he panted. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watched your little show. Sliding his hands up your soft stomach, he fondled your tits, rolling your nipples carefully between his fingers. "Take what you want, baby."

Putting on a show for him made you fucking feral. Gripping the edge of his desk with one hand, you leaned slightly forward, vigorously riding him, and furiously rubbing yourself. It only took you a few more seconds to come on his cock, panting and moaning his name.

Miguel dug his talons into his thigh to keep from joining you - determined to feel you tight and wet around him. He let you finish and felt you go limp in his arms - biting his lip as he stilled his hard length inside you.

Remembering what he had just explained to you, you eased off his cock, shifting over to his bare thigh. He groaned as your wet pussy and slick thighs soaked his leg.

"Let me take care of you," you panted, sliding one arm behind you, up into his dark curls, while the other hand eased over to his hardened shaft. Teasing the tip with your thumb, you felt his breath on your cheek. He hissed when you moved your hand down to his balls, toying with them with your fingertips.

A string of Spanish curses fell on your ear as you dragged your hand up and down, twisting your wrist and rolling your thumb over his tip deliciously.

"Talk to me, Miguel," you softly ordered, halting your motions. You needed some feedback.

"Fuck, don't - don't stop," he husked, his hand joining yours to jerk him off. It took him a little bit longer than the first time, but as his warmth coated your hand, running down your wrist, you realized that working with Miguel could end up being a lot of fun.

@deputy-videogamer

next->

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #au spiderverse #tw blood #miguel o'hara smut #spiderverse

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev

“We have to go through…wait, Keith, is this right?” He flips the tablet over to Keith, zoomed in on a pair of coordinates. “This is, like, right next to a black hole. RIght right next to, worryingly next to. I don’t like how close this is. This pod is not really built for that, I don’t think.”

Keith doesn’t recognise the coordinates, so he can’t really say, but there’s a fair bit riding on this mission, so he doubts Kolivan has fucked this particular detail up. 

“Well, it’s either safe or no longer our problem.”

“I suppose.”

A little disappointed that Keith’s attempt at a joke didn’t do much to lighten Lance’s expression, he lets them lapse into silence, tilting his head back onto the seat and closing his eyes as the pod zooms forwards. 

They have a long journey ahead of them.

– – –

Keith jerks awake half-convinced he’s inside a rock tumbler. That’s how it sounds, anyway, with the ear-crushingly loud bangs and crashes coming from all around the pod, shaking the whole craft and sending Keith flying were it not for his tight grip on the ceiling handle. 

Lance has just barely beaten him to the pilot’s chair, settling in quickly and white-knuckling the yoke.

“What’s going on?” Keith shouts over the noise.

“I woke up twelve seconds before you did,” Lance grits out, jerking the yoke to the side and sending them spinning out of the way of an asteroid the size of a small house. 

“Fuck, it must be an asteroid storm, we’re gonna have to –”

“Keith, can it,” Lance barks. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are a magical solution, you need to keep them to yourself.”

Keith snaps his jaw shut. Even if he did have a magical solution, Lance can’t afford the distraction – not because he’s unskilled, but because the space in front of them is getting denser and denser, to the point where Keith can feel something wrong in the atmosphere, and asteroids are becoming unavoidable. Every second there’s a crash on the outside of the pod, shaking the whole thing and sending them careening into another atmosphere. Lance grits his teeth and tries to hold them steady, but after a point it’s impossible, and control is out of his hands.

“Strap into the crash zone!” Lance shouts. He unclips himself from the pilot’s chair, stumbling forward as an asteroid hits; Keith barely manages to dart out one arm not gripped onto the ceiling handle to catch him. “We’re not going to make it through this storm and it’s too late too –”

They’re both thrown to the side as a massive rock hurls into the pod, crushing the side concave sending the pod spinning like a top. Keith hits the ground hard, helmet bouncing off the floor so hard he sees stars, and he loses his grip on Lance as the paladin goes flying over him. The sound of crushing metal is deafening and painful, and it only compounds as more and more asteroids slam into the pod, throwing it back and forth like a rowboat in a hurricane. The pressure in the cab and all around them grows exponentially, until Keith feels like a compressed can; like his eyes are ready to pop out of his skull. He’s in so much pain he doesn’t even have the strength to be panicked.

Like a switch is turned the pressure suddenly lifts, and he’s weightless, slowly floating up in zero gravity; stomach swooping and limbs limp. The rapid change of atmosphere has him choking back vomit. Every couple of seconds the ruined pod shifts and shakes, from asteroids or gravitational forces Keith does not know, but in one particularly rough hit he’s slammed into the wall so hard his helmet cracks and for a moment everything goes dark. By the time he blinks himself awake, ears ringing and blinking slowly, sluggishly, the weightless, swoopy feeling in his stomach has returned, but not like when he’s in zero G – the same butterflies you get at the top of a rollercoaster, just as you begin to drop.

He registers the whistling sound of something falling at terminal velocity last.

The panic starts to set in, then. He scrambles to his feet, or tries to, but it’s hard; the pod is rattling every which way so there’s no solid ground to stand on, really, and he’s still dizzy and disoriented. He attempts a step forward and crashes to the ground, barely manages to catch himself. As he goes down he sees the rapidly approaching surface of something from the pod’s cracked windshield, and it’s green and grassy and flat and going to crush them to death.

“Lance?” Keith calls out, desperate and panicked. “Lance, where are you?” 

He whips his head around to look for him and almost passes out again. Bile climbs up his throat and he very nearly lets it spew out, breathing sharply through his nose and clamping his teeth to keep it down. The pod is small, and crushed, and he can’t see well over the protrusion of the cratered wall, and he can’t see Lance. 

“Lance! Answer me! Where are –”

The pod lurches sharply to the left without warning, throwing Keith to the ground again. This time he doesn’t bother getting back to his feet, instead grabbing one of the bent steel rods sticking out of the ruined pod wall to drag himself forward; tucked in close to the wall. FInally, to his great relief, as he crests the bend of the giant crater he sees a flash of blue armour; a cracked wrist guard shining with reflected light as Lance grips the steering yoke, back in the pilot’s seat, dragging it sharply upwards to try and lessen the impact of their crash. He’s struggling – Keith doesn’t know how far they’re falling from, or what level of gravitational force this random planet (if it even is a planet) has, but the speed they’re falling at is deadly. If they hit the ground the way they’re going, they’ll be crushed so fast they won’t even have time to realise they’re dying. At this point, Keith’s not even sure if anything can save them.

He sets his jaw. There’s no point in giving up.

As fast as he can go with the throbbing of his head, Keith half-crawls half-stumbles forward, using bent sections of wall and broken odds and ends to keep himself steady. He’s ready to throw up for the millionth time by the time he finally stands behind the pilot’s chair, hands gripping the arm rests, but he’s there and he’s conscious mostly and he’s capable enough.

“You good?” Lance grunts, barely audible over the sound of impending doom.

“Peachy,” Keith mutters back, planting his feet and leaning over to wrap both hands around Lance’s.

Without needing to say a word, they pull back at the same time, as hard as they can. The pod – or what’s left of it, Keith’s not sure they can accurately call this hunk of ruined metal a pod – creaks and groans with the effort, but with every second they hold their position with all the strength in their bodies, the nose of the craft inches up an up, getting closer and closer to parallel with the ground instead of perpendicular to it. 

“Incoming,” Lance warns, as the ground gets closer. “Brace yourself.”

“Grab me in three?” Keith asks.

Lance nods. “One…”

“Two…” Keith continues.

“Three!”

Milliseconds before they collide, Keith throws himself on top of Lance, curling against him. Lance whips the seat one eighty degrees so it’s facing away from the windshield and crash site rather than towards it, wrapping his arms around Keith’s torso and gripping tightly in lieu of a seatbelt.

The crash makes Keith black out again.

When he blinks back awake his ears are ringing, and everything looks and sounds like he’s underwater. His limbs are heavy and he feels like he’s been shrunk. His body’s telling him he’s been out for hours, but he knows, vaguely, that he hasn’t, because he’s not nearly well-rested enough. He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, and tells himself he has five seconds.

One.

His limbs are all still there. Arm, arm, leg, leg. All are working, at least mostly. Good.

Two. 

His head throbs. Every pound of his heart amplifies in his head like a falling anvil in an ampitheatre. His body aches like it never has before.

Three.

The ringing in his ears hasn’t faded, but sound doesn’t sound so muted anymore. He thinks he can hear the groaning of buckling metal, and the roaring of engine flames.

Four.

There’s something sharp digging into his ankle. He can’t feel the pain of it yet, but he dreads the eventual fade of the adrenaline, the understanding that it is going to smart and it is going to smart badly.

One.

He exhales sharply and forces his eyes open, blinking rapidly to bring the blurry world into focus. He was right about the flames; he can see pieces of the engine strewn about the grass of the clearing, of some kind, that they’ve crashed in. The windshield is no longer a windshield so much as a gaping hole where the windshield once was. The nose of the craft is crushed into the strangely blue-ish dirt.

And Lance, under him, is unconscious.

“Lance,” Keith croaks, having intended his voice to be sharp and demanding but landing somewhere closer to weak and pleading. “Get up.”

He does not stir. Keith is comforted, somewhat, by the slight puffs of air fogging up his visor every few seconds, but Keith is pressed right against him and can’t really feel the movement of his chest. His head lolls back into the broken chair, hands resting limply on Keith’s back. There’s a trail of blood running down his temple.

With a heave of effort, Keith pushes himself upright, keeping his weight off Lance as best as he can. He presses the button on the side of his own helmet, relieved when his visor lights up with the info display. The second he gets the all-clear for breathable air, he places his hands on the base of Lance’s helmet, pulling it away from his head as gently as he can manage. It takes longer than he would like, but he’s terrified of pulling too hard and twisting Lance’s neck, especially if there’s a spinal injury. The second the helmet clears Lance’s hairline he tosses it to the side, letting it crack and clatter to the floor, and taps his cheeks rapidly.

“Lance? Lance, get up. Wake up. Get up now.” There’s not even so much as a twitch. Panic makes Keith’s breathing pick up. He’s blinking back flashes of Lance’s lax face, in the purple light of the castle, scratched to hell and neck bruised with fingerprints. He hopes to any god that is listening that it’s not that. He’s not sure the comms are working, and he sure as shit doesn’t have a pod. “Lance, it isn’t funny, get up!”

The urge to grab his shoulders and shake is overwhelming, He has to yank his hands away, forcing them under his thighs, leaning back and trying not to hyperventilate.

“Please,” he begs, voice cracking. “Please don’t leave me here by myself.”

He squeezes his eyes shut again. Okay. This is fine. Keith is going to count to five again, slower this time, and when he opens them again Lance will be awakeand smirking that fuckass smirk he does when he’s being a jackass and he knows it and is convinced he’s the funniest bitch around. He’s going to be fine. He’s breathing, anyways, so he’s alive, which means there’s nothing wrong, which means they will be fine and they’ll call the team somehow and –

“...K’th?”

Keith’s eyes fly open and he nearly cries with relief, throwing his arms around Lance’s shoulders and burying his head into his shoulder. “Oh, God, you’re alive!”

Lance goes stiff as a board. Keith stiffens, too, confused and alarmed at the strange reaction, suddenly hyperaware of his position; of the way he’s half sprawled in Lance’s lap, leaning bodily against him. He’s worried suddenly that his weight is hurting Lance and all but throws himself off in his haste put space between them. The abrupt weight on his ankle reminds rudely that hey, he just crashed into the actual ground from literal space, holy shit, and he nearly goes cross eyed with the pain.

A choked off grunt brings his attention back to Lance, who is in the process, for some dumbass reason, of standing up and crawling out of the broken window.

“Lance? What the fuck are you doing?”

Lance, of course, does not listen, because he is a mother fucker and Keith has the sudden and absurd urge to contact his brother by any means necessary to apologise. For, just. Everything.

Keith scrambles out after him, biting back a pained yell at the throbbing of his ankle. Lance is moving – fast, faster than Keith would expect, but there’s a clumsiness to the movements. Like he’s still half-out of it.

“Lance?”

Again, Lance doesn’t answer. He limps around to the side of the pod and Keith follows, at a loss. 

“Lance, fucking – stop that. You’re –” Lance shakes off his hand and continues carefully pulling back the shredded inner lining of the pod, dropping pieces of cracked polymer on the ground until the hold is big enough to lean through. He comes back out with an armful of steel boxes, dented and battered, etched with Galran and Altean labels, stacking them on a section of clearing that isn’t on fire or covered in debris.

Keith makes a noise of frustration. He’s torn between dragging Lance somewhere to make sure he’s okay and screaming at him. The anger and fear swirl violently in his stomach, clawing their way up his throat, and it burns worse than the vomit.

“Fine. Fine! Ignore me. I’m calling the team. You just stack your fucking boxes, jackass.”

He stomps back into the pod, sweeping aside the broken glass and metal shards and ignoring the slight sting of his ripped gloves. He grabs his and Lance’s discarded helmets and stomps back out to the clearing, climbing a random rock and relishing in the twinge of his ankle because it feels like a fuck you, somehow, and a fuck you is what he needs right now. He mentally flings it in Lance’s direction with great relish. Lance, because he is currently a massive rat bastard, does not pick up on Keith’s rancid vibes. Keith glares at him as he mashes the buttons he has memorised on his helmet display, dialling the Voltron line. 

It rings. And rings. And rings and rings and rings.

Keith frowns, some of the fury fading for confusion.

“Well, that’s not great.”

If the personal line is down, that means they’re either asleep or busy. He hopes asleep. He quickly dials up the business line, and when that doesn’t work, somewhat desperately, the distress line. It rings.

And rings.

And rings, and rings, and rings.

– – –

next

#SHIT IS LOOKING BLEAK!!!!!! #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #pre klance #brown eyed lance #hurt lance #langst #keith angst #hurt no comfort #action #klangst #space whale au #space whale #red paladin lance #blade keith #my writing #fic #longpost

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

DONNIE’S TURN

TW for sensory type stuff and blood. Check the tags as well!

Prev, Next

@phoebepheebsphibs

@daboyau

@littlemissartemisia

@foxolotlfreak

@that0n3shr00mi3guy

Donnie sends weapon after weapon at the hand. It reminds him of a cockroach with its uncanny ability to dodge and survive. He considers the thought that like the bug, this hand was cut off something more powerful as an attempt to keep surviving.

He has to divert those thoughts. One wrong move and he’s spored all over again. Hopefully this has been enough time to give the universe’s new Phonora guest time to escape.

Maybe now is the time for him to get going as well.

Or, it would be, if more people didn’t start walking around!

Hold on, he recognizes one of them. It’s the Mikey who tried to steal from Leo’s Fanny Pack. There’s an alternative Donnie he sees with him that must be from the same universe. He’s aware that they’ve had to deal with the hallucinations as well.

Wait, is that also a mutated April!?

Mikey must have sent out help looking for Leo.

“You three! Get out of here! That hand is still in the area!”

He watches as the hand suddenly springs out at them. The other version of him shields his brother, and Mayhem April moves in front of them both.

No, this is not happening to them again.

That Mikey is small. Even in comparison to other Mikeys, he’s small. Malnutrition stunted his and that other Leo’s growth.

He’s too small to go through this again.

And, though he won’t admit it outright for no good reason, seeing another April further enforces his decision.

He creates and tosses a device at them. It becomes a shield type bubble around the three. The hand slaps against it and slides down.

Donnie smirks in pride.

Not this time, you demon.

The hand lands on the floor and turns back to him.

Uh oh.

Donnie whips around his tech bō, hoping to hit it back when it inevitably comes after him. He takes a step back, only for the floor to sink beneath his foot.

Are you kidding!?

How is a hand smart enough for booby traps!?

Darts carrying spores whiz by him, spraying in his face. He coughs and sputters.

“April! Mikey! Other me! Go back to Mikey! Make sure he’s safe!”

April’s face falling tells him all he needs to know.

He grips his tech bō tighter.

“Then get Raph! Warn him!”

“We’ll get you help! I swear!” April shouts.

They all try to get the ball moving somehow while in the cramped space. Donnie takes a breath, glad that he’s managed to save them at least.

“You’ve come back.” A voice squirms into his brain.

Donnie gets a full body shudder.

So this is what it’s decided to make him think about this time.

“Perhaps we were too hasty to remove you last time. Join us once again, we’ll put your mind to good use.”

The Kraang hive mind.

He takes a deep breath.

They’re long gone. It’s okay. He’ll never have to feel that way again-

OH BANANA PANCAKES, WHAT IS TAKING OFF HIS BATTLE SHELL!?

He moves around as quickly as possible to stop the sensation. His eyes avoid where he left the others. He’s hoping they aren’t watching him lose his mind.

There still some level of pride he’d like to keep.

Or maybe….he just really, really, that’s two reallys, doesn’t want a Mikey and April specifically to see this.

His movements don’t quell his feeling of vulnerability. The battle shell is fully taken away and tendrils start poking into his soft shell.

There’s no way to move from whatever was doing this. It’s a hallucination, of course he can’t.

It’s everywhere.

He’s unable to ignore how well it’s replicating the worst thing he’s ever experienced.

His arms start to feel-

No! Why is it in his arms!?

That did not happen!

No, no no no, it’s in his legs!

It’s all over!

He moves around like a madman, as if they’ll leave his body if he does so enough. It’s taking all his strength not to scratch into his skin to make it end.

His breathing grows heavy, he squeezes his arms tightly enough for his nails to dig into them.

On the verge of shutting down, his thoughts go back to how being the ship felt. It was so much, flooding his senses as he was surrounded by feelings and touch and voices.

The same happens to him now. Being pulled away from reality into a sea of endless consciousnesses where you don’t know where you begin and end. You just exist within everything.

It’s suffocating.

He gets on his knees and rocks back and forth. It’s a useless attempt to self soothe. How could it possibly help?

Why can’t it just go away!?

I hurts!

He doesn’t want to feel it!

Make it stop! Please!

Anyone!

Leo! Raph! Mikey!

Oh Mikey……

What a poor excuse of an older brother he is.

Leo is probably in an as bad or even worse situation than Mikey is based on how long he’s been gone. He has no idea where Raph is.

Why did they separate!?

They should never leave each other’s side again at this point!

He wants to see them so badly….

A small, tiny part of him wishes the other versions of his family were still here.

Would the spores even let him see the real them?

He’d probably see them dead or missing pieces or something equally as horrible.

Does he dare look?

He pulls himself out of the grip of the hallucination just enough to take that chance.

The other Mikey is sobbing, beating his fist on the inside of the ball. April and the other Donnie are mostly successfully holding him back but he keeps wriggling away.

He’s….yelling his name?

Why does he care? He’s not his Donnie.

Maybe for the same reason Donnie protected them all.

Ah, sentimentality. It’s the folly of all of them, and most versions it seems like.

He shakily reaches up but doesn’t dare even think about getting rid of the bubble. There’s danger all around. It’s the only thing keeping them safe.

The other Mikey presses his face against the inside of the bubble.

Donnie smiles slightly.

“It’s okay.”

“No! It’s not okay! Donnie, do something! Please!” Mikey pleads.

“How!? We can’t get out of this bubble! I don’t even know how his device works!” The other Donnie insists.

Mikey gives him as big of puppy dog eyes as he can manage.

“Even your cutest face can’t change reality! He probably doesn’t even want us to try anything. You know why he did this.” Other Donnie continues.

Mikey looks back at the spored Donnie.

His eyes were filled with purple light that had begun changing to a very creepy blue. It hurt to see him so uncomfortable, so in pain. The blue only stopped getting worse when he saw Mikey.

That means Mikey can do something, right?

He quickly turns to April.

“What happened with his Mikey? And-!….Wait, where’s Karai?”

April frowns deeply.

“He got spored, again. Karai….trapped herself with him and Leo to stop him. He went crazy! We couldn’t snap him out of it. His arms-“

Donnie hits the bubble, startling all inside.

“Did he use his ninpo again!?”

He seems a lot more lucid.

April gets an idea. It’s a very painful one she knows she won’t feel good about even if it works, but it’s all she has.

“He did! Donnie, it’s…..it’s bad. Real bad. Leo is covered up by all these viney things too!”

The blue in Donnie’s eyes is nearly vaporized by all the purple. He grips his teeth and stands up, completely ignoring the squirming from before. The feeling is starting to go away entirely.

He grips his tech bō again and sees the hand making its way out of the room. The tech bō turns into a spear he launches right towards it. Black blood drips onto the ground but the hand isn’t still.

It squirms and writhes, trying to get away.

Donnie walks over, the hand removes itself from its arm portion and runs off. He lifts it up and smirks slightly as he looks it over.

At least he knows it could be injured.

“You did it!” Mikey cheers in relief.

Donnie looks back at him, smiling a bit more before a headache suddenly starts pounding in his head.

No!

He won, didn’t he?

A different voice booms into his skull.

“Come to me. Feed me your fear.”

He’s still connected to the hive mind.

The hand scuttles off, knowing it barely escaped this time.

It doesn’t fear for the turtles’ lives as it does not have the capability of fearing anything.

That isn’t to say that it does want them dead.

It simply knows that it isn’t how this story will end.

The tragedy and angst has been so entertaining, but they will be saved. It’s proven already. It’s written in fate itself.

Three(?) down.

One to go.

#tw sensory issues #tw blood #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #no fun in fungus #2018 tmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rise fanfiction #rottmnt fanfiction #i’m getting spored now i guess

[thelargefrye]

TO MY LOST LOVER ... one - shot (18+)

PREV | M.LIST | NEXT

pairing : gladiator!yunho x brothel worker!reader

genre : smut, fantasy, ancient rome, mature, right person wrong time

word count : 2.4k

warnings : language, mentions of being forced to fight, heavy mention of sex work, mentions of death

smut warnings : unprotected sex, pet names, cunninglingus, spanking (just once), size difference, slight strength kink, mommy kink, name-calling (whore)

note : for the mommy!may event by @whatudowhennooneseesyou this one shot is also a part of a bigger universe and story that i've been planning for like... at least two years now so please enjoy!

suffer with me tag : @sanjoongie

yunho is victorious once again in the arena and so as a reward he request for your presence to accompany him for the night.

you could feel your palms sweating as you walked down the long corridor. the lamps dimly lighting the hallways up in several warm tones. your eyes traveled up to the back of the guard's head, the man leading you to the place — to the person — that made your palms sweating and heart thundering in your ears.

it had been a while since you seen the tall gladiator. honestly, you were surprised by the fact that he requested for your presence after his victory today. however, despite your surprise you are still grateful that the gladiator wants to spend the night with you. it had been months since you seen him, the last being when he visited his sister, yoona, at the brothel. but only then you had just seen a glance of him before you were pulled away by a client.

"he's through this door," the guard said, snapping you out of your thoughts. you swallow the large lump in your throat as you wipe your palms against your dress. you can the feel the guard's eyes burning into your skin and it sends an uncomfortable chill down your spine. but you pay the guard no mind, because your eyes are focused on the door in front of the you. the door that separates you from your lover that your body yearns for.

without a second thought, you open the door and immediately enter it and letting the wooden door shut behind you. perhaps a little too harshly, but you don't care. really only because you are greeted with the sight of yunho sitting on his bed, his sword resting in his lap as he fiddles with it. probably trying to keep himself busy as he waited for you.

however, you feel your heart jump into your throat and butterflies swarm around your stomach when his hard, dark eyes snap up and meet your wide ones. you watch him visibly relax, his shoulders dropping as he puts his sword away and to the side. it's still in sight; however, you know he only keeps it within arms reach for protection.

you watch as yunho stands up, a small faint smile gracing his lips as he beckons you closer to him. you let a breath you didn't know you were holding as you take quick, large steps to the tall gladiator. yunho wraps his arms, rather protectively you note, around you as he picks you up and his arms going around your waist and bottom while yours go around his neck.

"y/n," his voice is heavy and deep, deeper than you remember and it both your heart and legs clench. "my beautiful love, thank you for coming," he says as you lean down to lay a peck to his lips.

"my beautiful warrior, no need to thank me. congratulations on your victory," you say, caressing his face and giving him another kiss before he's finally putting you down.

"has long as it been since we've been as one?" he asks as his hands roam over your body and fiddling with the material of your dress. you watch with lustful eyes as yunho kneels down in front of you as you feel his hands trailing down your legs before they are slipping underneath the material. his eyes meet yours and you watch a smirk grace his lips.

"it's been too long," you say as you watch him slowly raise the skirt of your dress up to where he is then face to face with your bare cunt. you take your dress from his hands and hold it in the fistfuls as one of his hands runs two of his fingers through your folds.

you let out a shuddered moan at the feeling of his fingers as he does a few more times before he's gently taking one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder. "will you be able to take me, princess? are any of those other men even as big as me, huh? i bet they don't even know how to fuck a cunt," he says before playing with your hole as his tongue comes and sucks harshly on your clit.

one of his large hands grab a handful of your ass after he remove his hand in favor using his tongue on you. you can't help the moan that leave your lips as you run your free hand through his black locks, tugging here and there which earns a vibrating moan from your lover.

"fuck– ah, yuyu! your tongue! your tongue feels so good," you say, letting your eyes close as your head tilts back. your grinding against yunho's tongue aggresively, his nose nudging and adding extra stimulation to your clit. "f-fuck, feels sooo good~"

yunho can only hum in acknowledgement as he continues to lick, slurp, and fuck your pussy with his tongue. the hand on your ass continues to kneed your flesh before adding a sharp smack to your ass making you moan in surprise.

"yuyu~" you look down and you're surprised to see that yunho is already looking up at you. the gladiator pulls away from you and you clench at the sight of your juices covering his face.

"you know my name, my pretty girl, so use it," he says before he's diving back into your cunt, his tongue working inside your dripping hole. you let out a cry in surprise as you tug on his hair once more.

"yu- fuck! mommy, mmh, please i'm close," you cry out as you feel yunho's fingers now join his tongue in filling you up. "so good~"

and just as you're about to reach your climax, you suddenly feel yunho pull away from you, your leg even sliding off his shoulder. you let out a whine as you watch yunho stand to his full height and you're clinging onto his arms, feeling his flexing underneath your hands.

"mommy," your voice is soft and gently sounding, something that completely contrast with his deeper one. he looks at you with half lidded eyes before he's easily ripping your dress off your body and leaving you completely bare to him. "mommy, please take me. take me like how none of those stupid men can," you whine and yunho chuckles before he's effortlessly picking you up and tossing you onto his bed.

you note that his bed is considerable smaller than yours at the brothel and you wonder if yunho can even fully lay in it. however, those thoughts are ripped as yunho is manhandling you in position. rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your ass high into the air. you let out a few open mouth moans as you feel yunho lick a long stripe from your clit to your puckered hole. a small whine and call of his name leaves your lips as you instinctively move your hips to lure him back when he pulls away. you remain in the position your lover placed you in as you feel the bed move as he stands up.

you clench when you hear him stripping his clothes off, and you have to stop yourself from giggling when you hear him curse about his "stupid trousers" not wanting to come off.

"my beautiful gem, you look so gorgeous like this," yunho says as you feel him rub the head of his cock against your folds.

"please, mommy, please give your cock. please sheathe yourself inside me and claim your reward," you tell him, moving your legs the best you could on the small bed, your hands coming around and spreading your pussy lips in order to present yourself more to him.

yunho lets out a deep chuckle as he slowly begins pushing inside of you, "i sometimes forget that at the end of the day, you will always be a whore. but... but even then– fuck, i can't help but still fall in love with you," he tells you once he finally bottoms out inside of you.

"y-yunho, i-i– fuck, i love you, too," you confess to him; however, you know that he probably doesn't believe your confession as he says nothing back. his hips slowly starting their pace as he continuously moves in and out of you. his hips snapping harshly against your ass as his fingers dig into your hips. "y-yunho! fuck! please!" you cry out, one of your hands frantically looking for one of his.

you think that maybe he doesn't want the closeness, that your love confession ruined his entire mood, but you almost want to cry when you finally feel yunho's hand come and intertwine with yours. he moves your joined hands to rest next to your head, as he leans over and presses his chest flushed against your back. his hips rocking into yours at a steady pace that makes you feel full as you clench around your lover.

"y-yunho, mommy, your– your cock f-feels so good!" you ramble as you feel yunho kiss your shoulder. you let out a surprised gasp as yunho pulls away his hips doing sharp and hard thrust with the head of his cock nicely rubbing against your sweet spot.

you almost want to let out a frustrated cry when you feel yunho pull out once more; however, you change your mind when he's turning you over on your back and effortless once more pulling you into the position he wants. it makes you almost feel like a rag doll as the gladiator pulls you into his laps, his cock an angry red, tip leaking, and larger than you remember. he easily lifts you up and has you sinking down on his cock once more.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, noting how his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. its then that you notice that the both of you of covered in a light layer of sweat. the humidity in the room high, but you push to the back of your mind as yunho starts thrusting up into you. his pace is immediately animalistic and face as his finger dig almost bruisingly into your hips and it makes you moan.

"m-mommy, mommy fuck– so good~"

yunho grunts in reply as you brush his hair away from his eyes. you noticed how they don't look as hard as they did when you first entered the room. however, years of killing the coliseum and the world being cold as left his eyes seemingly... void. you bring your hands up to caress his face gently and the action seems to shock him as he lets out a small gasp.

"y-y/n?" he calls out your name, not a pet name, not whore, but you actually name and that's when his thrust begin to slow down. his fingers letting up the bruising hold on your hips.

"yunho, what has this world done to us?" you ask, resting your forehead against his as you slowly move your hips in an attempt to keep the pleasure going for the both of you. yunho lets out a chuckle at your question as his hands come up to roam over the expanse of your back.

"why do you always get so sentimental when i fuck you?" he teases and this is the first time since you entered the room that you heard his lighthearted tone. you press a deep kiss to him in reply and yunho easily follows your lead as he opens his mouth, his tongue coming and tangling with yours.

yunho moves his hands to rest on your ass as he moves you both in order to have you laying on your back, never breaking the kiss or even separating.

"i meant it earlier when i love you," you tell him quietly when yunho pulls away from your lips. the two of you left breathless as you note the string of saliva connects you two.

"i know you do," he says as his begins to thrust inside of you and you can't help the moan that leaves your lips, your back arching as you once again feel the head of yunho's cock rubbing against your sweet spot. "i'm sorry i-i, fuck, can't devote myself to you. that- that i can't be selfish," he says and you feel tears beginning to form in your eyes as you take in his words.

"y-yunho, please..." your voice is constrained as you swallow back the tears. you wish he would be selfish, that he would whisk you away and take you away from this awful city, from the coliseum and from the brothel, but he can't. "i hate you, i hate you so much," you tell him finally let the tears run down your cheeks. you feel your climax grow closer and closer; however, it feels bittersweet your orgasm approaches.

yunho gives you a smile, something you always longed to see, but not in this context. not when he looked just as upset and sad as you. he leans down, his lips touching yours, but fully kissing you yet.

"i know, my y/n, i know. please hate me because i can never give you what you want. i love you so much," he tells you before he's kissing you, his hips stilling and cock deep inside you as he finally comes. you also finally come with a moan that is swallowed by your lover, and you're right. it does feel bittersweet.

the two of you remain connected for a while longer before yunho is pulling away and watching with almost emotionless eyes as his cum runs out of you. any other time you would have been teasing your client and mocking them, but not yunho.

yunho wasn't a client. because you don't love your clients, but you love yunho.

you can't help the sob that leaves your lips as you cover your eyes, not wanting him to see you breakdown. the walls you've spent years building up at the brothel, after san, being easily torn down by some lonely gladiator. it pisses you off honestly.

the bed shifts as yunho moves to lay next to you. his arms wrapping around you and holding you to him. he presses a kiss to your shoulder like he did earlier, before he's pulling up the thin, rough blanket over the two of you.

"do you think in another life... we could be together?" you ask, voice broken and out of breath as yunho slips a hand underneath your head while his other comes to intertwine with yours.

"i know that in all my lifetimes, past and future, i will always love you. we'll always find each other."

"i hate you so much," you say, tears coming back.

"i know, but i'll always love you, my precious gem."

tag list : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @harry-the-pottypus @rdiamond2727 @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @kryybebe @dementedaly @moonm1st @nvmbheart @solanatys-blog @spooo00oky @marsanhwa @cvpitvno @sookacc @moonm1st @melomatz

network : @cultofdionysusnet

#mommy may i. #mommy!may #cultofdionysusnet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez smut #ateez yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez fantasy au

[bluerose5]

Zevran & Astarion Banter Pt. 9/?

A late post for me, but I can't help it. These two have taken up residence inside my mind.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

...

Zevran: You know, it's a shame that you can't see your reflection.

Astarion: Thank you for reminding me.

Zevran: I mean no offense, my dear. I simply think yours is a beauty meant to be admired by all, even yourself.

Astarion: Aw, you. What a charmer.

Zevran: I speak only the truth. Although, if such compliments make you uncomfortable, then say the word, and I shall stop.

Astarion: Ha! How adorable. As if I would turn away such sweet praise. Do go on, though. Tell me more!

Zevran: What should I say?

Astarion: Don't overthink it, darling. Just tell me what you see when you look at me.

Zevran: What I see? Oh, how simple! I see a vampire, of course.

Astarion: Gods, grant me strength. How you enjoy tormenting me.

Zevran: *laughs* In all seriousness, I would not even know where to start. Perhaps with those gorgeous red eyes? Shall I compare them to sparkling gems? Or maybe I should go on about how a single look from you is all it takes to send my heart aflutter?

Astarion: *sighs* Your poetic side truly knows no bounds.

Zevran: Should I stop then?

Astarion: Did I tell you to stop? Hmph, don't ask such ridiculous questions. Keep going.

Zevran: Your wish is my command. Now then, where was I? Ah, yes, your smile! So radiant that even the sun itself looks on in envy.

Astarion: As it should.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dragon age origins #dragon age #astarion ancunin #astarion #zevran arainai #zevran #zevstarion #crossover content #bluerose headcanons #bluerose writes

[ms0milk]

𝟑 | 𝐓𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"The whistle of something moving too fast sings through the trees and you reach across your body without the privilege of planning your actions."

cw the terrible roadtrip™ part 2/2, bkg does not get better (in fact it feels worse). classic everyone-has-to-bathe-in-the-river scene, a touch of pining. depictions of suspense/panic, the first earnest attempt on your life 3.8k

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

Days pass more peacefully than not as the journey progresses. This is the farthest you’ve ever been from the castle and with every unfamiliar step you’re more and more thankful you aren’t permitted a seat in the carriage. Delicate, blue, quilted, or otherwise, carriage rides are stifling and remind you too much of blood.

The prince seems to hate carriages as much as you do because since the morning of the second day, he’s taken it upon himself to climb from the carriage window as it bumps and jitters along the road and hoist his body onto the small flat roof where he lays for hours sending up pale fireworks. He doesn’t speak or grumble or punch up there. There’s no bitching, as Aizawa would say and so no one tries very hard to stop him. There are no fiery tantrums when your little caravan has to stop for Mina’s fourth bathroom break of the afternoon, or when Sero has to hold Denki out the window to stave off motion sickness. The prince just runs sparks through his hands paying little, if any, attention to his friends or chaperones.

Your hips are numb now and well-worn, so there’s not much else to focus on except for His Highness idling on the carriage in front of you. He refused to change into the riding clothes provided, so his white furs and long red cape are the only vestiges of home for miles and they ground you in pride. His royal jewelry, red and gold, catch the light distractingly. Laying still and quiet like this, a stranger could be forgiven for thinking the fair prince was actually docile.

Images of a younger, wider-eyed royal pitter patter through your memory for a second, which you try to dislodge with a subtle shake of your head. Your earrings stir delicately against your face and you’re reminded of home again.

On the carriage ahead the prince raises his arm now to the sky and flickers of white and purple jump between his thick scarred fingers. His hands are heavy. They’re worn from a childhood full of trial and error in honing his parent’s magic. The spark he balances on his skin grows from an ember to a star so he rolls onto his knees to feed it with both hands. In seconds, it puckers and sputters between his palms in a new vibrancy, and green smoke winds up like lace across his cheeks.

It’s beautiful. You want to tell the destructive prince that his magic “is so beautiful.”

“Of course you’d think that,” he clears his throat with the words without even looking your way and it becomes suddenly obvious that you’ve spoken– all you dreamed of saying– out loud.

You readjust stiffly on your horse, “Highness I–”

“You’d be dazzled if I took a dump on the carriage.” His voice is thunder, and it’s more and more apparent to you that your prince must be dying of boredom.

“What’re you here for?”

“Her Majesty sent me. For protection.”

He doesn’t quite look at you as much as he glances in your general direction. That red cape of his twists across his chest in the breeze while he lingers on the outline of your horse. “What could you protect me from huh? The fucking bugs?” Thunder and lightning now, “You gonna lance the mosquitoes before they land a fatal blow?”

“It’s a halberd, Highness. And yes, if you’d like me to I can keep the bugs away.”

He makes strikingly angry eye contact with you just once, just a blink from carriage to saddle, and it’s obvious you’ve said something wrong. Wordplay isn’t your strength. Whit and whim don’t flow like water for you the way they do the queen, but she often pulls you into meetings or seeks you out on post with quandaries because your honesty entertains her. You think– you hope. You hope the prince is like her in that sense, but he only sucks his teeth and turns away from you.

Hours pass, then a day, then two, and you’re so far from the comfort of familiar autumnal forests that you start to lose track of yourself.

“I’m starving!” Denki whines, and you realize you are too. Kirishima and the prince are all too excited to dive into the trees for a chance to stretch and hunt, so much so that they’re already out of earshot by the time you’ve stepped out of your saddle. Aizawa assures you they’ll be fine and in just a few hours the entire camp is shrieking over ghost stories and roast turkey.

“I’m exhausted!” Sero yawns and kicks the largest burning log to bring down the brightness of the fire. It takes sudden darkness to realize that you’re exhausted too. In the morning you pick apart fresh fish a la Kirishima and Mina jumps at the opportunity for a bath. “I stink!” she laments, and you realize so do you. So at Aizawa’s instruction the caravan sets up camp beside the river and everyone but you races to dive into the icy cold for as long as they can stand. Even the prince seems eager for a break and starts unclasping his earrings on his way down through the trees.

The water is just over the flat ridge where Shinsou and his mentor park the carriage. While the three of you untack horses and otherwise set up camp for the evening, Aizawa continuously fiddles with his long hair muttering, “It really is time for a bath.” He calls your name, and Shinsou’s, and you look briefly up from where you’re unbuckling your saddle’s makeshift scabbard and tying your halberd to your back.

“You two join the others– go wash. I’ll finish camp.” And you can’t help but think Master Aizawa is much softer than he lets on.

Maybe he’s feeling festive at the thought of today being the last full day of travel. He hasn’t told the rest of your western company yet, but Takoba and the sea are only a few miles beyond the break of the forest, which is only a few miles away from where you’re standing now. “The city gates close at sundown, so it’s just as well that you all have a swim and we rest here tonight.”

You’re not too keen on bathing with everyone, but at the very least you are your prince’s keeper.

One more day to Takoba Castle, you chant in your head and imagine just what the city might look like. You’ve studied all the kingdoms on the continent of course, suffering through years of Jeanist’s compulsatory tutelage, but all you really know about Takoba is its royal lineage and basic strategic positioning; it’s a castle on the sea.

At the river, a party is well-underway where Mina has a horribly bashful Kirishima boxed in on a rock between her bare thighs, squealing “You reek little huntsman!” while she washes his back.

Denki and Sero manage a bit more modesty in the deep water of the bend, and Shinsou wades down near the bank with his tunic already up and coming over his head. The sun’s still warm this time of year, warm enough to bathe outside, but the wind is ready for winter. Every time a breeze slips through the trees a collective howl goes up from your wet company scattered along the riverbed. You stand guard next to the beaten path by the bank and watch the group splash happily.

“Get in Bakugou!”

The prince is the only one still dry, only a few steps away from you, taking his time removing his jewelry. He sets it all on one of the large sun rocks and then unlaces his vest with nimble fingers. Those same fingers thumb open the buckle of his belt with a flick, and his boots go next, then his– oh– he’s closer than you realize and he throws his bundled cape into your chest before turning, and growling, to his friends.

“fuckin’ coming, leave me be.”

The water ripples around his bare ankles. A few more steps and he’s already ducking his ash blond head underwater.

“C’mon sweaty, I know you’re the worst outta the bunch of us!”

“I said fuck off!”

It’s funny the way the prince interacts with his friends. It’s no different than you’ve ever known him, but while you fiddle with his cape and watch the scene ahead, you think about the fact that you only really ever see him alone. He and Kirishima are brothers, family sure, and you see him interact with his actual family members all the time but you’ve never really thought about the prince having friends. All these people who choose to love him. All you know about him you’ve heard from the queen, or seen through a crack in the library doors when the two of you are supposed to be sleeping.

His back tenses with the cold air and cold water so you can see the muscles clearly there while he smooths down wet hair, or when he flexes palm over bicep in a stretch after coming up for air. His shoulders shift like sculptures and they’re sharp, unlike sweet Kirishima whose whole body is strong but soft. Bakugou grew like jagged lighting. He was only just a scrawny boy, and now the milky gold of his thighs ripples with fat muscle like a jungle cat. His waist, dramatic, his boxy hands always itching to be fists. You’d laugh if you were less focused, at just how angry Bakugou still looks even when his back is turned.

“Y/n!” Denki has his hands cupped around his mouth, “You too!”

You too what? The prince’s cape spills from your arms when you’re, a bit overwhelmingly, brought back to reality and you hurry to scoop the bundle back up before it can touch the ground. Now the lot of them are hollering at you, “it’s not that cold,” and, “yes it is!” and, “I’ll wash your back!”

You’re still doubled over when you shout back, “I’ll wash later!” half to the dirt, and, “I must remain at my post.” So you can’t be blamed for your surprise at the prince’s advancing glare when you stand back up again.

He’s already clean and completely out of the water and moving toward you quickly enough that your instinct is to draw your halberd from your back. So much so that you hesitate to make any other movements. His shaggy blond hair lays wet and pushed straight back away from his face in a style Jeanist always says, “looks quite handsome” (and then will lament about for the rest of the day when it inevitably dries straight up in every direction) and for as many seconds as it takes for him to reach you, you think that Jeanist is right.

“Oi!”

What happened to him you wonder, to make him so abrasive?

“C’mon you creep, stand at fucking attention.”

Prince Bakugou snatches his cape back from your still-processing hands as you look up, up, up from his dripping chest to his clenched neck and stop decidedly on those glassy red eyes to avoid having to look anywhere lower. He really does resemble his parents so much it’s almost confusing to hear such a bitter voice barking out orders to you. Behind him in the river, Kirishima and Mina watch with worry.

The prince holds your stare this time, no bristling or darting. He pins the cape like a cloak across his body and jerks his head closer to yours– your– your bad habit takes over and the only thing you can do is look at him.

“You’ve been nothin but eyes this whole fucking trip– got any idea who you’re staring at?”

Of course you do. Unmarred skin, long light eyelashes, a sweet caramel musk– what is he saying? He’s picking a fight. Look away, look away. Your eyes go wide for one more single second, one more second inches away from hot red hatred, and you drop your head.

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”

Though he’s already done, gone and shouldering past you, back up the bank to collect his finery from the rocks. He bathes quickly.

You’re not particularly quick to wash in the evening. Your companions return to the camp without much more fuss about your joining them after the prince leaves and the mood dampens. Mina doesn’t shriek or holler or dance her way warm again. The boys don’t have stories to tell. The prince soaks up the last few sun rays reading a book atop the carriage and all is quiet.

You carry on with evening tasks, although brushing your horse’s soft white mane is much more enticing right now than approaching the carriage for day’s-end checks. Dinner supplies are assembled from the last few ration items. Laundry is a desperate state of affairs and it’s palpable just how excited everyone is to arrive at Takoba in the morning even if they aren’t bursting at the seams to tell you about it.

Aizawa is the only one that doesn’t seem to be acting much differently considering he’s always too exhausted for much of a personality.

He’s spent the afternoon mending a tear in his saddle and trying unsuccessfully to keep his long hair tied away from his face so when he leaves his project to speak with you across camp, the lack of frustration in his voice is a kind surprise.

“Go on.” His words are gentle, “They’re safe with me and the sun will set soon.” He gestures towards the edge of the ridge and the river beyond it, which at this point seems more cold than its worth. But glancing back at the camp, Kirishima and Shinsou building a fire, Denki peeling apples– the general silence– is less appealing than even pneumonia. You dip your head in thanks.

You’re careful not to wet your hair when you sink into the miserable water, and risk getting sick while on duty. Your survival instincts scream to you that wet hair is the least of your concerns considering the shock of cold that is the river without sunlight. Now you realize why the prince made such quick work of washing himself. Mina is inhuman to have swam for so long. With your riding clothes laid out on the shore you slip into the silty water up to your knees, then to your bare hips, until you’re squatting as deep as you can manage right below the ribs.

The sun is long set behind trees and so you wash in the dark, naked and cold as you’ve ever been in your life, in the autumnal river below camp. The light of Kirishima’s fire crests over the lip of the ridge and carries soft voices along with its glow. Some good nights, and a laugh. Probably the redhead’s. His voice is soft and commanding, but the faint chatter and whispers you hear from the others are distant and otherworldly and you feel all the more naked when you eye Jeanist’s halberd quite out of reach on the shore. Quiet voices don’t sound like ghosts in the castle, only in the woods.

You bring the water with cupped hands to new skin stiffening, and miss soap. And miss beds and Jeanist, and the queen. She has so much hope for your future with her son and it’s unbearably ironic that the first mission you’re responsible for is the one where he’s realized he hates you. You try to picture Takoba again, having never seen the sea.

Instead of thinking about the prince you think of seashell spires sticking out of the sand. Fifty stories and filled with castle staff dressed all in seafoam lace. What else looks like the sea? Pearls dotting the city walls that Aizawa said were so close– and soft glass for the sentinel’s swords instead of steel. The eastern queen and her children must bathe like mermaids in warm sea water; rivers and streams are always cold and running but the sea is so big, it must be warm. It must be still. Now you’re thinking of baths. And of home and bread, and the library and the prince who hates you–

There’s a crunch from the brush.

You’re leagues faster than quick in pulling yourself ashore silently and slinging your tunic over your wet chest.

“This horrible fucking forest–” What was first a faint sound becomes a voice and it’s clearly the prince grumbling, “–Takoba’s such a shitshow.” As counterintuitive as it seems, his growl is a comfort that keeps you from reaching any farther for your weapon. Kirishima’s comes next,

“You’re just cranky.”

You close your eyes in relief once you’re positive the only thing you hear is the two of them. They’re wandering around the ridge, not close enough for you to see them from where you’re pulling on your pants, but close enough to follow the conversation. You carefully hook your earrings back into your ears when you’ve settled enough to collect your belongings and continue to listen.

It’s very rude to raise your voice in the woods, so the prince stops short of howling in his anger, “They’re gonna dress me up like a dumbfuck puppet! I hate–”

“Katsuki, it’s just some earrings, they’re not–”

“– those fucking seagulls are gonna eat this up! First they find me new jewelry, then I need new boots, then my cloak is too worn– I’ll kill them.”

“I’ve never heard anyone complain as much as you do about getting new clothes.”

There’s a rustle and you swear it’s coming from the opposite direction of camp. Then the sound of stifled sputtering anger, accompanying laughter, and their conversation continues above. With Jeanist’s halberd secured on your back, you lace up your shoes.

“You shoulda beat me to Takoba, old man.”

You startle but don’t scream when the new voice announces itself so clearly. Instead you rally your polearm to attention and crouch with your back to the steep rocky ridge. Don’t announce yourself. Your job isn’t honor, it’s guerrilla warfare.

“Not even a hello?”

“Be careful Ei, the brambles–”

“No hug for your favorite student?”

“Kats wait, ow!”

“No love for an alum?”

The Prince and the Champion’s voices are just far away enough that they compete with the new one for your attention. You have to be able to hear if they’re safe. You have to make it back to camp. A hum rolls over the babble of the water now. The voice sounds like it’s coming from everywhere. Beside you and across the river all at once. There’s no sound of splashing or of twigs snapping. It’s a ghost moving closer and farther from you through the breeze.

“Should I give you a head start?”

The husky drawl mingles with the prince barking distantly from above and sends a chill through your heels into the Earth. Like someone whispering directly in one ear and a cold breeze blowing out the other. Bakugou is too far to hear any warning calls you might shout to him. Without that incentive, shouting would only reveal your identity and give away your position; you have to get back up to camp. There’s a moment of silence and then a disturbance in the tree branches hanging above the river.

“You’re not Aizawa.”

Above and unseen, the boys give up on their search.

“We’ll find your earrings, Katsuki, don’t worry. Tomorrow, when the sun comes up.”

“Where the fuck are they?”

“Probably dropped ‘em when you threw your clothes at Y/n like some unkempt woodland creature.”

The prince stifles a laugh so that his friend doesn’t get encouraged, but Kirishima, never one to rely on social cues, dives in.

“If I may–”

“You may not,” Bakugou bites. He hikes his cape a bit higher to feign chill and turns back toward center camp, resigning himself to play dress-up once they reach Takoba. Kirishima trails him through the underbrush back to the clearing. It’s peaceful at camp among friends before you erupt onto the scene.

Shinsou shoos a firefly from Denki’s sleeping cheek, and the outline of a bundled Master Aizawa rises and falls with deep breath beside the carriage. Next to Sero, Mina is tucked under a blanket on her bedroll, lulling herself to sleep watching the dance of the small fire. Wide empty eyes. Prince Bakugou has his cape wrapped tightly around broad shoulders while he hums and haws some complaint in Kirishima’s direction. He fingers his empty earlobes while he talks. 

When you burst through the branches of the willow tree, the group abandons all decorum at your, “Highness!”

The prince jerks around to face you with a hand on his sword and Shinsou is similarly armed in seconds behind him. The travelers jolt up with adrenaline and much farther away, in a dark part of camp, Aizawa has already drawn his bow. His eyes train on the shadows through the trees.

“Wers and mers, Y/n! What in th–” Kirishima startles and accidentally bats the irons above the fire with the kettle he’s using to boil water. The metal thrum rings over the clearing and resets the silence as you back up against the prince. He’s still looking around over your head.

“There’s a man in the trees, Highness, he’s looking for Aizawa. Please return to the carr–”

“I’m in just the mood for a bandit.”

“Highness now is not–”

The whistle of something moving too fast sings through the trees and you reach across your body without the privilege of planning your actions.

Your back presses into the prince’s chest and you draw his sword from his hip with only enough time to let out a ferocious grunt and slice the air in an arc in front of you.

An apple connects with the swing of the sword, from wherever in the distant dark woods it was thrown, and erupts wet across your face and thighs as you cleave it down the middle. Making sure to keep the prince directly between your shoulders, the halves fly limply to either side of your bodies and the clearing is quiet again.

The prince’s breath is hot so close to the back of your neck and Kirishima’s features look sharper in the firelight now. Mina has barely moved from her bedroll, “I don’t understand. Y/n what–”

It’s coming.

“Kiri!” You try to shout warnings just in time for the apple halves to burst into white-hot flame on the ground, and then the prince jerks his arms in front of you. A little ways below your dragontooth, Bakugou’s palm is pressed flat against your ribcage like a shield and just a hair’s breadth from it, his other hand has caught an arrow in its fist. An arrow that, in a blink, erupts into a ball of bright blue fire.

“Aizawa!”

“Aizawa?”

The first voice is Shinsou’s and it’s full of worry. The second is the ghost’s and he’s smiling. You can hear it.

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @cherrykamado @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @cherripunch26 @km7474 @arayoflia @annoyingleftpinky @noomaisdone @cr33pycrawlerr @iced-chai-tea-latte @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tragicallygray

could not tag for some reason (check your privacy settings!)

#that white white caucasian hand in the banner is NOT yours #(unless you would like it to be) #it's meant to be the queen's #do not fret poc readers #i would never do you so dirty #FINALLY the plot begins #i cant wait for next week's chapter😈 #bakugou x reader #a hymn to black water #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #mha fantasy au #bnha fantasy au #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo

[minastras]

iv. if i give my heart to you

prev • masterlist • next

words: 4.8k

warnings: swearing, underage drinking

——————————

The second you reached home you rushed to your room and shut the door, letting out a quiet, choked sob. You allotted twenty minutes for being miserable away from prying eyes, sitting on the floor with your back to the door and your head in your hands.

You’d read a Richard Siken quote a while back about sliding down a wall crying but only being able to focus on the wall in front of you and how you didn’t paint it all that well. That was you now, as you stared and stared and realised one of your power outlets was crooked. There was something so pathetically sad about hiding your tears when there was no one around to see you cry.

The next day, you told your friends you and Kai broke up. You didn’t give them any more details than that, lest your two stories contradicted each other again.

Aeri and Yizhuo tried their best to comfort you (and you appreciated it) but they couldn’t, not really. Not unless they knew the real reason you were upset. Kai hadn’t “broken your heart”; you’d gotten invested in something knowing it was fake. You were drowning in quicksand you’d willingly jumped into, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

Over the next week you and Kai stayed out of each other’s way. His friends gave you such pity-filled glances whenever you crossed paths that you felt compelled to tell them you were fine each time. Obviously, that was a big fat lie.

Daeseong and Daehyun asked about Kai only once, because the second they mentioned his name you’d burst into tears. They both got so scared they started crying too. You had never cried in front of them in your life.

“I’m cancelling my party next week,” Aeri told you after class. “Yizhuo and I’ll come over and we can hang out.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you shook your head. “Have the party. I know you’ve been excited about it for ages.” She’d recently gotten a pool table and wanted to show it off. You weren’t going to deny her that chance, especially not to just make her join your daily moping sessions.

“Fine, but you don’t have to come,” she acquiesced. She knew you well enough to know you hated pity, and that when you said things you meant them.

“No, I’ll go. It’ll help me take my mind off things,” you said, smiling and poking her cheek. “Anyway, I need to be there to keep you and Yizhuo in check.”

——————————

——————————

Empty bleachers haunted Kai at every practice, but he still looked forward to training. It helped to keep his mind off of you. For a while at least.

After he ended his fake relationship with you, there had been no teasing, ribbing, or I told you so remarks from any of his friends. Not even Beomgyu. How visibly torn up must Kai have been to elicit such unbridled sympathy? He hated thinking about it, the fact that other people knew the strength of his emotions.

Practice ended, and once again a dull ache crept its way back into his heart and settled in, making itself at home as it had for the last week.

Soobin cleared his throat and pointed over Kai’s shoulder. “Someone’s here for you,” he said.

His heart started racing. It was you. You were here to give him another chance to apologise. But then he turned around and saw your friend Yizhuo, standing at the bottom of the bleachers with her arms crossed, staring daggers right at him. He excused himself from the group and made his way over to her.

“Hi, Yi-”

She held up a hand, not in the mood for pleasantries. “I’m not here to be a messenger between you and Y/N. I’m also not here to beg you to take them back,” she started, narrowing her eyes. “They didn’t send me here, but you probably already knew that.”

He did; you weren’t the sort of person to pull such stunts. That’s what really hurt, that you didn’t want to talk to him at all.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, and frankly I don’t care. But I do know that you left them with the impression you don’t care about them,” she continued. You thought he didn’t care about you?

“Whether you guys get back together is none of my business. I just hope you’ll show them they mattered to you and give them closure instead of running away,” she said, before pivoting on her heel and leaving.

Kai sat at his desk that night, unmoving, as if the right path of action would come to him if he stared at his wall collage for long enough. Even Yizhuo knew he was a child, incapable of having important conversations, incapable of real relationships.

He pulled the polaroid of you and him after his championship game off the wall — the one you’d asked for but he refused to give up. He could still remember the feeling of your hands on his face when you kissed him, your palms cool in comparison to his skin flushed from the exertion of the game.

His friends teased him relentlessly over this photo and the way he stared at you in it, saying he was happier at the kiss than their championship win.

He set the picture down on his desk and reached for his phone. He had something he needed to say.

——————————

Did you regret attending Aeri’s party? Maybe. But you couldn’t back out now, and you didn’t want her to worry about you.

While Aeri shepherded the earliest guests down to the basement to see her new pool table and Yizhuo greeted people at the door, you were in the kitchen making a gigantic bowl of your signature sparkling strawberry vodka punch.

It gave you something to do, at least, that didn’t necessitate being out in the living room where the rest of the party was. Talking to one or two people when they popped into the kitchen for a drink was a hell of a lot easier than doing that.

There was no way Kai would turn up, you kept telling yourself, trying to be normal.

You repeated that again when you finally left the kitchen and saw Yeonjun and Soobin walk through the front door.

And again when you were talking to Jongseong in the backyard and spotted Beomgyu and Taehyun walking up the driveway.

Jongseong was trying to assess you — to figure out if he could flirt with you or if you were still upset about Kai — and in the back of your mind you knew that. You answered that question for him when you locked eyes with Kai through the open back patio door. He looked away, a see-through cup of your punch in his hand.

Jongseong turned around as your mask of friendly bubbliness slipped off in an instant and shattered all over the grass beneath your feet.

“Yeah, I figured you’d still be hung up on him,” Jongseong said, sounding mildly disappointed. How long had Kai been watching you? When did he even get here?

“Mm, I guess so,” you shrugged, pushing your entertainer smile back onto your face. But you weren’t fooling anyone, not anymore.

“It’s fine, Y/N. I get it,” Jongseong chuckled, taking a step back to indicate he wasn’t going to pursue you further. “Now’s a bad time. I hope things work out, whether you guys get back together or not.”

You relaxed considerably, scrambling for the shards of your mask as you tried to smile back. “Thanks, Jongseong. I’ll be in the house if you need me,” you said, excusing yourself.

When you returned to the living room Kai was nowhere to be found. You headed straight for the stairs and up to the guest room, leaving the door unlocked behind you as you entered.

If there was anything you were jealous of in Aeri and Yizhuo’s houses, it was the balconies. What you would give to have one of your own. From up here, the sounds of the party seemed so far away. The night Kai had asked you to fake date him on this very balcony, exactly one hundred days ago, seemed equally distant.

It was a cold night, but not unbearably so as long as the air was still. The sky was clear but too polluted for visible stars. You propped your feet up against the edge of the balcony and leaned over the railing, looking up at the deep indigo anyway.

“Don’t do that. It’s dangerous,” came a familiar voice. You stepped back down and turned around, watching Kai shut the door behind him.

You closed your eyes tightly and turned away, back to the view from the balcony, and held your breath.

“You left the door unlocked for me, right? You were hoping I’d follow you, right?” he asked, sounding almost desperate for his assumptions to be true.

And they were. You told him as much when you sighed softly and once again turned around to face him.

He was wearing his student athlete jacket that you loved, a black and gold varsity-style jacket with ‘Kai’ embroidered in small gold letters on the front. You borrowed it sometimes, because it was soft, warm, and smelt like him. Selfishly, you wondered if he wore it hoping to run into you.

“Kai-”

“I’m sorry. Please, hear me out.”

It was too cold to be out on the balcony. You walked back inside, closed the sliding door behind you, and sat down on the end of the neatly made bed. He sat down beside you, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap.

If someone had asked you what you were anticipating from this conversation, you wouldn’t have been able to give them an answer to save your life. No, your head was filled only with him — how sad his eyes looked and how much you wanted to hug him. There was no room in your mind for speculation.

“The other day when I told you I wanted to end things, I was lying,” Kai began, pausing after every other word, choosing them carefully. He wasn’t looking at you while he spoke, his eyes locked low on the wall in front of him. On a power outlet.

“I actually wrote a whole thing out on my phone — that’s what I was looking at — but I didn’t read it out because I was being a coward,” he continued. “Can I read it to you now?”

There was a block in your vocal cords preventing you from speaking. All you could do was nod and watch him pull out his phone. He turned to face you, and each time he glanced up from his phone at you while he read, his eyes seemed to get shinier.

“You were right, it was real. All of it. I avoided thinking about us until you brought it up because I’m immature, I’m childish, and I don’t like thinking about the serious stuff. What people say about me is true, and I was terrified by how much I like you. I chose to act as if everything was fine, and that wasn’t fair to you.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, and that I made you feel like you didn’t matter to me. That was the last thing I wanted to do, because you’re my favourite person. I like everything about you. You just get me, and I never have to pretend around you. I want to be your boyfriend, your actual boyfriend, and I promise I’ll grow up for you. If you’d have me.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly and pocketed his phone, fidgeting with his hair like he always did when he was nervous. You watched him, biting the inside of your cheek, the ambient noise of the party downstairs crackling in the background.

“I- I meant to say all that a long time ago,” he said, trying to hold eye contact with you but breaking it constantly. His hands rested uncomfortably on his knees, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Do you still mean it?” you asked. “All of it?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, before sighing and pushing his hands through his hair again. “I just- you know me. I can’t commit to people. I’m the last of my friends to grow up.”

Huening Kai: the master of puppy love and nothing more. Or so people used to say. But there were other types of love aside from romance, and you’d always known he was capable of those. The guest bedroom was painfully quiet, enough so that you could hear him breathing.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think it’s true,” you said.

“You’re right: it’s Beomgyu,” he agreed, giggling nervously. It had been too long since you last heard him laugh. You smiled at his cautious joke, which appeared to reassure him slightly.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I should’ve talked to you earlier,” you mumbled. Your initial outburst must have come out of nowhere for him. The embarrassment of your past actions hit you, delayed, but you pushed it aside and soldiered on. “Can- can we try this again? I don’t want to live with regrets.”

You had barely finished getting out your last word when Kai leaned forward and kissed your cheek, urgent yet hesitant, eager yet tentative. He was beaming as he reached for your hands and held them in his.

“Me neither.” There were sparkles in his eyes.

He kissed you again, pecking you on the mouth this time, and you leaned against him with a content sigh. You could stay like this forever, wrapped in his arms with a soft warmth in your chest you’d never felt before. You played with the gold ring on his pinky finger.

“Kai?” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Yeah?”

Your voice was soft and hopeful. “This is real, right?”

He moved his free hand to the nape of your neck, gently turning it to tilt your head towards him so he could press his lips to your temple.

“It’s real. I’m all yours,” he promised, “for as long as you’re willing to put up with me.”

You buried your face into his jacket and laughed, breathing him in. His cologne was woody and faintly sweet. “Stop saying things like that,” you mumbled. “This week without you was the longest week of my life.”

He froze, but after a second he relaxed and pulled you closer.

“I told my friends the truth, by the way. They were the ones who knocked some sense into me,” he said. “Speaking of which, we should probably go downstairs.”

Shit. You needed to tell Aeri and Yizhuo.

“They probably all think I’m an idiot now,” you groaned.

He sat up and grinned cheekily. “Is what other people think important to you?”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him, but you didn’t let go of his hand even as you stood up and led him to the door. “Hah, very funny.”

“Hey, you’ve asked me so many difficult questions. I should get to ask you some, too,” he complained, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

That indescribable soft warmth grew stronger. It reminded you of how your skin felt when you stepped out of a cold room and into the sunlight. You’d missed the feeling of having Kai’s hand in yours so much that it was almost overwhelming, delivering a rush to your head that made you dizzy.

“Well, then, to answer your question: no, it’s not,” you smiled, opening the door.

The party was still thumping along downstairs; with all the chaos going on you could hardly blame anyone for missing your absence. But the second you and Kai reached the halfway point of the staircase, Taehyun spotted you from the backyard through the kitchen door like some kind of superspy, breaking into a knowing smile immediately.

“What’s that like? Must be nice,” Kai joked, although the underlying element of truth was clear in the look in his eyes as he waved to Taehyun. You squeezed his hand and smiled, trying to be comforting, not knowing if you were doing a good job or not. He led you towards the front door, clearly wanting to leave.

“Are you okay?” you asked, feeling the tension in his forearm as you held onto him so you wouldn’t get separated by the crowd. The chaotic chatter of the partygoers around you concealed your words and afforded you both a paradoxical privacy.

“Yeah. You’re here,” he replied, turning around and flashing you a sweet smile — the kind he reserved only for you. The sincerity of it knocked the air from your lungs temporarily.

Once you’d made it out of the packed house, you swiftly found Aeri to let her know you were leaving.

“Hi, uh-” Aeri started, staring at Kai’s name embroidered on the jacket around your shoulders. Her pupils were dilated from the alcohol. “What?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow, I promise,” you said, holding up your pinky finger.

She locked her own around yours with a dramatic eye roll. “God, I can’t wait to hear whatever this story is,” she ribbed, clearly joking, because she gave you a tight hug and told you to get home safe.

——————————

While you were talking to Aeri earlier, Kai had run around to the backyard to tell his own friends he was leaving to take you home. None of them had seemed even remotely surprised at this news. They saved all their questions for the group chat, not that he’d bothered to check his texts since. He’d reply to them later.

He tiptoed into your living room after you and took off his shoes, trying not to disturb your brothers.

“What are you smiling at?” Kai asked, watching you curiously as he locked the front door behind him and turned on the lights.

“Just making sure Daeseong and Daehyun did their chores,” you replied, looking around the room, clearly pleased that they had. The plates were washed, the floor was cleaned, and the curtains were drawn. As far as he could tell, the only thing left for you to do was iron.

Your wood floors were cold under his feet, even through his socks. He stood with his hands in his back pockets and waited for you to speak, but all you did was glance at the ironing and then back at him apologetically.

“I’ll help you,” he offered, never mind that ironing wasn’t exactly a two-person operation. He knew you’d forgiven him, that you were ‘back together’, but he remained on edge. You did too. Standing right beside you as you ironed and he folded clothes, he could almost taste the nervous energy radiating off of you. You two still needed to talk.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you asked. You had never invited him to stay over before.

Inquisitive, he studied your features. “Do you want me to spend the night?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I will.”

You fell silent. He continued folding, biting his tongue.

“I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, with your trademark straightforward bend, your eyes locked on Daehyun’s school uniform shirt you were pressing.

“Why did you take me back?�� he blurted out, surprised by his own forwardness. He hadn’t quite realised how close to the surface in his mind that question had been bubbling for the last hour until now.

The laundry pile had depleted much faster than he expected it to (you were clearly a better ironer than he was), reduced to just two of your own school uniform shirts. You switched off the iron and set it aside, reaching for his hand. He gave it to you.

“I really like you, Kai,” you began, and as if you could sense his apprehension you immediately added, “the real you, not the one everyone else sees that you keep calling immature or cowardly or whatever you said earlier.”

Yeonjun had mentioned something ages ago: he said he spoke to you after school once and asked you what you liked about Kai. You answered, “everything.” At the time Kai figured you just didn’t know how to respond (because what kind of question was that, right?), which was what he told Yeonjun.

“No, man,” Yeonjun insisted. “I was joking around with them like, ‘Are we talking about the same person?’ And they shrugged and said, ‘He makes it easy.’ They had the corniest, dopiest smile on their face. It was revolting.”

Yeonjun was still reeling from his breakup at the time, clearly.

The way Kai felt now was exactly how he felt back then. It must’ve been more than two months ago. A flippant memory for Yeonjun, perhaps, and you probably didn’t even know Kai knew of the conversation, but Kai never stopped thinking about it.

“You’re kind, you’re caring, you’re selfless. You notice things that no one else does, and you’re always there to make sure I’m okay without ever taking credit. I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself, because you’re my favourite person too,” you continued.

He shook his head, fighting off a smile, holding your hands in his. “I don’t- that’s not true.”

At that, you frowned. “But you are. And you’re wonderful.”

Your eyes were soft but insistent, pulling him in and not letting him look away. He wasn’t used to such frank words. He was used to superlatives and grand titles: the best-looking boy in school, the MVP of the soccer team, one-fifth of the fifteen day kings.

But to be called wonderful was something else. It made him giddy.

“You didn’t tell me about Stackies,” you reminded him. “Most people would have. And you didn’t tell me about Hangil.”

Kai blinked. “How do you know about that?”

“His friends were bitching about it to Aeri,” you answered. “Wasn’t it because of us?”

“Not us, you. He was being inappropriate,” Kai replied, scowling now as he remembered the encounter. “But I didn’t keep it a secret out of some noble selflessness, I just didn’t want you to find out I punched someone.”

It took you all of two seconds to see through his obvious self-deprecating lies. You didn’t dwell on it though, merely letting go of his hand and reaching for the iron to turn it back on. He could almost see you thinking, trying to figure out how best to respond without scaring him off.

Neither one of you spoke while you pressed your last two shirts and he put them neatly on hangers, or while you left to put away the laundry and he helpfully kept the iron and ironing board.

He felt exposed, mortifyingly so. Your words were too kind, the type to make him want to run away. It wasn’t like he hated attention, far from it, but it was just different when it was your attention for some reason.

But when you returned from your room empty-handed and ready to talk, he stayed and listened.

“That’s not why. You know I wouldn’t have been upset by that,” you observed with a playful smile. You never complained about people like Hangil being knocked down a few pegs.

Kai shrugged. “Well, you shouldn’t have to hear stuff like that,” he said simply. You walked right up to him and took his hand again, and it felt like his heart was going to burst. “I know you don’t need me to protect you or anything, but-”

He was almost relieved when you leant forward and kissed him to shut him up, because it was apparent he was incapable of doing so himself. You tasted like your favourite raspberry chapstick, oh so sweet and intoxicating.

“See?” you whispered when you pulled back. “You are selfless.”

——————————

After Kai stubbed his toe on the corner of your kitchen counter and only barely stopped himself from shouting in pain, you decided it’d be better to head up to the roof to talk. If either of your brothers woke up now they’d never go back to bed.

You both put on your jackets and he dragged a blanket up the stairs behind him, ready to brave the night chill until you were tired enough to sleep. Leaning back against the tall parapet, legs tangled together as you sat side-by-side on the floor, Kai rested his head on top of yours with a happy sigh.

“You knew I liked you, right?” you asked, sitting obediently still while he wrapped both of you up in the blanket and tucked you in.

“I think so. I couldn’t understand why, though,” he said, only half-joking.

“What does that mean?” you mumbled, mindlessly opening the suspiciously-old pack of gummy bears Kai had fished out of his jacket pocket earlier. He told you not to eat them, but you didn’t listen. When you offered him one, he refused.

“I remember when you first started waking up earlier to prepare your brothers’ dinner before school so you could stick around until my soccer training ended,” he started, grabbing the pack from your hands to check if the gummy bears were still edible before reluctantly returning it. You sat up, ready to dispute that, but he stopped you.

“Don’t deny it! I could tell because you started answering my messages at six in the morning instead of six-thirty,” he said, grinning smugly when you closed your mouth and relented, lying back down. “And you always brought me snacks after my practice. I knew then, I’m pretty sure, but I didn’t feel like I deserved it.”

The rooftop was small, the view was unimpressive, and the night air was cold and dry, but none of that really mattered to him. What mattered was you, your hand in his, and your head on his shoulder.

“I cannot comprehend why you think you’re so unlovable,” you mused. Your tone was light, but he could tell you were upset from the way your voice pitched up ever so slightly as it always did when you got emotional.

He watched you eat the gummy bears with a lingering mild concern, turning your words over and over in his head.

“I don’t think that exactly,” he answered after a long pause. “I just don’t really know who I am yet.”

The implied ‘how can I think I deserve love if I don’t even know myself?’ went unsaid, hanging in the air between you two like a stubborn fog unwilling to clear. Sometimes it really did feel like everyone else around him was racing ahead in front of him, leaving him in the dust, aimless and confused.

“I don’t know who I am either. Most people don’t, even if they act like they do,” you pointed out sagely. “We don’t need to have everything figured out.”

He smiled and adjusted the collar of your jacket to better shield you from the wind. “How did you get so wise?” he teased, playfully messing up your hair with his free hand. You automatically leaned into his touch when he did, like you’d never fought at all.

“If only my report cards agreed with you,” you laughed, suppressing a yawn and checking your watch. “It’s past midnight. We should go to bed,” you said quietly.

The loss of your warmth as you stood up and walked over to the rooftop door almost made him whine. He dragged himself to his feet, more tired than he would’ve liked to admit, until a realisation hit him.

“Wait,” he called, chasing after you. You turned around, looking so cute in your massive teddy jacket.

“What-”

Kai put one hand on your waist and the other on your jaw, tilting your head up so he could kiss you. He felt no surprise, no hesitation, no tension in your body as he did, even though he’d caught you off guard. Your lips were tinged with the artificial sweetness of the probably-expired gummy bears you’d been eating, soft and plush as they moved against his.

He had been craving this for so long — to feel your waist in his hands and your fingers in his hair, to be as physically close to you as the laws of nature would allow. A real, proper kiss, one where everything else in the world fell away and he could think of nothing but you.

He was forced to pull away by his pesky need for oxygen, feeling the urge to kiss you again the second he did. You looked up at him, slightly confused but mostly blissful, the sort of dazed contentment one felt after waking up and realising a loved one had covered them with a blanket while they were sleeping.

“What was that for?” you whispered, your cold fingers wrapping naturally around his forearms to hold him closer. Like it was magnetic, both of you were drawn to each other.

He beamed, pointed to your watch, and kissed your forehead one last time. “Happy 100 day anniversary.”

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

#txt #tomorrow x together #hueningkai #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #txt series

[pandenewie]

24 - Trauma Bonded ❤

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Things are different. Maybe others couldn’t see, like Wonyoung and Ricky, but Hiyyih and Hikaru knew. There weren’t any obvious signs between Jungwon and Y/n - apart from being especially clingy (which to strangers could just be seen as a young couple in love) but Hiyyih and Hikaru knew.

They knew that Jungwon was lying about when free time was, sneaking away from scheduled activities for “bathroom breaks” to spend time with Y/n. They knew that Jungwon was sneaking off to meet Y/n at night, conveniently being back in his cabin by the time Mr Jeon woke them up in the morning.

It’s not just Jungwon, either. They see the way Y/n looks at him now. The way their gaze follows him when he’s turned away, eyes shining with nothing short of admiration. The way how, even when Jungwon isn’t there, Y/n’s eyes scan the room for him. The sudden change is alarming, to say the least.

“Karu, wake up.”

Hikaru stirs slightly in her sleep, letting out a mumbled whine and turning away from the noise. “Seriously, look.” The voice says again. Hikaru opens an eye to see Hiyyih standing at her bed, pointing out the window.

Sitting up slightly, she looks out the window just as a hooded figure walks past their cabin, dim torch in hand. “It’s Jungwon.” Hiyyih clarifies, watching curiously as the figure makes its way to one of the far cabins. Hikaru rolls her eyes before flopping back on the bed. “Who cares? It’s about time he started rebelling, I think.” She mumbles through a yawn. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Hiyyih asks, watching as the cabin door opens - revealing a happy Y/n who quickly embraces Jungwon. “I think it’s weirder that you woke me up to watch our best friend's boyfriend go for a midnight walk.” Hikaru says, rolling over and closing her eyes once again. Bahiyyih goes to remind Hikaru that Y/n and Jungwon aren’t actually dating but is instead met with a gentle snore.

Rolling her eyes, Bahiyyih goes back to her own bed. Not before sending a quick text to Y/n, saying that they will be talking in the morning.

“What’s wrong?” Jungwon asks, noticing the confusion on Y/n’s face as they look at their phone. “Nothing… just Bahiyyih being weird and ominous.” Y/n shrugs, turning off their phone and throwing it to the other side of the bed - which isn’t very far, considering it's only a single.

“I can’t believe you only got the single whilst those two idiots got a double.” Jungwon scowls, looking across the room to where Jay and Jake are fast asleep. “I mean, you literally paid for it.” He adds, making Y/n laugh slightly. “You want me to sleep with one of them?” Y/n teases, Jungwon’s eyes widening at their words. “No…” He mumbles, pulling Y/n in by their hips. “I’m saying they could share this bed and then you and I could have the double.” He says cheekily, his tone of voice not matching the innocent expression on his face. Y/n hums slightly, pulling Jungwon to lay his head on their chest. “It’s good this bed is uncomfortable, that way you can’t fall asleep and we don’t get caught.” Y/n says, pressing their lips against Jungwon’s forehead. “Imagine Mr Jeon’s face if he found his precious little president curled up in bed with me.” They add, giggling as Jungwon whines for them to shut up.

“I think he already knows about us.”

“Mr Jeon?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well I’d hope so… he’s not blind.”

“He kinda is though.”

“Jungwon!”

The two continue to talk in hushed whispers throughout the night, careful not to wake Jungwon’s friends who sleep just one bed away. They say time flies when you’re having fun, and it’s not long until the sun begins to rise - shining a gentle glow into the cabin.

“Jungwon~” Y/n calls out, causing the boy to tighten his grip around their waist. “You’ve gotta get back to your cabin, babe.” They add, causing him to groan. He refuses to move, claiming that he just needs 5 more minutes. “You’ll see me again at breakfast.” Y/n laughs, channelling all of their strength to push him off their body. “You’re so mean.” Jungwon pouts, causing Y/n to mirror his expression.

Checking the time, Y/n sees that Jungwon really has to go. “Babe, go.” Y/n pulls Jungwon out of bed, taking him to the door of the cabin (despite his protests). “They’re gonna send a search party in a minute.” Y/n jokes, opening the door and handing Jungwon his slippers. Finally giving up, Jungwon places the slippers on his feet before turning around to give Y/n one more kiss - promising to see them at breakfast.

Y/n watches in adoration as Jungwon trudges back to his cabin, hair a mess and lack of sleep evident in his body language. “You two are so cute.” Jake suddenly comments, causing Y/n to jump slightly. If they’re being honest, they forgot he was even in the room. “Shut up.” Y/n mumbles, going to get ready for the day.

Bahiyyih could work for the FBI. That’s what Y/n has discovered as they go to their 5th hiding spot of the day. Everywhere they go, Bahiyyih finds them. She’s like a beautiful stalker.

Y/n doesn’t even know what Hiyyih wants to talk about - which is the scariest part. They assume it’s something to do with Jungwon, which is exactly why Y/n is hiding. Bahiyyih is a smart woman. If anyone has managed to pick up on Y/n’s change in… feelings… towards Jungwon, it would certainly be her.

The worst part is, they can’t even tell Jungwon why they’re avoiding her. Coming up with reasons as to why they want to stay inside their cabin and play Uno with Jay and Jake rather than hang out with their actual friends is a lot more difficult than it sounds.

“If you make me pick up one more fucking time, I swear to god I will tell Mr Jeon that we are actually dating.” Jake scowls, his four new cards finding a home in the already close to 20 he is holding. “He already believes us, asshole. Had a whole speech about the beauty of self-discovery in line for the bathrooms last night.” Jay rolls his eyes, shuddering slightly at the memory.

“I’m just saying, Jungwon’s literally winning!” Jake complains, turning the group's attention to Jungwon’s two remaining cards. “Yeah well, if I attack Jungwon, Y/n will kill me.” Jay points out. “This is not fair, I’m calling Niki.” Jake pouts, getting out his phone.

“Are they always like this?” Y/n asks, causing Jungwon to nod his head. “You’re lucky Sunghoon isn’t here.” He says, watching as Y/n’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’ll explain another time.” He waves off, attention turning to the sudden sound of Niki yelling through the speaker of Jake’s phone.

“Y/N! Why the hell did you invite Jay and Jake Hyung to hang out with you and not me?” Niki whines. “I thought we were besties?” He adds, causing Y/n to laugh slightly. “Learn to drive and then we can be besties.” They say. Niki starts a tangent about how unfair that is but Y/n zones out, realising it’s their turn and placing a card on the deck. Seeing this, Jungwon immediately places down a card as well - mumbling Uno.

“Jay, do something!” Jake screams. Never in their life has Y/n witnessed such an intense game on Uno. Smirking slightly, Jay places a skip a turn - causing Jake to let out a cry. “You’re such a traitor!” He whines before fully turning his attention to Y/n.

“Please, Y/n. I feel like we’ve really bonded over these few days together, you know? And just because you’re dating Jungwon, it doesn’t mean you have to help him win. What do you say, you and I team up and take them down?” He asks, basically pleading at this point. “Sorry Jake.” Y/n says, before placing down the final card Jungwon needs to win. Jake lets out a loud groan, collapsing backwards dramatically as Jungwon places down his final card, laughing at his friend being a sore loser. Y/n hears something from Niki about being a simp but they don’t pay him much mind.

“I will never forget this betrayal.” Jake complains, hanging up on Niki as Jay begins to pack up the cards. “Whatever, losers buy dinner so off you go.” Jungwon says, causing Jay to raise his eyebrows. “Uh… Y/n lost too.” He says, attempting to point out Jungwon’s favouritism. “Let’s just go dude, no use arguing with someone who cheats in uno.” Jake scowls. Jungwon didn’t cheat, but Jake will never accept that.

As the two leave to get dinner, Jungwon wraps his arms around Y/n’s waist - pulling their back against his chest. “You let me win.” He mumbles, pressing a quick kiss against their shoulder. “What do you mean?” Y/n asks with feigned confusion. Jungwon chuckles at this, pressing another kiss against their skin. “You had a pick up 4 and skip a turn. Could’ve easily helped Jay Hyung win.” He points out, turning Y/n around so they are now facing him.

“You cheater.” Y/n teases, pointing their finger against his chest accusingly. “Kinda hard not to look at your cards when you’re basically in my lap the entire game.” Jungwon points out, causing Y/n to gasp. “So now you’re using my love and affection as an excuse to deceive? I thought you were better than that.”

Jungwon’s brain short circuits at the L word… and it appears Y/n did as well. They both chose not to comment, Jungwon opting to pull Y/n in for a kiss rather than confront any feelings. 

“Seeing your cards didn’t help me win.” He mumbles between kisses. “So I don’t think it counts as cheating.” Y/n rolls their eyes at this, pulling on Jungwon’s hair slightly. “I think you’re full of shit.” They whisper, bringing their lips together once more. Jungwon pushes Y/n slightly so they are laying on the bed, crawling over their body and connecting their lips once more.

“You saw my cards too, liar.” Jungwon says, following up his words with a playful bite to Y/n’s shoulder - causing them to let out a surprised squeak. “So we’re both at fault.” Y/n shakes their head, despite the blatant truth that Jungwon is saying. “Cheating is expected of me… you’re too good for that.” Y/n whispers, earning a chuckle from Jungwon. “Guess you still have a bit to learn about me, then.” He replies, slipping his hands under their top to rest at their bare waist and bringing their lips together for yet another kiss.

If Y/n could just kiss Jungwon for the rest of eternity, that would be ideal. Not having to talk - especially about feelings and most importantly, no lying. Just the feeling of lips, hands and fluttering heartbeats as they share their thoughts and feelings through their lips rather than their words.

That’s why, when Jungwon goes to pull away from the kiss, Y/n wastes no time in pulling him back. Their lips press harder against his, pulling his body flush against their own. Because the more time they spend kissing Jungwon, the less they have to think. And thinking right now is the last thing that Y/n wants to do.

TAG LIST (closed): @kang-yeosangs-initials @kpopstanmeg @b1ndignity @soobiverse @dudufodd @mikadorbs @pagesofmiracles @tya0 @ilovewonyo @bringer-ofchaos @huening-ly @ifearjwn @callmeblondie @run2min @straykids-riley (can't tag) @rikimylove @chaechae-23 @lacimolela @n1ght-maring (can't tag) @luvvsjungwonn @yenqa @tzuyusluv @viyqe @vocaloshin @deadgirlwalking3 @flamiricky @hanniesss @grayscorner @wonqr @neozon3nha @beomgyusonlywife @ahnneyong @lani-heart @jayujus @str4wb3rizz @yunwonie @jeonncafe @danielleismyname @spilled-coffee-cup @jaylans-stuff @oceanmsxoxo @j-wyoung @mrowwww @lazy-miya @shinsou-rii @minkyungseokie @s7noo @beatr2x

#dress coded #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen smau #enhypen x you #enhypen fluff #enhypen jungwon #jungwon fanfic #jungwon smau #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smau #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #fanfic #smau #x reader #fluff

[bangtaninborderland]

JHS- Twisted Feelings (12)

Summary: After working at an award show for 2 years everything had become normal, idols were no longer exciting to see, performances became dull and every day blended together, that was until an unexpected man asked for your help.

Warnings: mentions of violence, stalking.

Genre: idol au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, ft ot7.

A/N: surprise!!! I have another chapter coming Tuesday too! also…anyone have any guesses for who is stalking YN? This chapter is a little longer than usual to make up for the wait (around 5k)

Prev|MasterList|next

True to his work Hoseok texted you once he got to work and then once again when he got home from work. You had been ushered out of the hospital once visiting hours were over.

Your dad spent had spent the past 5 days in hospital, growing stronger day by day but still needing assistance. The company had given you a week off, you still had a day of that time and thankfully the doctor had given you the green light to take your dad home.

Hoseok had texted every day, sending you comforting messages, asking if you needed help and he hadn’t been the only one, Jungkook and to your surprise Yoongi had also contacted, sending you messages of strength.

You were grateful for their support but you were even more grateful that you had the chance to take your dad home, cook him his favourite meal and make sure your mother got at least one full night of sleep before going home.

You’d only popped in briefly over the week to grab clothes, ignoring everything else. Everything else could wait, your dad couldn’t.

Your dad had insisted he didn’t need help to walk, that he was fine and you were being extra, your mother had insisted she could cook, that she wasn’t tired, that she should be taking care of you.

“You’re both as bad as each other, I’m going back to work in two days. Let me take care of you here please so I can have peace of mind when I go home that everything is okay.” You pleased, already knowing that you’d make them food, clean the house and help settle your father regardless of what they said.

Your mother rolled her eyes, huffing as she crossed one leg over the other, hand in your fathers thigh as they as on the couch. “Fine, you are stubborn just like your-“

“Eomma, just like your eomma.” Your dad interjected the conversation, you couldn’t help but laugh at the playfulness of it all.

Everything was fine. Your father wasn’t dying, your mother was okay.

You cooked them dinner, and then some extra so neither of them would have to worry about cooking tomorrow. You’d finished all the laundry and cleaned the house, it didn’t really need cleaning but still. The hours flew by and the time for you to go home was growing closer, and you were growing worried. Logically you couldn’t stay any longer, you had been asked to go into work to translate a phone interview between the members and some radio station.

“We will be fine.” You loved the way your mothers touch felt comforting, her hand upon your shoulder bringing you back to the present. Your father had insisted on ordering you a taxi home, the journey wasn’t long but it was way past 9pm and he wasn’t happy with the idea of you walking around this late.

“Your taxi will be here in a few minutes, you’ve got to return to work that company will fall apart without you.” Your dad laughed.

You shook your head. “Apps that’s not true at all! I worry about you two.”

“If we need your help I will call.” Your mother was firm and arguing back would do no good. “Didn’t you say NaRae was going to stop by tomorrow? I’m sure she can help out if we need it, which we don’t.” She held up a finger as you went to open your mouth, your arguments dying on your tongue. “Go home, go back to work.”

“You can’t wait to get rid of me.” You tried, you knew it wasn’t the case but still.

Your mother pulled you in for a hug, her floral perfume was a scent that had always provided you comfort. “You’re welcome home any time, just not when you have work.”

“Your taxi is here.” Your father declared, opening the door with a hobble. “Let us know you’re home safe?”

“Of course, take your medicine please I labelled them and wrote a chart, the food is in the refrigerator just heat it up, the rice will need a little more water. the laundry is folded into piles, if you leave it to the side NaRae can put it away tomorrow when she comes over.” You read off the mental checklist you had formed, all whilst your mother pushed you further and further out the door until you were climbing inside the Taxi.

“Thank you for staying home the past week blossom.” You lent into your mothers had as she stroked your cheek, the childhood nickname causing you to smile. “Now go and relax okay? Eomma loves you.”

“I love you too eomma.” You gave her hand a squeeze before dropping it and closing the door.

The taxi drive was short, but the stillness in the world was rather beautiful. Inside the car you were stationary, you couldn’t do anything yet life around you was full, people were going in and out of restaurants, businesses were closing for the day, people walking around going to who knows where. You were often more interested in the journey rather than the destination but today you couldn’t feel any more relieved as the car pulled up outside of your apartment building.

You handed over the exact change and thanked the driver before climbing the stairs to your apartment. The smell of your air freshener hit you in the face as you opened the front door, thankfully it wasn’t messy, just a few clothes and papers here and there.

You sent your parents a text before checking the rest of your notifications. Frowning when you noticed an unread message from Hoseok only to smile at the contents.

He truly had done more than enough, in fact every day for the past week food had been delivered to the hospital, ordered by a man called J.

You smiled at the messages before decided to shower, it wouldn’t do you well to turn up to work looking like a mess. You didn’t drag it out, shaving could wait, you did the basics, body wash, shampoo, exfoliator, face mask and then teeth before climbing into bed half asleep.

You only just remembered to set an alarm before knocking out.

The morning came way too fast. The kitchen floor was cold as you padded across it, pouring cereal into a bowl. You couldn’t really muster much of an appetite, your mind debating wether or not to call in sick and go back to your parents. You knew you couldn’t, knew they would argue if you went home but still, you couldn’t help but worry. Even as you got dressed, put on your shoes, double checked your bag and got inside the taxi you was formulating excuses to skip the day.

Considering how early it was the building was busy, a few different groups passing you in the halls, some you recognised, others not so much. A part of you was nervous, you’d never translated an interview before and thanks to the whole fiasco at the award show you couldn’t afford to make a mistake still as you see Hoseok standing outside of your given office you managed to smile a little, feeling some of your worries no longer as bothersome.

“Good morning.” He smiled, holding out a coffee which you took gratefully.

You opened the door for him, letting him walk in first. “Thank you for the coffee, are you ready for the day?”

“As ready as I can be, I’m not as good at interviews as Namjoon but I’m used to them.” He took a sip of his coffee before placing it on the table. “How are you? Are your parents okay?”

You nodded, placing your bag and cup down. “I’m okay, a little nervous for the interview I don’t want to mess up and convey something in the wrong way.”

“I doubt you would.” He shook his head, silencing the thought immediately. “If you really aren’t up to it I’m sure there’s someone else who can do it, no one would judge you after the past week.”

You gave him a smile, despite all the fame he was still so kind, so humble. “It’s okay, really. If I change my mind I promise I’ll let you know. How is the album coming along?”

“Unless you count being stuck on the same song for the past two weeks as ‘coming along’ then it’s not. No where near.” He frowned, you noticed the dark bags under his eyes covered by some concealer but still prominent enough to be known.

“I don’t know much about making music but whatever it is I have the upmost confidence you can figure it out. Isn’t there anyone you can turn to for help?” You asked, surely there was other producers there to step in when something wasn’t going right.

“I guess there is.” He sighed, sitting down on the small couch. “It’s a solo song, the outro.”

“Oh wow, you’re doing a solo song as the outro?” You leant against the table, not in a rush as the interview wasn’t for a few hours yet. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’m happy to be doing it, over the years the outro has changed members and we’ve had solo songs on every album since wings so I’m not as caught up on that.” He attempts a laugh but it’s empty. “it’s supposed to be the last one before we take a break and I don’t want the final song to be something that people don’t enjoy. The last song of an album is like the closing note, imagine reading a book with no final page, it would ruin it.” He explains, taking another drink of his coffee.

“You could look at it as the closing note or you could look at it as the song the leads to the future, if you look at it like an ending it will feel like an ending, if you look at it as though it’s a song setting the stage for the next album, regardless of when that may be it could give you a new outlook. If I’m ever stuck on an ending I think about what I want to do next, if I want to make a second book then I won’t have a definitive ending so it’s easier for me to continue the next time I’m ready to write. Maybe try look at it as a message for the future than one for the present.” You wasn’t really sure what to suggest but you did your best, not wanting to give futile and pointless advice. You made a mental note to spend some one on one time with YouTube and gather as much information about making music as you could, he was always a big help to you and for some reason you wanted to help him just as much.

He gave you a smile, this time not empty or lacking but truly bright. “Maybe you’re right, just because it’s the last song in the album it doesn’t mean it has to feel like one. I feel like inspiration is striking so I’m going to go to my studio and I’ll see you later, you just gave me an idea.” He rushed up, as though whatever he had thought would be forgotten if he didn’t put it to paper.

Maybe you weren’t entirely useless at giving advice. You laughed to yourself at the way he bounded out of the room.

Within no time you found yourself surrounded by papers, the lessons for the next week slowly coming together, your own inspiration seemingly hitting in abundance. Normally on a Friday you felt worn out, the weekend a welcome retreat but things were different here, the workload wasn’t as taxing, you were no longer underpaid and overworked so despite it being Friday and the fact you were working on your only day off you were In high spirits.

Until your phone began to ring and you picked it up only to hear a worried Na-Rae.

“YN?” She called, you knew her well enough to recognise when something was wrong.

“Is everything okay? Is it appa?” Your mind instantly went to your parents and you were ready to rush out if need be.

She was breathing heavy and it made you sweat. “No, no he’s okay, they are fine. A letter came for you… i think it’s his handwriting.” Her voice was hushed and for a moment your brain blanked.

“His who?” You frowned, confused.

“YN…Jung-Woo.” She whispered.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. “To my parents house? It couldn’t be he never knew their address. What does the letter say?”

“I didn’t open it.” She paused. “Should I?”

“Yes?” You responded although it sounded more question than answer, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know the contents of the letter.

“Okay wait.” The distinct sound of paper tearing had you on edge before she spoke against “oh my god.”

“What?” You explained, your heart racing. “What is it?”

“It’s pictures of you, just around the Hybe building, next to the members, inside your apartment, they look like they were taken from outside.” She explains them. “I’ll send you a picture.”

“No wait.” You paused, now wasn’t the right time for this, you had an interview to work through and you definitely couldn’t do that if you see the pictures. “Come over tonight, bring them with you. Do not let my parents see. I have an interview I have to go.”

“Okay, good luck. Don’t let this bother you, go do whatever it is you do.” She laughed, you could tell she was trying to distract you, to lighten the mood but you welcomed it, grateful to have a friend who was as selfless as her. “I’ll be round tonight, text me when you’re on your way home and I’ll come over.”

“Okay. Love you.” You managed to smile as she said goodbye and the line went dead.

You felt as though there was an elephant upon your chest, even as you grabbed your ID card and clipped it to your pants, even as you opened the office door and took a step outside, even as you walked the long corridor and unfortunately even as Hoseok rushed to join you, voice sounding rather dry.

“You okay?” He asked. You wasn’t but you nodded and pulled out a sealed bottle of water from your bag, handing it to him. “You’re an Angel in disguise.” He laughed as he opened the bottle, practically draining it.

It didn’t do much to help his voice but you felt good about doing something to help. “It won’t be a long interview, maybe an hour.” He explained, holding open the door to the recording room, there was musical equipment pushed to the side, three phones on one round table, one for you and one for Hoseok another for whatever other member was joining. A notepad had already been put on the table, you guessed it was for note taking but with how cloudy your mind felt and how hard it was to breath you weren’t sure you could even speak the whole hour, let alone take notes too.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.” The rapper asked again, even as you both took your seats.

You out on your best smile. “I’m okay. Just nervous.”

Hoseok, thankfully, doesn’t press anymore. Instead he brings up his phones notes, typing away. You’re only waiting five minutes before Jimin strolls in, forehead sweaty, you guessed he had been doing some form of practice, or working out.

He gave you a smile before leaning over Hoseok shoulder to see what the rapper was doing on his phone. Whatever it was caused Jimin to laugh and Hoseok to slap his thigh.

“Ah Hyung, you’re funny.” Jimin giggled, taking his seat. “Hello YN.”

“Hello, Jimin. How are you?” You shifted to face him, not wanting to be rude.

“Tired and sweaty.” He laughed brining a hand to wipe his forehead. “How’s your parents?”

“You know?” You asked, shocked. “How?”

“Hoseokie Hyung told us when he went to the hospital. He kinda left in a rush so we knew something was up.” Jimin looked at you before turning to Hoseok, his mouth forming an ‘o’ “was I not supposed to say anything?”

You felt yourself genuinely smile at that, the weight on your chest becoming a little more bearable. “No it’s okay, they are doing much better.”

“Sometimes our Jimin here says a lot of things.” Hoseok laughs, it’s fake but that’s what makes it funny. “So just ignore Jimin.”

You press your lips into a fine line as though you were considering it before shaking your head. “I can’t unfortunately I have to translate for the both of you.”

“See that’s because YN is a 94 liner too.” Jimin teased Hoseok.

“I- Hoseok began but was cut off as the door to the room opened, Sejin stepping inside.

“Sorry for keeping you all waiting I had some things to do. Hello YN-Ssi.” Sejin greeted you and you quickly stood to how to him before taking your seat again. “It’s a simple interview to bring attention to the upcoming album, it will mostly be about your musical journey and process, please try to refrain from giving any spoilers although I should probably be saying that to-

“Namjoon.” All three men said in unison.

“-Yes, glad you know. Okay I’m going to dial in and then it’s down to you three, I’ll be hearing it all in case they ask something we haven’t allowed.” You we’re grateful to have another layer of support there, if something went amiss at least you couldn’t be held solely responsible.

Once the call to the interviewer was connected everything moved fast, questions were asked and answered and by the end of it you were sure that you’d spoken more English in the past hour then you had In the past year, you were taken back by how thoughtful and personal Jimin and Hoseoks answers had been, with Sejin having minimal input only shaking his head a few times when Hoseok had nearly spoken about being in the outro.

You relayed everything as well as you could, despite some terms being unfamiliar you were pretty proud of yourself, half way through the weight on your chest eased a little and you were awfully grateful for the distraction the interview provided you with, mentally translating an entire conversation didn’t give you much time to think about your own issues.

“You were great!” Jimin praised, pushing his chair away from the table. “Me and Taehyung are going to eat would you want to come?”

“Oh.” You looked between him and Hoseok, already having made plans with the rapper. “I think me and Hoseok-ssi were going to get lunch.”

“We could go as a group, Hyung?” Jimin asked Hoseok who in turn looked at you, as though trying to sense what you really wanted before nodding. “Okay, I’ll text Taehyungie to meet us at the cafeteria.”

“Where is he?” Hoseok asked, holding open the door for you and Jimin. “I thought he was with Namjoon doing the bridge?”

“No.” Jimin shook his head, walking alongside Hoseok, you were just a few steps behind. “We recorded that, Jungkook is recording now. He was in the empty studio I think he did a live.”

“I was supposed to do a live yesterday but I didn’t have time.” Hoseok frowned and Jimin sighed, both of them clearly upset about something.

You’d spaced out after that, somehow following their footsteps as you thought to yourself. All of the letters, the threats had started when you agreed to take the position at hybe but that information had been confidential, the only people who knew were the ones who had a part in you getting the job. It wasn’t impossible that an old colleague overheard the hushed conversations you’d had with Narae at your desk or even your old boss but to go as far as to threaten you? To find out your parents address? It had to be something more personal, someone more personal. Especially if they knew about Jung-Woo although how much of the story they knew was a mystery they still knew and that was a worry in itself especially if they told the pol-

“YN?” A hand waved in front of your face and you jumped back, Hoseok frowned a little before pulling his lips into a smile. “You disappeared on us.”

You were taken aback as you see Taehyung beside Jimin, you truly had disappeared. “Sorry.” You apologised sheepishly. “I was just thinking about some paperwork I was doing earlier.”

“It’s okay.” Taehyung smiled, you’d been around him a handful of times, seen his pictures and videos everywhere but something about seeing his smile in real life, directed at you was entirely different. It was kind, even his eyes reflected that same energy of warmth and care. “Are you sure you have time for lunch?”

You nodded. “Of course, I'm fine I promise.” You laughed. “So…lunch?”

“Yes lunch.” Hoseok claps and you shuffle to look at him. “We can eat at the cafeteria or we can slip out and go to a restaurant around the corner. It’s private we eat there a lot, no one will bother us. It’s your choice.” He asks you both Taehyung and Jimin nodding along.

“Im happy with either.” You felt more comfortable letting them choose. “Where is the food best?”

“Definitely the restaurant. I can drive?” Hoseok offers.

With no objections you begin walking to the employee only car park. Taehyung and Jimin walking behind you and Hoseok, both of them arguing over a song they had been working on together.

Hoseok found the car at ease, guiding all three of you through the flourishing car park. You felt embarrassed as he unlocked the car and the opened the door for you. Jimin and taehyung talking animatedly as they climbed into the back. The low thrum of the car was soothing, Hoseok had opened the tinted windows slightly.

“So YN tell us about yourself?” Taehyung perked up from the back. Leaning forward to see you. “Everyone knows us.” He huffs frowning.

“There’s nothing really to know. I don’t have any siblings, I studied, went to university, did the exchange programme, came here, got a Job with my friend at the broadcasting place for the award shows and then ended up here.” You summarised your life in a few short sentences which albeit didn’t make you feel good about yourself, your life not being one full of great adventures and in comparison to the lives of global superstars was pretty much nothing.

The car was silent for a second as it comes to a stop at a red light before Jimin asks. “I heard that you like to write.”

“Oh, yeah I do.” You smiled, as though you could forget. “I think I want to write a book, publish it, I’m not too sure how I’ll do it but I have a few ideas.”

“What genres do you like?” Hobi asked this time, looking at you quickly before refocusing on the road.

“I like all kinds of things, my favourite stories are always the ones that get worse before they get better.” You explain. “Misunderstandings, angst, heartbreak before undeniable, overwhelming happiness is the best.”

“I’ve read a few stories like that. I enjoyed them.” Jimin shrugged. “I don’t read much.”

“Same.” Tae nods in agreement. Yoongi Hyung and Namjoonie Hyung do though.”

“What about you?” You turned to Hobi.

“Ahh.” He sighed. “My dad was a literature teacher, he always tells me to read, even now. I don’t do it much but whenever I do read it’s usually something philosophical or something that I feel will help me grow. Living, Loving and Learning was one of my favourites.” You perk up at that, recognising the book.

“The one by Dr Leo?” You ask, eyes wide with a smile as he nods. “That book was great, I felt brand new after reading it.”

“I liked the way it encouraged acceptance, I recommended it to everyone else but I don’t know if they read it.” Hoseok looks back through the mirror but Taehyung and Jimin just side eye each other. “Yeah, they definitely didn’t read it.”

You all laugh at that, the conversation continuing as you pull up the the restaurant. You watched as they all pulled out face masks and hats, putting them on in some form of synchronicity. “Ready?” Taehyung asks you. “Oh do you want a face mask?”

You nod, not wanting to be the odd one out. “Thank you.”

“Let’s go, we have practice in two hours and I’m hungry.” Jimin complains, getting out of the car first. Taehyung followed after, leaving just you and Hoseok.

You were waiting for him to get out but instead he took his seatbelt off and shifted around to look at you. “I should have said this before we left but if you don’t want to go in there you don’t have to, I can just do a take away. No one will bother us but there’s always a chance of someone seeing us on the way in.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Wouldn’t that be more of an issue for you than me?”

“Not really, we go out with staff all the time. Still be aware of anyone who may take pictures, it wouldn’t be the first time we have encountered a sasaeng at a restaurant.” He shrugs his shoulders, clearly used to the events.

“I guess today is as good as any to learn how to deal with those situations. Let’s go and eat?” He laughs and nods, reaching for his door as you do yours.

The air wasn’t necessarily cold but it wasn’t warm either, you loved weather like this. The restaurant wasn’t small but it wasn’t fancy, there were a few tables where businessmen sat, some at the back empty, another table looked to be trainees of some sort but no one bothered you and Hoseok as you walked around the tables towards the enclosed place at the back, Jimin and Taehyung already waiting around the table. “Finally!”

“We didn’t even take that long.” Hoseok laughs at Taehyung. “Did you order?”

“Yeah, I got the usual but I asked them to come back so YN could order too.” Jimin looks at you. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“Oh!” You felt yourself getting flustered which was definitely a new level of embarrassment as all three men looked at you. “I’m fine with whatever.”

“We ordered seafood.” Taehyung squints at you. “Do you like seafood?”

“Okay…maybe not like BUT I’m used to eating it with my friend so it’s okay.” NaRae had often pushed you into seafood restaurants, you didn’t like the food much but over the years you’d grown a tolerance to it. “Seriously, it's fine.”

“He’s lying, we didn’t order seafood, he just wanted to see if you would be honest. We ordered the meat set with Mandu, Japchae and then a side order of bungeoppang for after.” Jimin rattles off their entire order list, your eyes growing wide at the copious amount of foods before finally registering what he had said at the beginning.

“Wait, why would I lie about what food I liked?” You asked, you couldn’t understand why someone would do that.

“Well.. before.. there’s been times we have had friends or people we thought as friends that would lie about everything they liked to make themselves seem compatible with us?” Hoseok responds, shaking his head.

“A girl once lied to me about liking seafood.” Taehyung adds. “She was allergic.”

“She was what?.” Your head whipped around at him. “Did she eat it?”

“Yep. She called me the next day from the hospital because she had a severe reaction.”

“Was that the one who said she sold her car to buy you a watch?” Jimin asks, clearly aware of the situation.

Watching them talk about it all so normally was what shocked you the most, the lengths someone would go to just to be close to another being because of a desire to have them. It left you silently asking just how many times they had gone though these things for them to be so nonchalant about it.

The food came in shortly after, the conversation coming to a stop as you all filled your stomach. You offered to pay, pulling out your card as fast as you could. Jimin and Hoseok argued because they had invited you, believing it was right for them to pay. However, it was Taehyung who bested you all, slipping the waiter his card for the bill as Hoseok, Jimin and you debated who would pay.

Tomorrow you’d buy them all coffee.

Hoseok had offered to drop you home once you had told them all that you weren’t required to be in work until tomorrow but you refused, explaining you were going to see a friend. You’d agreed with NaRae to stop by her apartment, to get the pictures and to figure out if she knew anything else, anything that could help you make sense of the issue.

After saying a short goodbye to the members with a promise of texting Hoseok later you were already on your way to NaRaes, thankfully the traffic wasn’t bad and the bus journey was only a short 15 minutes.

You didn’t need to knock, she had long since given you a key so as usual you let yourself in. Her small puppy, Mino, jumping up at you as soon as you entered the doorway. You quickly pet him, before taking off your shoes as walking through the slim hallway that connected to the rest of the house.

“Where are you?” You shouted, loud enough for it to be heard through the apartment.

“Here.” She called out, somewhere in the bedroom.

“Was you sle- oh my god what happened?!” Your jaw drops at the site of the cut on her face and scrapes on her hands.

“The pictures, someone came for the pictures, oh my way home they grabbed me and snatched them. I tried to fight to keep them but I couldn’t.” She sat up from the bed, pushing herself into your arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You stroked the back of her head. Guilt pooling in your stomach, whatever this was, whoever it was, it was your fault.

And you were going to make sure they paid.

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x female reader #bts x reader #bts comfort #jung Hoseok #hoseok x reader #hobi x reader #jhope x reader #Hoseok smut #Hoseok angst #Hoseok fluff #hoseok comfort #hoseok drabble #jungkook x reader #Jungkook smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #Namjoon x reader #Namjoon smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #Jungkook fluff #jimin fluff #taehyung fluff #bts imagine

[evermorehoon]

❣︎ ⎯⎯ surprise! hormones!

sunghoon's age really starts catching up to him, and he makes it his life mission to let you know you were as gorgeous as ever.

wc: 1.3k

warnings: one curse word, mentions of food, he's a hormonal teenage boy, slight sexual talk, he's basically acting like a man, he's really tired but tries, y/n is 7 months pregnant

A/N: hello fellow dad hoon enjoyers!! here's chapter 3, I do hope you guys like it since I'm pretty skeptical about it. the main idea behind this series is that it's like a scrapbook full of memories instead of a full month-to-month progression, if you feel me? anyway, feedback of any kind is highly appreciated🤍🤍

Masterlist | next chapter | prev chapter

Taglist: @yenqa @svnoohe4rtsmainblog @donghoonie-3 @jayked @heeseongism @giventakenz @lynanist @aquariusskz @nyanggk (send an ask if you wanna be added♡)

"Apples," you said as you smacked your lips trying to determine exactly what you were craving.

"In peanut butter."

"You called me at one in the morning to tell me you want apples dipped in peanut butter?"

"Yes, now get me apples dipped in peanut butter."

Sunghoon's voice was as groggy as ever, seeing as he'd just woken up. You couldn't sleep well so your natural instinct was to call your boyfriend, even if it meant waking him up because of a massive craving.

"Baby, it's one in the morning," he yawned as he shifted in his bed, his house around 30 minutes away from yours.

"But I want it now~" You whined, feeling like you were about to cry. "And I'm lonely."

He sighed. There was no way he could win against the strength of pregnancy cravings nor would he want to imagine what you'd do if he just went back to sleep.

"Okay, I'm coming," he mumbled as he set his phone down to put it on speaker, letting your voice fill the room.

"I'll let you in when you get here," you sniffled, shifting around uncomfortably.

"Aren't your parents gonna wake up or say something?" He asked, putting his jacket on.

"I'm sure they'll understand me wanting the comfort of the father of my child, and apples. My mom told me about the time she made my dad buy her frozen yogurt at two in the morning when she was pregnant."

His legs were pretty sore, seeing as he was still a growing boy. And he did feel a little insecure about his voice cracking, especially when you giggled at it.

But what was weird was his back aching much more than normal, and his own mood swings were intense at times. He assumed it was just puberty, but there was still the odd thought that sat in the back of his head.

'Men going through sympathetic pregnancy.'

He of course wasn't getting all your symptoms but mixed in stupid puberty, it made the past few months hell for him.

Watching you dip apple slices into a jar of peanut butter had to be one of the strangest things he'd seen, mostly because you didn't really like apples.

But in staring at you, he took in every one of your features, admiring each one of them. It was no surprise that you weren’t overly fond of how you looked but he was under the impression that you'd never been more beautiful.

"You know," he started as he kept watching you. "You're so beautiful."

You sighed, sticking to mumbling into your apples. "You're just saying that."

"No, I'm serious." He moved to seat himself next to you on your bed, scooting as close as he could. "You look so gorgeous, I swear I could stare at you for hours and never get bored."

"You do know that complimenting me and sitting so close to me on my bed is one of the reasons we're even in this situation, right?" You asked, brushing off his complimenting as trying to make you feel better and thankful that the door was closed.

He nodded as he hovered his head over your shoulder. "And you looked beautiful while it all happened." He sighed dreamily, remembering the awkward encounter of the day the baby within you was conceived.

"God, shut up," you whined, pushing him ever so slightly but your shoulders stiffened as you did. "Hey, Hoon, can you rub my shoulders? They really hurt."

Oh dear, what a dangerous game this was.

"Okay sure," he moved himself, preparing to stand on the side of the bed to massage your shoulders, but you opted to position yourself between his legs instead. It made it easier for you to just perch your laptop on a shoe box in front of you while he was busy, so he just dealt with it.

But the very second he pressed down onto your muscles, you'd let out a rather interesting groan. "A little lower," you said.

Once his hands moved to the epicentre of the pain, he could feel the deep groans coming from within you that, to him, sounded way too pornographic for moans of pain.

Especially with "right there" and "just like that" coming out of your mouth. God he shouldn't think shit like this while comforting you. But his poor body betrayed him.

You started moving a little more backwards towards him, almost chasing his hands as he eased the pain ever so mildly. He, on the other hand, had nowhere to move, nearly sweating from nervousness.

"Love, you should really move forward, I can't do it right like this," he laughed nervously, trying to push you slightly away.

"But I want to be closer to you," you leaned further to the back.

"Then just stay like this," he moved his hands away from your shoulders, letting you lean backwards as his hands immediately went to hold onto your belly. Weirdly enough, he liked doing that as it made him feel like he was protecting you.

"Hm-mm, not close enough," you shook your head, not letting him get a single word in or even seeing the sheer panic in his eyes as you scooted into his lap.

'She has to be doing this on purpose,' he cursed mentally, hoping so badly that you wouldn't…

"Sunghoon?" notice.

"Yes?"

"What am I sitting on?"

"My lap?"

You really wanted to turn around to look at him, but didn't feel like struggling.

"Really? Now?" It wasn't the first time it happened, and you had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.

"I can't help it!" He quickly defended. "It just happens, and no one makes sounds like that when someone's rubbing their shoulders!"

"So now it's my fault you're horny?" You sounded offended.

"That's not what I said!"

"But it's what you meant!"

The back and forth lasted for a few more minutes until your mom yelled through the door for you two to shut up since your bickering woke her up.

He didn't mind cuddling you, the ultimatum being that you promised you wouldn't bring up his 'growing problem'.

"You're so gorgeous pregnant, I wanna keep you filled up with my babies."

To say you were slightly mortified would be an understatement. What made him think that was something he could say, especially while you were munching on pretzels in the most unattractive fashion.

You really didn't know what to say, but it really had you wondering.

Are men really attracted to their pregnant significant others, or is it just Sunghoon being an insanely horny teenage boy?

'I mean, it's not like he's not getting pretty hot these days,' you thought, remembering the few moments you wanted so badly to throw yourself at him. Maybe it was just you being a horny teenage girl.

But he made nearly every effort in the book to tell you how beautiful you were. He didn't know he could possibly be more attracted to you, it seems he was dead wrong. He couldn’t take his eyes off the glow you exuded, he admired your strength and willingness to go through something like this.

The oddest thing you noticed was that Sunghoon had an overwhelming urge to sniff you. Whether it be a simple hug, kiss on the forehead or cuddling, you could hear the light sniffing coming from him.

"You just smell really really good," he muttered as he snuggled his head into the crook of your neck, trying to get a great whiff of you. He did seem to have trouble keeping his hands away from you, having to put in the most effort to not touch your boobs, no matter how much better they looked.

"Please put them in my mouth."

"They hurt."

"My mouth can make them feel better."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

Sometimes you had to remind yourself that you were dating a boy that never got to really act his age, maturity could get too much for someone who lived a life like Sunghoon did so when the immature side of him came out, somehow you loved him more.

Well, he was indirectly preparing you for a child by acting like one.

#enhypen fic #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fic #park sunghoon

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday, Week Two: Blackmail Au

First

Prev

Kleiver stormed out of the hold of the air train, dragging the boy by the collar. He was fighting every step of the way, but Kleiver far outclassed him for height and weight. Jak's feet kicked and scrambled for purchase in the dusty mesa top. Damas tensed. What was the idiot doing? Jak barely trusted him as it was!

"Kleiver!" Damas hurried out of the temple courtyard, one hand already outstretched as if to pry the man's hand free. "Let him go!"

Kleiver swung his arm, sending the skinny teen careening into Damas’s chest. Hastily, Damas caught Jak and pushed the boy behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I told you I ain't no babysitter!" Kleiver growled, "Do you know what this stupid ankle-biter did?! Risked blowing the entire operation!"

"It worked, didn't it?" Jak snapped. He straightened out his tunic and bared his teeth.

Kleiver pointed a thick finger at the boy, who puffed out his chest as if trying to make himself look bigger and more intimidating.

"Volcan help me, lordship, but if I have to chase after your whelp in Haven again, he's comin' back in irons."

"You're gonna lose some fingers if you even try," Jak retorted.

"Enough." Damas turned slightly, keeping himself between them. "Kleiver, did you complete your mission?"

The mechanic sneered. "Aye. The ol' gangster's provided a thoughtful banquet for the sharks."

"Good." Damas nodded sharply. "I'll have Elgar choose a Gila to take his place in the food chain. You may return to Spargus."

As Kleiver started to go, Damas cleared his throat.

"And Kleiver? I would hope that my Wastelanders know not to grab a viper by the tail and expect not to be bitten."

"Sire?"

Damas raised an eyebrow and muffled an amused smirk. "If you put your hands on the boy again, I'm not going to stop him from defending himself."

Kleiver nodded a grudging assent and leveled an irate look at Jak. He stalked back to the air train, passing a bewildered Sig with a small bundle in his arms.

Damas’s heart lodged in his throat. The name died on his lips in a voiceless whisper. Did he dare hope?

Sig met his gaze with tears glittering in his eye. He nodded once, then set the bundle down. Out of an oversized jacket -- Jak's, Damas realized after a moment -- a little brown face appeared, haloed by curls as green as cactus. He looked around him with wide eyes, and Damas's heart ached. Mar had never been to the monastery. He'd been far too young. How strange it all must seem to him! Then Mar noticed him, and his breath froze in his lungs.

The tiny boy squinted against the glare of the sun, and then let out an almighty shriek.

Bare feet smacked against rock as Mar pelted towards him. He slammed into Damas’s knees and flung his arms around his legs. With a choking sob, Damas collapsed. He pulled his son into his arms and rocked back and forth. It took all his strength not to weep uncontrollably. He kissed Mar's forehead and then pressed his fist to his mouth, vainly trying to stifle the tears.

Mar's little brow wrinkled and he began to look upset. "Daddy, you're cryin!"

He squirmed to make his signs visible.

"Why are you sad?"

Unable to think straight, Damas said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I missed your birthday, twice! And- and I missed all of your brother's birthdays!"

Mouth forming a perfect little "o", Mar looked to Jak for confirmation. When the older boy only shrugged, Mar gasped.

"That is sad! Jakky didn't get any presents?!"

Jak bit his tongue before he could say 'I got tied to a chair and pumped full of dark eco for my last two birthdays.' Mar would never know what the Dark Warrior Program was, not if Jak had anything to say about it.

"We hafta get Jak a present!" Mar decided, "Then you won't be sad anymore! How much money you got?"

Jak burst out laughing behind them.

He sat cross-legged on the ground with a thump, waiting for Daxter to bring the dog down from the transport. He was beginning to suspect that he knew how the animal would respond to his so-called parent. Chopper had certainly been excited to see Sig. If Damas also got the dog's seal of approval, then maybe Jak could relax a little. Think of these men like Torn or Vin, perhaps.

Jak picked up a pebble and rolled it across the tops of his fingers.

"So...you remember this guy?" he asked his baby brother.

"Yah!" Mar nodded firmly. "That's Daddy! See? I 'membered. I'm not a baby!"

Jak scoffed. "Yeah you are."

"Not!"

"A tiiiiny baby."

"No I'm not!"

A mischievous smirk tugged the corner of Jak's mouth.

"100% baby."

"No!!" Mar yelped. He crossed his arms and huffed, turning his face away from Jak haughtily.

"In a manner of speaking, he's correct," Damas croaked, wiping his eyes. "You've gotten very tall, Mar. But you'll always be my baby."

"See? Told ya." Mischief sparkled in Jak’s eyes.

Mar scowled. "I don't wanna be a baby! I'm gonna get as big as Jakky! Ba said I could!"

Just as quickly as it had come, Mar's ire subsided as he thought of a new question.

"Is my blankie clean?"

Damas blinked. "What?"

"My blankie!" Mar insisted, "Remember? You said? You said you'd wash it and then the bad guy came in the house?"

Damas was thunderstruck. Mar remembered that? He shoved aside the dismal thought of the toddler missing his favorite blanket for two long years and cuddled his son closer.

"Yes, Daddy washed your star blanket," he said after clearing his throat. "It's- It's right on your bed, waiting for you to come home."

Jak winced beside them. He couldn't imagine someone waiting for him to come home. Had his "uncle" even lived long enough to realize he and Daxter hadn't come back? Had anyone held onto his bug collection, just in case he ever wandered back into the village? He doubted it.

Idly, painfully, he wondered if that Osmo guy held onto Daxter's stuff, hoping he'd come back to them.

Loud barking heralded the arrival of both Daxter and the crocadog. It bounded down the ramp in pursuit of a fly, with the ottsel hanging onto its back for dear life. Daxter just managed to steer it by the collar away from the edge of the mesa and toward Jak.

"Grab him before he flings me to my death!" Daxter screeched.

Jak whistled once and opened his arms. "C'mere, boy!"

The puppy yapped and leaped for the boy, skidding into his arms with scrabbling legs when it failed to stop. With a yelp, Daxter catapulted off his back and onto Jak's shoulder where he crouched with bristling fur. Immediately, Chopper planted his front paws on Jak’s chest and yipped before licking his face. Jak laughed and leaned back.

"Blech! Chopper! No baths!"

He scooped the puppy up and held him like a baby.

"Crazy dog."

Damas’s eyes moistened again, seeing his older son smile down at the crocadog. There was still a young boy in there, under all the pain and anger. There was still an inner child peering out, and Damas was resolved to gain that child's trust.

The pup sniffed the air and wriggled until Jak pushed him into a sitting position. Cocking his head, he sniffed at the man holding Short Master and began to paw at him. Who was this Big Spiky Man? He smelled like Short Master and Tall Master! Did he, perhaps, have Treats? Treats for a Very Good Boy?

He did!

Damas cracked a smile as Chopper began whining and pawing at the small satchel at his waist. He must have smelled the dried meat and fruit Damas usually carried whenever he left the city.

Well, the pup was no bird, certainly, but he was cute.

"Alright, alright," Damas sighed and dug in the satchel to find a bit of dried caprid. "Only if you've been good, little one."

"He's always good!" Jak said indignantly. "That's the whole point of dogs!"

Daxter narrowed his eyes at Jak. "That mutt has never been to obedience school a day in his life."

"So? Neither have I," Jak scoffed. "He doesn't need it! Right, Chop?"

Chopper proceeded to all but unhinge his jaw in an effort to eat the entire ration bag.

First

Prev

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #dad sig #jak and mar are separate people au #jak and daxter mar #damas and sig are platonic life partners in this one #blackmail au #let Jak be the annoying big brother sometimes he's earned it #jnd kleiver #kleiver insists that the reason he's bald is because someone made him babysit in the past and no one knows if he's lying

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 11

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: Real communication can feel better than anything

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: cursing, talking about blood consumption and stuff, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

Your heart fluttered as he possessively pulled you on top of his chest. Your cheek rested against the solid warmth of him as his muscled arms wrapped you up like a treasure.

"My girl," he sleepily mumbled, lazily running his hands over the curves of your body. "Love you."

Miguel fell asleep.

You stayed awake the rest of the night....

Dawn was breaking before your heavy eyelids began to drift closed.

Miguel had slept soundly the entire night, touching you in some form or fashion. You spent the first hour on his chest, soothed and thrilled by the steady thump pulsing underneath his massive chest.

Your arm lost all circulation, so you rolled off him, hoping not to disturb him. He was out cold, poor thing.

You were reeling. He...loved you? Would he even remember saying that in the morning?

And worse, Miguel was not doing so well. You were truly becoming desperately worried for his physical health. You couldn't fathom the strength of will and character it took for him not to bite your throat last night during your passionate interlude.

You curled up against his side, tracing your fingertips over the length of his arm, grateful to be some sort of solace for him. But there was no peace for you this night.

The next morning, he was gone. So typical.

He did, however, leave you a note. Which was lovely, actually, since he was a 'wait and see you at work' or 'maybe send a text' type of guy.

Thank you for letting me stay. I'm not feeling too well. Going home to sleep. See you at work Monday. Don't worry, I'm just tired. You were so beautiful last night. Can't wait to see you again.

Well. That was something.

So he couldn't wait to see you, but he wanted to wait til Monday at work? Today was Saturday. What in the world was he always doing on the weekends? Maybe Spider-Man-ing. You weren't entirely sure, honestly.

Maybe you could find the courage to call or text him - just to check on him. You should try to wait until tonight at least. But waiting until Monday to see him felt like absolute torture.

Whatever. No games. You made it until late afternoon in case he was sound asleep and then you texted.

'Got your note. It was sweet. I hope you feel better. Please call or come over if you need to. I'm here.'

He texted right back.

'I know you're there. My guardian angel. I was just thinking of you. I'm making empanadas.'

You huffed and fired back.

'Without me? Thannnnks, Mig.'

'Sorry, I should have said - I was making empanadas, but then I felt sick, so I stopped. But when I'm feeling better, you'll have to come over again.'

You didn't know what to say to that. He was sick? Like, really sick? Or lack-of-blood sick? Ughhh.

'I'm so worried about you. Are you sure you don't want me to come over anyway?'

He took a few minutes to answer this time, which was not reassuring.

'I don't want to hurt you.'

You swallowed hard as your eyes moistened with the beginning of tears.

'You didn't hurt me last night.'

He didn't answer for a while. Which did hurt.

But later that night, he did reply to you again.

'I feel asleep earlier. Sorry. I want to talk to you in person, but I'll be out of town tomorrow. But I promise we'll talk on Monday, okay?'

You texted back that it was fine. It felt awful. You wanted to see him. He said he loved you! Wasn't he going to mention that? Didn't he want to see you again?

You decided to stick to your don't-obsess-over-Miguel plan. You called your aunt, cooked some meals for the week, and had an impromptu hang with your neighbor/friend Gwen. You had a glass of wine and a bath Sunday evening and on Monday morning, you dressed to kill.

Miguel was waiting for you in your office, which sent a thrill of anticipation fizzing through your body.

Then you remembered what happened the last time you had sex. He promoted you, kicked you out of his office and "dumped" you.

"Hey," he breathed, pushing off your desk, where he had been leaning, scrolling through his phone. "Look at you." His scarlet eyes flashed appreciatively, tracing over the length of your body. He looked absolutely delicious as always. Today he was dressed in all black, but he did appear to be a little tired, despite how well he usually wore dark colors.

Stepping closer, he reached out for you, pulling you into his arms and brushing his thumb across your cheek before lowering his mouth to yours.

You gasped out in surprise, your knees going weak for a moment, which made him smile against your lips as he tasted them one at a time.

Your brain was slow to catch up - he had really managed to surprise you. But finally, you dropped your bag to the floor beside you and slid your hands over the breadth of his chest to link behind his neck.

He kissed you sweetly...adoringly. Without agenda. It was a kiss of relief, as if you were being cherished, rather than seduced. You melted into him, happy to allow him to wrap you up and pull you off your feet.

His warm breath mingled with yours and you felt him smile again.

"Good morning," he whispered. "I missed you."

It struck you then, that this wasn't a co-worker greeting (obviously) or a friends-with-benefits greeting. This was different. Miguel had never done this - not without it leading to clothes flying.

You rubbed your nose against his affectionately, feeling very much like a girlfriend suspended in his arms, tiptoes barely touching the ground.

"I missed you too," you admitted between soft kisses.

He finally set you down but didn't release you from his possessive hold. "Sorry I was gone yesterday. I wanted to see you. I hope it's okay that I just barged in here."

You chuckled as he finally let go of you. "It's your company. I don't think you need my permission to come into my office. I'm just glad it was for a good reason."

You eyed him warily. "You are in here for a good reason, right? I'm not being promoted to another wing of the building and banned from the lab?"

His dark eyebrows shifted almost comedically. "Banned? What are you talking about? Why would I do that?"

You should probably tread carefully, but...when had you ever?

Reaching for you bag, you grabbed it and moved around your desk to start getting organized for your day (and to give you a little space to say these things to him).

"That's what happened last time," you explained. But he still looked confused. "You know - the last time we slept together. You sort of dumped me, promoted me, gave me my own office, all while kind of insulting my work ethic and dedication? It was pretty confusing."

He slowly nodded, sliding his hands into his dress pants pockets. "Yeah. I can see that. Not my finest moment. The promotion was real though."

"Thanks?" You somewhat sarcastically replied. "Anyway," you went on, waving your hand dismissively, "When I saw you in here this morning, after what happened between us at the gala Friday night, I was sort of afraid of...another promotion."

His eyes narrowed in confusion as he took your words literally for a moment. Then you saw his expression shift as he began to understand. "You thought...no. No, I just wanted to see you, I promise."

He made his way around your desk and took hold of your arms. "I was waiting for you because, after what happened between us Friday, I was hoping..." He trailed off, scarlet eyes shifting uncertainly

"What, Miguel? What are you hoping?" You gently prodded, starting to truly believe that maybe the two of you could have a chance together. You traced your fingertips over his jawline.

Wetting his lips, he took your hand in his, tenderly caressing your fingers. "I don't deserve you. But...after the gala, I thought maybe..." He shook his head, trying to figure out how to say what he felt.

"I missed you so much and...the only time I don't feel like I'm going insane with hunger is when I'm safe with you."

You gasped out, your eyes shining with wonder.

"I know it doesn't make sense because...well, because I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you," he tried to explain. "And...I could, if I'm not careful. I really could. But it's like you're my darkest temptation. And also my greatest peace. I'm not sure what to do about that. But I can't lose you. That's the one thing I know."

You squeezed his hands right back, feeling at least somewhat reassured. "You're not going to lose me. Just don't push me away, okay?"

Miguel wasn't kidding about not feeling well. Once the two of you spent about an hour in the lab, you noticed him missing details - obvious things. He misspoke a few times, misplaced a few items and finally, just before lunch, looked like his gigantic body was about to hit the ground.

Okay, enough.

Once the other staff and personnel cleared out for a lunch break, you asked Miguel to speak privately in his office.

He sat down on the edge of his desk with his head in his hands. You stood in front of him, reaching to rub his temples with your fingertips.

"Talk to me," you softly implored. "You're scaring me."

He nodded, exhaling shakily. "Just hungry, I think. This is the worst it's ever been."

"Miguel, look at me," you directed, gently tipping his chin up so you could peer into his eyes. "This can't go on. You need some blood. You can't even function. Not in any working capacity anyway."

He shook his head adamantly. "No...I'm not going to do that to you. I told you."

"Baby, I'm not talking about biting me or hurting me - hey, look at me.” He tried to shrug you off but you pushed him back down to his spot on the desk’s edge. Even in his weakened state, he could probably overpower you, but you had to try.

"Listen...I'm standing here, in my lab coat. We're in a professional environment," you explained. "I'm not trying to tempt you here. This has nothing to do with me. Miguel, look at me, please."

He reluctantly lifted his gaze to meet yours. He looked so exhausted and broken and your heart burned with love and concern for him.

"You're a brilliant man. A scientist. A geneticist. This is science," you insisted. "You need blood to survive. You're going to get sick and maybe even die without it - "

"Not if we figure out how - "

"No! I am speaking," you fired back, silencing him with your tone and your determined glare. "I am your research partner right now - a position you promoted me to because you trust my opinions and agree with my conclusions.

"Right now, I'm not someone you come to when you need a fix or a fuck or just some comfort. I have been all of those things at one point, but I am your equal, so you have got to listen to me."

You had his attention now. Good.

"You need blood. It's not negotiable. We can do it today, right now, in the lab, clinically. It doesn't have to happen with sex, or...out on the street. No one has to die. We can draw blood and you can drink it out of a test tube or a bag or a beaker - I don't really care," You reasoned. "You don't have to bite anyone or hurt anyone. It doesn't even have to be my blood! But you have got to feed."

His head dropped in defeat.

"Miguel, tell me you understand," you insisted, reaching for his hands. “I know the blood bags don’t work as well for you, but maybe, if it’s fresh blood…”

When he peered back up at you from his stool, his crimson eyes were wet with tears. "I've gone so long without blood. I've tried so hard... Everything just hurts so fucking much, all the time. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I can’t concentrate. I can't think, or eat. All I do is sleep.”

"I know, baby," you nodded, pulling him into your arms. You were almost the same height with you standing in front of him like this. "It doesn't make you weak. It's not like an addiction. This is your sustenance."

"I don't want to," he weakly protested, his forehead resting against your chest. "You can't understand how much I don't want to."

"I know, but this is reality. You could die - do you understand that?"

Easing back, you grasped his shoulders, gazing at him intently. His expression was so broken, but enough was enough.

"You told me you feel safe with me...that you can't lose me, right? You just told me that in my office," you reminded him.

He reluctantly nodded, eyes full of despair.

"Do you honestly think I can lose you either? Do you have any idea what that would do to me?" You brushed your fingers through the hair that always fell carelessly across his eyes. Your own gaze flickered down to the pout of his perfect mouth and you leaned in, sealing your lips to his. You poured your soul into the passion of your kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You stepped between his spread thighs, pressing your body against the solid wall of him. He kissed you back, deeply. His massive arms wrapped you up has thick fingers gripped your hips, pulling you closer still. The thickness of his thighs caged you in - there was nothing between you not touching or desperately trying to get closer to the other.

You licked into his mouth and he moaned. He felt weak but never too much to refuse your touch. Just as his hands began to wander down to trace the swell of your bottom, you eased back.

Your breath mingled with his as he waited, unable to anticipate what you wanted, or what you would do next.

You wanted everything from him - all of him, but he needed to know this wasn't about sex or tempting him to feed. With one more soft kiss to his mouth, you reached for his face, staring deeply into his shining eyes.

“Miguel, I love you,” you tenderly whispered. You would have thought your feelings were a neon sign, but you had to make sure he understood. He could reject you, but you were really hoping he wouldn’t. Not after he murmured his love to you in your bed - not after Friday night up against that wall. And not after him telling you this morning that he couldn’t lose you.

“I love you and I can’t lose you either,” you went on, passionately. “Please…please don’t leave me. I-I can’t bear to see you hurt like this. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you - "

“You love me?” He whispered, his eyes wide as his lungs tripped over the next few breaths he attempted to take.

“Yes,” you tearfully laughed out. “Yes, isn’t it obvious? I love you so much.”

Miguel’s eyes glistened as he touched his forehead to yours. “I wasn’t sure. I could only hope that this was more than just…” Pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth, he stopped his own rambling. “I love you too.”

Coming up: Will Miguel feed? If so, how?

And later: some universal clues start to fall into place as this story hurtles toward its end.

next

My Masterlist

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Join the tag list (or tell me your tagging preferences by fandom and NSFW/SFW)

@deputy-videogamer @toecurlingstories @zephyrixx @juleshadalittlelamb @tsukkie-daisuke

@pockcock @minigirl87 @uncle-eggy@cookielovesbook-akie @wyldeflwr

@animechick555 @tiffanypooh @thexsanctuaryx @majestic-jazmin @rosecentaur1916

@deezisnotreal @serren-diamandis @alexxavicry @onefinnedwonder-fm @spidey-3

@lilacspider @imonmykneessir @saints-and-sinners @steven-grants-world @aquaarietes

#decadent fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x f!reader #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fic #sm: atsv fic #oscar isaac fic #spider man 2099